#Someone please tell me she survived the Hour of Devastation

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Creature Types: Naga

The most beautiful woman in all of MTG, by James Ryman

What is a Naga (flavorfully)?

In Asian mythology, Nagas are a type of divine being that are somewhere between human and serpent, depending on the individual myth. Some are basically humans with serpent iconography, others are basically snakes that happen to be able to talk. They’re generally pleasant and benevolent to humans, and they usually have some sort of power over water.

In Magic: the Gathering, Nagas are snake people (also called ‘sneeple’) with arms and long tails, enabling them to give even better hugs than normal snakes. Female nagas have no breasts, though as they wear similar fashion to humans their clothing often gives the illusion of breasts. Imoti has extra arms for unknown reasons.

Nagas are primarily native to Tarkir and Amonkhet, and while the species is roughly the same, Tarkir Nagas seem to be a lot meaner. 

What is a Naga (mechanically)?

Naga is a race creature type, usually attached to a class. Nagas are primarily blue or green, save for the one White Naga that doesn’t actually exist, and the couple of Zombie Nagas, which are of course Black.  Other than that, Nagas don’t have any sort of unifying mechanic. The closest they have is the Exploit mechanic, which is the Sultai mechanic rather than a racial specific one.

Can I make a Naga deck?

Unclear!

For a sixty card deck, there’s certainly enough decent Nagas that you can build a sixty card deck with competent creatures, turn them sideways, and put up a threat against other casual decks. There’s not quite a critical mass of Nagas to start making actually good decks out of them, but it’s basically fine.

In Commander, Sidisi, Brood Tyrant, is a fun and interesting commander whose ability works well with Exploit and many other incidental Naga abilities. With only 37 other Nagas in Sidisi’s colors, you’re going to be a bit tight getting good creatures, but the deck can still be plenty of fun. Many Nagas reward self-mill strategies, others are happy to use Exploit to sacrifice the Zombie tokens Sidisi makes, and others are just good in their own right. It’s not going to be Earth-shattering, but it’ll be fine for a casual table, and the various weird synergies can be a lot of fun.

Is Naga a good creature type?

Naga… means Snake. Yes, there are distinct mythological beings called Nagas, and I understand the desire to distinguish them from snakes, but there’s one major problem with that from a gameplay mechanic, and that’s the Orochi. Orochi, the sneeple from Kamigawa, are creature type Snake and aren’t really distinguishable from the Naga in any reasonable way. Some Orochi have legs, but many don’t. Orochi women have boobs, but that’s actually more of a Naga trait than a Snake trait. Orochi have four arms instead of two, but that’s definitely not a Snake trait in any sense of the word.

The reason this matters so much is that Orochi have a number of cards that care about the Snake creature type. Naga could easily have joined the Orochi to encourage Snake decks without much power level concern (as Snake isn’t a particularly strong type right now), but instead they have their own type that’s, for the most part, useless.

The Naga debate has happened plenty, but ultimately I think the general agreement is that adding creature type Naga was a bad idea and they should all have been Snakes. I just wish Wizards would be willing to errata away their bad idea. It’s not like they haven’t errata’d plenty of other types over the years.

[acourtofthought]

"Gone to the mat again and again to fight for that future with Feyre"

Rhys may have stepped back and kept his distance for months when he thought Feyre would be happy with Tamlin but what Cassian said is true, Rhys did consistently show that he was willing to fight for Feyre.

Lucien fighting for his future with Elain:

Lucien breathed, "Where is he keeping her?"

"I don't know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he'd use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I'm aware of them." "Tell me anyway. List all of them."

"You'll die the moment you set foot in his territory." "I survived well enough when I found you."

"I need to find her."

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he'd been more than happy to do so, given that his own status of mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days".

"I'm getting my mate back."

"Tell me about her - about Elain," Lucien said quietly.

"My mate is engaged to a human male." I want to see her. Just once. Just-to know." "To know what?" "If she is worth fighting for. And then I'll ask your mate how he survived it - knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male's bed."

"I would like to see them first. I know you're anxious -" "Just do it," Lucien said, bracing his forearms on the stone rail of the veranda. "Come get me when she's ready."

But Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he'd heard ever word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.

Lucien stiffened - not at what I'd said, I realized, but at the tone. A hostess. But he asked, "What of - Elain?" "I need to think about it," I answered plainly.

"I would never hurt her."

"She needs fresh air." "We'll judge what she needs." "Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two."

"I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And ... sorrow. Longing."

"Let me do something. About Elain. I heard - from my room. Everything that happened just now. It wouldn't hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally."

"Please tell me," Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. "What the healer says. And if- if you need me for anything."

"I'll go." Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke.

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.

"I heard - what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you."

"I heard you made the killing blow."

Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain's side.

"How is she?" "Good. But is she still..." A muscle flickered in his jaw. "Does she still mourn him?

Lucien had encountered him, I realized. Somehow, in living with Jurian and Vassa at the manor, he'd run into Elain's former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

"The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her."

Cassian's heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. "

Two years after their bond snapped "he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

From the start of their bond snapping until where we are currently at in the series Lucien is still fighting for Elain.

Is he being pushy? No, because that's not what would best for a female who recently had a broken engagement with someone she loved.

But does he still think of her? Does he still long for her? Has he been loyal to only her?

That is the author showing us that Lucien remains committed to their bond, he is fighting for their bond.

Authors do not write loyal kings as not ending up with their HEA and Elain will always be able to take comfort in the fact that he wanted her, he waited for her, he allowed her to set the pace of things while he suffered for her.

That is how you write a real love story. Not a guy who rejected her at the first real test to their love as Graysen did, not a guy like Az who hadn't thought of a future with her beyond his sexual fantasies and proceeded to feel a spark in his chest at the thought of another female's happiness mere hours after he rejected Elain.

Lucien is loyal to Elain regardless of what he's getting out of the situation and that's exactly what we saw from both Rhys and Cassian with their mates.

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

My mom comes over a couple of times a week to help me keep the apartment tidy and to body-double so I can focus on work.

"Mind if I open this?" she asked me this morning, holding up an envelope I'd tossed onto a pile of clutter the week before. I hadn't opened it because I already knew what it was—the decision of my appeal against being judged "medically ineligible" for permanent disability benefits, which are almost double what I get now and would cover rent and food. Absolutely everyone, from disabled advocacy groups to the legal aid lawyer who helped prep me for the hearing, told me that there was basically no chance I'd get deemed eligible on the first appeal. Normally it takes 2 or 3 application-appeal cycles (9-10 months each) for people to get into the program.

