#I do feel bad for the kid I hope his death was painless and quick and he wasn't scared etc but. everyone else? nah lmfao

[menlove]

"have some empathy! what if it were you or your loved one paying a quarter of a million dollars to get inside of the Underwater Death Trap 5000? it could happen to anyone"

[madwomansapologist]

YOU LOVE BLOOD TOO MUCH (BUT NOT LIKE I DO)

★彡 synopsis: awakened in a new era, sukuna found endless opportunities to hurt and maim others. he also found you, a sorcerer with an ever-expading soul bonded to oaths of pacifism and self-control. allured by the strength you decided to hide, sukuna realized this era could be far more fascinating.

chapter two: postpone or the one you threatened to obliterate satoru gojo.

warnings: conversations about death, megumi fushiguro is bad at feelings, teachers & students, yuji itadori is a ray of sunshine, sorcerers being clinicaly insane, ryomen sukuna, canon level of violence, blood and gore, cannibalist thoughts, protective satoru gojo.

word count: [1,5K]

kill count: [0]

From underneath the ash tree, admiring a caterpillar chew on a damp leaf, you realized how unfair it was for today to be beautiful. A boy just lost his life, you cursed the cloudless sky and warm breeze. It was supposed to rain.

Which burden is heavier? The guilty of murdering a child, or the responsibility of all lives reaped by a reincarnated Ryomen Sukuna? A hero wouldn’t hesitate. A hero would carry that burden for the rest with blood-stained hands and call it mercy.

Good thing Satoru Gojo is a calamity, and the elders never hesitated before calling you a monster.

Ignoring the blurs burned into your eyelids, you stared down at the mountains surrounding the college. Dozens of miles below, two dots no bigger than ants went up the concrete path. One pink, one white. A second later, the last one stopped moving.

“If you don’t want to see him”, you waved back at Satoru. “You better start walking now.”

Megumi sighed. “No. I will stay.”

“Go on, be a kid. Hide on your room until you have no other option.”

“I can’t.”

His wounds were fully healed, but the tiredness on Megumi’s voice is evident. You could almost hear all the gears moving inside his mind. Grudge and loathing battling to take control. In such a peaceful day, his silence is loud enough to hurt your ears.

Does he regret saving Itadori, or does he resent his teachers for allowing him to have hope? You don’t know which is worse. For it to be grief or responsibility. Megumi deserves more than being a hero.

“Was it pointless, sensei?”, he grumbled. Eyes set on the ground, words sharp and precise. “Did I only delay something that could’ve been quick and painless? Did I just make it all worse for him?”

“My. What a self-centered boy”, you hissed. For good measure, you also finger-flicked Megumi hard in the forehead. “Tell me, Fushiguro, do you think we kept him alive because you asked us to? Do you think we were forced to defend him?”

Megumi rested his head against the tree trunk. Ouch. Glaring at a caterpillar, Megumi realized he had no choice but admitting the truth. A simple finger-flick and his head throbs. “No, sensei. I couldn’t.”

“Exactly,” you smirked at him. Standing on the ash tree root, you reached for Megumi. His dark eyes could freeze you. Would Megumi like to know how much he reminds you of his father? “Let the adults handle this, alright?”

He accepted your help, and then Megumi followed your suggestion. Once the distant dots turned into discernible shapes, you decided to meet them halfway. Going down the trial’s steps, it took a minute for Yuji to spot you. Running towards you, he left Satoru behind.

“Morning, sensei!” Yuji bowed. You both silentlu agreed to pretend he didn’t just stumble on a step. “Wait, are you a teacher too? Are you my teacher too?”

“I… train your veterans, Itadori”, you answered slowly. For someone expecting Yuji to look devastated, or at least exhausted, his wide smile was an astonishing sight. “You’ll soon meet them all.”

With his arms crossed over his head, Satoru passed by you both. “He’s like an excited puppy, isn’t him?”

Suppressing your laugh, you gesture for Yuji to follow you both. Tilting your head back, you looked into his eyes. How warm. “Has he explained everything to you?”

“Oh, yeah, I think”, Yuji pouted. Rubbing his index finger against his chin, he spoke again. “Fight curses, eat rotten fingers, die.”

Postpone the execution of Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel, the elders announced it as an act of mercy. You wonder if they even know his name is Yuji Itadori. Not that it would matter. It was the best deal Satoru was able to negotiate, but not one you’re willing to accept.

A plan has already formed in your mind. All you have to do now is be patient.

“You shouldn’t worry too much about that last part”, you sighed. “We had a similar incident last year. Those cachectic elders can try as much as they want, but we won’t allow them to hurt our kids.”

Once again, Yuji surprised you. As he laughed, snoring a bit, you regretted cursing this beautiful day. The sky really knows best than you. This boy deserves a thousand sunny days.

“Respect your sensei”, Satoru remarked him. You rolled your eyes, knowing damn well he didn’t mean it. “She said something that funny, huh?”

“No, it’s just… I thought you were a monk.” Yuji pointed at your robe, looking at the sash with prayers sewn in golden. “Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”

“A monk?” Satoru cachinnates. “Her? Don’t make me laugh, Yuji.”

“Not a monk”, you sighed. “Tell me, Satoru, should I start his first lesson?”

He shrugged. “The boy is all yours.”

“You know what talismans are, Itadori?” You walked the familiar path with your back turned so you could look at him. Surrounded by trees, your voice echoed down the mountain. “You can make one to use as an intermediary for shikigami, create barriers, seal cursed objects…”

“Like Sukuna’s finger?”

Satoru hummed. “Many uses, not very efficient in any of them. Paper rots. They can be made in other materials, but it’s still pretty easy to destroy if you want to.”

“This is a talisman master Tengen crafted for me”, you pointed at the prayers on your sash. “The technique behind it is mathematically correct in every aspect. And still, I wear the same for a week at best.”

“You’re so strong, sensei. I mean, Sukuna tried to eat your heart and it didn’t affect you at all. You can’t do like Megumi and summon a shikigami from shadows?”

“Anyone would’ve assumed I use this one to summon shikigami. Good line of thought, you learn fast.” Yuji smiled at the praise, and you made a mental note about it. “But this one is a sealing talisman.”

“And what are you sealing, sensei?”

“Myself.”

“Cool”, Yuji said. A beat later, he spoke again. “What does that mean?”

“That she’s enough of a menace those cachectic elders put her on a leash”, Satoru explained. “Such a stupid binding vow you were tricked into.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Tilting your head towards the courtyard nearby, you grinned. “Because if you want me to beat your ass, all you have to do is ask for it. I’ll be nice and heal you once you admit defeat.”

Satoru lowered himself to face you, and smirked with his hands on his knees. “All that bark, but I see no fangs. And they call you a monster.”

“There is only one way for you to found out why”, you took a step forward. “C’mon, Strongest. I’ll have so much fun cutting you in half just to put you back together again.”

Yuji was about to shout for help when loud laughs imploded. He could swear the ground vibrated. In sync, you both continued to walk. Satoru with his arms relaxed, you moving swiftly in your scarlet robe. As if nothing happened.

Later he understood. They acted as if it meant nothing, Yuji gossiped. Because for them it didn’t.

“Let’s head to your interview with the director. If you’re not good enough, he’ll reject your registration.”

“Good luck”, you cheered. “Don’t embarrass us.”

“So, you two aren’t the leaders?”

In a matter of seconds, everything changed. It wasn’t a beautiful day anymore. You weren’t surrounded by nature, laughing with an old friend, teaching a willing boy about something you love. The sky was cloudless, the breeze was warm, and it was still the day after Ryomen Sukuna reincarnated.

“Hierarchies are worthless when they do not depend on strength.”

“Sorry, sensei!” Yuji slapped his cheek, trying to cover Sukuna’s mouth. “He does that sometimes.”

Crossing your arms, you glanced at the scars beneath his eyes. Satoru noticed them before you. “What a weird body you have now”, he said.

Another mouth opened in Yuji’s palm. “As soon as I dominate this vessel, I promise you will be the first one to die.”

“It would be an honor.”

At that, you felt poison on your tongue. “As if I would ever let that happen.”

“You will die after him.”

Ignoring the threat, you looked at Yuji. “A binding vow is a pact that can give sorcerer great powers as long as they follow agreed restrictions. Not even Ryomen Sukuna would break one. Tell me, do you want to make a pact with me?”

“Don’t…”

The fact Sukuna tried to intervene was that sold the deal. “What pact?” Yuji spoke over him.

“I’ll protect you from the elders”, you started. Reaching out to him, you thought carefully about your next words. “And in turn, you’re forbidden from making a binding vow without me to mediate.”

Yuji shook your hand. “Okay. We have a deal. A binding vow, that is.”

Feeling that familiar sting of Sukuna messing with his body, Yuji glanced at his hands. Only then he saw the tongue lapping up at your blood. He slapped it, whispering some curses.

“I’ll take that as a compliment”, you showed Yuji your fully healed hand. “The King of Curses wants a piece of me.”

“Another piece of you, that is”, Satoru corrected you. For once, he sounds serious. “How greedy.”

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist | @mwalibrary @mwashelf

[account-name]

Phone Guy Month 2024

4- Night 4

i tried to write a little something :3 (i haven't written a fic since middle school so idk if this is good but i tried my best)

(this still uses he/him for phone guy since she's still an egg here and i don't want spoilers for if i decide to make this into a larger thing )

He knew he wasn't going to make it. He had been expecting this. He took the night shift knowing full well that he was never getting out of this job alive. Hell, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he had honestly been hoping this day would come.

It's not like he had much of a life waiting for him. He lost everything, and he had no one to blame but himself. All those kids, killed because he didn't want to accept that something was going on. Surely it wasn't what it looked like, right? But it was. And he did nothing to stop it.

And then there was Fritz. Oh god, Fritz. His own son was killed and it was all his fault. He thought it would be fun to bring his kid to work with him. Have some nice bonding time. But he got caught up with work and didn't notice his son being lured to the back room. If he had only paid a little bit more attention, Fritz would still be here.

And now, as he watched the last bit of power drain away, he would soon join him. He didn't exactly deserve to survive anyway. Not with the horrible things he let happen.

Even so, although he knew death was coming, and he knew it was what he deserved, that didn't stop the pit in his stomach as he tried not to think about what was about to happen to him. He didn't want to die. Well, he did, but he was scared. It wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, bleeding out slowly in the back room, completely and utterly alone. What would even happen to him? Was it going to be horribly painful? Would there be anything waiting for him after? Did he even want to know the answer to that question, with all the horrible things he did nothing to prevent? All the things he actively aided in covering up? Surely, if his soul were to move onto something after all this, it wouldn't be anywhere good.

No. He can't think about that right now. He desperately tried to push those thoughts aside. He needed to leave a message for the new guard.

He picked up the receiver and cleared his throat.

"Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day 4. I knew you could do it."

His voice trembled. He didn't want to think about what was coming. He couldn't.

"Uh, hey, listen. I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow. It's- It's been a bad night here, for me."

He heard an animatronic bang against the doors. There wasn't enough power to hold them in much longer. He swallowed.

"Um, I-I'm glad i recorded my messages for you, uh, when i did."

The animatronics continued to pound against the door. There were multiple now, cornering him in his office.

"Uh, hey, do me a favor. Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room? I'm going to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad

He was lying to himself. He knew it was going to be bad. But maybe there's a chance it wouldn't be as painful as he was expecting. Maybe it would be quick and painless. He had to find some kind of bright side. That was all he had left he could hope for.

"Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there... you know.."

The lights shut off. His power finally ran out. The doors flew open and the animatronics made their way into his office. They were all there, surrounding him on all sides. One of them let out a groan, He couldn't tell which one. He was holding his breath. This was it. He could hear Freddy's music box coming from the doorway. The Toreador March.

The lights in Freddy's eyes flickered on and off to the tune of the music; a feature implemented meant to help children feel safe in the event of a power outage. They could stay entertained and keep close to the animatronics while the adults would work to fix the problem. He never thought anything of it at the time, but it was haunting to see now. The animatronic staring at him lifelessly, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

He felt a plush paw grab him from behind. He turned around to see what looked to be one of the old fredbear suits from the back room. How did it end up in his office? It's head cocked to the side and it let out a horrible low groan.

"Oh no-"

Before he could finish, the five animatronics lunged at him together, as if the attack had been orchestrated. They grabbed at him, yanking him around like a rag doll. He looked up to see Foxy, once his favorite animatronic, slashing his chest and shoulder with his hook. Before he could react to the pain, he felt Chica bite his cord, pulling it violently with her beak. He desperately gasped for air to no avail. Bonnie grabbed his arm and pushed it against the desk, likely breaking it. He couldn't tell at this point. He couldn't breathe. He caught a glimpse of his own blood and resisted the urge to vomit. It was everywhere. There was so much and it was everywhere. Oh god.

He looked up to see the yellow one. Upon second glance, no, it wasn't Fredbear. This was something different. The others loosened their grip on him and there was a moment of silence. Until the yellow bear lunged at him.

And then it all went dark.

That was the last thing he could remember. That, and the pain. The metal crossbeams and wires digging into his skin. His body mangled inside the suit. And he was left there to bleed until his consciousness slipped away.

(i've already posted this drawing but i wanted to stick it here to accompany the fic for funsies )

[maraudersandlily20]

Can you please write a Drarry fic for this prompt

“A cat.”

“Yes.”

“We broke in here to steal... a cat?”

“Yes.”

Prompt from

“I don’t like the feeling of this place,” Harry whispered, crouching down beside Draco. The pair were trying to move as silently as possible through the grounds of a large estate that loomed over them like the harbinger of death. 

“Well, Death Eaters live here Harry,” Draco’s tone matched what a person would use with a child. 

“Which is ridiculous, by the way! I mean, it’s pretty obvious at this point who the Death Eaters were. They’ve arrested most of them. But they are lagging behind.”

Draco shrugged. “The war ended four years ago. Most people just want to put it behind them.”

“Lucky them.”

Draco pulled Harry lower behind the stone wall they were using as cover. “You’re going to get us caught if you keep talking like this.” He pulled Harry’s hand and the two dashed closer to the house. They picked their way to the left side of the front door, constantly checking around them.

“That’s another thing. What exactly are we doing here? What are we taking?”

“I told you. My grandfather, Abraxus, has something in here that requires better care than he is giving it. I didn’t even realize he still had it. But I’ve had confirmations from my cousins.”

“I didn’t even know you had cousins.”

Draco smiled over his shoulder as they got to the foundation of the house. “Yeah, they’re not people I like to hang around. The wrong sort, I guess you could say.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Harry rolled his eyes as he stepped into Draco’s intertwined hands and grabbed onto the window ledge, pulling himself up. When he had himself firmly situated on the lip, he unlocked the latch on the window and swung it open slowly. Making sure that the room was clear, he leaned back over the window and grabbed Draco’s hands in his and helped him maneuver his way up the stone. The dust cleared and it was the two of them after they had broken in the magnificent estate of Abraxus Malfoy. 

“Rather gloomy place, don’t you think?” Harry whispered, feeling like it matched the mood. 

“No one comes here anymore,” said Draco, walking over to a wall full of portraits. “After father’s arrest, Grandfather got rather ill. He didn’t want any visitors unless they were invited, like my cousins, and he sits up here alone in his grand estate, cursing mudbloods.”

Harry stared up at the wall of stern and severe faces. He could see Draco in many of them, in the face shape, eye color, hair color, thinness. All of them sat sleeping, paying no attention to the noise of their entrance. This was his family. He was struck with the feeling that there was so much about Draco that he didn’t know and maybe never would. With a family like that, it would be hard to talk about. 

“Well, he should think about getting a maid,” he said in response, gesturing to the coating of dust on everything. 

A chuckle escaped Draco’s lips and he shoved at Harry, making the other boy grin. It was such a warm moment that Harry had to catch his breath. Their friendship was new, fragile, untested. And neither of them could deny that there was a spark underneath the friendship, just waiting to catch fire. They both worried though that the fire wouldn’t keep them warm but burn them alive. Harry didn’t want to push Draco into anything, so he didn’t speak about it, hoping the other boy would bring it up. He never did. 

“Alright, Malfoy. Let’s go steal from dear old Grandfather, hm?”

Draco’s smile twisted into something sinister and wicked. “I would love nothing more.”

He turned and left the room, having removed his shoes to lessen the sound. Harry wondered what they looked like, sneaking around on their tippy toes with their muddy shoes in hand. It was like a bad crime novel. 

Together, they went up the stairs, not the grand main staircase, but a more convenient, small staircase that most likely was used by staff and elves. Harry was grateful for the illegality of having house elves now so none of them would have to suffer in such a horrible place like this. 

“It’s just up here, on the second level.”

“You know,” Harry whispered, “I have done many stupid things in my life. Ron and Hermione can attest to that-”

“You mean like going into a corridor that was strictly forbidden when you were 11? Or entering a tournament that required you to be 18 even though you were 14?”

“I didn’t enter-”

“Or maybe learning spells that weren’t really tested and then using them on people, giving them scars for life?”

“Scars are hot,” Harry whispered.

Draco looked back, unimpressed. “Or maybe you were referring to the time where you willingly walked into a forest where Voldemort was and got yourself killed-”

“I came back to life!”

“-And continued to make ridiculous decisions throughout the battle of Hogwarts even though there was a chance you could die a second time? You mean stupid and reckless like that?”

They had paused in their ascent up the stairs as Draco recounted the misdeeds of Harry’s life. His face bloomed red, because Draco saying this meant that Draco noticed what happened to Harry. Meaning that Draco was watching Harry just as often as Harry was watching Draco. 

“When you say it like that, it’s like you’re implying that I’m a daredevil with a death wish.”

“You think that was an implication?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What I was GOING to say, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Draco scoffed and continued up the steps. “I may be reckless but I’ve never really broken in to someone’s house before. This is a first for me.”

“The way you lithely got onto the windowsill says otherwise.”

