#emotional torture fr

[lumienn]

Characters in Moriarty: Staging murders/accidents and revealing the 'victims' alive and well 2 panels later

Me: falling for it every single time

[hinamie]

wanted to practice some more intense angry expressions and what better excuse to further my agenda of giving megumi the emotional catharsis he deserves

[epikhightechnology]

Said to myself "i should draw a quick little sketch something simple and painless to try out those new pencils" as if i could ever draw without creating horrors

[sarahsinferno]

he is just like me fr

the torments of creative work by leonid osipovich pasternak

[befuddled-calico-whump]

more characters who are technically from T$$ (lore under the cut)

So Lis/Lisbet (more commonly known as "Lu", her codename) was one of Vic's first victims when he started working on his own. At the time, Lu was a secretary at a law firm. Unbeknownst to her, her bosses owed money to a local mob boss, and Vic was hired to "apply pressure". By pure coincidence, Lu was the unlucky target. Her torture was recorded and sent to the firm, and it was roughly three weeks before the money was coughed up and she was released.

Her captivity resulted in the loss of her right hand and most of her left leg, and a pregnancy. With Lu not being in a healthy emotional or mental place, the baby was raised by Lu's sister and her husband. Meanwhile, Lu decided she was sick of feeling like a victim and began devoting her time to training, getting physically stronger, and hunting down Victor Shepard.

While her family was very supportive for the first few years of her recovery, most of them were horrified by her desire for revenge. Despite being raised in a close-knit Catholic family and being religious herself, Lu quickly became disgusted at her family's urging to forgive Vic and move on. The only relative who didn't shy away was her cousin Adrien (also known by his codename, "Uriel")

The two were close as children, and Adrien wanted revenge for Lu as much as she did. He not only listened to Lu's violent fantasies, but encouraged them, offering ideas of his own. As a former Marine, he had training to back him up, and helped Lu on her own journey, swiftly becoming her second in command and the most trusted person in her life.

Through the years, Lu tried to maintain routine visitation with her child, but the visits always felt strained, and gradually her goal took over and she came over less and less.

Years later, Lu's son (then going by Leo) sought her out. His aunt had warned him that Lu was going down a dark path, but he was desperate to form some kind of connection with her. He knew the basics of what had happened to his mother, but at her own request, he'd always been told that his father had passed away before his birth. Lu welcomed him aboard, finding it easier to foster a connection when he could be viewed as a soldier and not her son. When he came of age, she welcomed him into her group officially, granting him the codename Gabriel.

Though Vic is her target, Lu and her angels also chase after people like him, capturing and killing them in the name of avenging those who have been lost or had their lives destroyed.

In canon, Lu briefly captures Vic, but he escapes before she can do any real damage. However, in this AU, she manages to contain him, and gets the revenge she's sought for so long.

[greasydumbfuck]

watched the 2004 punisher movie yesterday with pixie and honestly i had fun 👍 some stuff was good some stuff was eh some completely irrelevant stuff made me mildly annoyed. but most of all it was funny and they had frank hang around with his tits out for multiple scenes so i mean how could i not have a great time tbh

[alkalinetrios]

ich hasse schienenersatzverkehr

[velvetfloracat]

@thebroadwayjunkie 's Ameliora

done in windows 98 on paint shop pro 5.0

[whump-queen]

favorite color? favorite trope?

if you woke up tomorrow and found yourself transformed into a giant beetle but were still aware of everything, how would you react?

(for this ask game)

- Favorite color(s): probably pink and orange but lately purple starting to look real tasty too 0.0

- Favorite trope: oh my god I dont even know where to start I have so many...  but right now im very obsessed with mouth whump, masochist whumpees, electricity, humiliation whump, obsessive/yandere whumpers, blood and fangs and biting... I could go on.

- Ah, the ol Kafka scenario. I would be super pissed. MEGA pissed. how DARE you take away my hot demon bod >:ccc   I’ve read Metamorphosis and the descriptions in that book are so gross (I hate bugs so much, major squick terrority), it would be a big nope from me.  I’d probably never go in public and live the rest of my life as a sad lil bug hermit on the internet. lucky for you itd probably mean Id be churning out content for this blog a lot faster. 

[chron0ph0bia]

you parents constantly telling u the shit that you've been trying to unlearn surely is smth

[maxtermind]

SCENE 1 :: YOU TORE ME RIGHT APART ↳ you were never not mine — carlos sainz ༉‧₊˚✧

★ : pairing :: carlos sainz x reader ★ : genre :: angst; fluff separated by a hidden emotional turmoil, carlos and y/n navigate the complexities of co-parenting their twins amidst the high-stakes f1 world. amidst paddock visits and personal healing, will they go further apart or find their way back to each other? ★ : a/n :: oh fuck okay here we go! let me know what you guys think so far <3 what are the theories!! ahhhhhh this is more introductory? but lots of drama nevertheless <3 please don't mention the diff twin pics, i'll start crying!