"Go ahead," I told her, and then turned back to other work. I've got a lot to do given how well my Kickstarter is doing, whether it's setting up the behemoth new printer I got off Kijiji for 10% of its original value, to scheduling work meetings with my newly-hired personal assistant. I've always got so much on my plate, and the number of hours in the day I can focus on it is countable on my hand that's missing fingers. And I'd love to get a sewing pattern out for my "just the sleeves, please" costume idea out in enough time for people to use it for Halloween, but I still need to make mock-ups and hire someone who's used to producing digital sewing patterns.

"I think," Mom said quietly, leafing through the letter, "that you won."

The letter ends like this:

Conclusion: The Panel finds that the Appellant meets the definition of "severe handicap" as is set out in the Regulation and therefore reverses the Director's decision.

Yeah. It means I won.

The benefits program will require another eight weeks to double-check my financial eligibility using information they already have, and to process my new program status to reflect an increased benefit rate and a different health insurance program.

Right now I'm really feeling this line from Komarr, by Lois McMaster Bujold: "But do you know--well, of course you could, but… the business with [throwing yourself at] the brick wall. Failure, failure was grown familiar to me. Comfortable, almost, when I stopped struggling against it. I did not know achievement was so devastating."

It felt like my whole life ended in a flaming wreck when I had to give up counselling. I lost part of who I was when I did that, and spent years telling myself I'd pull up my socks at any minute and go right back to it. But the truth is, I am not capable of doing that job as well as it needs to be done, and it's one of those jobs where you half-ass things at the peril of the vulnerable people who trust you.

And what if... the worst had happened, and I lost it all, and then in clawing my way out of the pit, trying to get purchase on absolutely any kind of survival I could, I found my way to something new and solid and real. What if it was okay after all?

I'm still having trouble believing it, but the letter keeps saying what it said.

I'm gonna go sew things, and see if it feels any more real in the morning.

[kteezy997]

6 Months-Part One // t.c.

Information: this is inspired by the Netflix film 365 Days

Warnings: toxic premise (but hey it’s fantasy fanfiction!), cursing, mention of sex, abduction by sedation

Mature 18+ readers only, please

He had to have her.

It had been hours. Days. Weeks. He couldn’t go on like this. He needed to claim her as his very own. The only thing better than reading her words or seeing her face in his mind over and over again, was to have her right there, physically in front of him.

And she couldn’t get away.

He needed her in order to survive. She helped him. Without even meeting him, she soothed and comforted him more than anything, any person. No drug on earth could fill him the way she could.

Timothée was reeling from the disappointing reaction to his last film, Bones and All. Even though he'd been cast in a new movie about Willy Wonka, it had been hard to shake the feeling of defeat. Bones had been a passion project; it was his first producing credit as well. But it didn't translate to audiences or critics well at all. It threw him into a depression like he hadn't experienced before.

He moved to London temporarily to work on Wonka. After everything with Bones, all he wanted to do was work and fuck. And that's what he did. He did little else besides those two things. He had his roster picks of women flown to London for a rendezvous on numerous occasions while he was there. But there was no spark in his life. Nothing that piqued his interest.

His performance at work started to suffer. He wasn't immersed in it, and it showed, making other people take notice. He knew that he was becoming difficult to work with. He was ashamed but didn't know how to change it.

On top of it all, his grandmother wasn't doing well. Perhaps that was the main cause of his withdrawal from normalcy. All of it mixed together made for the worst year of his young life. This was supposed to be an exciting time. His career had been blossoming before Bones and All. And with Wonka, there was hope. But he remained practically catatonic.

And then she happened.

He saw her the day he heard the news of his grandmother passing. He passed her on the street in New York, he was taking a break from filming to be near his sick grandma. It was so random. He had no way of knowing that he'd be struck by someone's presence. As devastated as he was, he couldn't help but notice the glow around her. Like she was planted there just for him to see.

He couldn't get the strange young woman out of his head from that day on.

He saw her again, but it was only a photograph, a photograph on the back cover of a book in his mother's living room. She was an author, named Cameron Reese. He couldn't believe that it was really her, but he'd bet every cent to his name that it was the same woman he'd been entranced by before.

It felt like fate to Timothée.

He bought every book she had ever published. All seven of them. They were of the romantic genre, mostly. But the books were clever, and often sexual. Her stories really spoke to his soul. These were characters he could relate to in ways he hadn't felt before when he'd read books by other authors. She was brilliant, as well as beautiful.

He was able to do a Google search on her and found a couple of televised interviews she had done. He ended up falling even harder for her.

It was her voice, the way she spoke from her heart so endearingly, the way she pondered in her mind over every question, she was quirky but not in a 'hey look at me I'm so relatable' way. She was real, and unapologetically herself.

She wasn't vain or vapid like the women he was used to dating, or rather forced to be around for publicity reasons. She wasn't so much into fashion, or the beauty industry. She had more depth. She was able to joke without being mean or offending anyone. She was genuinely interested in what others brought to the table. She was a creative soul, he could tell.

She brought him back to his early days of wanting to become an actor, and how he felt back then. What it felt like to just want to learn and be better, to be an artist. That's what she was, an artist.

Timothee loved her. He decided that she would be his wife one day. She was the only person he could see standing next to him for the rest of his life. A real partner with a great head on her shoulders. His absolute equal. He also wanted to fuck her brains out, day after day, year after year, until the day he died.

.......

Everything went according to plan. She was there, in his L.A. mansion, still sleeping due to the heavy sedation. Now, Timothée just had to explain everything once she was awake.

He knew what he had done was terribly, morally wrong, but he was drowning. He was bound to grab onto someone as the sorrows became too much to bear alone.

.......

He waited anxiously for a few hours. In his head, he went over everything he wanted to say to her. He knew she would be afraid, as anyone would be in her situation. But he would try to soothe any worries she had. He didn't wish to harm her. He wanted to give her the world, to treat her like a queen. All she had to do was let him.

One of his guards let him know that Cameron was awake and was let out of her room. She remained in the den, waiting.

She needs to know what the hell is going on, he thought. The poor girl must be terrified. But she would soon be assured of her safety. Timmy made haste, heading to her location in the sprawling mansion.

Timothée stepped into the den; Cameron was standing in the middle of the room, as if she was in a daze. The sedative was still affecting her.

"Cameron?" he said as carefully as he could muster, so he didn't startle her too much.

She turned to him, she wasn't crying or anything, but she was scared, he could see it plainly. She blinked a few times, then her eyelids closed, and she collapsed.

Timothee reacted quickly to catch her in his arms.