“I’m spry.”

“And a felon.”

“I’m an accessory, at best. This was your master plan, Malfoy. Remember?”

He couldn’t see Draco’s face, but assumed he was smiling at Harry’s insistence on that fact.

“I’m just impressed you can use such big words like accessory,” Draco snickered, making Harry smack at his back, causing Draco to go up the stairs faster to avoid him. 

They emerged onto the second level, pausing for a moment to gather whether or not someone had heard them. No obvious noise seemed to be approaching so Harry turned to the other boy. “So, let’s accio this thing and get out of here?”

“We can’t.”

“Why not.”

Draco walked swiftly down the hallway to a pair of ornately carved wooden doors. “Accio doesn’t work on live animals,” he threw over his shoulder before easing one side of the doorway open. 

Harry stuttered to a stop, confusion filling him. “I’m sorry, did you just say live animals?”

He met Draco in the doorway and peered into what seemed to be a music room, equipped with a variety of musical instruments, like a grand piano and an array of cellos, basses, and violins. He might had paused in awe at the state of them, but he was distracted.

By the black cat sitting quietly on a cushion on the sofa.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he whispered, looking at Draco with an expression that clearly said that the joke needed to end and they could move on. Draco didn’t move.

“Nope.”

“A cat?”

“Yes.”

“We broke in here to steal... a cat?”

“Yes.”

Harry didn’t often feel like facepalming himself, but now would have been one of those moments. He flicked Draco’s shoulder, causing the boy to flinch and look over in outrage. 

“WE ARE RISKING OUT LIVES FOR A CAT?!” he whisper yelled.

Draco walked into the room, kneeling in front of the cat who’s eyes were a strange misty blue and allowed it to sniff him a few times. When he understood there was a new person there, he pushed his head into Draco’s hand so he would pet him. Draco smiled and picked the cat up gingerly. With their kidnapped cat safely in his arms, he gestured for Harry to leave the room.

Though he was angry beyond belief, Harry did as he was instructed and made his way back to the little staircase. The two moved through the house quickly before exiting through the same window they had forced their way into. It was quick and painless and not a single person saw them.

When they were free of the grounds of the manner and had apparated back to Draco’s flat, he placed the cat down with a gentle touch. After making sure his new guest was settled, he turned to Harry, and grabbed him. His hands went on either side of Harry’s face and before Harry could even blink, Draco’s lips were on his. 

His response was immediate and enthusiastic. He was FINALLY kissing Draco! He felt like his heart was going to burst. 

After a few minutes of them being wrapped up in each other, Draco pulled back smiling. “As a thank you,” he whispered, face flush. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Also,” Draco leaned forward and nudged Harry’s nose with his own. “We weren’t risking our lives by taking the cat.”

“No?”

“No. My grandfather wasn’t even home.”

The sentence settled in the air as Harry took in what had been said. As understanding fell over him, he felt aghast. Draco has USED him? LIED to him? For a CAT?!

“Malfoy!!!-” But Harry couldn’t finish his yelp of anger, because Draco was kissing him again. And that effectively shut him up. 

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 1: The Reaping

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader 

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 4.6K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

What little shred of hope for survival you may have had, after hearing your name announced from the reaping, was immediately squashed minutes later by two simple words. “I volunteer”.

Volunteers from District 4 were not uncommon. There was a not-so-secret training complex the capitol turned a blind eye to, in a warehouse near the docks. During your time in school you knew of several kids who trained before and after classes. At the age of twelve some of them dropped out all together, with the sole purpose of training every waking second of the day so they could volunteer at eighteen. There was no need for an education if your only purpose in life was to compete in a death match that offered a lifetime of rewards to the winner.

After the misfortune of having your name drawn you looked around, silently begging for one of the girls to come up and replace you, only for no takers. But when Kim Namjoon eagerly announced his intentions of volunteering (the reaped twelve-year-old boy on stage immediately bursting into grateful tears and rushing back to his mother in the square) it was easy to understand why no one had stepped up this year. Back when you had attended school, before dropping out to assist your father on his fishing boat after your mother died, Namjoon had been in some of your classes –although he very rarely showed up. He was immensely popular with everyone; in part because of his handsome physique and model like dimples, partially because of his superior intelligence, but mostly because it was well known he was by far the leader from all the kids in training.

You had never attended a training session (more fool you for thinking you would never be unlucky enough to have your name drawn, and banking on one of the girls who did train to take your place if you did) but the center near the wharf was close to where your family’s boat — that functioned as both a fishing ship and your house — was docked. During the many occasions you had walked past, you sometimes stopped to peer through a crack in the doorway and watch. A majority of the times you had seen Namjoon inside amongst the group of around twenty regulars; working out with weights, sparring with an array of weapons, or climbing the rope attached to the ceiling that was surely 30 feet high with nothing but cement to drop back down to. The years of work had turned the dimpled twelve-year-old you once shared a math class with into a lethal killing machine. And now you were going to be stuck in an arena with you as one of his targets.

You stood frozen as Namjoon strode up on stage, a grin on his face, waving to the camera before shaking the hand of the capitol’s representative — a pastel blue haired woman by the name of Periwinkle Eveweather. You could tell Periwinkle much preferred Namjoon to you from the twinkle in her eye at how well he was playing up to the camera. There would be no need for her to have to force him to act like being slaughtered like an animal was an honor, like she would for you. The next moments passed far too quickly in a blur, being lead off stage to bid farewell to your families. As you sobbed in your father’s arms, an only child saying your last goodbye, Namjoon was getting a pat on the back from his older sister, a previous volunteer and victor. Shortly after you were ushered on board to the train where you now sat, Namjoon at your side and your mentor sitting across the table.

A small part of your brain found it difficult to take Finnick Odair as a mentor seriously given he was younger than you. But your rational side was quick to silence that judgment with a reminder that exact dismissal of his age was a major contributing factor to his win three years ago. The feeling of despair ate away at your insides as Finnick took an immediate liking to Namjoon. You couldn’t blame him for it, Namjoon was by far the more likely of the two of you to survive, so it only made sense for him to put more attention on the candidate with the best chance, but it still made you feel awful none the less.

“And what about you YN?”

You jumped feeling Namjoon’s hand tapping your leg softly under the table, his head wordlessly nodding in Finnick’s direction without making any eye contact to you. You had become so distracted by the mug of tea in a decorative porcelain cup in your hands, you failed to recognize your mentor’s piercing sea green eyes were now focused on you.

“Sorry, what about my what?” you mumbled dumbly, feeling incredibly insecure at Finnick’s sigh.

“Your skills, what do you bring to the games?”

Well that explained why you had tuned out, there was no need for you to listen to Namjoon describing all the potential ways he was going to kill you within a week or so. And there were a hell of a lot of ways.

“I don’t know really, I’m not someone who’s trained like Namjoon,” you paused to think, pretending not to notice Namjoon’s smug smirk in the corner of your peripheral vision as Finnick frowned slightly.

“Neither was I, and that caused a lot of the careers to underestimate me,” Finnick replied, shooting Namjoon a pointed look which caused his smirk to disappear. You tried not to smile at that, settling instead for relaxing slightly into your seat.

“I can fish, so depending on the arena I can potentially find food, but more importantly I know my way around with a knife,” you declared, feeling a little more confident. The hopeless despair was still overwhelming but the least you could do for yourself, and your father, was to go out with honor.

“Very good,” Finnick nodded “don’t underestimate your face either.”

“My face?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “How am I supposed to kill anyone with that?”

Finnick sighed, leaning further back into the lounge he was occupying on his own, pinching the bridge of his nose on his handsome face in exasperation.

“Both of you listen, this is potentially more important than all of those little training sessions or fishing catches the both of you have ever made combined. You’re clearly genetically blessed to continue District 4’s reputation of having the most beautiful tributes, you in particular” He paused to lazily point in your direction. “If you actually want to win the games, you want the people of the capitol to adore you. And they’re a city of shallow cunts,” another pause to shoot a charming smile in Periwinkle’s direction “no offense”.

“Offense taken!” Periwinkle gasped indignantly but Finnick was already speaking over her without a care.

“And as shallow cunts what these people love, more than anything in their pathetic little vapid lives, is beauty. You,” a point to Namjoon, “have been training your whole life for this and will have a body to represent that. Show it off. They love flair, they love confidence, they love a show. Flex those biceps for them, they’ll go mad. Flash your abs and they’ll fall in love. And work those dimples, cause these suckers sure worked for me, got me a trident,” Finnick grinned to show off his smile and twin indents on each corner of his mouth, Namjoon mirrored the gesture and you felt your heart clench at how easily he seemed to turn on his charm. Tall, well built and handsome, he was just as gorgeous as Finnick. Too bad he was very likely about to be the literal death of you.

“And you,” Finnick turned his attention to your direction and you felt Namjoon’s eyes burning into you from the side “you’ll be the prettiest thing they’ve seen in years, possibly in the history of the games”

Your face flushed at the comment, even though you knew it wasn’t intended as a compliment. There was no point in sweet little lies to butter you up and the fact of the matter was you knew you had an aesthetically pleasing face. Your facial features were in perfect balance, skin clear, thick hair that fell to the middle of your back and eyes that you had been told sparkled like stars in the night.

“They’ll love that shit,” his finger lazily circled around pointing to your cheeks that were flushed in embarrassment at his candid assessment of your appearance.

“These people are so used to artificial, that something so beautiful and pure will be coveted like the fattest diamond they could possibly hang from their necks. You ever fucked a guy, sweetheart?”

“Excuse me?” you balked at the invasive question, earning a sharp laugh out of Namjoon, a scandalized shriek from Periwinkle, and an eye roll from Finnick.

“I’ll take that for a yes and don’t worry I’m not interested. The capitol thrives on corruption, greed, and a need to claim rare treasures for their own. Put an innocent little dove like you, with a face like yours, in front of them and they’ll go insane. Act right at the parade and in your interviews and you’ll have sponsors gifting you everything you could ever need in that arena”.

You sat wide eyed not even knowing how to respond. You didn’t bother with arguing over the status of your supposed virginity because whether it was true or not didn’t actually matter, it was all about the perception. If getting dolled up and fluttering your eyelashes could potentially result in a knife being dropped from the sky in the arena, you could suck it up and give these disgusting people what they wanted.

X

The train ride to the capitol took just under three days in total. During that time Finnick and Namjoon spent a lot of time together, which you weren’t surprised with in the least. It was only natural to favor the tribute with the better odds, as much as Finnick’s little speech on the first day tried to make you think you could have a chance. Finnick still made some time for you though, which was mostly spent on guiding you how to attract sponsors. You spent a majority of the time in your room, a lot of it crying, most of it sleeping, and some of it playing around with technologies you had never had access to before in your life. The only time you really saw Namjoon was during breakfast and dinner where you ate together with Finnick to discuss district strategy. You weren’t surprised at all by Namjoon’s plan to join the career pack, but you were slightly surprised when he spoke of you as a part of that plan. You were a little annoyed he didn’t even think to ask your opinion, but logically speaking it’s not like you had any option. It was either join them or make yourself an easy target. Plus, any alliance with Namjoon reduced your need to have kill any other tributes personally. The only thing now was to hope districts 1 and 2 were as receptive to the idea as you were.

When you arrived at the capitol you were immediately ushered into a clinic that was like a fusion between a spa and a hospital. You were stripped, examined, and assessed by a doctor before being dressed in a paper thin hospital gown. After a painful injection (“that’s your tracker dear, so the capitol can monitor you in the arena”) you were passed over to the beauty department who scrubbed, exfoliated, waxed, showered, moisturized, treated, conditioned and polished your entire body from head to toe. But at the end when you were standing before a mirror, you could see the results were worth it.

As Finnick had stated, you were already beautiful to start with, but it was like taking an uncut gem and polishing the stone to make it shine. Your hair was a couple of inches shorter with all the damage from years of saltwater being trimmed off. A treatment of conditioners you couldn’t care to remember had tamed your thick locks into smooth waves that had been layered to frame your face and flow prettily down your back. Whatever impurities that existed on your skin before had been entirely lasered away, and your whole complexion was now soft and glowing. Your eyebrows had been plucked into identical manicured arches and some sort of needled gun had permanently filled them in. A gel had been applied to your lips to boost their plumpness, without overly inflating them or drastically changing their shape, giving your mouth a cherubic quality. Staring at your reflection you raised a perfectly manicured finger to poke at your cheek, feeling the new silky smoothness beneath your fingertip, watching as your mirror image copied the action. It was surreal. You recognized the person in front of you as yourself, all of your features were still the same, but just somehow perfected?

You mostly ignored the gushing of your newly assigned stylist team — a set of triplets named Ruby, Garnet and Quartz — as they picked out garments, stretched measuring tape across and around your body and argued over what colors would bring out your eyes the best. They were sweet and well meaning with their compliments, but the growing nerves over being prepped for the chariot parade in a few hours made you unreceptive.

The concept they eventually decided on for your fishing district was ‘Rulers of the Sea’ and you were dressed in a Grecian inspired gown. The iridescent blue and green material, that sparkled like the sun reflecting off the ocean, was clasped at the top of your left shoulder with a silver broach in the shape of a starfish. Intricate embroidery was patterned around around the waist where the fabric was cinched tightly to create an overly enhanced hourglass silhouette. The bottom half flowed to your sandal clad feet and seemed to sway with the slightest of moments, a split on the right ran to the middle part of your thigh. Your eyes were a smoky combination of the colors from your dress, lashes coated in extensions and a layer of mascara to give you a seductive yet doe eyed appearance. There was a strange dichotomy in your styling where they were attempting to preserve your ‘natural’ and ‘innocent’ traits whilst simultaneously taking full advantage of the fact you were eighteen in order to market sex appeal.

Your favorite part (that you hated to admit even liking given the circumstance you were even in) was your hair. A section from each side had been pulled away and pinned at the back in a princess style, with numerous tiny clips of glowing sea shells and starfish holding it in place. Glittery extensions had been clipped in tastefully creating an appearance as if your hair was literally shining. This was then finished off by an ornate tiara placed on the top of your head.

By the time you were finished your stylists were practically in tears, fawning over you and calling you’re their greatest masterpiece. They mistook your eyes watering as pride in their work and not disgust at their pride in dressing a cow off before sending it to the slaughterhouse.

“No dear, you can’t cry and ruin all that make up we just spent so much time perfecting” Ruby chided, dabbing at your eyes with a tissue as Quartz and Garnet guided you out the door and into the small vehicle which was about to take you from the clinic to the parade. You didn’t dignify her with a response, merely grabbing the tissue from her hand as you were forced into the car. As soon as you were inside the car sped off, arriving at the destination very shortly after. From behind your tinted windows you could see horses being lead to empty chariots and your first sight of the other tributes, the people you were either going to have to kill or be killed by.

When the car stopped, Finnick was the one to open your door and offer you a hand to get out, which you accepted. As you stood up he appraisingly ran his eyes over all the details of your make-over, before nodding his approval.

“They did well,” he stated and you nodded your head in passive agreement as he dropped your hand to press his to the small of your back and guide you towards your chariot. Namjoon was already there, dressed in his own Grecian toga of the same fabric with a crown on the top of his newly styled hair. Sensing your arrival, he turned to look at you. Namjoon’s eyes widened comically before quickly composing his features almost as instantly as he had reacted. “Very well,” Finnick whispered, and you allowed an amused puff of air out.

“Your chariot awaits my dear,” Finnick said with a mock bow as he nudged you towards Namjoon, who extended his arm for you to hold on to. Not sure what else to do, you placed your hand delicately on his forearm, his other hand then coming to rest over the top. For a brief moment as Namjoon guided you both into the chariot, you could almost imagine you were a princess being taken to a ball by a handsome prince, but any such delusions were ruined by what Namjoon whispered next.

“It’s such a shame there can only be one winner, you really look good by my side.”

Your jaw clenched and you moved to rip your hand off his arm but his grip over yours instantly tightened with a laugh, as if expecting that exact reaction.

“Calm down princess, I don’t plan on killing your pretty little face for a while yet.”

You looked up at him like he was insane as the chariot began to move forward. He thought your reaction was from fear he was going to kill you now? And not that he perceived your life as only having value from being pretty enough for him? You were furious and about to rip into him before you heard the approaching roar of the crowd ahead at the end of the tunnel. Namjoon was oblivious to your rage, a perfectly poised smile, flexing his dimples that Finnick would be proud of, already painted on his face. You paused, for all you knew that could be an attempt to psych you out before facing the crowds, potentially losing you sponsor opportunities. Turning away from Namjoon, you took a deep breath to try and compose yourself. You plastered the docile soft-smiled wide eyed expression on your face that you had practiced with Finnick on the train, as your carriage emerged form the tunnel and onto the road lined with screaming spectators.

The entire parade was a blur of flashing lights, fireworks, thunderous cheering and echoes from the microphone that distorted whatever message the president greeted you with. By the time your chariot returned to the tunnel your mind was entirely blank but with the satisfied nod from Finnick as he waited to welcome you both back, you knew you had done well.

“If District 2 is anything to go by then you’ve won yourself a lot of admirers tonight” Finnick practically sang as he helped you down. Confused by his words you turned around looking for the other district to see the duo from two, the carriage over from yours. Dressed in gladiator styled garments, that was common from them every year, the girl was fiddling with a ruby dagger (you hoped was just a prop) whilst the boy was staring straight at you. ‘Boy’ was the wrong word to describe him, as he definitely had to have been the same age as you, if anything he looked slightly more mature than the legal age to even be here. He was tall, though not as tall as Namjoon, and lithe. Beneath a decorative breastplate you could see his sun kissed golden skin adorned with the toned definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles. His face was incredibly handsome, by far the most handsome of any of the male tributes. Rich copper hair had been styled to frame his aristocratic features; a high bridged pointed nose, high cheekbones, sharp jawline and rich dark chocolate brown eyes that were intently focused on you.