( series masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

yn.user 41 mins ago

yn.user boys are here to support their papa!

username OMG THE IT BABIES ARE BACK ON TRACK charlesleclerc I know they were rooting for me in red🏎 I loved the bracelet btw❤️‍🩹 ⤷ carlossainz dress up leo in red and leave my kids alone username I WOULD KILL TO HAVE Y/N AND CARLOS AS MY PARENTS carlossainz papa won this for his family👍 ⤷ username it's so cute that even though they are separated, carlos never leaves out y/n ⤷ username I think it's his loss, he wants them back so he's playing a persona w words like 'family' lol ⤷ username please get a life, touch some grass🙏 username THE BABIES MADE A BRACELET FOR CARLOS ⤷ landonorris I got one toooooo

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

instagram stories

lily is typing... (y/n's pov)

twitter

carlossainz 20 mins ago

carlossainz who said weekends with papa are a bore?

landonorris whoring on main papa sainz? ⤷ carlossainz please unfollow❤️ username DILFFFFF username carlos can I also be your baby mama???? y/n.user MUMMA MISSES HER BABIES ⤷ carlossainz we miss you too ⤷ username pretty sure she was talking about the kids carlos lmao username it's so strange that now we get the updates from separate accounts I miss the og paddock fam ⤷ username well people move on so🤷‍♀️ ⤷ username only the real ones rmb the sainz x y/n post spams lmao

yn.user just now

yn.user stole my tortured heart💫

username who plays cards alone on a beach? 👀 username y/n’s cryptic post has me guessing mhmmm a new love interest maybe?! ⤷ username cards on the beach when alone? definitely not alone. who’s the mystery company hehe carlossainz looks like a peaceful day. glad you're finding time for yourself! ⤷ yn.user hope the boys are still up! returning the call soon🥰 lilymhe finally enjoying some well-deserved relaxation💖 ⤷ yn.user love youuu username i see cards but no players. who's with you y/n username we need more context omg is this a date ⤷ username probably with lily lol username at first i thought you were with carlos but he's in the comments soooo does that mean a new romance

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

f1.wags 2 mins ago

f1.wags Our sources have spotted Y/N, ex-partner of F1 driver Carlos Sainz, enjoying a cozy dinner with an unidentified man. The two were seen sharing intimate moments, sparking rumors of a new romance. Could this be the start of a new chapter for Y/N? Stay tuned for more updates as we dig deeper into this developing story.

username wow, moving on already? poor carlos username she couldn't wait a little longer before flaunting her new man username guess she never really loved carlos. just saying ⤷ username carlos deserves better than someone who moves on so fast ⤷ username its been almost half a year? username poor kids. this is why you should never have kids out of wedlock ⤷ username hey good morning, i think you time traveled to 200 years forward. please go back username she’s just trying to make carlos jealous. grow up, y/n username so much for being a loving mother? priorities lol ⤷ username boys were with carlos for one weekend and this is how she spends it ⤷ username from a perfect family to this? disappointing username carlos is better off without her. clearly, she didn’t care about him ⤷ username fr y/n's true colors are showing now. carlos dodged a bullet

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[lucabyte]

Hmmm just gonna spit this headcanon out in text post form since A. I don't think I could exposit it well enough in image form and B. It's not actually textually/thematically substantiated and I don't like actually staking my stuff on just vibes alone*

But anyway. I'd say it's pretty evident that all the islanders forgot their names, right? King obviously. Because why the hell else would he do that, but also Siffrin No Middle Names No Last Name.

They're 'pretty sure' they've 'always' been 'Just Siffrin' 'as long as they can remember'. It's a pretty cruel twist of the knife to say that they don't even get to keep their birth name as a memento, which is why I'm saying as such.

My utterly unsubstantiated claim is I think it'd be cute to say that Sisyphus *is* the name Siffrin initially picked, assuming the myth of King Sisyphus is recontextualised as idk, just a play or something in the setting. But I like the idea of Siffrin going 'oh shit 🫵 he's just like me fr' at a tortured fictional character long before the irony kicks in.

As for how Sisyphus -> Siffrin. I think that chronic mumbler and emotional doormat Sif just did not correct people who misheard the name during their time travelling, and went through enough places with incompatible phonologies (pronounceable sounds in the language) without ever really writing it down that it just got kinda. Changed until it was unrecognisable, and Siffrin just went with it until the earlier pronunciations slipped out of their swiss-cheese brain. And they just kinda don't remember any of that.

Also, something something the horrid realisation that Siffrin also named themselves after a King. Just not as blatantly.

*(though I think there's something here about Siffrin, a guy from a belief system that seems to thoroughly disincentivise autonomy and self-motivated choice continuously having their hand forced to make changes/choices they don't want but have no choice but to... It's not solid enough to really back this up tbh, but it informs it.)

Anyway.