A bad reaction.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich

*if you’d like to be removed from my tag list, let me know

[livedtoserve]

[post bronze round]

Lambert stood before her with his arms crossed. He wasn’t angry, frustrated perhaps. Or even better- concerned. He had already witnessed Flora’s devotion to her work many times by now at the Abyss, her easily beating anyone who even wished to reach her levels of workaholic. The professor found it worrying and did try to at least force her to take breaks, but during that battle…

It was one thing to watch her be on cleaning duty for hours on end. It was another to watch her with that same unshakeable devotion in her eyes willingly bleeding herself for the sake of her team. “Flora…I am thankful for what you did, genuinely. Your actions did, in the end, save us from a possible disaster, that I shall fully acknowledge. However.” He sighed, uncrossing his arms. “Please…do not repeat that. I know what you may try to say- that a sacrifice is worth it if it means the team gets to survive and advance, but…it is also true that if anything had happened to you, we all would be devastated. We appreciate your help, but we appreciate you being alive and well by our side much more. Please reconsider your approach, Flora. I shall not speak on the others’ behalf but to me your wellbeing means much more than a sacrifice. I do not ever wish to claim a victory conquered at your expense, and I am sure the others do not either.”

The battle has concluded for now, but Flora keeps on working. Her purpose this time being to patch herself up before the second part of their training exercise. She cannot serve the guests if the servant's body is drained of life, after all.

The professor approaches the maid while she keeps her head down, focusing on wrapping a bandage around her cut leg. She does not raise her head as Lambert while he speaks. She does not have the strength to look up, literally and metaphorically.

Professor Lambert is ashamed of her. Of course he is. She was incapable of protecting the team from extensive harm, even after two of the fell children went for her earlier on. The mounted teammate was humiliated with his weapon stolen and tossed back at him, an act even Flora messed up in showing slight pleasure in.

It did not matter that her drops of blood warded off the miasma while they were cornered, saving them all. She had still failed in her duty, unable to provide even adequate service. Worst of all, she had left Lambert, and potentially her other allies, concerned for her safety.

What will it take for them to understand? Her life means nothing now compared to one of theirs, let alone compared to the many.

Flora finishes off her self-first aid with a strong knot on her left and lifts her shoulders along with the rest of her body. Speech fails to formulate proper sentences, the maid only reaching to hold one of his uncrossed arms with her left hand. The right hand has been properly tied with bandages earlier, though it is still soaked in red.

"Lambert."

It hurts to drop formalities when addressing someone superior to her, but Flora chokes it up. Some messages require the proper titles, or lack thereof.

"It is not up to you to determine if my wellbeing must take less priority over the task at hand. It is not up to me, either. Only the mission ahead can influence the actions that I must take. That is the approach that I have always lived for."

And the approach that she has died for.

"Please do not tell me how to perform my duty. I promise to uphold the same respect for you, if that makes you happy."

Her hand withdraws from Lambert's arm, signifying that she has said enough. Her mouth lacks emotion, whereas her eyes shimmer with deep blues.

"I must be going now. We need to be ready for whatever lies ahead. Farewell," and away she goes.

[f1-birb]

any advice (or things you wish you had done, if you've been there) for when putting your dog down

i feel blindsided. we need to do it today. at the emergency vet not our regular. and i'm just. so! i mean obviously it's normal for emotions to be everywhere but yesterday morning the thought of putting her down this weekend didn't exist. at all. like no denial no pretending it won't happen it just didn't cross my mind.

i have a ton of things on etsy i wanted to look into, so many things i wanted to try and do. but kinda have to decide a good chunk of them today to make sure i have what i need. and i am considering an emergency craft store run because apparently you have to store pet fur not just in a bag? idk

we have something to do a paw print with but just realized if it sets and cracks or doesn’t set (very me luck) i can’t redo. i can’t redo it. what a horrid realization to come across my mi d

there's a mail away for the cremation that does nice memorabilia afterwards, they do a nose print or a paw print, i mean you could get both but it’s 64 each lol 😔 but at least i know they’d be good..

sorry i rambled away. i know i’m gonna be upset for forgetting to do something. i’m already devastated as it is plus i’m going on two hours of sleep and my period 🙂

i’m going to cry horrendously and i hate that i cry at a level of public spectacle. anyway. if you have any advice or memorial things or anything to help me survive today i would appreciate it 🫂

Oh anon, I am so so sorry you've got to make that decision and you've got to say goodbye to your dog. I've only ever had 2 pets (one of whom is still alive and well) and the one who did pass was when I was 13 and it was incredibly sudden

I asked the wonderful @f1-disaster-bi if she had any advice as I know she's been in your position before and she's given me permission to share:

Oh god, that poor anon. I would never wish having to say goodbye to a pet on anyone. I've lost 3 in my life, and it's been hard.

I've....never really done any memorial things except for with T? We didn't even think of it, but we were never offered anything plus we just couldn't afford it.

What our vet did with T though was clip some of her fur and put it in a little bottle (like those little ones with fairy dust for kids?) and tied a ribbon around it? So we each have one of those, and when G passed, we donated money to the Community Cats organisation and got little key chains each with a little saying on them that the three of us still have.

Honestly, it's going to be hard. You can tell anon that the vet won't judge them for crying. They'll be compassionate, at least in my experience.

Our vet has a little fake candle they might in the waiting room in front of a sign that says "someone is saying goodbye to a beloved family member, please be reapectful" and we had some nice people come over to pet T and tell us they were sorry before we went in with her.

I stayed with her until she was gone, and the vets were lovely and just let me talk and cry because I was a wreck saying goodbye to my best friend cause I'd had her for 17 years

Another thing I'd say is don't worry about forgetting anything because what's important now is just being there for their dog. That's the important thing. Cuddle them, give them kisses, tell them you love them and that they've been such a good friend and pet. That's honestly the most important thing right now for owner and pet.

Remembering that they were loved, and will still be loved and that they gave them the best life and while this is sad and horrible, they're making the hardest but kindest decision anyone can make for a pet. It hurts, but your pet will know they were loved

Again, I'm so sorry that you've got to go through this, send you all the love and hugs for you and your family and your lovely dog who I'm sure knows just how much you love them and have appreciated their companionship for however long you've had them for

If there's anything I can do please please let me know

[thepoetsvortex]

When I say social support I mean, first, that they aren't stigmatized for any of these situations.

I can't say that you are one of them but I have seen people who will tell someone who has been long term planning to have a child be in the situation where said child didn't develop enough in womb and would not survive it long term. And they have said that the person having the child is somehow at fault.

The particular incident that I'm referencing was about a staff at one of my group homes. She had decided that she was ready for a child, but wouldn't qualify for adoption. So as a single woman decided to reach out to a male friend and have him help her get pregnant.

(Based on what she said the friend in question was going to be more a cool uncle then a dad.)

The child's lungs and heart did not develop properly and said child wasn't going to live outside of at most an hour.

I remember how devastated she was. But someone in the neighborhood who was very religious decided to tell here that she had committed a sin by having sex before marriage and this was God punishing her.