“Speaking to other tributes before training is technically not allowed, but it’s enforced the same way as your training centers are, so not at all. You’ve got five minutes until those cars arrive to take you to the living quarters, go talk to the careers and work out an alliance,” You broke the eye contact to look at Finnick as he spoke, clearly having witnessed your little interaction.

Namjoon took the lead, confidently stepping off the carriage with a winning smile and striding towards the pair from two. With a sigh you hitched up the long material of your dress and followed behind him. You could still feel the male’s eyes burning into your skull as you looked across to notice the pair from District 1 also making their way over — their own mentor likely having given them the same advice as your own.

“I’m Namjoon and this is YN,” you weren’t particularly pleased by Namjoon deciding to speak on your behalf, but chose to roll your eyes behind him rather than interrupting. “We’re interested in continuing a long standing tradition of successful career pack alliances. I assume from you joining us over here, that you are as well.”

“I would typically say that to assume only makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’, but in this instance you are correct,” the other male from District 1 spoke. You tried to stifle a laugh, but the warning glare Namjoon shot you from the corner of his eye told you that it wasn’t successful. You merely smiled back and blinked innocently with a shrug.

“My name’s Yoongi, and an alliance would be in all of our best interests.” He was shorter than Namjoon and District 2, only an inch or two taller than yourself, but somehow still just as intimidating. His pale skin was contrasted by pitch black hair and sharp coal like eyes that were openly assessing the group of you.

“Krystal,” his district mate offered by means of introduction, and you wondered if the two were siblings. She shared his light complexion, dark eyes and her sleek midnight hair was dead straight down past her waist. Both were dressed in black, their outfits embodying the luxury their district was known for; Yoongi in a tailored suit with subtle embroidery detail, Krystal in an elegant fitted gown made of the same fabric, both topped off with luxurious fur capes draped over their shoulders.

“I’m Athena and he’s Hoseok,” the girl from two spoke. She appeared to be the same height as Yoongi but you noticed a heel on her sandals giving her an extra few inches. You couldn’t bring yourself to look across to Hoseok, knowing his gaze still hadn’t broken since staring at you from the carriage.

“Is that real?” you asked, gesturing towards the dagger Athena had been playing with before that was now held limply in her right hand.

“Why don’t we find out,” she replied with a smirk, instantly flipping the dagger in her hands to point the tip between your eyes.

“Athena!” Hoseok hissed dangerously, slapping the dagger from her hands and cause it to fall onto the ground below. The lack of metallic ‘clang’ revealing it as fake.

“Calm down, it was a joke!” Athena snapped back, reaching down to pick it back up, whilst shaking her head in annoyance. Before you could assure her it was fine, Hoseok stepped forward to present you with his own version of the prop. Reaching out he grabbed your wrist to place the ‘dagger’ in your hand.

“See, the material is just a type of fiber that gives the illusion of metal, but is really not hard at all.” Gently he ran the blade along your palm, and true to his word there was no edge at all. But the image still looked real and seeing a blade dancing across your skin, knowing someone was going to try to kill you with a real one very soon, made you feel ill. Sensing your discomfort from the trembling hand, Hoseok immediately pocketed the knife, but still maintained his hold on your wrist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, angel,” he spoke softly and you frantically looked to the others to see if they could hear him. Namjoon who was the closest merely looked amused, Athena was showing Yoongi the fake dagger, whilst Krystal had her eyebrow raised in your direction.

“I hope not,” you awkwardly tried to joke, pulling your wrist slightly to subtly try and break the hold, but he only tightened his grip forcing you to look up and back into his eyes again. His gaze from a distance had already been intense but up close it was heart stopping. There was a passion in his eyes you had never seen before in your life and it was solely focused entirely on you. It was frightening, you couldn’t imagine what you had possibly done to warrant being on the receiving end of something so intense. You tilted your head down and away from the others, humiliated over being so easily intimidated. If an attractive man holding your wrist and making eye contact with you was all it took to fluster you, you may as well just sign your own death certificate now.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, dropping your wrist to place his finger on your chin and raise your head back upwards, though you kept your eyes lowered, staring at his jawline to avoid direct eye contact again.

“I’m promise I won’t hurt you, love. Not now, not ever.”

You were about to ask him how he could possibly say something like that given you were about to become direct competitors in a battle to the death, when a sharp whistle stole your attention. Snapping your head to the side you saw Finnick jerk his head, indicating for you and Namjoon to return. You exhaled in relief, grateful for the reprieve.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Namjoon said to the group, moving next to you and causing Hoseok to pull his hand away. You nodded to show your agreement with Namjoon whilst making eye contact with the other three you barely had a chance to speak to. You hoped they didn’t think that you were somehow forming something just with Hoseok based on his actions. You were going to need all the help you possibly could get if you wanted a chance to survive.

“Tomorrow,” Krystal agreed, making proper eye contact with you for the first time. She was smaller in height than you, thinner too, but somehow carried a cold and intimidating aura. You offered her a polite smile in return and a nod, relieved when she nodded back, before you returned to Finnick with Namjoon.

“How did it go? Looked pretty good” Finnick asked just as the capitol vehicle pulled up to take you to the tribute quarters.

“It seems our little dove here won’t just have the capitol for an admirer,” Namjoon smirked, getting into the car.

“So I saw,” Finnick muttered as a reply to Namjoon’s back, then turned to face you.

“Don’t let him psych you out,” he said, stepping aside so you could follow Namjoon into the vehicle.

You glanced at Namjoon before turning back to see Hoseok standing by his car but staring directly at you again. His eyes were still radiating the same intense passion from moments ago, you had no idea what to make of it.

“Who?” you whispered back to Finnick, ducking your head as you stepped inside. Finnick moved to shut the door.

“Both of them”

This is basically an introductory chapter to gauge reception. Future updates should be longer. I have the whole fic plotted and the outline itself is 5.9K words and this chapter was only based on the first paragraph. The next update will focus on the training sessions/interview with Caesar and the update after should be the one where they actually enter the arena.

Feedback is much loved, but please avoid asking for updates. I don’t have a schedule but I do have crippling depression so I write when the motivation hits lol

[harderbetterfasterstarker]

endless

oops my hand slipped and i wrote a very sad drabble that’s just tony missing peter, reflecting on it during the Blip, set pre-as if even now. read it on ao3 here, and if you haven’t, read as if even now (if only to get to their happy ending, i wrote an absurdly fluffy epilogue drabble for them damnit). preemptive tw that this fic reflects on a time where tony was suicidal, and thoughts and attempts are referenced. 

The kid had gotten under his skin, into every breath he took, inside his lungs and running through his veins and pumping through his heart, in ways he hadn’t realized until he’d clutched his body as it crumbled to dust. All he’d known was that he’d felt empty in ways he hadn’t since before he’d become Iron Man, back to Earth and spending his days and nights looking for ways to fill the aching chasm that was always threatening to swallow him whole.

Tony has always been, if anything, at least self-aware when it comes to his many and myriad faults. And the truth is that he is a greedy man, never satisfied with what he has, always reaching for the next thing and the next and the next, always wanting what he can’t have, even when (especially when) it’s not good for him. And he knows that this is the truth, even though Pep always just pats him on the shoulder and gives him one of her softer smiles and says that he deserves to be a little greedy, after all he’s done, after all he’s been through. He hasn’t quite figured out how to argue with that one, even though he knows in his gut that he should. At least he hasn’t figured out how to argue without revealing cards he’d rather keep hidden, even from (especially from) Pep.

Because he’d nearly died, had thought he was going to die, and was ready to die. Another of those things he hasn’t quite worked up the courage to tell Pep yet. Her favored narrative, for him and for the press, is that he held on, fought for life, fought to stay with them for her, for Morgan. Morgan—Christ. So how is he supposed to tell Pep that he’d been lying there, fighting for consciousness through the pain clawing its way across his entire right side, and in what he’d been certain were his dying moments he’d looked at the kid, really looked at him, remembered the way his hair had smelled of cheap shampoo and sweat and dirt when he’d hugged him tight, here, real, undeniably alive, and thought, Oh. Oh.

And that had been enough.

Tony scrubbed his hands across his face, harsh and hard, as if he could erase the memory of that moment, before he’d felt whatever oddball magic Strange had begun working. What he needed to erase were the memories of the five years before that—or, hell, maybe back further. As if Tony would ever—could ever—try to excise Peter from his mind. He wasn’t even sure that he could, now. The kid had gotten under his skin, into every breath he took, inside his lungs and running through his veins and pumping through his heart, in ways he hadn’t realized until he’d clutched his body as it crumbled to dust. All he’d known was that he’d felt empty in ways he hadn’t since before he’d become Iron Man, back to Earth and spending his days and nights looking for ways to fill the aching chasm that was always threatening to swallow him whole.

After Pep had gotten pregnant with Morgan, he’d once, in a drunken spat of extreme bitterness, accused her of convincing him to retire and have a kid as a replacement for Peter. She’d been so mad at him for that one that she’d just left the house and called Rhodey, told them to call her when Tony was sober again. He regretted what he said, but he noticed that she didn’t deny it.

At least, in her eyes, he’d stopped trying to kill himself by the time Morgan was born, so she could reasonably assume that maybe her plan had worked. Shamefully, not even the idea of leaving his baby girl alone in the world without a father was enough to keep him away from that particular ledge—in fact, what he hadn’t admitted to Pepper was that it made him want to run away more, because if Peter was superhuman and brilliant and good, the best of them, and Tony hadn’t been able to protect him, what could Tony hope to do for this little girl? No, it was Nat who got the credit for ending his run of attempts. Most of his attempts had been thwarted by past Tony, who had dreamed up what felt like a thousand and one protocols and alerts for just this scenario, but the last one it had been Nat to walk into his workshop at just the right (wrong) moment, in what if it had been anyone other than the Black Widow he’d have called a coincidence.

“You’ve gotta talk to someone, Tony,” she’d said once they were settled on the couch in the corner of the lab he slept on most nights.

“You don’t think I do? I’ve seen every shrink this side of the Mississippi and several on the other, I’ve gone to those stupid fucking support groups, and it’s—none of it works, Nat.” He’d been drunk—he was always at least slightly drunk, then—and it made him more open. “It’s all wrong.”

Whenever his therapists asked him to talk about what happened on Titan, he clammed up, spoke in the vaguest of terms. He told himself he was protecting Peter’s identity (even in apparent death) but he knew that wasn’t right. He’d considered that he was trying to avoid admitting just how culpable he really was, for dragging a teenager into this fight, for dragging the best mind of a new generation, the sweetest boy he’d ever known, brash and a bit impulsive but with a heart of fucking gold, and let him die on a godforsaken desert planet with a bunch of aliens, Strange, and a man who thought Footloose was a great movie—because he’d had plenty of experience avoiding admitting truths to himself, and this wasn’t his first therapy rodeo—but deep down he knew that wasn’t right either.

“Have you gone to the right ones?” Natasha had asked softly, looking at him carefully, and he had the unsettling feeling she, as always, saw more than he wanted her to see.

“I’ve been to the general ones, the ones for everyone who lost people in the Blip, to family loss, to the ones for first responders and others who felt helpless, I’ve even been to the groups for parents who lost kids.”

He had—at Pep’s insistence, he’d gone. And it was—better, than the others. The scope of his grief felt… more accepted, there. Less out of touch with the experiences of others. But it still wasn’t—enough. When they talked about the future they’d been robbed of with their children, it was a future they got to watch, moments in their lives that were gone—graduations, weddings, grandchildren. And Tony felt that, all of it, deeply—that he should’ve been there to see Pete graduate, valedictorian, go to college wherever he wanted (MIT, it would’ve been MIT), invent something that floored Tony with his brilliance—but that wasn’t quite it. More than all of that, he missed the time he should’ve spent with the kid and didn’t, missed the idea of years of weekends in the lab spilling out ahead of them, hearing him laugh and seeing him smile. He wished he’d just hugged the kid that time in the car, instead of making everything some joke.

“He was just… you know what he said to me, when I first met him and asked him why he was doing what he did? A broke fourteen year old kid, suddenly has superpowers and instead of being captain of the football team and stealing enough to set them up for life, he’s chasing down muggers in a onesie? He said, when you can do what I do, and you don’t do anything, and then bad things happen, they happen because of you. I mean, Christ, Nat. He was the best of us and I—I lost him, and I—and it feels like I can’t breathe.” He realized that his hand had gone, unbidden, to the shell of where the arc reactor had been, clutching at it desperately. Ripping his heart out would’ve maybe been less painful. Natasha had given him another penetrating look and then, whip sharp and faster than certainly his inebriated brain could keep up with, she’d grabbed him by the chin and turned him to look her in the eye.

“I actually like you, Tony, which is why I will say this. You loved Peter, you really truly did. And when you love someone, and they die, it fucking hurts and it never goes away. I like Pepper, I do, but the house in the country and hanging up the suit and the baby? Those won’t make it stop hurting. That pain lives inside you now, because so did Peter. So the only question is whether you can choose to live with it. Like I said, I like you, so I hope the answer is yes, and I think that’s the answer the kid would want for you. But if the answer is no, you call me. I’ll make it quick, and painless, and tidy, and Pep and the baby would never ever know what it really was.”

For once in life, he’d been speechless, left to stare at the spot on the couch she’d vacated as he considered her words, considered that Natasha had had a life, in Russia, before the Red Room had stolen it from her. Considered whether he’d want Pep to think he’d just… had a heart attack. Gotten old, put too much stress on himself. Considered the kid, wondered if there really was a place you went when you died, what he’d say to Peter.

He’d called Natasha once after that, at 3 in the morning a few months after Morgan was born, when he hadn’t been getting enough sleep and when the silence around the house had felt oppressive.

“Tony,” she’d said, quiet and gentle, the kind of tone she took when she was lulling the Hulk back to peace. “Is this the call we talked about?”

“No,” he’d gasped, scrabbling around the kitchen for the picture of Peter and him together, their fake internship picture. “No, I just… Thanks. Thank you.”

“You already had your heart-to-heart, Stark. Don’t think this is a regular thing,” she’d said, sounding more like herself. He’d snorted, clinging to the sense of normalcy.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Won’t put you on the list for talking about our feelings.”

“Atta boy. And Stark… you’re welcome.”

[cas-backwards-tie]

could you do “don’t be afraid, trust me” for five hargreeves please?

Warnings: Graphic description of torture, Murder, Suicidal thoughts, Fire, Kidnapping, Little bit of language.

A/N: Thanks for requesting this! It took me a little time to come up with an idea, but I managed! I hope you enjoy.

Somehow you’d gotten caught up in all of this. Of course, what this is exactly, you don’t know. But it’s hard to focus on that at the moment, raw heat itching at the skin of your bound wrists, the slightly frayed waxed ropes irritating your skin. The dark-haired man in front of you scrutinizes every inch of you, helpless in every definition. Yet you're not hopeless, not yet. Hot and heavy tears well up in your eyes, settling at the brim as you struggle to move, still bound to a chair. It's one of the few pieces of furniture they haven’t destroyed yet.

They haven’t started the fire yet, that’d attract too much attention, but the breaking of furniture apparently hasn’t. The man turns on the heels of his boots and grabs the red gas canister off the kitchen counter in front of you. Sloshing gasoline onto everything, his partner is still rummaging in the bathroom. “Aha! Found it. The tub will start filling now.” Next, the sound of running water overshadows the splashing of gasoline pooling up on the wooden floors of your apartment.

“How much longer? We need to end this and get out of here. It’s bad enough she had no intel, surely the board will be onto us if we take any longer. The sooner, the better,” the one who’d been pouring gasoline speaks to the other. The lanky one from the bathroom pops his head out from the doorway to peer at you. After a moment, their conversation defers back to whatever their goal is; all you remember is that they’d been asking questions solely about your father’s work.

He was an environmental scientist originally, though after an event- a bedtime story he used to tell-he shifted his work to primarily focus on meteorology. Closing your eyes, hot wet tears stream down your face and leaving a trail of sting in its wake. It still hurts to think about, it doesn’t even feel real; your father had been murdered in his office two nights ago when he was packing up after working a late shift. A knife to the stomach, multiple stab wounds. He bled to death on the floor, his iliac arteries primarily targeted. The cops had informed you it was a quick death, assured you he died a painless death… however the looks on their faces made their lying obvious.

Distant thumps pull you from your grieving, hope starting to dwindle as you begin to worry your fate, too, is death. As the thumps from the dark-haired man’s boots grow louder, he rounds the corner and appears in your eye line again, this time with a matchbox in hand. “Any last words?” He asks as though he’s a supervillain, some infamous mega-mind with a master craft for this sort of thing; you know he’s not. “Oh right,” he chuckles, eyeing the duct tape covering your mouth. “Looks like we can get started then! Lenny, grab the files. I’ll get the specimens.” Sure, your father had plenty of different artifacts and specimen in his office, but you still have no clue why this is important to anyone, let alone why you’d both be killed over such a thing! Suddenly he whips a match out of the box, striking it across the sandpaper once to no avail, twice, and then- fwip- there’s fire.

Flicking the match in the opposite corner of the room by the couch, it goes up in flames; the gasoline accelerating the process. Quickly making his way into the office you spot the second-lanky-man return with the files from the office. He throws them into the fire one by one, ripping apart the papers, photos attached with people, bodies, big bold letters, and numbers scrawled on top. Experiments. It slightly reminds you of those kids in the newspaper sometimes, the ones with the animated tv show, the ones you see kids in school have comics of and lunchboxes.

The flames grow, the room gets hot faster than you expect, and your wrists are practically screaming, begging for release from their hold as you squirm and try to escape. They don’t care anymore; they know you’re done for, there’s no escaping. Your screams and cries muffle against the duct tape and sweat begins to build on your forehead, the struggle becoming more immediate. Of course, you’d been scared before, but now that death is inching closer by the second, fire covering one wall and inching around the corner of the wall you’re on the end of, well, the adrenaline is racing through you.