[twinsarekeepers]

Leah needs a writing credit fr because I’m watching an interview and she has Ideas about how Luke and Annabeth’s next conversation should go and they’re all kind of genius:

Emotional conversation where she expresses her disappointment in him and there’s sad music over it (lmao she’s got the whole thing scripted already)

She talks to him while INVISIBLE so that he doesn’t know where she is, like a phantom haunting him (oh that’s so smart I literally started imagining Charlie absolutely bodying a tortured and horrified Luke as Annabeth’s disembodied voice screams and cries about the betrayal and he begs her to reveal herself so that he can explain face to face maaaaannnn)

[loviatarsluv-old]

The Last Vampire Spawn

inspired by this post by @fangsandfeels as well as this gorgeous art by @ria-neearts above that may or may not have made me sob at work when I saw it :)

also inspired by my dire need to hug this poor baby in this scene in particular and give him literally any sort of comfort because god knows he needs it 😭

Astarion x gn!tav / Astarion x gn!reader

SPOILER WARNING! act 3 and the climax of Astarion’s quest line!

CW: violence, death, anguish, angst, blood, gore

rating: sfw (still mature for the listed content above)

in summary: Astarion finally kills cazador and bro needs a hug and a therapist fr

this one is very short I don’t even know the word count lol

Astarion’s guttural and enraged wails echo against the stone walls of the crypt, nearly drowning the sounds of Cazador’s failed attempts at gurgled shrieks as the dagger pierced his body over, and over, and over.

You stand at the bottom of the stairs and watch, gripping onto Halsin as he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders as the three of you watch in horror while Astarion lets out two hundred years worth of pain, and agony, and hatred into every single thrust of the blade through his old master’s body. Hot tears sting your face as you watch on, tension filling the gaps of silence between your companions.

The vampire lord’s body falls limp before Astarion, bloodied and covered in viscera, lifeless. He takes a deep breath, falling back on his feet as his knees dig into the bloody marble floor. Sobs wrack through his body as he looks down with disdain at the corpse before him.

You exchange a glance with Halsin, a deeply unsettled and concerned face set into his features that wasn’t typical for his usually calm and collected persona. He looks between you and Astarion, and with just a glance, you realize what he’s thinking.

Before you can stop yourself, you run to Astarion, kneeling beside him. He’s too distraught to notice your presence beside him, so you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jolts slightly at your touch, then turns his face - his bloody, tear stained, and ever beautiful face to you, crimson eyes filled with a million emotions you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“I’m here, my love. It’s over. You did it,” you whisper, voice trembling and breaking.

His eyes scan your face frantically, chest rising and falling rapidly and anxiously, his breathing ragged and uneven - he looks at you, and you look back at him, as you try to force a reassuring smile through your own tears.

His face twists into an even deeper scowl as his eyes dart between you and the ruined corpse crumpled on the floor next to you.

“His death isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.” He growls, his fists clenching onto the fabric of his breeches.

You stare at him, speechless. You know that no words could suffice or possibly begin to dull the pain that was evident in his face.

“I suffered through two hundred years of pain and starvation and torture… and all I’ve gotten from it all was being the one to see the light leave that monster’s eyes,” he whispers angrily, tears still rapidly streaming down his blood covered cheeks. “It isn’t fair.”

You tentatively move your face so that your eyes meet his once again, nearly afraid of what you’ll see when you do.

His eyes scan your face for a moment, and he presses his lips into a thin line.

“And where were you twenty years ago? A hundred? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent young men you’d come to the rescue for?” He barks, his voice booming and bouncing off of the stone walls and into your ears making your head pound.

“Astarion—“

“How dare you! How dare you come to me now… when I’m this!” He wails, his voice cracking on the last word, his shoulders slumping.

Hot tears return to your waterline and pour over your lashes as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into your chest and cradling his head.

He presses his face into your chest, eventually wrapping his arms around your waist and melting into you, causing you to fall backwards slightly as he practically lays on your body, sobbing into your gear. He grips the back of your shirt as if his life depended on it, even though for the first time in what felt like a while, perhaps it didn’t.

Because despite the roiling dread in his gut - he was free. At long last.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, gently rubbing circles into his bare back as you let him cry. Sob. Scream. For as long as he needs.

The others slowly migrate closer, but not too close, not wanting to interrupt or intrude, just silently exchanging sympathetic glances, and a flash of pride across Karlach’s face as she looks on.

After what felt like hours, Astarion goes quiet, his breath slowly evening out. He sniffles, then slowly lifts his head so his eyes meet yours.

You place a hand on his cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb. He closes his eyes, savoring your touch, and sighs.

“He’s gone,” he whispers, almost too quietly for you to hear. As if he were mostly whispering it to himself. “He’s really gone…”

You nod, rubbing small circles on his cheek with your thumb. “I am so, so proud of you.”

He offers you a small, weak smile, that you return in kind. You place a kiss to the spot between his furrowed brows, his tense body relaxing only slightly into your touch. He still feels coiled up like a serpent ready to strike, still heavily on guard despite Cazador and his minions being long gone. You presume it will be a long while before he truly relaxes, but you feel more than willing and ready to be there every step of the way.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

HELLO!

Thought of asking you bc I ADORE your writing, the way you write the NikPrice ship is by far my fav, I would've wrote it myself but I love your way of writing more heh.