Yes I did try to assault them, because my opinion on both sex and children notwithstanding that was fucked up. No I was not successful.

Another incident that I know of.

(I don't have a personal relationship with this one and only read a news article so some of the information may not be accurate.)

A pair of siblings had a relationship and had a child. Now questionable relationship aside, from what the article said they were a happy and healthy family. They supported their daughter both emotionally and financially. As they were supposed to.

People found out about the daughter being the siblings and forcibly separated them and refused to allow the parents to see their daughter.

And as someone whose been separated from their parents I can say that was undoubtedly traumatic. For everyone involved.

(They also refused to allow the siblings to see each other but even if they stuck with that joint custody of separated parents is a thing and it could be easily be arranged so that the parents do not personally interact.)

The next one is again a personal antidote of someone I know. I will preface this by say that I'm speaking about a Trans Man. Please, even if you don't think Trans Men are real men, be respectful and do not refer to him as a female, a woman, a girl or use she/her pronouns.

My house mate and friend was raped by a teacher. He got pregnant and decided to give birth the baby. He aged out about a month before the birth and gave birth as per usual. And he decided to keep the baby.

Outside of the usual transphobic comments there were several people asking why he was keeping the baby and not giving it up so it can be adopted by someone who can't have a baby.

One had even said that he was a bad person for keeping the baby instead of giving it to someone in need. (Like, apparently, their cousin.)

Now ignoring how disgustingly nosy this was. He was a good dad and that person who wanted him to give his child to their cousin called DfE on them. And he had to put up with an entire investigation on his parenting because of this.

The next one is my personal story.

My mother could not support having a child financially but because of circumstances outside of her control could not abort me.

I was born hard of hearing, and am now deaf, so while apparently she had thought about putting me into foster care decided against it because people with disabilities have a hard enough time with emotionally supportive family never mind a broken system that does not actually care about them. And I wasn't white on top of it. Which statistically shows that I was already unlikely to get adopted.

I have been homeless multiple times. I've gone without food, eaten out of a dumpster and seen my mother do some fucked up shit to take care of me.

Now ignoring how I ended up in foster care anyways I do remember the fucked up shit people would to both my mother and to me. Even though I was six.

General over view is the religious sin and punishment to my mother for having sex outside of marriage. A few people who said I should be put down and called me the R Slur.

(Most of them were child but some were adults and those kids had to pick it up from somewhere.)

A few attempted to pressure my mother into giving me up and were very dismissive when my mother pointed out all the problems I would face in the system.

It was not a pleasant experience.

The final example is another personal experience. The personal I will be referencing is Nonbinary. Again, I do not care about your personal opinion but please do not disrespect them by using gendered terms.

They are someone who was immediately pleased into the system upon birth. They were not adopted likely due to them one, not being white and two, having Congenital Hand Deformity.

I'm not going into details because one, it is very personal. And two, very fucked up.

But their time in the system was incredibly unpleasant.

Eventually it got to much and they committed suicide.

Now someone in the neighborhood, that person from the first story if you remember, decided to let some of her opinions be known.

"Well of course [Redacted for Dead Name] committed suicide, I'm not surprised. [Redacted for Gendered Pronoun] was such a strange child."

"Did you hear about [Redacted for Dead Name]'s parents. All [Redacted for Gendered Pronoun] problems make a lot more sense with people like them as [Redacted for Gendered Pronoun] parents."

"The fact that [Redacted for Dead Name]'s parents gave [Redacted for Gendered Pronoun] up really says a lot about them. I can't believe that they would give up their [Redacted for Gendered Term] instead of do the right thing and raise [Redacted for Gendered Pronoun] themselves."

Yes I hate this fucking woman.

So getting rid of the stigma attached to any of the above is the first thing I mean when I say socially support.

The second is getting people the therapy that they need after or during any of these experiences. And destigmatizing therapy as well.

And it is stigmatized. In general but particularly for masculine seeming people.

Another example I heard about. Apparently this couple had a kid and the kid got cancer and unfortunately didn't make it. They ended up separating and the wife got a lot of support through her loss and when she was better, if not over it, she noticed her ex-husband was drinking a lot. Lost his job and even ended up in the hospital once due to alcohol poisoning. She was worried and reached out and found out that no one was offering him any support. Not even his own mother.

They were reportedly all brushing it aside as "men being men" and that this was "how he need to heal".

So socially working to destigmatize therapy for everyone and insuring that they get that help.

Even people who want to give birth to that child.

The birthing process seems traumatizing. I only saw one of the health class videos and was in the room for my friend giving birth because he asked me to be there. (The gentleman from the second story.)

And I'm going to be honest I had nightmares.

I've noticed that while you seem to be slightly less reprehensible about your Pro Life beliefs and more consistent in your All Lives Matter opinion.

A lot of Pro Lifers aren't. A lot of them are of the opinion that therapy is waste and that if you have a child then you shouldn't be asking for government help to take care of that child. And if that child ends up in a bad situation because the parent couldn't support them then that's the parent fault for being irresponsible enough to have that child in the first place.

And in the case of particularly religious people that child is a punishment for the sin of having sex before marriage.

This is a decent portion for the reason I do not like the Pro Life Movement.

Firstly, I am sorry you went through that! I am sorry your friend went through that, and that your mother was put in such a difficult situation.

I myself am very deeply religious; I believe sex before marriage is a sin.

I also believe it's a sin to treat people poorly.

Telling someone that those tragedies- or the children themselves- are punishment has no basis in the Bible at all. It wasn't a punishment, and they had no authority to say so. That isn't how Jesus would have treated absolutely anyone! At that point, my view is, the act is already done. Right or wrong, she's had intercourse, and now it must be dealt with in the kindest and most humane way possible. Cruelty is counterproductive at that point. It's time to work on solutions and not shame people for something that can't be undone. She can't reverse time.

Besides, we all sin. Sex before is hardly the worst sin. All the people saying those gross things have most definitely sinned and had no place being judgmental.

I don't think you should shame a parent for giving their child up if that is what is right for them. That is a noble and most difficult thing to do. They are giving their child a chance and that is brave.

I don't think you should shame a parent for choosing to keep their child. It will be raised with love, and that, really, is the important thing. The child has a parent at least who cares for them. There is no shame in that. Those sacrifices are brave too.

Also, this might just be my own personal experience but I've never met a pro-life person who thinks that therapy is a waste or not useful. I think everyone can benefit from therapy. I also think it should be destigmatized for men (and all people but men especially are maligned for this) talking about their emotions and mental health. Of course people should have therapy if they need it.

Like I said, I think at that point the question is not whether they were responsible but the fact that they need to step up and be responsible now. That means taking responsibility for the new life, and not getting an abortion in my view.