It’s the furthest window that goes up in flames first, the window shattering as the men break the glass jars of specimen in the fire. Rocks, plants, DNA samples, all gone. They throw the jars down against the wooden floor and you can do nothing but try to rub your mouth against your shoulder to pry the duct tape off to scream for help. Maybe someone will notice the fire- call for the fire department. They’ll help. Someone has to come. They have to, don’t they? No. No, you know that’s not true. That’s not how real life works, it hadn’t happened for your mom when she died giving birth to you, it hadn’t happened to your dad, and now it won’t happen for you either.

The burst of cool wind from the winter air sends the flames soaring onto the ceiling, causing you to let out a muffled scream. Occasional crackles and pops from the flames cause you to flinch, and you shut your eyes as if that’ll help. Smoke fills the air and leaks out the window, the wretched heavy and fetid stench burns your nose and throat, your eyes watering as you try to cough through the tape, now struggling to breathe. If anything, hopefully, you’ll die from asphyxiation before burning… that’d be a much better way to go.

Your head feels light, your vision starting to blur, and you’re not sure whether that’s from the fumes or the tears or both. Just as you begin to mentally pray to whatever gods, deities, or spirits that live amongst you in hope of a swift and painless death, a blue flash appears. Before your very eyes, there’s a boy in a school uniform, his back turned to you, yet you still recognize the preppy look. “Hey, assholes! What’s the deal?” With the use of surprise, he pushes one of them off-balance and into the fire. The man instantly screams and flails as he rolls around, stands, body covered in flames as he runs around crazily. A putrid odor radiates from his burning flesh and his skin peels, his screams getting louder and louder until they eventually stop and he drops to the floor lifelessly.

“Shit! Come here, you little fuc-!” Another flash of blue and the kid is in the kitchen to your right, the side of the apartment not up in flames. In an instant he’s throwing the knives at the man, suddenly flashing again. Now behind him, he slits his throat, blood spilling down his front like a chocolate fountain.

With widened eyes you stare at the boy, only to whip your head to your left, a muffled scream escaping you as fire darts up the curtains of the window behind you. The window will surely shatter and break in a minute or so. It races across the top of the curtain above your head, ashes, and embers slowly drifting through the air. A tug on your ankles alerts you to the presence of the kid. He uses the bloodied knife to cut the rope that binds your wrists together. Immediately you stand, backing away from the fire, but standing far from him, still trapped inside the burning apartment.

“Come with me,” he commands, your eyes still widened in fear as you don’t trust him. Watching him easily pop through the room and teleport himself is frightening and unreal. It’s not possible, unless… unless you were one of those umbrella kids. That’s why the uniform looked familiar. He senses your fear and jerks his outstretched hand to get your attention. “Don’t be afraid, trust me.” You don’t, but he’s your only option of getting out of here alive. Slipping your hand into his slightly larger one, in a swirl of blue light, you’re instantly in another location.

[2-cute-4-school]

Hiraeth III - Final

Group : NCT

Pairing : Lee Donghyuck/Haechan x f!Reader

Genre : angst, a pinch of fluff at the end maybe?

TW : blood, weapons, death

Word count : 5K words

Mafia AU  |   M.list

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - Final 

Chapter Summary : “ I am only loyal to love.”

Haechan’s knees buckled and he thought his heart might just explode at that moment. He could barely take a hurried stride forward in a desperate attempt to rip the gun from Y/N’s hands before he froze in his spot, his eyes enlarging almost comically as his lips parted, leaving his mouth open agape, a hand stretched to its full extent forward, a breath away from coming in contact with the girl whose words squeezed his heart so painfully moment ago.

Y/N also stopped in her tracks, the finger still firmly pressed against the trigger, but the expression that overcame Haechan’s features was enough to make her hesitate to fully seal her chosen fate. Her entire body went stiff and she mentally reprimanded herself for putting her plan on hold after everything she went through to get to this point. It only proved to herself that she wasn’t as strong as she thought she was and the thought left an ugly tear in her mind.

But as Y/N studied the boy’s frozen face, Haechan’s eyes slipped past her face, staring intently behind her, his pupils dilating even more from the icy fear that spread across his entire chest. He was face to face with the barrel of a gun, reflections of the artificial light that came from the cheap light bulb on the ceiling of the room bringing out every corner and bump of the weapon that was pointed straight at his head and seemed to already burn a hole through his forehead.

Haechan slightly shifted his gaze upwards, meeting the cold eyes of the gun’s owner, eyes that could freeze the harshest hell and turn the bravest heroes into stone at a mere glance. Haechan’s breath hitched in his throat, a weird mix of emotions drowning his already messy rationality, their eye contact enough to make his soul force a try to leave his body on spot.

“Don’t you dare touch her”

The voice was stern and so glacial that Haechan felt a chill run deep down in his bones. But while Haechan felt locked in a freezing hell, Y/N felt a hot pang ripping a shudder through her entire body. Her prior thoughts dissipated into thin air as she forgot all about the golden rule of never turning your back to the enemy and spun on her heels so fast it would have made her dizzy if not for the adrenaline that seemed to further spur her on as every second passed.

“Step away from her.”

She didn’t have to turn around to know whose voice spoke but the disbelief ran so deep in her heart that she desperately needed concrete evidence, she needed to see him. She needed to put a face to the voice that comforted her during her most ruthless nightmares and wrapped her in a blanket of safety that seemed untouchable by anyone who ever dared to lay a finger on her. She was already so hurt, so weakened it didn’t take a genius to imagine what she had to go through.

“Now, Haechan.”

She needed to see Johnny standing unharmed before her eyes.

“How is it possible?”

Haechan’s voice cracked, overcome by shock, but his legs instinctively carried his back a few steps, responding to the tone he knew Johnny only used when his job required him to put on his cruel mask. It was the voice that let everyone know the game was over. Y/N could barely feel herself breathe and for a moment she wondered if she was truly alive, if she had actually pulled the trigger or if she went crazy and her mind was playing some twisted game with her. Her entire body started shaking almost violently and her throat closed up, leaving her mouth dry. It was so hard for her to process seeing Johnny breathing in arms reach after weeks of being forced to believe that NCT was dead, that her family perished before she could see them one more time. It felt like an illusion threatening to swallow up her sanity.

Johnny’s eyes stayed trained on Haechan as if he could take the younger boy apart with just the look he was shooting him. He dearly wanted to turn to Y/N, to hold her and assure her she was finally safe, that he would die before he let anyone else touch her again, but there was enough time to do that after they got rid of the problem at hand. He let out a quiet snort, regarding Haechan with disgust as he stepped forward, past Y/n and towering over Haechan.

“Surprised to see me, you bastard? Seems like your little stunt didn’t work as well as you hoped.”

Johnny harshly gripped the shorter boy’s collar, raising him slightly so that he was forced to balance himself on his tip-toes with a gun pressed to his forehead, digging into his skin. Haechan seemed to recover from the shock of coming face to face with his supposedly dead ex-member and his eyes cleared up a little, meeting Johnny’s in a vicious clash.

“How are you alive?”

A humorless laugh slipped past Johnny’s lips.

“I will spare you the painful details, but I must say that this low gang of yours is dumber than I initially thought.”

Y/N’s mind was nearly blank, still trying to process the sight of his falling and rising chest of the man who swore more times than she could remember that he would protect her until his last breath. He was in front of her and if she reached her hand, she could easily touch his tensed back. He was alive and well and that was more than enough to set her will to fight alight once again.

“Are you hesitating, hyung? Why don’t you finish this off once and for all? Traitors don’t have the right to live, am I right?”

“But neither do they have the right to such a quick, painless death.”

A shaky, frail hand softly touched the arm holding the gun to Haechan’s head and Johnny’s nerves calmed down, basking in the familiar touch he went crazy without for the past weeks. Still, the firm grip on the gun didn’t lessen and neither did it move away from Haechan’s skin. 

“Johnny.”

Her voice was weaker than ever and it didn’t fail to make Johnny’s heart tremble with regret. He knew they had to leave, but he couldn’t wait anymore to ask what he had been wondering since their ambush.

“Why did you do this, Haechan?”

Johnny’s voice was softer, either from Y/N’s touch lingering on his arm or from the reminiscence of the madness he went through. Haechan’s eyes lowered, his words came out mumbled and filled with sorrow.

“I did what I thought was right.”

“And you thought it was right to send us to a sure death and make her go through torture? Is that what you thought was right?”

Haechan’s composure broke at that, his tone cutting through steel as his gaze became venomous.

“It’s easy for you to say! You didn’t have to watch helplessly as that sick excuse of a man pushed a gun against Y/N’s head and demanded that you choose between her life and everyone else’s! You have no idea...”

His voice got lost again between his train of jumbled thoughts, feeling as if he just relived his worst experiences. Johnny’s burning gaze looked straight through him, cracking him little by little. Gunshots echoed from downstairs, muffled by the distance but loud enough for Johnny to know that the rest of the members were taking care of Park Ji-won and the situation he had caused with no mercy.

“Maybe not, but I had to watch our members die before my eyes and find out everything went down because the kid we raised and loved all along betrayed us. I had to go through weeks of searching and waiting all while grieving in hopes of finding Y/N alive just to burst through the door and see her pressing a gun to her own head. I think it’s you who has no idea, Haechan.”

Y/N’s grip on the fabric that covered Johnny’s skin tightened at the mention that some of her members were actually gone. Her heart sunk heavily at the thought, her mind becoming cloudy once again. Of course it was too good to be true, no victory could be gained without a loss, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to come face to face with such a loss.

But Haechan’s chest also tightened painfully, despair crawling through his entire being and devouring his sanity with every word that left Johnny’s mouth. 

“I tried, hyung, I really did. Please believe me, I tried.”

Y/N didn’t know what broke her the most. She felt hurt everywhere, every bit of her being felt as if it was being burnt inside out and a weight heavier than the world fell on her shoulders, making her resolve collapse. 

“Who are you loyal to, Haechan?”

He didn’t hesitate, the response was immediate and his voice didn’t waver a bit as if there was only one possible answer and he only stated the obvious.

“I am only loyal to Y/N. I am only loyal to love.”

There was a pregnant silence. The air was heavy, chocking Y/N up even more and she lowered her forehead against Johnnys back, needing any kind of support she could get at the moment just to be able to keep herself upright. Her surroundings were spinning and the world seemed to be a mere illusion as she let herself be swallowed up by a numbing pain. Her sudden unsteadiness snapped the two males out of their daze.

“Y/N, hey!”

At the sight of her so frail, Haechan forgot all about the gun and reached out a hand to cradle the back of her head, a weak attempt to ground her, to bring her any comfort. Johnny slightly flinched at the movement before pulling Haechan”s hand away and wrapping his free arm around the girl in turn, not moving the gun away from Haechan.

“I told you not to touch her.”

But Johnny seemed conflicted. He knew he couldn’t let Haechan walk alone, as much as the boy’s words touched his heart in ways Johnny couldn’t believe existed anymore, he couldn’t trust him anymore, not even to walk downstairs where the rest of the members were taking out Park Ji-won and the rest of his men. Letting Haechan walk alone wasn’t a solution, but having to let Y/N go from his hold only hurt his heart furthermore. She was shaking so bad that a gust of wind could have broken her in two and with the way she tried to curl into herself as if to protect herself from the outside world, Johnny feared that the moment he stopped supporting her body she would collapse on the floor. Before he could make a decision, Y/N stepped away from under his arm and raised her head to meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Let’s go.”

He wanted to protest at first, concerned to the moon about her state, but the gaze she shot the pair of males was enough to settle the matters. She wasn’t fine, not at all. She didn’t suddenly recover and become stronger in less than a minute. She was afraid and hurt and broken inside out. But she decided that the fear of losing anybody else while wallowing in her own pity was stronger than her need to be held at the moment. They had to get out first and then she’d allow herself to crash.

Johnny gripped Haechan’s arm tightly and brought the younger in front of himself as they started walking towards the door. Haechan didn’t put up a fight, walking silently at the same rhythm as Johnny, knowing that the faster they arrived at the others, the faster Y/N could be attended to and that was his only priority. Y/N had always been his first and only priority and it would stay that way until his last breath.

“Keep your hands up and open. Don’t make any sudden moves.”

Haechan complied silently, raising his hands in front of him. As they exited the room, Y/N could finally hear the voices downstairs, some of them familiar. There were no gunshots anymore, meaning the job was finished. She couldn’t understand their words, but it was enough for an ounce of relief to blossom in her soul. While walking down the hallway that led to the same stairs she had sneaked up that same night, Y/N held her gun up, keeping her guard up despite Johnny’s assurance that they were safe, that the members took care of everything.

“Just to be sure. I won’t risk losing you now.”

Johnny’s heart warmed up at her words, knowing that she would be fine eventually. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for, they would help her recover and they were going to have their Y/N back in no time. He would make sure of that. 

As they descended the stairs, Haechan felt chocked up. How could he meet their eyes? How could he look straight at them after what he had done? How could he wish for forgiveness when some of their members died by his hand? He kept his lips sealed shut, trying to keep down the nervousness building up inside himself and threatening to overflow his senses.

As the living room came into view astonishment was the only word that matched Y/N’s reaction. She had seen death many times before, she had looked it in the eyes and laughed before slipping away from its grasp. Death and blood were no new thing to her and she had been sure that nothing related to them would be able to affect her after everything she had been through. But never in her life had she seen so much death in a single room.

It was clear none of the boys had shown any remorse or mercy. Most of the kills were clean, a single shot or slash to vital parts of the body. There seemed to be bodies decorating every corner of the room and Y/N was sure there had to be more around the house. The only one who sported multiple deep wounds was Park Ji-won. He was laid face-down in the middle of the carpet, crimson blood staining the expensive fabric that covered the entire floor. He must have been tormented before her members decided to spare him from further painstakingly slow suffering and gave him a final blow. Y/N felt a sick swirl of satisfaction deep in her chest at the sight.

Her eyes moved around and the only emotion she could fully decipher was pure joy. She felt almost overwhelmed by the heavenly storm going on inside her head when she caught sight of her members, the family she thought she had lost until mere moments ago. She had her angels back and if she were to die tomorrow she thought that she might actually not regret anything. Her heart soared with a profound feeling of euphoria and she truly felt that she had swum across oceans, climbed the way to the moon and back, but she felt no exhaustion. Y/N knew she would do it all over again for them.

Between the familiar faces, she could also pinpoint a few other members from their label. She knew they had worked with her members in the past, but she never met them officially, but that only served to pinch her heart even further. They didn’t know her, but they still put their lives on the line to save her, to honor her wronged members. And she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Y/N!”

Her eyes cleared as they met his, as sparkly as she remembered them and for the first time in God knows how long Y/N smiled, truly smiled out of clear happiness. He was there, looking at her as if she had put the stars at his feet with his lips parted, allowing air to flow through his lung that felt clogged up since the day of her mission. She was there, meeting his eyes with such raw emotion that he could feel his heart turn to jelly and tremble, scared by the strength she possessed over his entire being. She didn’t break her promise to him, she was standing in front of Mark, with a smile nonetheless.

Haechan could only watch. Oh, how he missed her, the her that resembled an innocent child who spread sunshine on a gloomy day. She was ethereal, out of this world and he desperately wished he could be the one to meet her tender gaze, but he just observed in silence as he lost her little by little. It didn’t matter that much to him, as long as she was happy, he could endure a war on his own, raging waves of fire overcoming his weakened heart that seemed to only beat for her, beasts clawing at his sanity that only cleared over at the sight of her. She was his all.

And if he could only admire from afar, he would let the world rip away his soul just to spend a moment longer worshiping the only smile in the world that mattered to him. Haechan swore loyalty to his love for her and he would die loving her.

Y/N started moving further from him, her steps directed towards Mark, who also left his initial spot to meet her in the middle. But nothing ever came that easily, did it?

While the room gazed softly at their regained strength, the exit out of a tangled maze they had been wandering through aimlessly, Haechan ripped his eyes away from her, distracted by the small movement he managed to catch with the corner of his eye. His heart dropped to the floor, crunching under the weight of his rushed footsteps.

“Y/N!”

The light in Mark’s orbs darkened and his eyes widened even more, changing his entire face. His voice cracked at the end of his yell and he broke into a sprint towards her, frantically reaching out a shaky hand. As Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she felt an arm tightening around her, and then another one and a body slammed into hers, knocking the both of them to the ground. She was enveloped by Haechan’s familiar and musky scent and Y/N was vividly reminded of her dream back in her cell, Mark’s footsteps fading into the distance while Haechan kept her impossibly close to himself. And she was once again reminded that Haechan was the one who held her heart in the palm of his hand, playing it on his fingers and he would remain her keeper until the end of times.

“I love you” It was such a mellow whisper, like honey coating the petals of a newly blossomed flower, beautiful, but so fragile.

But the loud gunshot that followed wasn’t part of the dream.

The collision with the hard floor was anything but soft and it took Y/N several seconds to recover from the unexpected fall. Her head felt dizzy and her vision swarm as she attempted to lift her head. Haechan’s weight on top of her already weak self made it difficult to breathe properly, but the churning feeling settling at the pit of her stomach dropped her in a hollowness of fear.

Before Y/N could struggle furthermore, Haechan moved away from her and Mark’s fingers wrapped gingerly around her arms, lifting her in a sitting position.

“You’re alright, oh my God, you’re alright.”

His calloused hands gripped the sides of her face the moment another shot echoed, this time coming from one of their members. Despite Mark’s attempts at keeping her still, she caught a glimpse of Minho falling to the floor, a gun gripped in his hand tightly until his last moment.

“Shit”

The hiss coming from Johnny who was crouched beside them and the dark look in Mark’s dread-filled orbs were enough for the realization to dawn on Y/N. She hastily tried to turn around, praying to be wrong, but Mark forcefully tugged her against himself, tucking her face in his chest and keeping her in her sport with a hand cradling the back of her head and an iron-tight grip around her waist. She started pushing back against him, desperately trying to escape his hold, but Mark’s hold only tightened.