BUT price, having a nightmare or ptsd attack at night, but not waking nik up nor does he wake up. Prob just stirred a bit. But he doesn't end up telling him, cause hes a big strong boy he doesn't want to show nik how vulnerable he really is. But nik notices how tense he is during the day, which ofc worries him. Que the emotional conversation maybe a cry and long hug :3

If you haven't written something like this anyway! Also ty for the follow made me giggle and die a bit inside from happiness <3

Thank you for this prompt and your fic is below, but! Please write. Write your heart out, bud. No one can write like you do and the world is richer for having your art in it. So please. Write this too. Even if just for yourself.

Price spent three years in a Gulag. That leaves a mark.

cw: PTSD, nightmares, mention of torture, dissociation, depersonalisation, shameless canon blending.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-1-2-1-0."

A rib cracked. He spat blood onto the table next to the file. The ropes around his wrists tightened.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-"

He bit through his bottom lip when the fist landed. Someone stepped forward to intervene. You don't break their faces because then they can't talk. Interrogation 101. He coughed. More blood, and they yanked him upright by the hair.

"Svyazat yego."

The chair clattered to the floor as he was pulled from it. The ropes cut only for his hands to be chained above his head. The same knife sliced his shirt off, the rags falling around his shoulders. Metal tools rattled to his left, the embers from the nearby fire stirred by an iron.

"Last chance, prisoner 627," his interrogator held the list of names in front of his face. He recognised five of them. He had attended the wedding of one, "confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Cap--"

His voice broke as pain tore through his back.

Price woke tangled in damp sheets, his body paralysed. The scream couldn't even rip out of his throat because his lungs needed air to make noise. Through sheer force of will, he drew his first shuddering breath, pulling himself back from the precipice.

See: digital clock. 04:30.

Taste: dry mouth. Need a drink.

Feel: hot, no; cold... both? Damp sheets.

Hear: breathing, not mine.

Price sat up slowly, forcing movement through his limbs like he was prying them from manacles. The next breath was easier. Burned less. He dropped his face into his palm and shivered in the cold. Feel: cold, he updated on his mental map.

Breathing, not mine. Price looked over his shoulder to the sleeping face of his lover. Half nuzzled into the pillows, his black hair splashed over crisp white cotton, Nikolai was serene. A small mercy.

All the manuals would tell you about wounded soldiers waking screaming and begging in the night, perhaps wetting themselves in terror at the ghosts haunting the inside of their skull. They warned against storing weapons nearby, of sleeping in the same bed as your loved ones in case you lashed out. There was a laundry list of suggested therapies and interventions too.

Sometimes, Price wished he woke screaming, because at least then he would know he was alive. His throat and lungs would burn as he roared, his hands would flail and he would be left panting, raw, but fighting. Alive. Now, in the numb silence, he wasn't sure.

He touched his cold wrist with cold fingers and just felt... cold. Like an absence of something. Prisoner 627. No name, no identity; a nothingness stored in a castle with hundreds of other voids where people should have been. Everything human about them stolen away until just the cold and the pain remained.

Price stumbled from the bed, his legs barely working as he groped his way out of his bedroom. He had to sleep with the doors open these days, even on base. Even if it was just a crack, a sliver, he still needed to be able to lift his head and see an escape. A beyond the little box room of his quarters. Not imprisoned, not restrained.

His feet registered the change from carpet to tile as he navigated his way down the hall to his flat's little kitchenette. Lit by the full moon streaming in through the balcony door, Price managed to fill the kettle and set it to boil.

There was a small blue light inside - one of those modern glass varieties that showed all the bloody limescale on the inside - and it illuminated Price's face against the black laminate of the back splash behind the hob. Price stared at the phantom image, blue and featureless, and saw nothing of himself.

He remembered being rescued, watching the castle fall to the joint task force attacking it, but when you spent three years bleeding in a place, did all of you really ever get to leave? When they spent those three years chipping away at you, breaking parts off, what was left to bring back at all?

As he stared at the ghostly blue outline of his own face, he felt a disconnect. A hollowness where that familiarity with self should be. Lost in the cold and the dark. Prisoner 627.

The kettle clicked loudly in the silence and he startled. His heart beat hard against his rib cage, felt like a distant echo, and he drew another deep sigh. Numb fingers pawed at the cupboards and he found his Liverpool FC mug, the one his sister had got him for his birthday while he'd still been in training at Sandhurst. There was a chip missing out the rim, dark stains and scrapes in the ceramic at the bottom that would never wash out; evidence of hundreds of cups drunk, a small shard of a life lived. An anchor to himself.

As he poured the water over the tea bag and dumped four teaspoons of sugar in, Price fluttered his fingers through the steam, rubbing his thumb through the dampness it left on the tips and letting the sensation crackle through his nerves. He drew another breath and muttered, "Price, Jonathan, Captain..." Prisoner 627.

He cupped both hands around the mug and carried it slowly, stumbling, towards the balcony window. The sky wasn't quite dark anymore, but a fuzzy, ashen grey. His eyes turned east. And he waited.