I appreciate you explaining why you don't like the pro-life movement. But I will say I think those people are very rare within the movement. We give voice to the unborn, because they cannot give voice for themselves. This does not come at the mother's expense and shame does not work.

And, for the record, I'm glad you're here. I hope you agree that your life has worth, in spite of what you suffered.

[fanficimagery]

Five Years After

Imagine going to the feed store for your sister, only you come home with more than just feed for the animals.

Words: 5.1K Author’s Note: The ending of this imagine was definitely inspired by a TikTok video :)

When the Blip happened, you were in complete disbelief. Chaos erupted all around as planes fell from the sky and automobiles crashed because their drivers had vanished into thin air. Everyone was a complete mess as they attempted to call loved ones, their calls going straight to voicemail or being answered by another family member that were having to deliver the bad news of a disappearance.

Your only living relative was your sister Laura and her children she had with her husband Clint, so when one of your co-workers and a handful of your customers vanished into thin air, your first call had been to your ex-Avenger of a brother-in-law. Unfortunately Clint was just as clueless as you and the phone had nearly slipped from your hand when he gave you the news that Laura and the kids had vanished. You had nowhere to go and were so scared because of the looting that had started, so Clint told you to pack your things and get to the farm as soon as possible.

You'd only been on the farm for a full day before Clint's friends came looking for him. Natasha, who you had met after your sister had married Clint, greeted you with a rather solemn hug. It was Steve Rogers, however, who attempted to introduce himself with as much joy as he possibly could in order to be polite.

You had shaken his hand, smiling sadly. "You don't need to force a smile for me, Rogers. The circumstances suck. I get it."

That had surprisingly pulled a short laugh from Natasha. "See, Steve? Told you she wouldn't be expecting the Man with a Plan."

Steve and Natasha had proceeded to stay for the duration of the day, telling Clint all about a fight that had taken place in Wakanda and who out of their friends had vanished. It was a devastating blow and you had no idea how everyone was going to cope. Then soon after the two Avengers had left, Clint went into overdrive. He was making phone calls left and right, packing bags and weapons, and you were at a complete loss.

You had decided to leave him be and it was only the following morning when you woke to an empty house did you find the letter on the kitchen counter. In the letter he had apologized for leaving you after everything that had happened, but went on to explain that there were criminals still out there who had survived the Blip when others who were sin-free didn't. He couldn't leave them be while people like his wife and children were no longer alive, so to work through his aggression he was going to hunt those criminals down. Fortunately enough, he left you in possession of the farm-house and made it so you were able to access his bank accounts. He told you not to look for him or get the others involved, so you waited a whole day before contacting Natasha and telling her all about Clint's derailment.

Clint left no trail, leaving you all alone. Or so you thought.

With Clint's vanishing act, Natasha and Steve made you their responsibility. They made sure you knew they were only a call or email away, but only after Nat drove down to give you some technological devices since the regular power grid was fluctuating. Since Earth lost half its population, everything seemed to be falling apart.

Then Tony Stark was brought back home and the world seemed a little bit brighter.

For years you drifted, working at a grocery store in town to keep yourself busy. The Blip took a toll on everyone, but it was nice to have to talk to someone even if the other person moved on autopilot. Clint sent an email every other month from a burner email, so it was a dead end every time Natasha looked into it after you had forwarded it to her. And about the only news-worthy thing that had happened after the Blip was the announcement of Tony and Pepper Stark's baby girl Morgan. You didn't know the Stark's personally, but it didn't stop you from sending their little girl a present every year on her birthday for the next five years on behalf of yourself and the Barton family.

One morning you're sitting at the breakfast table when you hear the telltale sounds of a jet overheard. You figure it's just Natasha and Steve for their monthly check-in so you think nothing of it.

The screen door creaks open and you call out, "In the kitchen!"

The steps of what sounds like more than one person falter, but then they pick back up until they near your location. "Got enough for another plate?" That oh so familiar timber makes you spew orange juice across the table. You're up and out of your seat, staring at your brother-in-law who's a lot more tatted up than you remember him being. "Hey, sis."

Tony Stark stands just a couple feet to Clint's right, but his presence isn't enough to deter you from marching up to your brother-in-law and punching his shoulder. "You asshole!" You punch him again for good measure as tears sting your eyes. "You left me. You left me all alone! How could you-"

He dodges your continuous blows, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from attacking him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I'm here now. It's all going to be okay." The fight instantly drains out of you as you sag into his embrace, sob after sob leaving you as you clutch to him tightly.

Clint tightens his grip a little more around you until your cries turn into sniffles. "What- what are you doing here?"

"Lang came up with a plan to bring our people back." You tense in Clint's arms and pull back to look him in the eyes. "Banner and Stark made the machines necessary to make the plan work. We're going to bring 'em home. We're going to bring 'em all home, Y/N."

"Please tell me you aren't joking," you mumble.

"Nope. No joke," Tony says. "It's not a total guarantee, but we're going to try our best." You let go of Clint and turn to look at Tony who's standing by the stove and picking at the leftover scrambled eggs. "Mmm. These are good. What'd you put in them?"

"Uhh, just butter and cheese."

"Morgan would absolutely love these. She's on this whole cheese kick right now."

That earns a chuckle, and after gathering yourself you look back at Clint. "So what's going to happen now?"

"The team's getting ready for a test run," Clint says. "I just wanted to let you know I was home and that we had a really important mission coming up."

"How soon?"

"Today if the test run goes good," Tony says. He pours himself half a glass of juice before downing it in one go. "And speaking of, we need to go."

You look at Clint, a little let down that he's leaving so soon, but he grins and pulls you back into a hug. "It's going to be okay." You nod against him and he lets his arms drop before he steps back. He looks around the kitchen and his grin widens. "You've kept up good with the house. I'm impressed."

"I should hope so," you mumble. "I had to flirt with the hardware store boy so he'd help me keep the house from falling apart."

Clint laughs. "You did good, Y/N. Laura will be proud."

"Yeah, yeah. Now go bring my sister, niece, and nephews back."

"You got it, boss."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

You're grateful for the day off because it leaves you with time to clean the house from top to bottom. You need some way to burn off all your anxiousness and making sure the house looks good for your sister is one hell of a way to do just that.

You're not sure how long you'd been cleaning when you decide to take a break, and you head outside for some fresh air. You walk off the porch and onto the grass, tilting your face skyward as you inhale and exhale softly, your eyes closing. One moment all you can hear is the wind ruffling tree limbs and grass, and the next it's a cacophony of chirping birds.

Your eyes fly open and you're shocked to see the swarms of birds flying around in the sky. Sure there have been birds around after the Blip, but you've never seen so many together since then. You're too busy staring up into the sky that you don't see what appears to be ash take formation behind you.