“YN stop, you don’t want to look!”

“Let me go, please. Please, Mark, let go!”

Y/N’s breaths quickened as she could hear rushed shuffling around them. The struggle against Mark was nothing compared to the storm raging inside her, but as she heard a muffled sob from their side, she found an inner strength she didn’t know she possessed any more. She pushed Mark away with such force he was ripped away from her, falling back on his heels.

Her head snapped and she mentally collapsed, letting herself drown along with her uncontrollable demons at the sight burned deep inside her soul. The dull ache that numbed overtime broke into a full-blown fire spreading across her chest, burning down the last of her hope, the last of her sanity, her last bit of happiness.

“No.”

She chocked on her words, crawling closer to Haechan whose eyes starred emptily at the ceiling above them, fading into nothing, the shell of her lost lover. Her knees soaked in blood as she settled beside him, reaching out a quivery hand to brush against his cheek. It was still warm and soft and it only spurred Y/N’s devastation further on.

“No, Hyuck, you can’t, you can’t.”

The sun of her world faded away, her sunshine slipped through her fingers, leaving her locked into a scary hell where no light was able to breach its walls, a frozen second in time that would bring her doom. She tried to shake him, miserably grasping on her straightened lifeline.

“I can’t without you, Hyuckie, I can’t.”

Her voice rose in volume and once Mark’s knuckles touched her shoulder, she lost it. She lost her everything, she lost herself.

“You told me it’ll be the both of us until the end, I can’t go on alone, Hyuckie, please, please you can’t do this! Not now, please! We were so close, sunshine, so close!”

“Y/N, stop-”

“Wake up, dammit! Don’t leave me alone, Hyuck! My sun, please, keep on shining...”

Her tears left trails of dying fire against her cheeks, ashes of sorrow mixing with the crimson underneath them. She closed her eyes, she wasn’t able to watch her world wither away underneath her fingertips. Her body was trembling, a wilted leaf blown away with the wind whispering the promise of her end. Johnny reached out, gently closing Haechan’s eyelids. 

Y/N leaned her forehead on his, her nose touching his, their lips a breath apart, a breath that was stolen away from him. She realized then that losing him was never an option for her, not even when her gun was still pointed at him, not even when she called him a monster. A monster wasn’t able to love, but he proved his purest form of love.

“I love you too, Donghyuck, too much and too late.”

He was her ride or die and she had just lost her ride, a ride to happiness, to the future she had been dreaming of since Haechan first shone on her and held her in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest where she could hear the steady heartbeat she would sell her soul for not that her breath was the only one fawning across his face.

The world around Y/N darkened and she knew her chance perished, the fire keeping her alive going out faster than the warmth leaving Haechan’s body.

“I love you to the end and after.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her fingers ran over the engraved letters in stone, the large pieces of marble attached to the wall in front of her only sticking needles deeper under her skin. She knew the room very well, although it had never hurt as much to step inside as it did now. The room of memories as everyone associated with SM calls it. Since bodies of their fallen comrades can’t always be recuperated it was decided that they would dedicate a room to commemorate everyone. Simple, white pieces of marble with pictures and a small description decorated the walls of the room, the smell of flowers lingering in the air.

“Are you sure you’re good to be here?”

His arm brushed against hers as he regarded her with cautious eyes. Her dislocated shoulder was immobilized and most of her skin was covered in bandages and soothing cream, but both of them knew he wasn’t talking about those wounds.

“Mark, I told you I’m fine.”

Her words didn’t convince anyone, a glance at her blank eyes was enough to confirm the freezing hollowness filling her from the inside.

She locked eyes with Jungwoo’s picture, puppy eyes staring kindly back at her. Such a pure happiness lost in the cruel world. He cried every time he was forced to take a life saying that all he wanted was to keep his dear ones safe as their medic and their rock. And he did in the end, he kept them safe until his last breath.

“He was braver than I’ve ever seen him.”

Mark’s voice was somewhat dreamy, regretful but admiring.

“He had always been brave in his own way.”

Died healing his family - so fitting for the only thing he had ever wished for.

Y/N moved on to the next marble piece, Taeil’s fiery gaze sending chills down her spine. Always a fighter, showing no mercy to anyone who dared to threaten his family. He was always considered their shield, a safe place for anyone he held close to his burning heart.

“He died while protecting me, you know? I didn’t even realize what was happening, but he did and he didn’t hesitate to cover me.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Just like it wasn’t yours.” Y/N remained silent.

Died protecting his little brothers - it embodied his sole purpose.

Y/N chocked on air as she was met with her leader’s picture. She knew about his sacrifice, the way he selflessly laid his life at their enemy’s feet as long as the others were given a chance to survive, the way he didn’t hesitate for even a second to save what was left of the family he worked so hard to keep together. The hint of softness in his eyes reminded Y/N of the warmth of his hand the night she brought her in his home and declared her a part of them. She wished she had been able to thank him one last time.

Mark didn’t need to speak this time, he knew Y/N was deep in her mind, collecting her scattered thoughts in an attempt to gather herself before her guardian angel that got sent home before she could find comfort in his arms once more.

“Thank you, Taeyong, thank you more than I could ever express.”

Her voice was as shaky as her fingers, wavering at the edges like a wounded bird that tried to learn how to fly again.

Died as a true leader - as he would always stay in their hearts.

She could only stare with a vacant look glazing over her orbs at Haechan’s picture that followed. He was brightly smiling and Y/N could remember the way he strongly refused to stay serious for any picture taken, the way his eyes always shone brighter as his nose scrunched up and his lips pulled back in a blinding smile that stole away her eyes from anything else other than him.

Now his picture only sent rivers of  anguish down her skin, cracking her soul open at the sight of him. She thought that she was her half, but she was wrong. Haechan was the glue keeping her pieces together, raising her up to hover above skies and oceans. Without him she could only crawl in pitch dark pits, a numbing cold seeping deeper and deeper in herself and freezing her in time.

Y/N lowered her head, too overwhelmed to lock eyes with him.

“I lost, Mark, I’m lost.”

Mark could only swallow the knot in his throat. He slithered his warm fingers through Y/N’s, grounding her to the world, keeping her mind with him.

“You’ll get back up, losing doesn’t mean it ended.”

“No, it ended the moment I lost him.”

“But you didn’t lose him, Y/N.”

She slowly looked up, meeting Mark’s gaze. His eyes had a sad sparkle, a piece of the moon residing in them, bringing a shine of light in the dark night. He had a small smile that somehow made Y/N trust him despite her confusion and pain. He continued to watch her as she moved her stare to the piece of marble before them.

“If you look around, you’ll find him everywhere.”

Y/N understood. She felt Haechan in the warmth radiating from Mark’s hand wrapped around hers, a heat she found comfort in during the darkest of days. She felt Haechan in the soft rays of sun cascading through the small window and caressing her soul the way Haechan used to caress her heart with a few mere words that soothed her distress. She felt Haechan in the heartbeat pounding against her rib cage, in every breath that filled her lungs, in each moment that passed. He was still there, with her.

Died loyal to love

And the sun kept on shining.

[xxj0kerxx]

open to: m/f connection: doctor BGM: Cry Me A River

maybe it was the constant bullying that caught up to him, he didn’t live the most promising life and it didn’t feel like it was shaping into anything better than what he had now. never in his whole life did he ever think or believed that he was lucky or privileged. far from it. gotham, itself, was ugly and painful to live in and it was almost at a constant that he spent his days daydreaming about moving away or wishing that he was dead. arthur sat limply in front of the desk while clutching the journal close to him. “it’s always been in my head— that maybe one day i’ll gain the courage to tell my mother or grandfather that i’m some kind of monster or terrible person. and maybe she would hate me so i could die and she wouldn’t care if i ended up dead somewhere.” being a child molester and rapist would’ve been a plausible alibi. not that he would do such a horrendous thing to the kids, but he practically worked arounds kids almost daily. just a hole somewhere was more than enough for the frail male as he sat there while dwelling on what would be the most painless death. he didn’t want to think about jumping from gotham square, let alone hanging himself. it just felt too grotesque. something quick and painless would’ve sufficed. a death so quick he couldn’t register what s ort of pain he felt because he was far gone. “but maybe i can get more medication? i don’t feel like the medication or breathing exercises are doing anything for me. it never makes me feel like i’m getting any better.” arthur huffs, exhaling the smoke from his mouth and taking a deep breath as he briefly eyes around the office. things were already bad and he didn’t have much faith or hopes going forward. frankly, arthur was anxious to see how things would turn out down the line. bills were increasingly becoming harder and harder to pay and there was less work. there wasn’t exactly a large demand for clowns when there were bums in the subway stations willing to sell themselves for a dollar to be clowned on.

[mka1098]

My Love is God

My Love Is God

Veronica x JD modern AU 

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing; death; murder; depictions of violence and blood; mentions of sociopathy and insanity; sex

I have a couple of things to explain about this AU because it’s a bit confusing. This is also gonna be a mess since I’m trying something new here. 

Backstory: JD and Veronica met in the lunchroom of their senior year when JD moved to her school. They met in a 7-11 and he was drawn to her and she didn’t push him away. They made close friends and he was so utterly in love with her. JD admitted his family problems to her and a lot of the deranged thoughts in his head. Veronica loved him a lot so she calmed him down and took him to therapy. It took time but he began to control his bloodlust and anger issues. Being 18, he moved out of his father’s house and found an apartment nearby Veronica’s home. JD became a normal teenager, more troubled than most but never wanted to do anything like bomb the school again. Veronica was his lifeline. She had saved him and helped him and he knew that. He fought his dangerous tendencies and continued going to therapy. One day, Veronica got into a huge fight with her best friend, Heather Chandler, who wanted her to get with one of the college boys at her party. It ends with them no longer being friends and Veronica humiliates Heather but reveals that Heather was too scared to even get close to kissing the college guy she was with. Heather is angered by this and hatches a plan to kill Veronica; she succeeds. And JD has just found out. 

Go easy on me please; it’s my first time writing present tense and I’m very lost 

My Love Is God

Heather Chandler hums to the mirror in her locker. Powdering her face during the passing period between the 4th and 5th period had become a regular affair. Her face got so oily; what a treacherous look would it be if people saw her face shiny? Biting her lip, Heather adjusts the red scrunchie in her hair. Ram has previously mussed it up in class and if not for her reputation; she’d rip hima  new asshole.

“Heather.” A voice calls behind her. Her eyes roll back in annoyance; who the hell thought that they were good enough to address her? 

“What in god’s name, do you want.” She says with bite in her voice. Her view catches on a darkened teen-boy. His long trenchcoat looked solely out of fashion and terrible for the nice summer weather. Her nose crinkled at his look. Face nearly covered up to the eyes, the boy stares directly at her. His dark brown eyes narrow into slits. 

“I’d like to take this outside.” He says with a dead tone. Heather’s eyes roll. What was the point of entertaining some idiot’s needs?

“Look, I don’t give a fuck about what you like. I have people to attend to, so unless you have an upper. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She snaps. His expression remains unfazed, much to her annoyance. He was supposed to cower and fade into the background. What a \\\ douche. She fluffs her ponytail and steps out away from her locker. 

“If that’s what it will take.” He calls after her. Heather spins around, glaring at him harshly. If this kid was kidding, she was going to end him. Heather puts out her hand, accepting the offer. “One the condition… we take this outside.” He continues. His stare was burning into hers. Heather inwardly scoffs at that, she had a harsh look and didn’t appreciate anyone matching it. 

Heather breaths in but finally caves. She was fresh out and in need. “Fine.” 

The teen doesn’t say much to her on the way; he was taking long, stiff strides. His arms and hands were clenched into fists. Heather had become a master of reading body language. This boy had a plan, but clearly, was unsure about it. Heather spoke not a word. Her eyes scan over him like a hawk. His appearance did merit a reliable product, that was for certain. That terrible coat would be great for cover. 

“Where are you taking me?” Heather demands. It had registered that she had not a clue his name minutes prior however, she knew better than to act like a fool and ask like a child. “I have places to be after this. Do not, make me late. You will regret up.” Heather says haughtly, giving no empty promises. 

He stops suddenly, their surroundings were empty streets and a 7-11 in only the visible future. Heather growls harshly under her breath. “You want to know where we are? We’re here. Where it all began.” He spoke in a low tone. It was slightly raspy and very attractive if she were to be honest. Heather’s perfected blonde brow rose. 

“I know your plan. I catch on quick. I get it, I’m hot, I’m a heather. I’m the Heather. If you want a quickie I take them in a closet. You’re just extra.” Heather says in a cackling tone. If only the other Heather were here; they’d love the show of embarrassing a loner. 

The boy’s expression began to morphe, not into embarrassment, not into fluster, not even impression. Instead, his hand reaches up to the hood and it tugs the fabric down behind him. “I’m not interested in fucking you.” He says in a deadpan tone. Heather laughs in a wicked way. This boy was stupid, sure but amusing as well. 

“That’s cute.” She says, putting on a seductive smirk. The boy scowled at her. 

It was now she could see his features; somewhere in her mind, there was a face match. Perhaps his father was a movie star? His hair was messy and long; skater boy hot indeed. His jaw, sharp as ever. Wide nose, but not bad. His face sure matched his voice. 

Heathers tsks approvingly. “I get what I want though. Don’t hold back.” She winks at him. He frowns harder. 

“I’d like to talk to you about someone.”

Heather licks her lip. “Enlighten me.” Her voice having now a delicate flare to it. 

The boy glares at her. “Veronica Sawyer.” He says in a harsh tone. 

Oh. Her. She was a nuisance, to say the least. Heather sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. “Do we have to? Her funeral was last month. It’s kinda overrated.” She says mindlessly. His face tightens. 

“You were the last to see her alive.” He accuses her. Heather’s eyes roll again; God, why he about Veronica? Heather was a hot bitch and in front of him. Besides, Sawyer was being a pain in the ass, not the mention a huge snitch. 

“Not really The hospital medics took her in. They didn’t let me in.” Her lips purse into a pout. “It was unfortunate. I tried to warn her from stepping into the road. The cars were going oh so fast.”

The boy snarled at her. “Don’t act so innocent. You hated her. You were friends and then you hated her.” 

Heather gasps dramatically. Sure it was suspicious but she had been playing it off so well! “How dare you! Do you even know how traumatic that was? Watching even ex, your best friend die! The therapy has finally stopped my self-blame.” Heather defends. 

“Don’t even try and think that act works on me.” He growls. 

Heather let out a high-pitched sobbed. “Why do you-”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He shouts at her. Heather steps back in shook. That was unexpected. 

“I know you killed her.” a finger shoves into her vision. “I know because she was so scared of going. But she went anyway because goddamnit she just had to see the best in people and hope for the best. She went because she wanted things to be just a bit more okay with you guys. But she was so scared, she knew you were going to do something; I knew you were gonna do something. You pushed her in front of that car. And I know you cackled like a fucking witch while doing it.” The boy’s mouth sprouts word afterword; his fury was increasing more and more in the most obvious way. 

Heather racks her brain. Who was he? Why did he talk to Veronica? That girl only had two other friends after Heather let go of… oh… ohhhhhh.

“So what.” She says with danger. “You as her pretty little boyfriend is now going to cry about it? Get over it, she was no big thing. I’m sure the sex wasn’t that good to miss it. We’re all long past; catch up.” Heather steps forward, her intimidation factor went higher and higher up. “Calm your tits JD. No one else is worried. Learn to read a room.” 

JD’s face explodes into angry. “You dumb bitch. You’ve never cared for a single person in your life, have you? Well, let me tell you this. We were in love. So in love. She was the best person on this shithole we call earth. Veronica saw only the best and fixed anything she could. She never turned away from someone who needed help. She fixed me. She stayed with me. And you took the brightest light away.”

Heather let out a huge laugh. “Wow, dramatic. Definitely her little plaything. Love is overrated. She’s not anything anymore. Get past yourself and find a new slut.” She says with amusement. “Be glad she died painlessly. That was the best gift I could give her. Well, painless after she was dragged across the street, but still.” Her laugh fluffed and sugared; JD didn’t seem to apparatus it. How rude. 

“She hated you. She pitied you. She almost wanted to take you to therapy like me. But in the end, she decided you weren’t even worth the effort.” JD says darkly. Heather’s expression quickly shut down. Had she heard him correctly. 

“Very funny joke.” She attempts her easy-going tone of voice but the slip-up didn’t pass him by. His mouth twists into a grin. 

“Denial. Now you know how it feels. Rejection, you’re getting a lot of frists today. Congratulations princess of the fucking school.” JD’s voice echoes all around her. Coated in a thick layer of sarcasm and condensation, he spits it out at her. “Veronica felt sorry for you. That’s why she joined your little club. Sorry for the little princess who no one really cared about. She thought, maybe I can help her. But you want to know what happened? She met you and realized… what mattered? Certainly not you. Why else did you think she took Duke to the doctors? Duke was meant enough to the world to be fixed and now she’s all brand new. Mcnamara got a personality, kinda. But Veronica thought anyone worth it, was. Too bad that wasn’t you.” His wicked smirk sears her eyes. 

“You’re bullshit,” Heather growls. He laughs;  the sound is demented. 

“Am I? Or am I right?” He continues his speech. “My Veronica wanted to help people. She did. She helped me, she saved me. She saved Martha, Duke, everyone. Just not you. You’re not going anywhere. Everyone knows… don’t you?” 

His words pound into her head. Like in a small tunnel, they echo and get louder. “Shut up.” She snaps weakly. Her ears were about to bleed. Her head began to scream. How long had it been going on? The looks; the pitying looks? The laughs, the condescending laughs that she should have been the one making. She was the queen of the school; she was going to the top of the world. Did everyone think she’d melt to the bottom? “Shut up!” JD’s voice didn’t stop. Their pace; increased. The volume; skyward. 