Waited...

Unmoving. Frozen in place. Like the cold had taken root and turned him to stone. The only things that kept him anchored were the cooling mug of tea clasped between two hands and the yellow light bleeding over the rooftops of the Clydeside.

The sun chased the dark away across the sky, bleeding an ombre of fire into the midnight black. With the sun came the heat. He couldn't feel it though. One hand left the mug, alive with warmth, and played in the dust motes illuminated by the morning light. They whirled around his fingers in white spirals, untouchable light.

He turned the key in the balcony doors and staggered outside, thrusting his arm into the dappled orange light passing through his neighbours fluttering laundry. "Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-" he leaned over, and--

"John!"

Nikolai's hand wrapped his elbow, pure, scorching heat and strength, and it knocked the breath from Price's lungs. He nearly dropped his mug, but Nik caught that too, scooping beneath it as he drew Price to him in a bear hug.

His ear fell against Nik's chest, listening to his heart thundering on the inside. Ba-dm-ba-dm. Price's hand lifted and buried itself in dark chest hair, feeling it run between his fingers, soft, warm. The sensation rolled through him, cracking away the ice, and he turned his face into it with a shivering gasp.

Alive.

I'm alive.

The mug clattered on the glass surface of the little balcony table they had smoked at only the night before, Price lost in his thoughts while Nikolai had watched him pensively from the other chair. Both big hands now free, one stroked up his back to grasp his neck, and he shuddered again.

Nik looked terrified, his usually calm eyes blown wide, glistening. "You nearly fell," Nik said, so softly, and yet so clear. So real. Price touched his lips, relaxing into his hold.

"Was fine, Nik. Just got a bit carried away with the sunrise."

Nik glanced at the rooftops, his brows knitted together. "It is... pretty, but better viewed from inside, hm?"

"Yeah, s'pretty chilly out here, ain't it?"

Nik hesitated before he let go and Price missed the warmth of his arms immediately. He followed inside, let Nik pull him onto the sofa and drag one of the big fleece blankets over them. The heat of his body as it closed around Price's burned with intensity and a stuttering gasp broke out of his throat. Nik only held him tighter.

Every moment he laid there, wrapped in the bed warm scent, a piece of Jonathan Price thawed. From the tips of his toes to the cheek pressed to Nik's chest, warmth and feeling returned, bringing with it a sense of reality and connection to the world. To himself.

"Why were you on the balcony, John?" Nik asked. Price got a sense that he was afraid of the answer, and wasn't entirely convinced he would be given the truth anyway.

"In Petrovpavlosk, my cell faced east," Price said. "Would watch the sun rise every morning. It was like... No matter what they did, no matter what they broke away, if I could feel the sun on my skin, then I was still alive. Still me. Not just a dead man walkin'."

Nik sighed, burying his face in Price's hair for a few deep breaths. "You thought you were there again?"

"Dunno if I ever really left, Nik."

They held each other in silence as the light continued to creep into the flat, illuminating the empty bottles of beer they had left on the coffee table to clear up. "I sensed these past weeks you have been struggling, I know the anniversary of your escape is soon, and I feared you were..."

"That I was gonna throw myself off an' give Beryl a fright."

"John, do not joke about these things..."

"'m sorry, I... I wasn't gonna do it, Nik. Swear to you. I..." he struggled upright a little and Nik let him go reluctantly, "I struggle in the cold. The winter is... I dunno... it's like the cold makes me think I'm still there. That I never got out. That this," he glanced around the flat, his voice cracking as he spoke, "is just some dream my mind made up to escape to. I... I didn't know whether I was real, whether I was me... or... I didn't... Nik, I didn't know whether I was even alive, I..."

Nik's fingernails raked through his beard and he leaned into it. Felt them graze gently over the soft skin beneath his ear, and then into his hairline to draw him down. He yielded to the kiss, mouth opening desperately to let Nik in; he pawed at Nik's chest, stealing stuttering gasps as their tongues worked together.

He didn't notice the tears until he pulled back and one dripped from his chin to Nik's chest. "You are here, solnyshko. Right here, with me," Nik whispered. "Captain Jonathan Price, serial number 9-0-5-1-2-1-0," Nik took the hand on his chest and placed a kiss to the knuckles, "Bravo Six, you are home."

Price crumpled into Nik's arms and his shoulders shuddered as he sobbed. No longer mute, no longer cold, no longer frozen out of his own fucking body, the raw pain of it sunk its claws in, overwhelming and savage.

Nik's hands stroked down Price's back to the burn scars at the base; an uneven, mottled pattern that stretched over his right hip. The sensation was sporadic, some sensitive, some numb, but the muscles underneath still seized with pain. Nik placed his warm palm over them, chasing away the last shadow of Petrovpavlosk hanging over him.

As the morning ticked over and the rest of the block woke up, Nik dragged Price back to the kitchen and pushed a pan into his hands. He stood behind him, huge body looming as a bulwark, chin on Price's head, hands caressing his belly and chest, as the eggs cooked.