"Aunt Y/N?" The timid voice makes your heart stop before you whirl around, your eyes widening at the sight of Lila glancing around in shock. "What's going on? Where's dad?"

"Lila?" You breathe out in awe. You stumble towards her, eyes glistening with tears. "They did it. They actually did it." You pull her into a hug, cries stuttering in your chest. As you hug her, you glance towards the open field where you see Laura appear, followed by Nathaniel and then Cooper. "Laura!"

You grip Lila's hand tight as the both of you break out into a run towards the rest of your family, you and Laura colliding with twin oomphs. The two of you are crying as Laura tries to work out what the hell happened and where Clint is, but before you can explain anything she's pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Clint's number. As she worries about getting her husband on the phone, you quickly hug Cooper and pick up Nathaniel to hold on your hip as you squeeze him in relief.

"Clint?" Laura sobs when he finally answers. "Clint, what's going on? I-" She stops talking all of a sudden and she looks at you, eyes wide.

"What happened?" You ask.

"I- I don't know. One second he was talking and then-" She cuts off, glancing at her children and shaking her head. "He just cut out."

You know all is not fine and that something terrible must have happened for Laura to trail off the way she did. But instead of worrying her kids, you offer a grin. "I'm sure it's fine. As clumsy as he is, he probably just dropped his phone." She forces a smile for her kids' benefit. "So why don't we go ahead and wait for him inside. I'll make something to eat while you guys relax and I'll catch you up on the five years you missed."

"Five years!?" Laura nearly shouts.

You wince. "Yeah. You guys missed a lot."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

For the next couple of hours you tell Laura all about the Blip and how half of Earth's population just disappeared- Avengers included. You tell her how Clint had you move in, and how you helped take care of the house and what few animals they had on the farm still while working at the local grocery store. You tell her all about Steve and Natasha, and how Tony Stark is now married with a daughter of his own.

"Wow." Laura chuckles. All the kids have fallen asleep around the living room, leaving Laura the time to finally ask, "And where was Clint this entire time? I noticed he brought you onto the farm, but then everything became about Steve and Nat."

You suck in a breath sharply. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice that."

"Y/N.."

"He went rogue." Her eyes widen and you wince. "He left me here with access to your bank account, which I only used to pay bills and buy groceries by the way, and not even Natasha could find him. He only came back when she tracked him down and told him there was a chance they could reverse the Blip."

"Oh Clint.." She sighs, shaking her head in disappointment.

The sound of a quinjet hovering makes you and Laura perk up, but you keep quiet so as to not wake the children. You and Laura meet each other's gazes before you carefully get up and tiptoe out of the living room, and then you're rushing out the front door and down onto the lawn.

The door drops down and then Laura is sprinting across the field to reach her husband. You joyously laugh, jogging over to catch up. But as Laura and Clint hug one another, sobbing, you turn your sights to Steve who's standing sheepishly off to the side. There are two others with him, but since you've yet to meet them you make your way towards the familiar.

"Hey Rogers. Good to see you in one piece."

He tiredly chuckles. "Y/N." You punch his arm and he opens them up so you can hug him. "How are you holding up?"

"Better now that I got my sister back," you muse. As you pull away, you glance behind him into the quinjet. "Hey, where's Natasha?" Steve's smile falls and your heart plummets into your stomach. You can practically read the answer in his eyes. "No.." You shake your head.

His breathing stutters before he clears his throat. "We, uh, we lost Tony too."

Your expression completely crumples then, but Steve is quick to pull you back into a hug. He lets you cry into his chest before Clint steals you away, and then you're crying into your brother-in-law's shoulder. Then once all the tears taper off, Steve introduces you and Laura to Wanda and Bucky.

"I'll be in contact with you about what Pepper decides to do," Steve tells Clint. "If you do anything for Nat, let me know."

Clint sniffles. "I will."

You, Clint, and Laura wave off Steve, Wanda, and Bucky as they return inside the quinjet and lift off.

"Come on," Clint then sighs. "I need to see the kids and then figure out a way to tell them all about auntie Nat's sacrifice."

"And plan a memorial," Laura says.

You frown. "This was not the homecoming I was hoping for."

After a few days of planning, Clint decides on a cookout with all the Avengers and close friends of Nat's invited. It was a couple of days before Tony's own memorial, so you were surprised when Pepper Stark showed up with Morgan in tow. You were happy to finally meet the young girl who you'd been sending gifts to and you gladly ended up on babysitting duty.

You had met more of Clint's ex-coworkers, but your attention always ended up back on the children. Then when it came time to say a few words on Natasha's behalf, you somehow ended up between Steve and Bucky as the children ran back to their respective parents with Steve tucking you into his side when the tears started.

Then when the day of Tony's memorial came, there were more guests than you had anticipated. So as Pepper and Morgan walked a small flower raft with an arc reactor replica on it and set it out on the water, you stood back with Laura and her family and waited in silence. And as the crowd dispersed, you mostly kept to yourself until you saw Steve walk out of Pepper's home in the oddest white and red suit you'd ever seen.

Walking up behind Steve, you nod at Bucky and Sam who grin at your presence. When Steve turns around, you chuckle. "Why do I got a feeling you're about to do something very stupid?"

He grins and adjusts his grip on the suitcase hanging by his side. "Someone's gotta return the stones to their original timeline."

"Mhm. Well be careful. Don't start any unnecessary fights."

"I'll try my best."

As he walks up onto the platform, you step back and nudge your arm against Bucky's. He smiles down on you and you stand by his side as you listen to Bruce who walks Steve through about what's going to happen. Bruce checks all his monitors, giving Steve the go-ahead when everything is fine. Steve nods, a mask of sorts opens up and wraps around his face, and he presses a button that had been in his hand. Bruce counts down the seconds before he flips a switch which is meant to bring Steve back, but nothing happens.

Bruce looks around his monitors and starts pressing some more buttons. "Where is he?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here," Bruce says as he flips a few more switches.

Bucky sighs and you quickly glance at him, and he looks more resigned than anything as he turns to walk off.

Your attention goes to Bruce as your heart rate picks up. "Get him back."

"I'm trying."

"Get him the hell back!" Sam urges.

You and Sam are low-key panicking, but it's Bucky's calm voice that stops the both of you. "Y/N. Sam."

The two of you whirl around, gazes sliding towards where Bucky is staring off to. In the distance, on a stone bench by the water, there appears to be a man sitting there that wasn't there before. You and Sam stumble forward, and you squint your eyes, only to glance back at Bucky with wide eyes.

"Is that.."

"Go."

You share another look with Sam and he gestures for you to follow him. The two of you walk towards the man together and Sam stops just behind him as you walk around in front. When you get a good look at your friend who is way older than what he appeared to be a mere twenty seconds ago, your heart cracks just a little.