“Veronica would have been here to tell me to stop; to tell me to go home. She would have said, breath a little and remember me. Her hand would have touched my shoulder and slowly she would walk me home and talk about anything she could do to help. She would have cleared my mind, given me my meds, and sang a song terribly to ground me. Veronica would have been here. But she’s not.  Actually, even if was alive, she’d wouldn’t do anything of that. She’d probably dance around with me with a smile on her face saying, babe you’re doing great..” JD’s voice became mixed with wicked, deranged laughter. Like her own evil cackles, but much, much worse. The insane glint in his eyes was terrifying.

She sucks in a breath; one final one to perceive her dignity, her pride. “Veronica this. Veronica that. For the love of god, she’s DEAD! She doesn’t matter anymore, you fucking jac- oof” Heather fell forward. Had he punched her in the stomach? What a weirdo! Heather went to take in a breath, only to find she couldn’t. What the fuck? The pain was there in her body; it was growing exponentially fast. Her eyes trailed down and oh- oh- oh holy mother of fucking shit!

“DID YOU FUC-” She not longer had the ability to speak; not when there was a knife sticking out of her body. JD’s eyes stare down the crumbling girl. 

His face, wide with a grin. 

His hands, perfectly clean. 

His insanity bared itself to the world. 

“You fucking psychopath.” She growls her last words. The red liquid was leaving her body fast. 

JD remains unfazed. His deaden look, his empathy free eyes. “Sociopathic tendencies, actually. Diagnosed. They’re actually not that dangerous. This? This the anger-management issue at work.” He smiles. “This is what it feels like on the other side of the killing.” He crouches down to meet her face to face. Heather musters the strength to growl. 

“What do you... want me to say? Dear diary? My teenage angst bullsh- bullshit now has a body count?” She snarls back. JD laughs. 

“No.” His voice, dark as ever.  “You’ve never loved a person in your life clearly. And no one has ever loved you, not a surprise there.” He stands up straight, looming like a darkened villain. “Let me tell you something. I love Veronica Sawyer. She was going to be Veronica Dean. I love her. More than anything in this fucking shit-world. I’ll worship her till the end of time. We had the strongest love in the universe. She was a goddess; you shouldn’t have killed her.” 

Heather’s eyes roll for the last time. “Dear god, this whole love shit you’re trying to pull on me is really annoying the last minutes of my death” She voices drily. JD crouches down to her again, lifting her chin with a rough tug. 

“Our love was so strong; it could have killed dinosaurs. I’ll settle for killing you though.” He threw down her face aggressively. The blood letched out to the ground. She scowls for the last time. 

“We could have made a pretty good murder couple.” She comments.  JD laughs and steps away, removing black gloves to shove in his pocket. “Dear God, just kill me now.” Heather expresses haughtily. 

JD laughs darkly. “Right you are my dear. Veronica and I… our love was god; it could have killed worlds. But she’s gone now. I’m left. So yes. My love is god.” Heather’s eyes began to feel heavy; was he slipping away farthing into the distance or was she dying faster? This was it wasn’t it? She grimaces. 

“My love is god. It has killed you. Isn’t that just beautiful?” 

Okay, I know it seems like I made Veronica seem like a Mary Sue and JD as this romantic guy. Let me explain things now that I have finished the story. 

Veronica hated Heather C and after helping JD, she started helping other people but she chose not to help Heather C who clearly has problems

Veronica was actually kinda okay with the murder. There was nowhere to put this and I briefly mentioned it, sorta at least, but if she didn’t like the person she was fine with JD killing them. She wanted to curb JD’s bloodlust, but she had accepted it as part of him and never was fully like THIS IS WRONG. As JD said, she would have laughed with him as he killed Heather C. 

Veronica was also kinda manipulative. I didn’t know where to put this but basically, Veronica started to isolate Heather without her even knowing. She’s not a Mary Sue, I swear it’s just not a long story

Heather C. had a lot of clear mental issues that Veronica literally just ignored and used to her advantage. She has such narcissistic behaviors, Veronica was able to get people to turn on her all while she thought she was the queen

People stopped caring about Heather C. Like they basically just made fun of her and were sarcastic to her. But with all of her mental issues and stuff, it twisted in her mind to make them think they were worshipping her. People shot her dirty looks or laughed at her, but she didn’t notice that. 

Heather D. got help for her bulimia because of Veronica. She thus was given kindness and was not a huge bitch 

Heather M. also became less of a bitch. She wasn’t one before, it was just she followed Heather C. around too much. Veronica helped her. 

Martha had Veronica back and it helped her feel like she had a true friend and ended up saving her from her depression

VERONICA IS STILL NOT AN ANGEL I REALIZE THAT’S HOW IT SOUNDS 

JD is possessive and Veronica has learned to live with it. It’s kinda unhealthy but not dangerous to her so that’s why she puts up with it. It’s directed towards other people

JD praises Veronica. She is the only thing in his life. She’s his mildly unhealthy but weirdly good fixation 

JD is adamant he and Veronica will end up together. There is nothing else. It will happen in his mind. His head is still a little twisted, though better than before. He’s not trying to kill for baby reasons now. He’d kill for Veronica and that’s basically it

Veronica’s parents do not like JD but deal with him for her 

Heather C. invited Veronica to a girl’s trip to bond a bit and make-up, then she pushed her into a street. Veronica didn’t want to go but she was too trusting and nice, like how she was in the movie and musical n trusting JD

JD goes on to flee the town and Heather C. Is discovered to be dead at the end of the school day

Now, I’m not totally sure what this is. It was an idea in my head and I needed it out. It’s not very good, It’s not the level of gore and blood I think my honestly messed-up mind needs to get out, but it can suffice Basically, I have my own mental problems, though I don’t know what they are currently, but they do give me a lot of problems. Writing is my healthy way of expressing them rather than screaming at my friends. That was my old way… not good. Anyways, hope you guys liked this story. 

[blacklilyqueen]

Star Wars: The Padawan’s Student - Prologue

Note: This is a Star Wars AU in which Ahsoka raises and trains Leia. I hope you enjoy it. 

Word Count: 2370

Beta Reader: @officialmemediplomat​

Emptiness. That's what Ahsoka felt at that moment. She could have been screaming and crying, flailing around wildly or break down on the ground. She could have been sad or angry. Could have felt betrayed and abandoned. Perhaps she felt all of this and it all combined to form one big emptiness that took possession of her whole being.

Her eyes were focused on the holo-recording in front of her. To Anakin, who knelt before the chancellor, knelt before Sidious. Never before had her own master seemed so strange to her. Seeing Anakin like this was as if she looked through the eyes of another person, as if the body in which she was stuck in did not belong to her. Obi Wan's words - with which he probably wanted to make sure that she was well - didn't get through to her at all. She saw the movement of his lips and his worried look, but nothing more.

"I should never have left," it was barely more than a quiet whisper. The words left Ahsoka's mouth before she could think about it, accompanied by tears that now ran down her face. Obi Wan had immediately fallen silent, only looking at her more worried than ever.

"Ahsoka, this isn't your fault," his voice was soft, and it was actually the first thing that actually came through to her since she had first seen the holo.

"But I could have been there for him! Had I not been on Mandalore, had I even been with him the last few months, he could have talked to me. I could have understood him."

"I know how you feel, probably even better than anyone else," he gently put his hand on her shoulder. A rare sign of proximity from the Jedi master that Ahsoka appreciated, "There's nothing you could have done. None of us could."

She wasn't sure if that last sentence was really addressed to her or if he was saying it to himself. Yet it gave her strength, even enough to finally ask the question she had feared for so long.

"Where is he now?", the question occupied her since she had felt that something was wrong with Anakin for the first time on her cruiser. She had the same bad feeling on the moon on which she had crashed. With Rex help she had fortunately managed to restore a part of the communication. And even if she hadn't been able to reach Anakin, she had at least been able to contact Obi Wan who gave her the coordinates of the station on Polis Massa. Although Ahsoka had assured him that everything was fine with Rex, Obi Wan insisted that he first had his chip examined at the medical station before he was initiated into any details.

So it was that Ahsoka was all alone with the old master when the flood of bad news hit her. The Temple was destroyed, the Jedi were dead, the Republic had fallen. Anakin had survived, but only because he was the cause of all this. Because he had joined the Sith. She didn't ask why, she didn't want Obi Wan to tell her. If there was someone who had to answer this question, it was Anakin himself. But first she had to know where he was. Questioningly she looked at Obi Wan who hadn't answered her question yet, only to see how he avoided her gaze.

"Master? Where is Anakin now?"

"Anakin is... he is..." his voice trembled, and Ahsoka could have sworn she saw tears form in his eyes. She had never seen him like that before "He's dead. I killed him."

The words hit Ahsoka like a blaster shot. Shocked, she stood there not knowing what to do or say. Her brain seemed unable to process the information she had just received correctly. In disbelief she looked at the man opposite her.

This could not be true! That was impossible! Just like for her Anakin had been like a brother for Obi Wan, sometimes maybe even like a son. She could not believe he would have killed him. Yes, Anakin had done bad things, terrible, unforgivable, horrible things, and yet she could never have hurt him. So how would Obi-Wan ever have been able to do such a thing to him?

The realization that it apparently bothered her more that Obi Wan had killed him instead of the fact that Anakin was dead now, came only a few moments later and disturbed her deeply. Anakin's death was anything but indifferent to her and yet she knew that she would have reacted differently to this news just a few hours ago. Yes, her world seemed to collapse around her. Yes, she felt a part of her had disappeared forever. Yes, she was grieving for Anakin. Yes, she missed him more than anything, and wished he was still here. And yet it was not the same.

Her world fell apart not only because of his death, but because of what he had done. He had always been there for her, had given her hope and given her trust when no one else did. She could not imagine how someone who had shown her so much kindness and compassion could do such terrible things. She wished she had had the chance to talk to him again. Would she have recognized what was going on within him? Could she have influenced his decision? Could she have stopped him?

She would never know the answers. But there was one question she could still get the answers to. And although she was sure she did not want to hear the answer, she also knew that she could have borne the uncertainty even less.

"How?" a simple word with so much more to it, and yet Ahsoka couldn't bear to say more.

"I told you so", Obi Wan took a deep breath. He seemed to have an even harder time talking than she did, "I killed him."

"That's not what I mean," she paused for a moment and prepared to finally say the words, "I mean, how could you kill him?"

In Obi Wan's eyes she saw an expression she'd never seen before from the old master. Fear and terror. He was afraid of what he had done himself. His eyes looked at her pleadingly as he tried to find the words.

"Ahsoka, please, I can't... I don't know. The things he had done, I had no other... Please...”

She saw the pain of the man who now looked so much older than ever before. She knew how hard it must have been for him and yet she was angry. No matter what had happened, she just could not understand how he had been able to do such a thing.

"At least tell me how you killed him. Was it quick," Ahsoka hoped fervently. No matter what Anakin had done, she didn't want him to be in too much pain.

"No," Obi-Wan's voice was quiet, almost broken, "We were on Mustafar, and we fought. There was lava everywhere. I stood on top of a hill, Anakin below me. He--he jumped and...," he took a breath as if he didn't really want to say the next words, but the look on Ahsoka's face told him he had no choice, "He didn't jump high enough. I severed his limbs and he fell. He was too close to the lava flow and one of the sparks jumped over to him and he...he..."

The last words never left his mouth, but Ahsoka did not need to hear them. She could guess and didn't need to hear them as well. She had wanted him to die a quiet, painless death, but apparently, the exact opposite had happened.

For a while, the two sat there in silence, neither of them able to say anything. Ahsoka didn't know how much time had passed when Obi Wan cleared his throat.

"There's something else you should know."

___________________________

For the second time since arriving at the base, Ahsoka stared incredulously at what lay before her. While this sight was by no means horrifying, like the holo, it was nonetheless very strange. She didn't know what she was expecting, but certainly not this.

"And they are really his?", not once since they had entered the room had she averted her gaze from the two sleeping babies. Obi Wan had told her about them and about Padmé's death before, but only when she had seen them could she really believe it.

"Yes, they are."

Ahsoka's hand moved to the cheek of the right baby, Luke, and stroked gently over it as if afraid to break it. She had always known Anakin had feelings for Padmé, but she never thought it would end like this.

"What will happen to them now?"

"We don't know yet. Master Yoda, Master Kenobi, and I were just about to discuss it when you arrived here," it was Senator Organa who replied. He and Master Yoda were already with the twins when Ahsoka first saw them, "I'm sure we'll find a solution."

A solution. These children had no one else. Their parents were dead, and there was no temple to protect them. They would never be safe under the rule of the Empire. The children of a Jedi, no, a Sith. Sidious would do anything to find the offspring of his former apprentice. No place in the galaxy would be truly safe.

Ahsoka's finger went from Luke's cheek to Leia's arm and to her tiny little hand. So small and helpless and all alone. As Ahsoka looked at her, her eyes opened. Big, brown eyes that resembled her mother's so much that it hurt again. Involuntarily, Ahsoka's hand closed around the little one’s.

"I'll take them," she turned to look at the others in the room, "I'll watch over them. I can protect them, can make sure nothing happens to them. I-"

"Ahsoka, you can't. It would be too dangerous," Obi Wan tried to sound reassuring, but Ahsoka was determined.

"But--"

"Right he is. Separately they should grow up. Too dangerous in one place for the two of them it is."

"Then let me take one. Give me the girl and I'll take care of her", her hand still hadn't let go of Leia's.

Yoda and Obi Wan were already about to contradict her when Senator Organa spoke.

"It would be a possibility. The Empire thinks she's dead. No one would think of looking for her. I could take the boy. My wife and I have wanted to adopt a child for some time. We'll take good care of him."

"Too risky that is. To their family in Tatooine one of the kids we should take."

"With all due respect, Master, but do you really think the Empire won't look there first? And if they find them there, they'll be left without any protection. I can protect this child better than Anakin's family on Tatooine."

"I agree with her," Obi Wan's change of mind surprised her, but she let him continue, "Tatooine is too dangerous, even without the Empire. And I'm sure the Anakin I knew never would have wanted his child to grow up there. And I know that this Anakin trusted Ahsoka with his life."

It hurt to hear the words, and yet she was glad. A small smile formed in the corner of her mouth as she looked at Obi Wan, and for a moment, she thought he would smile back.

"Agreed. Decided it is. Ahsoka will take the girl and the boy will go to Aldreaan."

___________________________

"And you're sure you won’t need my help?" Rex looked at her skeptically. Leia lay asleep in Ahsoka's arms as the two friends said goodbye in front of the ramp of the small ship that would take them to safety. The others had been convinced that it would be best not to tell Rex about the twins, but Ahsoka knew that - with the exception of herself and Obi Wan - there was no one who would be more concerned about the welfare of these children, Anakin's children, than Rex.

And she was right. Since she had told him about them, he had already offered her his help countless times. While Ahsoka was pleased with the offer, confident that a little support and company would be more than desirable, she knew it was not possible.

"Yes, I think so. Besides, we're supposed to keep a low profile and you--"

"Have a face with high recognition value," he winked at her briefly as she was already about to reply, "Don't worry, I know what you mean. But if there should be any problems, I want you to know that I'm here. We both know it can't always be easy with a Skywalker."

"Definitely not. Thanks, Rex, I'll keep that in mind", she had already walked up the ramp a few steps before she turned around again, "May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you," he looked at the little bundle in her arms, "And with you, little one, you're going to need it."

The ramp closed, and Ahsoka launched the ship, little Leia in the special device on the seat next to her. She thought again of everyone she now left behind. Rex and Obi-Wan. Little Luke and Bail Organa. Master Yoda and the other Jedi who were hiding from the Empire somewhere in the galaxy, as she would do now. She did not know when or if she would see the others again, but she knew she had no choice.

Her gaze wandered to the sleeping Leia and suddenly saying goodbye seemed much easier. Her future might be uncertain but she knew she was doing the right thing protecting Leia.

And while the stars around her turned into white rays, another name was added to the list of people she left behind. But she didn’t just leave this person, she abandoned him. Over and over again, his face appeared before her inner eye. She didn't know if she could have saved him if she had tried. But what she did know was that she would do anything to protect his daughter.

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

Ghost Kid Chapter Sixteen: Learning

It was a deer, stuck in the swamp but not a part deep enough to fully engulf its head, just up to its chest. It was clearly stuck though, too weak to even fight anymore.

“Can’t we save it instead?” Hat Kid asked looking up at Snatcher hovering over her.

“We could pull it out of the swamp,” he replied, his tone making it clear he wasn’t going to. “But it wouldn’t save it. It’s old and frail and  undoubtedly swallowed some swamp water by now. So it’s going to die soon no matter what we do so we might as well use as a learning experience. Normally I would’ve put it out of its misery as soon as I found it but you’re the one who asked me to teach you how to snatch souls, so I figured I’d teach you with this since it should be easy to do.”

“It’s… not an awful death though, is it? Like, I am going to be putting it out of its misery and not making it worse even for a little bit, right?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s a painless death, certainly very quick. Now go up to hover in front of it.” He made a small shooing gesture at her. “And hurry up, I don’t have all day.”

Hat Kid did as she was told. It didn’t react to her until she was right up in its face, shifting its eyes towards her and snorting. It didn’t seem to be afraid of her though? She couldn’t tell, hopefully not. She reached out a hand to pet it, hoping to comfort it. Its fur was so soft and warm, alive, unlike her.

“Very good,” Snatcher said. “Now if you focus, you should be able to sense its soul. It’s a dumb animal so its soul is weaker, making it harder to sense than a person’s soul but that also makes it easy to pull out.”

Hat Kid turned her head to give him an angry look. “Don’t call it dumb just because it’s an animal. It’s smart it its own way.”

He frowned, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I meant dumb as in not fully sentient and unable to speak, don’t get offended.”

“Oh well… you could’ve just said that.”