Home, Price's mind offered weakly, battered and bruised from its fight with the cold. Home.

[mm-lurking]

Can i request a part 2 or continuation of the bringing up their dead exes in an argument🧙‍♀️

Specifically aventurine’s part yum, imagine he continues the bargain and reader ends up like his ex and reader was right,THE ANGST I CAN FEEL RADIATING IS GIVING IRON TO MY ANEMIC BLOOD 🧚‍♀️✨

Ofc though always take your time :3

(This is the continuation of my first ask, which you can read here)

Oh my my, you really like angst don’t you? You’re like me fr. Thank you for your patience, I was preparing for my thesis presentation. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Aventurine x fem! reader, reader dies, torture, angst angst and angst

WC: 3268 --- You apologised. The first thing you did when your emotions calmed down and you thought things through was to go apologise. You stood in front of his room, nervously fidgeting with your hands and wondering if he would be ok with seeing you. Would he get upset at you again? Threaten to shoot you? Would he hurt you?

Soft knocks resound on his door as you wait for him to answer. After a few more rounds of knocking and no answer, you grow increasingly worried and twist the door handle only to see Aventurine’s tear-stained face as he slumps on the sofa asleep. The tiny frown on his face and his gun lying on the floor tells you all you needed to know: you hurt him deeply and your words broke him.

With tears in your eyes, you quietly tiptoe over to him and cautiously sit next to his figure, carefully wiping the remaining tears from his face. His forehead is cool to the touch as you brush his hair away from his eyes, soothingly running fingers in his hair and watching over him. Him crying like this was your fault and you hated how you said such hurtful things without thinking twice. Unknowingly, the tears in your eyes plop onto his forearm from the surge of sadness you feel which prompts him to stir awake.

“Hm…?”

His sleepy voice rings in the room and you panic as you try to blink your tears away. He looks confusedly at you for a split second which makes your panic even worse and so you quickly get up from the sofa, thinking he wouldn’t want you around, only to be yanked back.

“Where are you going?”

He asks quietly as his arms wrap around your waist and he looks into your eyes. The redness of his puffy eyes and the dark under-eye bags make you burst into tears and bawl on his shoulder.

“Aventurine I am so sorry for hurting you like that I shouldn’t have said such cruel things I am so sorry for the things I said I-”

He inhales sharply as he hears you apologise; taken aback by your breakdown and the pain in your voice. Tears well up in his eyes too and he hugs you tighter. You both stay like that for a good amount of time, letting the tears flow unapologetically as the proximity between you both eases the pains of your hearts. After a while, when he sees you have calmed down, he gently pries you off his shoulder and cups your face.

“I should have confirmed with you before I did anything.”

You shake your head and caress his face sadly.

“No, I should have been more patient with you. I shouldn’t have brought up Lilac Iike that-”

“The matter has passed. Let us speak of it no more.”

You immediately hug him, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him. He reciprocates and smiles as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“I will never allow you to get hurt, I promise you. You are my good luck, my royal flush.”

Hearing him say that makes you giggle and you kiss his cheek.

“And I promise I will do my best in this deal. What is your plan?”

You both spend the rest of the day discussing the deal and coming up with different strategies to handle the enemy territory. He was right, you always made it out alive even with the wildest risks and your life at stake. Why would it be any different this time? The Gaiaithra triclops always looked out for him…right? – “Aventurine…”

The cold metal shackles on your body hurt. Every limb is cuffed and chained tightly to prevent your escape. Despite the painful aching that sets in your body, you call out for Aventurine whose face appears on the phone screen in front of you. In contrast to the cold dark dimly lit room, his face is bright, like an angel that has come to your aid. The salty tears that flow from your eyes sting the fresh slashes on your cheeks adding to your agony. You struggle in your sleep-deprived state to keep your eyes open and see him clearly. Your throat burns and you don't remember the last time you drank water.

“Hello sweetheart- W-what happened to you?!”

You hear the horror in his voice as he stares at you, trying to make sense of your horrible state. Seeing his face brings you a strange amount of comfort and you try to smile but fail. There is so much you want to say but no words leave your mouth as you gasp for air.

“My lucky charm?”

You sob harder upon hearing his term of endearment for you. Your heart aches so badly and you want to run far away from this place into his arms but alas, you are chained and doomed to be imprisoned here.

“Your lucky charm isn’t so lucky is she? She won’t be able to answer you anytime soon, Aventurine from the strategic investment department of the IPC.”

The man who is holding your phone in front of you speaks with a cold monotonous voice. There is an evil grin on his face and you know he has no remorse for you based on the way he glares at you. Aventurine cannot see the man which further agitates him.

“Coward. It is impolite to talk to someone without showing your face to them, don’t you think?”

“It is more impolite to infiltrate our territory on the premises of mutual respect.”

Another man who is responsible for keeping you restrained pulls onto your chains and you shriek in pain at how your body is practically dragged across the floor. Like a plastic bag that is sucked into the currents of the wind.

“Urgh!”