You try to force a smile, but it wobbles as an elderly Steve chuckles at you. "I'm really trying not to be so mad at you right now." Your voice cracks and he pats the spot next to him as you sniffle. You immediately sit next to him and take his left hand within your own two, a gleaming wedding band not going unnoticed. Your fingers trace it. "Was it at least a happy life?"

Steve pats your hand. "It was. It was the beautiful life I always dreamt of."

You take a moment for yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "You know you were my complete impulse control, right? Who's going to stop me from trying to get into your best friend's pants now?"

There's a snort from behind you, but you don't bother giving Sam your attention. "Go easy on him," Steve tells you. "I'm not sure he even remembers how to flirt."

You grin as you lean your head on his shoulder. "I'm really going to miss you," you say after a beat. Another moment passes before you drop Steve's hand and sigh before you stand. "Well, um, I should get back my sister and Clint now." You meet his gaze and flash him a small smile. "It's going to suck not seeing you every month, but I'm really glad you found your happiness."

"Thank you, Y/N."

Your bottom lip wobbles again. "Goodbye, Steve."

As you walk away, you hold your head up high and nod to Sam when he looks at you to make sure you're okay. You continue walking, nodding at Bucky as you pass him up as well when you see Laura wave you over. "For the record, I still remember how to flirt." You stumble and and then hear Bucky chuckling quietly behind you.

"Goddamn super soldiers and your dog ears."

As the days turn into weeks, Clint and Laura offer you a permanent place on the farm now that everything seems to be going back to normal. He's promised to build you a small house on the property for all that you've done in the past five years, so in the meantime you've taken to bunking with Lila while Wanda took over the guest bedroom. Clint had also taken to bringing Bucky to the farm when he noticed the super soldier not coping as well as he was letting on, so you found yourself often sitting by the back pond with him as the two of you traded stories about Steve and yourselves.

Though you had originally joked about getting into Bucky's pants, you found yourself seeking friendship from him more than anything else and vice versa. So when you weren't working at the grocery store, you were watching the kids for Laura and Clint or hanging out with Bucky and Wanda. It was no surprise to anyone that the three of you latched on to one another after losing those that you did.

"Hey Y/N," Laura calls out. "Will you do me favor?"

You glance up as she walks out the front door, you and Wanda ceasing your conversation. You grin. "What do you need?"

"Lucky needs some dog food and we need a few bales of hay for the goats."

"Oh. Okay." You look towards Wanda. "Wanna go for the ride?"

She shrugs. "Sure."

"Thank you! You can just put it on the Barton tab at the store," Laura says. "Clint pays it monthly and I've already called ahead to let them know someone was going in to pick up some stuff we needed."

"Got it." Standing up, you pat down your pockets to make sure you have your keys, phone, and some cash. Realizing you have everything, you grin at your sister before walking down the porch steps. As you near your truck, you whistle at Bucky who was throwing knives at a target on the side of the barn. "Hey Buckaroo! We're heading into town. You wanna come?"

He throws the last knife in his hand before he turns to look at you. "Don't call me Buckaroo!" He shouts back as he makes his way towards you.

"Then stop lookin' so darn cute!"

Wanda snorts and you laugh as Bucky shakes his head at you. "One of these days he's going to flirt back and then what are you going to do?"

"Bend myself over the table and let him hit it from behind," you mumble. She snorts harder this time and your eyes widen when you see Bucky start to smirk.

As he nears the two of you, he says, "What did you say?"

"Nothing," you blurt. "Nothing at all. Wanda's just easily amused, is all."

His gaze slides to Wanda, but she shakes her head and doesn't tell him a word. You mentally sigh and praise her for being a good friend, and then you turn to walk towards your truck. Wanda readily heads for the back driver's side door while Bucky walks around to the passenger seat so he's seated next to you.

Once you're seated behind the wheel and the engine is turned on, you take a moment to find a decent song on the radio before driving. It's not too long of a drive and you find yourself pulling up to the local feed store not even three songs later.

Parking and cutting the engine right in front of the store, you turn towards Bucky. You know he's not a huge fan of being out in public, but you rather not have to flirt inside the store to get a helping hand. "Hey Buck, can you do me a favor and load up four of those large rectangular bales of hay and one bag of that dog food right next to it?" You see him tense. "I rather not have to flirt with the boy inside just so he'll help out."

He relaxes then and gives you a nod. "Yeah. Sure."

"Thanks. Just keep watch through the window. Wait 'til I give the signal for you to start loading up." He gives you another nod and you turn around to face Wanda. "Wanna head inside with me?"

Wanda grins and readily opens her door, you and Bucky following right after. But as you and Wanda head inside, Bucky remains by the tailgate of your truck and keeps watch through the large front window as you had said. Inside, Mr. Reeves is waiting by the cash register and keeping an eye on Bucky outside.

"Don't worry, Mr. Reeves. He's with me." Mr. Reeves glances at you, smiling in relief. "I need four large bales of hay and a fifty pound bag of dog food."

Mr. Reeves starts punching buttons on his register. "Alright, sweetheart. Is that going to be all for you?"

"Sure is. Um, Laura asked if you can put it on the tab? Clint will be by at the end of the week."

"Sure thing." You turn towards the window and give Bucky a thumbs up. He turns to open the tailgate and then move towards the bales of hay to start loading up. Mr. Reeves chuckles. "That's a strong fella you got there."

His words make you blush and Wanda giggle, but you can't even reprimand your friend because she is further away than you expected. She's leaning over what appears to be a warming box, hand inside as she smiles down at something you can't see. "Whatcha got there, Red?"

Her smile widens as you hear small chirps. "Ducklings."

You walk over to her, peering inside and your heart absolutely melts. Inside are the cutest ducklings you've ever seen and you know you're done for when you set your hand down inside and one particular little duckling runs onto your palm.

Mr. Reeves walks over, chuckling. "They were hatched a few days ago. All have been looking mighty strong and are ready to go to good homes."

"How much?"

"Y/N," Wanda laughs. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking this little sucker with me." You pick up your hand, duckling still happily nestled in your palm as you cradle him to your chest and look at Mr. Reeves. "Any chance you have those small plastic kiddie pools?"

"As a matter of fact I do," he muses.

Wanda is giggling the entire time Mr. Reeves gets exactly what you need, you nuzzling the yellow fuzzball to your face. You pay with your own money and sadly hand over the duckling when Mr. Reeves has to box her up. You then carefully take the box from him as Wanda takes the kiddie pool, and you walk behind her as you make your way to the truck.