“Whatever, just snatch its soul before it dies because once its dead, unless you grab the soul right as it leaves its body, its useless to you.”

Hat Kid turned back to the deer. She couldn’t really sense anything from it though… No, when she really tried, she could maybe kind of sense something? But it could just be her imagination. This… wasn’t the kind of sense she normally had but… “Uh… I think I sense its soul? Now what?”

“Snatch it. Reaching towards the deer with you hand might help.”

Hat Kid wasn’t sure about this but… she tried anyway; reaching a hand towards the deer with the intent to ‘snatch’ its soul. And… it worked. She felt like she was grabbing something small and weak and pulling it out of something that resisted her but not much. And suddenly had a small glowing soul in her hand, about half the size of the Mafia souls Snatcher had given her had been. The deer of course was still alive, she knew from experience that it was possible to live without a soul, for a time at least.

“Now eat it,” Snatcher said.

Well, she didn’t have much choice, did she? And it would put the poor deer out of its misery so… She shoved it into her mouth.

It was delicious and swallowing it filled her with energy and an overall good feeling. It was noticeably less than the Mafia souls but still a nice feeling. But she’d snatched her first soul, she was well on her way to being a proper scary ghost.

“Very good,” Snatcher said as she turned back to face him. Was that a small amount of pride in his voice or was she just imagining things? “Now, any animal that wonders in, you can have, I don’t really need them.”

She smiled at him. “How generous of you.”

“Don’t get used to it kid, I’m not a generous person.” Lies, he was being all kinds of generous to her despite constantly saying stuff like that. But pointing that out would only annoy him.

“Now uh…” Hat Kid turned back to the deer. It was dead, mercifully but… “Can we bury the poor deer now. I feel bad for it.”

“Don’t, it’s…”

“Please,” she interrupted, turning to face him again and give him her best puppy dog eyes.

He sighed and groaned but… “Fine. We’ll bury the damn deer, give it a funeral if you want, I don’t care.”

“Thank you.”

 -

After burying the deer, a process that Snatcher’s size and powers made quite easy and quick, Hat Kid felt much better about it. She wasn’t going to make a habit out of eating animal souls, only ones that were in situations similar to the deer’s but it wasn’t much different than eating meat, right? It was sustenance, kept her going, gave her a bit more power.

“Can I use magic now?” she asked as they floated away from the grave they’d made by the swamp back towards her ship.

“You can try,” Snatcher replied. “Gesturing makes it easier so do that.”

“What kind of magic can I do though? Same as yours? Or something different? I know your crazy ex has ice magic, I don’t want that because you and Subconites wouldn’t like it.” And the last thing she wanted was to make any of them uncomfortable after how wonderful they were all being to her, especially Snatcher.

“Well, you’re a ghost, so you probably use shadow magic. You’re an alien ghost though so who really knows? Just try using magic and see what happens, if anything.”

“I guess you’re right.” Hat Kid stopped moving, making Snatcher stop too. She glanced around at the forest surrounding them, quite familiar now and in a way comforting. She wanted a specific target, might make it a bit easier. … Ah, that fallen branch should do nicely.

She focused on it and gestured with her hands much like how she’d seen Snatcher do, thinking about one of Snatcher’s blast attack shooting up under it. … Nothing happened. Hmm… She tried again, thinking instead about a blast of magic in general.

A part of her energy drained as a small puff of something came up from underneath her target. It wasn’t much and she wasn’t even sure what she’d done but the branch quivered a bit and even a small bit of bark clinging to it partially splintered. Smiling wide, she turned back to look at Snatcher.

He looked pleased? Proud of her? Something positive for sure that he was trying not to show on his face but failing. “Very good kid,” he said, his tone sarcastic. “You made it shake a little, that’s real impressive.”

“Thank you!” She was proud of herself. She had magic. She’d be blasting things to bits in no time. … Okay, maybe not no time, but certainly eventually she’d be strong and intimidating with her magic.

“Nah kid, don’t get ahead of yourself, I was joking. That was about as impressive as an ant’s fart. You got a long way to go before you can actually do anything real.”

“It’s a start though, right?”

“Eh, I guess. But attack magic is actually one of the harder kinds of magic to do. So perhaps try something a bit less ambitious. Like levitating something, that’s probably the easiest thing to do.” He even demonstrated by levitating the stick she’d tried to destroy, bringing it over to drop it in front of her.

She looked down at it and pointed. As she lifted her finger, she imagined the stick raising too. And it did. … A few inches because she lost focus in her excitement and let it drop.

“Did you see that?” she asked, looking back up at Snatcher.

“Yeah, uh-huh, you lifted it a whole three inches off the ground, wow.” He slow-clapped. “Keep practicing kiddo, maybe you’ll get somewhere in like fifty years.”

Despite his condescending tone Hat Kid smiled up at him because she was pretty sure he was proud of her too. “Is there anything else you can teach me about being a ghost? Like uh… can you teach me how to be scary? The thing you do with your contractors, spooking them and then getting them to do stuff for you, can you teach me how to do that? And when I have enough power to do it can you teach me how to make a pocket dimension and use it to travel? And can you…”

“Whoa kiddo.” Snatcher held up a hand to get her to stop. “That’s enough, I get the idea. You apparently think I’m some kind of teacher or something. Well I ain’t.” He crossed his arms to frown down at her. “I have better things to do then teach you stuff. I had to figure it all out by myself, you can too.”

“But…”

“Don’t give me that look. I’m not falling for it. And it’s not nearly as cute as you seem to think it is so stop trying.”

“I’m just a kid though. And I’ll be super-duper good, I promise. And I’ll leave you alone for hours, maybe even days at a time in between you teaching me stuff. Also, some of the stuff I want to learn, I can’t even do yet, so it’s not like you’re going to be teaching all of it to me all at once. So pretty please with giant cherries on top.” She put her hand together and gave him her best puppy dog eyes again because no matter what he said they’d worked on him before.

He scowled at her, meaning it was working because that’s the look that always came over his face when he got annoyed with himself for letting her convince him to do something. “Fine, but only so you’ll leave me alone about it. But if you complain about anything while I’m teaching you, I’m done, no second chances.”

“I can do that. Thank you.” She hugged him. He groaned but tolerated it. She did let go before he chose not anymore though.

“Now leave me alone for a while, okay? I’m already regretting this decision.”

“Okay. See you later.” She smiled and waved at him as he vanished.

Feeling good from eating the soul, though a bit tired from experimenting with her newfound power, she started heading back towards her ship again. She was excited though, happy. For weeks after she’d died, she never thought she would be again. But here she was, happy and well on her way to being a proper spooky ghost.

 -

She was just entering the clearing her ship was in when Moonjumper appeared before her again. He was smiling evilly too. … Hat Kid wasn’t going to let him ruin her good mood though.

“Peck off,” she said as he opened his mouth to say something. “I don’t want to talk to you, you’re a peck neck. So peck off.”

Moonjumper chuckled. “For one so young, you have an awfully foul mouth. I do not believe that is something your father taught you, he’s not much of a swearer, never was.”

Hat Kid lifted a hand to flip him off. That gesture probably wasn’t rude here but she didn’t care, the way she was using it should make clear her intentions with it. “I don’t want to talk to you. I have magic to practice with.” She moved on, floating past him.

“Very well, if you insist, I shall be on my way. Congrats on convincing your father to teach you how to properly rule the forest alongside him.”

She ignored him as she went into her ship. He was just trying to cause chaos so she wasn’t having it.

Previous / Next

[fairyqueenofthedragons]

To Save a Life (I would End a Life)

Chapter One || Previous Chapter

Final Chapter! I hope you enjoy, I had fun writing this story, it ends with a bang.

Let me know what you think :)

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Kendra and Seth had been trapped there for a few weeks.

Ronodin would visit periodically, and Warren had been by twice.

Twice.

He’d explained why the first time.

How he’d felt they weren’t safe with their family. How he felt they’d throw them back into the fight.

He'd told them that he just wanted them safe, and here they were safe.

Ronodin wasn’t endangering them.

Ronodin wasn't forcing them to go to war.

Ronodin wasn't hurting them at all.

And he was right.

For as bad as Ronodin was supposed to be, he hadn’t harmed them, not even a scratch.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Ronodin couldn’t be more pleased.

The little royals would be at his beck and call soon enough.

Already they were responding positively to him, faint smiles, less hostility, it took time. But he had plenty of it.

He'd spent a few weeks on them so far, and just a few more and he was confident he could get them to take the first step.

And even better, the final dragon preserve had fallen.

Sure, it had cost both sides quite a few losses, the light side had lost multiple skilled fighters, and their potion expert Tanu. Plus, some woman named Elise if he was remembering correctly.

His side had lost one of the dragon princes. Celebrant was furious.

Not that Ronodin really cared, the dragon preserves were simply a means to an end.

He would do his best to make them happy, they were important players in his plans after all, but he didn't particularly care about them.

And he had plans, big ones. The little royals were front and center for them.

His dear old auntie would not rule much longer.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Warren grimaced, they had figured out they had a traitor, and now they were starting to suspect Warren.

Ronodin had ordered him to grab Tess and Knox and bring them to him before his cover was blown.

He didn’t know why, no one liked Knox.

Like seriously, no one.

Like really, he was super obnoxious.

If Warren had to hear the kid brag one more time about beating that one demon then he'd strangle him.

Tess wasn't so bad though.

Nonetheless, he’d grabbed the two of them. He always did as told.

He arrived at the base soon after, it was such a dramatic base too. Arching entrances, fancy spires, and yet completely hidden.

It was actually rather impressive.

The kids were asking him questions, but he didn't answer them. He just needed to get them to Ronodin.

Also if he had to hear one more comment from Knox about how if they were going on an adventure and Knox would beat up all the bad guys so they didn't need to be worried then he would be giving Ronodin Knox’s body.

Stupid brat, insulting Kendra like that.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

The little royals were being brought down, now was the time.

Ronodin had plans, and it was time to enact them.

He had spent over four months working on the siblings, they were finally listening to him. He told them to move they did, he told them to eat they did, he told them to go to bed they did.

Small things, but now for big things.

Perhaps this was a bit of a jump, he could've started smaller, but then they might try to back out of the bigger things. Starting big meant that they had nothing else to lose. It worked with their protector after all.

He told them to come downstairs, they came.

He told them to sit, they sat.

He gave them water and told them to drink, they drank.

He told them to kill their cousins, they stared.

Baby steps.

“They aren’t nearly what you think little royals,” He spoke gently to them, dropping a hand on their shoulders as he sat on the table in front of them.

“These children, can you truly believe that the light wouldn’t send them out? That they haven’t?”

He had spent weeks discussing the light, their actions, how it had harmed the two little royals.

“Can you truly say letting them fight in the war, die in the war, is kindness? A slow death, painful, eaten, burned, broken?”

Kendra let out a choked sob, covering her face.

He gently tucked a strand of her hair back.

"They've been out on the front lines. Tess was nearly eaten by a dragon and had nasty burns all over her side. Knox has gone after demons multiple times, and the Knights let him."

He had spent weeks coaxing them into seeing that living with the light, living to fight wars, living to die in those wars, as children, as victims, was horrible, “Can you truly not tell me that it isn’t a mercy right now? To end it gently? Kindly?”

They hesitated, both peering up at him. They looked so torn, so upset. They clearly didn't want to do this, they wanted another option.

“But, couldn’t we just keep them safe? Keep them here? Like you are with us?”

And how lovely it was. They trusted him now.

“Oh Kendra, keeping you two safe is taking all of my skill. And you two listen, you two don’t go running around or trying to escape," he shot them a gentle look. "You're good kids. These two, they aren’t anything like you. You two are so much more.”

So much better then the two useless cousins that are only good for teaching these two little royals a lesson. They will obey him in the end, it’ll just take a bit more coaxing.

“They couldn’t be kept safe here, and they’re already wandering into a war. They’ve been seen multiple times by the dragons forces out there, exploring and doing jobs for the Dragon Knights of Dawn. Do you want them to suffer?”

“No!” Kendra cried, tears welling up in her eyes. "I- I don't want them to be hurt."

The poor princess, it’s alright. he smiled gently, “I know you don’t.”

He held out the two knives. They both stared again.

"You're the only ones that can save them," he whispered. "Anyone else it would be a cruelty, but you're family. You could save them."

Kendra slowly reached out and took one. Seth followed a second later.

"I-" Seth faltered. "Is it really..."

Ronodin smiled.

“It’s alright. Remember, it’s a kindness. They won’t suffer. You can save them, you can protect them here.”

To watch them accept the knife, to watch them walk into the room, it was wonderful.

"Quick and painless," Ronodin murmured.

“Kendra, Seth! I’m glad you’re okay.” Tess started towards them, relief on her face.

Kendra hesitated, then continued forward, knife in hand, it’s a mercy after all.

Ronodin smiled.

Watching it was delightful, watching little Tess not realize, have such faith in her cousins.

Watching the Knox boy try to shove her back, but then try to flee himself when she ignored him.

He won’t get far.

Watching the girls shock and horror, the sudden dawning understanding.

Watching as her brother left her to die to save himself right then, her reaching out and crying out but he was too far and her in Kendra's grasp.

Knox might’ve been a hero once, or wished to be, but against his cousins, with no magic in hand, he fled.

Smart kid in that at least.

Watching the little royals cry, but still do as he said. He was extremely pleased.

Kendra slid the knife so smoothly across her cousins throat.

Red stained her hands as she stumbled back, eyes wide in horror.

They’ll be so useful, the little royals, such cute obedient kids.

Knox was pushed back in by a guard, careful not to harm him, just like Ronodin ordered.

Only the little royals would bring harm today.

Seth and Knox grappled briefly before Seth won. The knife buried in his side.

Ronodin grinned, he couldn’t wait to turn them on Bracken.

How devastated his cousin would be.

Will be.

He drew the little royals back, sent in a minion to clean up the mess.

“You did well, a kindness the light wouldn’t have granted them.”

Kendra cried, clutching his shirt.

“I- I didn’t want to,” she choked out. "They- they were afraid."

“I know, but sometimes we must do things we don’t want to. Their fear was understandable but you saved them. It’s a mercy, you were merciful to them. You did good little princess.” He wrapped his arms around both of them, offering comfort and hiding his smile.

They were perfect. Bracken would break facing them.

He would have to be careful to not let Bracken break his careful conditioning, but a little more work put in first would assure his victory.

Of course, that’s assuming his cousin ever escapes the Blackwell. Not many would stand a chance against the army of wraiths, revenants, undead, and of course the Lich.

He smiled down at the children clinging to him, such precious children. Such powerful children.

The little royals would bring the light kingdom down.

And he would smile as their world burned to the ground.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Warren had one last order before he was to go back to Ronodin permanently.

Kill Ruth and Stan.

He didn't like it and yet... he didn't feel much pain.

He mourned what had once been, when he'd cared so much that he would've done anything to avoid this.

He just didn't feel that anymore.

He was doing this all for Kendra and Seth, he couldn't feel much pain at his actions anymore.

It hurts less than Vanessa, or… Dale. It hurt less than the dozens of agents he’d led to their deaths.

He would do it. Then he would return to his cousins.

So now he moved to their room.

“Warren? Did you need something?” Ruth took a step towards him.

Yes, he did need something. Even if it hurt.

Nothing could stop him now though. He’d done the worst already, nothing could compare.

He raised the gun.

“You…” She breathed, eyes wide. A final sense of understanding dawning on her face.

“NO!” Stan shoved her back, she stumbled towards the window.

BANG

Stan hit the ground. Red stained the floor

Ruth screamed.

"Run!" Stan choked.

Warren stepped forward, Stan groaned weakly.

“Warren… why?”

Ruth was out the window, her cries still audible.

“It’s all for them. To save their lives. Everything has been for them."

"Warren- who- you can't-"

"To save a life," Warren whispered. "To save their life, I would do anything. Even end yours.”

“Warren, I-“

Warren swallowed back the tears. It’s all for them, everything has always been for them.

BANG

[volixia669]

Wow, you are really good! Thanks for doing my previous request! I feel pretty angsty right now, though. Could you pls write a ficlet of Aoi angst? Reason being I saw a sad pic of Aoi crying and was like... I need context. THANK U UR DA BEST!

Aw. Thanks for the compliments! Sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy! (And yep, I know exactly the pic you were talking about. That one has been the source of much internal debate about the cause. So many possible reasons...This was just one of them)

CW: Death in the family (No major characters), ostracization

           Aoi sighed as he locked Raccord’s door, while holding on to a broom. Wasn’t too bad a day. Not slow, but not too busy. It was a chilly day, so Oji had Aoi put on a yukata over his uniform, insisting Aoi was gonna catch a cold. Aoi rolled his eyes and did so, on the one condition Oji actually wipe down tables. Which he was.

           “Oh! Aoi. Nearly forgot.” Oji said. Aoi groaned and looked at him.

           “What did you forget this time old man?”

           Oji gestured towards the back. “A letter came by for you.” Oji’s face went from joking to more serious, and he stood up, putting down the cloth as he did so. “It’s from your village.”

           “What?” Aoi tightly to the broom handle. “Are…Are you sure?”

           Oji nodded. “Been awhile, but I recognize the fake name they always seem to prefer when it comes to sending letters.”

           Aoi shut his eyes tight. This wasn’t happening. What would his village want with him? He wasn’t following traditions. He didn’t want to just hide in the mountains. Why would they bother with a letter?

           “Aoi.” Oji said gently. “If you don’t want to open the letter…”

           “No. I…should.” Aoi said slowly while opening his eyes. “Here, take this…Oji-san.” He thrust the broom at Oji, then went over to where the old man said the letter was.

           “If you say so kid.” Oji replied to Aoi’s back.