You wince at the impact as your limbs scrape against the cold metal floor like cheese on a grater. When the man finally stops dragging you, he harshly tugs on the chain around your neck which makes you choke in pain.

“You! How dare you touch her, you bastard!”

Aventurine’s yelling rings in the room. You cannot see his face anymore as you’ve been pulled to the other side of the room but you can see your bright phone screen and your gaze remains fixated on it, as if your lover would step out of the phone and come save you.

“Don’t worry, we won’t touch her. We do not need to do so. Take a good look around this room.”

The man stands up and shows Aventurine around the room as if they were two old friends on a video call. He continues to grin as he points to various things in the room.

“Notice how we aren’t in the headquarters where you left your girl?”

“I do not have time for your games. What have you done to her?!”

The man completely ignores the question and continues to ramble despite the anger and frustration on Aventurine’s face.

“See that giant crate over there? And there? Those are our newly made explosives. Guess who is the lucky subject we are testing it out on?”

His laugh echoes in the room and your heart drops. You frantically look around and realise there are four of those crates in each corner of the room. And it just so happens one of those crates is right above your head. Panic sets in and you struggle against your chains which makes the man holding your chains tug on it harshly. You inhale sharply at the action and choke.

“Do you have any idea what will happen to you if the IPC finds you?”

Aventurine warningly questions, to which the man just laughs.

“We are ten steps ahead of the IPC. You can try, but you will never find us.”

Then he looks at you and chuckles.

“Or well, more precisely, even if you find us, you will never find your girl.”

His eyes narrow as he watches you shift uncomfortably in your chains. Then he flips the phone around to show Aventurine your dreadful state.

“After this phone call, she will simply cease to exist, Aventurine. You should have thought carefully before playing the Herald like this.”

“You son of a-”

Click.

The phone call ends and the two men in the room look at you. Neither says a word as the expression on their faces is enough: this was the end. your end. Your phone buzzes continuously in the man's hands and he scoffs at the caller ID before throwing the device towards you. Like a maniac, you attempt to catch the phone but unfortunately, your hands are tied which makes the device land on the floor shattering the screen. You try to drag the phone closer using your face, sobbing heavily as you see Aventurine’s name on the screen.

The men howl at your helplessness and proceed to walk away from the room, making sure your chains are tied to the wall first before doing so. The door closes with a loud bang and silence falls, making you shake in fear. You look at your constantly buzzing phone and attempt to accept the video call, struggling to unlock the phone in your tied-up state.

In what feels like forever you finally manage to accept the video call, huffing and withering in pain from your constant attempts. Aventurine’s face pops on the screen and your last few remaining tears drip on your phone.

“A-aven-”

Nothing but harsh chokes come out of your mouth as you try to call for him.

“I am on my way my love, hang on!”

You sob quietly as you watch him get on the aircraft, throwing around orders to his subordinates while simultaneously keeping an eye on you.

“I will find you. I will save you. Stay with me.”

A small smile creeps on your face as he speaks with conviction and you nod your head as if accepting what he was saying. However, a part of you knows that this is the end, that this is where you must part. As if to confirm your cruel destiny, the timers on all four explosive crates start to go off one by one, filling the room with an ominous sound. With wide eyes, you look around the room and then back at Aventurine.

“My love?”

You aggressively shake your head and gasp for air from the lack of oxygen in the room. The timers on the crates only get more jarring and cold sweat drips down the side of your face. With the last remaining energy you have left in you, you look up at the crater that’s hanging right above your head.

60 seconds.

A harsh choke leaves your throat and you try to show Aventurine the timer. When his gaze lands on it, he freezes.

“No, no!”

You hear him yelling more orders to everyone, asking the officers to locate you faster, asking the pilot to increase his speed but you know it’s not going to suffice.

35 seconds.

“A-aven…! A-Aven…turine…!”

You desperately try to get his attention in your final moments.

“Yes, yes my love?!”

He is completely facing you now as he replies to you. The deep frown and his heavy breathing tells you all you need to know; he is worried sick for you. You take this opportunity to mentally trace his features and take him in for one last time.

14 seconds.

“I…love…you…”

You choke out with all the power you have left in you. The timer gets increasingly louder as if signalling your demise.

“Stay with me! I’m almost there!”

7 seconds.

“I…love…you…Aven…”

The last of his name is lost in the constant beeping of the crates before it all explodes one by one like fireworks. You remember staring at his face lovingly as the last tear in your eye rolls down your face and the explosion hits you. Every inch of your body burns before silence falls and eternity sets in. — He’s been clenching his fist since the moment he picked up the phone call. The amount of outrage, anger and pain in his body is unexplainable. There is nothing more he wishes to do than to beat those men into pulp and carry you back home in his arms, safe and sound.

He has no idea how things turn out like this. Every single detail of this plan was meticulously calculated and designed to ensure nothing would happen to you. You both had gone over all the possible outcomes and devised escape plans but this, what he was seeing on the screen, was not one of them.

His head is pounding as he thinks of Lilac. He thinks of how she had gone through something very similar and how he was a split second late to save her. The fear that sets into his body is one he cannot explain as he feels his throat close up and his heart rate spike. No, no. He wasn’t going to relive that situation again. He wasn’t going to let you leave him too.

Everything is a blur as he rushes to board his aircraft and issues orders to his team. He tightly grips his phone as he keeps watching you, making sure you’re alive. Inova-XI wasn’t very far from the IPC, surely he would make it in a minimum of 10 minutes? And with the amount of brainpower his team had, he was certain he could locate you on his way there and save you.

All or nothing right? All or nothing. He had to give it his all if he wanted you back. His lucky charm. His goodluck. His royal flush. His future and forever. He was the blessed child, Kakavesha of the gaiaithra triclops. Nothing would happen to him. He wouldn’t lose anymore bets.

But all that hope goes out the window the moment he sees the countdown you struggle to show him.

60 seconds.

His heart drops. He looks at the tablet in front of him and he feels his blood go cold. 5 minutes left until the destination. 300 seconds to land on the planet. Not even save you.

“No, no!”

He screams. He yells more orders to everyone, asking the officers to locate you faster, asking the pilot to increase his speed, to just do something to get to you faster.

But deep down he knows it’s not going to suffice. He hyperventilates as he looks at you, who's struggling to call out his name. 

“Yes, yes my love?!”

He answers you rapidly, afraid that even a second away from his phone would make you disappear into thin air. He cannot bear to see your condition as it reminds him of his own days as a slave, chained and tortured to be a puppet at play. Yet he continues staring at you, watching your face over and over knowing this would be the last time he sees you.

I…love…you…”

He swears if it weren’t for his duties he would burst out crying at your declaration. How he wishes he was hearing those words in a better circumstance, where you were safe and by his side, giggling and hugging him. As if things couldn’t get worse, he hears the timer get increasingly louder as if signalling your demise.

“Stay with me! I’m almost there!”

There is nothing else he can say except that. He looks at his tablet and clenches his teeth, fighting back angry tears as he looks outside the window. The planet is visible in his eyes but still so far away. He then looks back at you, eyes swirling with intense emotions of pure regret and pessimism.

“I…love…you…Aven…”

That’s the last thing he hears from you as the explosions go off and he loses signal.

“NO. NO NO NO!!!”

His subordinates jump at the sight of him yelling. Never ever had anyone seen Aventurine in such a frenzy, yelling and punching the armrest over and over.

“No, she has to be alive-! No she has to-“

He breaks down completely, tugging on his hair and staring off into the distance with wide eyes, a look so distraught that his team is growing increasingly concerned.

He can’t breathe. There is not a single atom of oxygen that passes through his lungs and into his blood. His throat is on fire as it completely closes up, restricting him from any taste of air. The aggressive throbbing of his head makes him stumble and he gasps for air, very much like you had been, while clawing his nails into his chair.

He doesn’t remember how he manages to stay alive for the next few minutes. He remembers screaming more orders and then falling to his knees on the floor. It is only when the aircraft halts and his assistant quickly helps him up does he recover to some extent. — His legs feel heavy as he walks towards your room of imprisonment. Or well, what it was. There is nothing left on the land except a massive hole in the ground implying that there was a structure there. Even in the severity of the explosion, he spots some chains left on the ground and upon getting closer-

“L-lucky charm..?”

-he sees a dead body slump on the floor, lying in a cradle position. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that’s you.

He falls to the floor as his legs give out from the realisation. Like a child, he crawls towards you, sobbing and heaving as he gets closer. He doesn’t care how undignified he looks, how his lavish bright attire is now covered in ashes and dust, how his hands sting from the stones puncturing his palms…he drags himself towards you with every fibre of his being.

“Sweetheart…my lucky charm…”

He calls for you over and over as he gently takes hold of your body, crying aggressively to the point his tears disfigure your already damaged body in his vision. The explosion has blown off a decent amount of your limbs, and the only thing that’s passably recognisable is your face. He is completely shaken by how you look, unable to believe this is what has happened to you.

He stays there in the ashes and dust with you, letting the smoke of the explosion completely suffocate him while he caresses your face. The anger that brims in his heart is subdued by the sheer amount of grief he feels. There is nothing left for him to do or say yet he mumbles your name continuously as if it is the very reason he can breathe.

“What will I do without you my love? Who will be my lucky charm now?”

He hangs his head as he continues to cry heavily, completely admitting defeat. His subordinates watch from a distance, turning their faces away at one point as they are unable to bear seeing this leader like this. No one disturbs him and no one has the heart to either, for their leader lost the very beat of his heart.

“Gaiathra triclops…you promised to protect me, then why, why couldn’t you protect my love?! Have you destined me to have a life of loneliness as I watch everyone I love die?!?”

His agony is lost to the winds. When Lilac died, he vowed to never gamble with his partner again. And now with you, with you gone, he vowed to never love again. In the gamble of life, he would always lose his love. Life was a grand gamble and when it came to being loved, he was the destined loser. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.