           What was in the letter? Was he being summoned back? Why? His family may not have been poor, but they weren’t exactly noble. And it wasn’t like he was the eldest son.  Aoi saw it, sitting on top of a pile of mail. He gingerly picked it up. He left the village to escape. He could toss the letter into the fire, and forget it ever existed. Except…He would know it existed. And they might want a reply, so they’ll send another one. Or even send someone from the village. Aoi took a deep breath and carefully opened the letter.

~~~

           Oji was going to call out, ask if Aoi was okay. Maybe make a joke, when he saw his son run out the back door. Instinct said to immediately follow him, but Oji thought better of it. Aoi probably wanted at least a few minutes alone. Still…What would make Aoi tear out of Raccord like that?

           He went over to the back room, and saw the letter on the floor. Oji picked it up, and read the contents.

           “Oh Aoi.” Oji said quietly. Maybe Aoi did need someone after all.

~~~

           Aoi stared up the sky. He didn’t run far. Just outside. He couldn’t remain inside. Couldn’t…It felt suffocating.

           Kobayashi Aoi,

           We regret to inform you that, while you’ve been gallivanting around the Capital, your family was killed in a rock slide, that crushed your family home. There were no survivors. Your grandfather, father, mother, older brother, and younger sister, are all dead

           We’ve investigated the origins of the incident, however, we cannot find any evidence of other villages being involved, therefore, it seems to be an accident of nature.

           We’ve already complete the funeral. There was nothing left of the estate. You no longer have any ties to this village.

           May you find peace

           His family was dead. His village no longer wanted him. He was considered a terrible person, just because he wasn’t there during a rock slide? Did they even actually investigate? What if an Ayakashi was behind it? But…Why his family? His father and grandfather may have been stern, but they weren’t bad. His older brother…Was already considering marriage offers. Last Aoi heard, there was a girl lined up for his brother to marry. And his sister…She was still young. Still just a child, playing with dolls. Her favorite dolls always the ones he made her.

           Aoi felt the heavy weight of his braid, and took it out, letting his hair around him, remembering how both his sister and mother enjoyed playing with it. His mother. She was such a kind woman, and strong. He heard none of them were easy births, not that he knew what that meant, but she made it through all of them. She was a small woman, but always ready to help out both in the house and in the fields. She taught him to appreciate the beauty around him. She was why he wanted to capture that beauty in paintings.

           More tears welled up. And now they were all gone. The funeral was over. No closure. No good-bye. He’d never get to see them again. Never get to hear them laugh. He’d even take his father’s scolding. And…Their deaths. He hoped it was quick. Painless. Even though he knew within his heart, how unlikely it was.

           Just as Aoi was about to think too deeply into how it must have felt, to be crushed by the rocks, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Aoi startled and was about to shout, when it was just Oji, looking sad.

           “You…You read my letter!”

           “I did.” Oji said, then wrapped his arms around Aoi. Aoi stiffened at first, but let Oji hug him. “I’m sorry.”

           “You..You…” Aoi wanted to scream, to shout, to struggle, to do so many things, but he just let Oji hold him. It was nice…Like when he was young and his father hugged him. The tobacco scene was heavy, but there was something else. Aoi sniffled. “I…I couldn’t even go to their funeral.”

           “We can set up a shrine.” Oji told him gently. “I think they will understand.”

           “Do…Do you think they’re mad at me?” Aoi asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt.

           Oji sighed. “They might have been. At one point. But I think they understand the village wasn’t for you. And I’m sure they’re happy you’re still alive. It’s all any parent, any family member, would be pleased about.”

           They stayed like that for awhile. Gazing at the stars. Mourning.

           And in the morning, a shrine was built.

~~~(A few days later)

           Oji watched Aoi go to school. Once the lad left, he went to their shrine, kneeling before it. He hadn’t gone anywhere near it for the first few days. But it was time he paid his respects.

           “I don’t know why Aoi left you and your village. But ever since I’ve found him, I’ve been doing my best, even considering him a son. He’s a good lad, temper and all. Don’t worry, I’ll continue to look out for him. Kid needs someone, and I’m glad to be that someone.”

[lesbianmothership]

Come Back To Me (PART 1)

I originally wanted to post the whole thing in one part but its become a lot longer and in depth than I originally planned so this is part one of probably a couple different parts to come. I like writing angst so let me know whatchya think!

Natasha Romanoff x reader fanfiction 

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of torture and violence.

Word Count:  2092

_________________________

“Come back to me” your girlfriend of three years says as she rests her forehead against your own. Hands cupped around your neck, just under your jaw.  

“Relax Tash,” you smile pecking her lips. “It’s a simple extraction mission. In and out no problem. I do this all the time, you should know.” You wink, earning a tug on your ear.

The redhead beauty rolls her eyes, “You and Clint are never going to let go of that. It was one time!” Natasha Romanoff, the deadliest assassin in the world turned S.H.E.I.L.D. agent hiding her face in the crook of her girlfriend’s neck. Not many get to see this vulnerable side of her. To those outside of the Avengers and yourself she is closed off, cold hearted and will take down her enemy by any means. “You know I worry Y/N. All extractions are dangerous. Why else would the asset need to get out of there? You’re everything to me and if I lose you… don’t think I won’t beat your ass.”

“And you’re everything to me but I got this. You have nothing to worry about, I’m the best of the best.” You give her a cocky grin knowing nothing you say will actually relieve her of her worry but at least you could get her to smile before you depart.

A quick knock on the door of the room you’re in lets you know that the Quinjet and your team are ready to go.

“That’s my cue,” but before you can pull away Natasha grabs you by the collar and tugs you in for a deep kiss.

“You do anything stupid that gets you hurt and I’m holding out for a month,” she warns after she pulls away.

“Well that hardly seems fair,” you complain throwing your arms down to your side like a child. “I’d like to negotiate those terms.”

Another knock on the door. “Doesn’t seem like we have the time моя любовь” Natasha smirks as she watches her beautiful, bad ass girl walk out.

­­­­­­­­­­­__________________________

What was supposed to be a simple extraction mission had gone to shit very fast. The intel you had been given was false. The asset you were to extract from the Hydra base was already dead and the whole thing was a trap. They knew you were coming the entire time.

The moment you stepped into the base bullets were flying. You and your team tried your best to get a handle on the situation but it was obvious from the start that you were outgunned. At this point there was no getting out of it either, you were surrounded and everyone was coming up on their last rounds of ammunition.

“Ramirez is down, gunshot wound to shoulder and chest, Leroy and Shaw are dead ma’am... We need a plan,” your second in command, Smitty, informed you.

“Fuck!” you ran a hand through your hair trying to regain your composure. The weight of the situation hit you hard. Your team, your responsibility which meant as team leader their deaths were on you. It was a part of the job; losing people and you all knew what you had signed up for but it was never easy when it actually happened. You thought about your options but you really only had one viable option where you came out alive, however, it was the very last thing you wanted to do.

“Weapons down!” you ordered.

“Wait what? Y/L/N are you serious?” Jakobs ducked down behind the barrier your team was huddled behind after letting out another round of bullets.

“Are you sure about this?” Smitty asked.

“No… but what other options do we have? We either die here or surrender and hope S.H.E.I.L.D. will send another rescue party.” God you hoped you weren’t making the wrong decision here.

“How the fuck are we going to get them to stop firing at us though?” Jillian asked as she tried to stop Ramirez from bleeding out.

“I got an idea, a really bad one but I think it could work… hand me some of that gauze,” Jill threw some in your direction and quickly you tied off the white fabric to the barrel of your assault rifle before lifting it and waving it around above your head.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jakobs pinched the bridge of his nose “We are never hear the end of this when we get back to headquarters.”

“Headquarters is the reason were in this mess in the first place. Someone fucked up real bad and whoever it is I swear I’m going to have their head,” Smitty growled.

“Less talk about how this happened and let’s focus on how were going to get out of this. Trust me I want the head of whoever is responsible for this as much as you guys but at the moment we need to make sure we keep our own heads alright?” You flinch as a bullet hits the base of your rifle. “Hey nimrods! Don’t you know that a white flag means we surrender!” You yell out.

The Hydra agents seemed to have finally figured out that you’ve given up as their firing ceased and you heard their approaching footsteps. Moments later you and your team were completely surrounded at gunpoint.

“Ah shit.. Natasha is going to kill me-“ you groaned right before everything went black as you were hit over the head with the butt of a rifle.

__________________________

­­­­­­­­­­­­­“Maria… what do you mean you haven’t heard from them yet? Shouldn’t they have the asset secured by now and be back up in the air?” It had been 18 hours since you left for your extraction mission and you were due to radio back hours ago. Natasha was pacing back and forth in communications room with Maria and your team’s handlers.

“Any number of things could be the reason they haven’t made contact yet. They were on radio silence to begin with to hold cover, and they could still be trying to stay under the radar if they’re not in safe airspace yet. We don’t know the situation yet Nat but we don’t see reason to worry yet. Y/N’s team is the best extraction team we have and I have full confidence in their safe return.” Maria tried to reassure the ex-assassin.

“Something doesn’t feel right about this Maria… I know Y/N, she would have radioed back by now already even if they weren’t in safe air space yet. Fuck its been hours.” Natasha was pinching the bridge of her nose. It was protocol to remain in radio silence until the mission was secure but Y/N wasn’t exactly one to always follow protocol. Hell, last mission you were on you connected your team’s comms to your iPod so you could listen to Tequila by The Champs.

“Alright we’ll send another team in-“

“I’m going with.” Natasha snapped, leaving the room to go get ready before anyone could argue with her.

“Alrighty then,” Maria clasped her hands together before turning back to the handlers. “Keep trying to establish communications from here. We need to figure out what the hell happened.”

__________________________

­­­­­­­­­­­

“Ah fuckin-hell” you groaned. Your head was pounding and as you opened your eyes everything was still dark. They had you blindfolded with your arms cuffed above your head and your feet to the floor. You could feel crusty dried up blood matted into your hair and down the side of your face.

“This ain’t good” you grunted under your breath as you tried to sit up.

“No shit sherlock,” Jakobs to your right responded.

“Are Smitty and Jill with us too?” you asked while trying to stretch out your sore muscles.

“I don’t know. I only woke up a few minutes ago and I can’t see anything. They could still be unconscious or being held in another area.” Jakobs reported with a sigh.

This is bad… really really bad. You thought to yourself. You had no idea where you were and odds are you were transported to different base than the one where you had gotten into this mess. You could tell you weren’t in your gear any more either which meant the tracking devices in them were of no use. If anything, Hydra would send S.H.E.I.L.D. on a wild goose chase once they figured out the mission failed. Hopefully they’ve sent out another team already, although you have no idea how the hell they’re going to find you.

While testing out the strength of the chains around your wrists and feet the door to the room you were in scraped open. The sounds of boots walking towards you made your hair stand on end.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light in the room when your blindfold was removed. You were in a small concrete room; no windows just the single thick metal door and camera in the corner, it was only you and Jakob which confused you. Why keep you together yet separate.

“I can see your thoughts on your face,” the man who seemed in charge spoke. He was an ugly feller. Bald, with a long scar that ran from his right temple down to his jaw and wore typical Hydra getup.

“Your friends are more morning people than yourselves. Woke up quite a bit of time ago. You should know they are dead now though. It was clear they didn’t have the information I wanted so they were disposed of,” the bald fucker chuckled to himself.

Seething through your teeth you made a pathetic attempt to lung at the man. To say you were angry was an understatement. You were seeing red. Basically your whole team was wiped out in what was supposed to be a simple mission. You were furious with yourself. With S.H.I.E.L.D. And you wanted to murder the man who had the audacity to stand before you right now a laugh at you struggling in your chains.

“You really should be more appreciative than that agent L/N” You froze when he said your name. “Although they did experience quite a lot of pain beforehand, I made sure their deaths were painless,” He smirked tapping his index finger between his eyebrows. “I truly felt bad for them really. To be tortured like that only for me to figure out they really didn’t have the information I wanted! Security clearance is a funny thing isn’t it?”

Clenching your jaw, you remained silent.

“You see agent L/N, when I figured out I had a mole in one of my bases relaying information back to S.H.E.I.L.D. I was livid! But then I thought hmm maybe I can use this to my advantage because where there is one mole there is a whole system of them,” he crouched down in front of you tucking a stray hair behind your ear much to your dismay. “So, I had him signal to be extracted, then I shot him and now here you are and what you’re going to do for me now is give me the list of all assets and agents you have hidden in Hydra.” He smiled laying it out like it was the simplest of requests.

“Over my dead body,” you spat.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that. No worries you’ll break eventually.”

__________________________

­­­­­­­­­­­­Natasha knew it was bad news when they landed a mile outside the base at the same location where they were able to track down Y/N’s team’s Quinjet. Completely abandoned, not a trace of anyone.

During the short trek to the Hydra base Natasha was getting more and more anxious. She couldn’t shake the horrible feeling in her gut. The closer they got the heavier the feeling weighed down on her. When they got to the entrance Natasha instructed the team that she would follow in behind her. They had no idea what they were walking into.

However, the last thing she expected was a completely empty base. They cleared room by room, went down each hallway and found not a single trace that anyone had ever been there. It wasn’t until they rounded a corner into another hallway that Natasha’s stomach plummeted. Three bodies laid across the floor. Approaching Natasha let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when she recognized Y/N’s teammates: Ramirez, Leroy and Shaw.

Had she been alone she was sure her legs would have given out but she remained poise in front of the team of agents around her.

“What the fuck happened to you Y/N” Nat whispered under her breath.

[atc74]

Making Circles - Month Five

Square(s) Filled: Castiel for @heavenandhellbingo​

Warnings: Case angst, being fake married to Dean, discussion on how to gank the big bad

Summary:  Dean and Y/N have to pretend to be married for a case. But this isn’t any ordinary case. Married couples have gone missing from Albert Lea, Minnesota, every six months for the last few years but there is almost zero evidence. People don’t just disappear like that do they? With Bobby and Sam’s help, plus an ally in their new town, they have just under six months to figure it out. Chances are they’ll survive the case, but will their friendship survive their fake marriage?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 764

Written for: @heavenandhellbingo​

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, who says the nicest things and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and also keeps me on a straight line. I heart you! And @alleiradayne for letting me bounce ideas off her, like all the time.

A/N: This will be six chapter series, one for each month of the case, plus a bonus epilogue. Loosely based/inspired by the song Making Circles by Christian Kane and I just felt this needed to be written. There will be lyrics dispersed throughout the entire story. I hope you love this as much as I do.

The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Making Circles master list

Month Five

“So get this,” Sam started off the call. “There was nothing in the any of the houses that suggested foul play. The only evidence of interest was a fine pink dust. It’s the only thing that links all sixteen disappearances.”

“Well don’t keep us in suspense, Sam. Just fucking tell us. We’re losing daylight here!” Dean shouted at his brother through the phone. He and Y/N were in their office with everything laid out in front of them. This was the breakthrough they had been looking and hoping for.

“Bite me, Dean. The dust contains human DNA. I am still separating it, but I have run preliminary tests on all sixteen samples and they all came back positive for human remains.” Sam finished and the line went silent as they all processed that information.

“He said ‘she would find us and turn us to dust’…” Dean pondered what the demon had said once more. It made sense. Well, no it didn’t. None of it made any fucking sense. “So what kind of monster can turn a human to dust?”

“Hell if I know, but I have only about a hundred and eleven books I haven’t read yet. I think it might be time for more back up kids,” Bobby sounded defeated as he sighed heavily on the three way call.

“We’ll keep hitting it on our end, Bobby. Let us know what we can do, okay?” Y/N asked before ending the call. Sam needed time to run all the samples and Bobby needed help and they were three hours away. Too far to be of any good right now.

Suddenly papers were flying everywhere as Castiel appeared in the middle of their office with Bobby, who had a death grip on his tan trenchcoat.

“Hello, Dean. Y/N,” Cas greeted the two of them.

“What the hell, Cas? Where have you been? I have been praying to you for two freaking months!” Dean screamed at the angel.

“There is a civil war going on in Heaven, Dean. I came as quickly as I could. I understand you have a problem,” Cas deadpanned.

“Problem? Yeah, I guess you could say we have a ‘problem’,” Dean air quoted, a look of utter annoyance on his face.

“Cas, what Dean is trying to say, and failing, is that we have a case and we aren’t exactly sure what we are after,” Y/N explained nicely to the angel. Together the three of them recounted the facts they knew and the additional information supplied by the demon that Dean and Jake had exorcised.

“I think the creature you’re looking for is a Rit Zien,” Castiel offered.

“A what now?” Dean was more perplexed than before.

“On the battlefields of Heaven, there was a special class of angel. The Rit Zien. It's Enochian for 'hands of mercy.' They functioned like medics, they tended to the wounded, they healed those who could be healed. But for the mortally wounded, those who were past saving, the Rit Zien's job was to put them down. They had this way of smiting that was so quick and so total that it rendered death virtually painless. The Rit Zien hone in on pain, it's like a beacon to them,” Castiel educated the hunters with this new information.  

“Okay, so it’s a rogue angel. How do we kill it?” Bobby piped up.

“It’s not that simple. Only an angel blade can take the life of a Rit Zien. Or another angel,” Cas stated like it was common knowledge. “All I can provide are these.” Castiel produced three angel blades from one sleeve of his overcoat.

Dean took one of the blades from him, spinning and flipping it in his hand. “It’s heavy, but it feels good. Balanced.”

“Cas, is there anyway for us to identify the Rit Zien who is responsible?” Y/N looked up from the desk, laying the blades down.

“No, they must take on a human vessel like the rest of us. But, they’ll find their patients with ease. They are empathetic and can hone in on pain and suffering. From what I have seen of your files, the victims he chose may not have been in physical pain, but emotional. It’s possible that the angel may no longer be able to tell the difference between the two. To them, pain is pain,” Cas looked at the three hunters.

“So how are we going to find this son of a bitch?” Dean demanded.

“Pray for me and I will come,” Castiel told them, then disappeared in a flourish of wind.

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon@maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

Making Circles: @squirrelnotsam @karikatz12481  @deans-baby-momma​