You have absolutely no regrets about buying the duckling, but you still hide the box as you walk around the truck and open the driver's door. Wanda shoves the kiddie pool into the back with her and Bucky turns so his gaze darts between the both of you- Wanda looking far too amused and you looking a little sheepish as you continue to stand outside the truck.

"What did you do?" He sighs.

"Well we went in to just buy the food," Wanda says, "but-"

"I bought a duck." You blurt. You finally put the box in front of you, on the seat, and you open the lid. The duckling chirps and you beam down at her, picking her up and nuzzling her once more. "I'm gonna name her Flauta." Bucky snorts and Wanda laughs uncontrollably then. "No one tell Laura."

"Gonna be hard to hide her, doll."

Bucky reaches over to take the duckling from you and the sight of him cradling it, holding it up to his face and smiling makes you melt once more. Wanda is staring knowingly at you, but you don't even have the urge to flip her off because you know you're fucked. Instead, you take your phone out of your back pocket and snap a picture.

"That's my new wallpaper."

Bucky doesn't bother admonishing you for taking the picture, so after setting it as your wallpaper you put your phone away and climb into your truck. He holds onto the duckling as you make the drive back to the farm, Wanda giggling every now and then when you glance at Bucky and sigh longingly.

When you make it back to the farm, Clint and Laura are on the porch as the kids play out in the yard. They both stand as you park, their expressions turning suspicious as Wanda hops out of the back with the kiddie pool in tow. You grin as you hurriedly hop out as well, leaving Bucky to carry the incriminating evidence.

You can tell he expected as much as he watches you jog around to his side of the truck, already pointing at him through the opened window. "Bucky bought a duck!"

He shakes his head at you and you blow him a kiss, Clint and Laura then joining you by the truck. "Oh really?" Your brother-in-law muses.

"Yep."

"Mhm." Clint looks to Bucky as Laura bites back a grin. "Buck, what's the duck's name?"

Without missing a beat, he says, "Flauta."

Laura finally laughs. "Nice try, Y/N." As Bucky and Wanda guess how Laura knew, she says, "When we were younger, Y/N did the same thing but with a turtle. She named him Taquito."

"And Taquito lived a long and happy life until we went off to college," you say. "Flauta will live just long, if not longer, here on the farm."

Clint chuckles and then takes the duckling from Bucky. He looks to Wanda and gestures for her to follow him. "Lets go get this little lady all set up. The kids are gonna have a blast."

Laura follows after them, but not before winking at you, and you shake your head as you're left alone with Bucky. He finally climbs out of the truck, shutting the door and then leaning against it. You nervously laugh as he smirks. "You threw me under the bus."

"I couldn't take the chance that they'd make me return Flauta." You pout. "I couldn't send her back, Buckaroo. I'd already named her."

He pushes off the truck, turning you around and laying his arm around your shoulders. For a moment you forget how to breathe. "You're just as bad as Steve."

"Oh whatever." You roll your eyes, grinning as your arm wraps around the back of his waist and start walking towards where Clint went. "Steve got you shot at. I momentarily put you in momma bear's crosshairs." He quietly chuckles. "And besides, I didn't hear you deny it. Admit it, Barnes, I'm growing on you."

"Like a fungus."

You pinch his side. "Oh fuck off." He fully laughs then. "Just you wait, Buckaroo. The day we decide to put sex on the list of things we should definitely be doing, I'm gonna withhold just because you're being an ass."

"You sure about that?" The teasing lilt to his voice suddenly makes you feel at unease. "You sure you won't immediately bend over the table and let me hit it from behind?"

Your face flames, but you can't help but laugh at your earlier words. When you manage to calm down, you can't help but say, "I hate you," as you finish making your way towards your family.

"Nice try, doll, but I'm calling bullshit."

[lovelyghostlyharmony]

Supernatural- first 'I love you'

Archangels-

Gabriel- The first time Gabriel said he loved you was when you got slightly jealous of a waitress in a bar because she was flirting and Gabriel wasn’t doing anything to stop it. You started to feel stupid just watching it happen so you left him with the waitress and sat in the car regretting ever going out with Gabriel.

I mean, what were you thinking? Going out with a flirty archangel? Of course, he was never going to change his ways… Especially for a girl like you. ‘What was I thinking?’ you thought to yourself but, as expected, there was no answer back. You sat in the back of the car waiting for Gabriel to arrive back. Being very emotional at this time, you were trying to hold back tears, the best thing for you now was to get some fresh air. You hadn’t noticed that Dean(who had come to supervise the archangel) had got back in the car and was watching you with your head in your hands breathing slowly.    "What’s wrong, Y/N?“    "It’s nothing. I just need a little air.” You stepped out of the vehicle and walked over to the railings that looked out into the sea. You breathed in the Miami sea air and smiled having finally calmed down.  'It was nothing,’ you thought, 'Gabriel and I have only been going out a couple of months so it’s not that serious.“ But your heart thought otherwise. He probably didn’t love you or couldn’t tell yet but you knew you loved him though you’d never say it. You knew it. Someone was calling your name snapping you out of your daydream. Quickly, in your best efforts to wipe away your smuggled makeup, you turned to face the person. It was Gabriel. Almost like a sixth sense (sarcasm), he knew something was wrong.     "What’s wrong? You left the bar early and Dean said you were upset in the car earlier. Are you okay?”     “It’s nothing,” you lied. Your voice cracked a little. Then something clicked in Gabriel’s mind.     “If this is about me not tidying away the sweets from earlier, I’m sorry.” Obviously, not the right thing clicked…     “No, it’s not that. It’s just, well, the waitress was flirting with you and you didn’t seem to mind,” you turned away and faced the waves lapping up against the beach, “It’s nothing. Just my imagination that you’d ever change.” You whispered the last bit so you thought he couldn’t hear but he did.     “You know I love you, right?” Your head snapped around quickly. “I know sometimes that it seems like I won’t be able to get away from my reputation but today when you said the waitress was flirting I didn’t even notice because you’re the only woman I notice now. We’ve only been going out a couple of months but I love you.” Your head snapped round in surprise and you didn’t speak for a moment trying to figure out if he meant it. Gabriel saw you thinking and worry rushed over his face, “I knew it was too soon. What was I thinking? We’ve only been dating-” You kissed him to silence his rant.      "I love you too.“

Michael-

The first time Michael ever said he loved you was after you’d been on a dangerous hunt and got hurt. You were in the hospital for several days in a comatose-like state. He stayed by your side only leaving if absolutely necessary. He kept whispering that you’d be okay. That everything would be fine. Little did you know that that day would be the first time Michael ould confess his love.

As soon as his father called informing Michael that you had been hurt, he immediately flew to where he had been told that you were. His mind thought the worst but Michael's heart hoped for the best. He saw you in the hospital bed and rushed to your side. After several minutes, he had taken to holding your hand to calm his nerves. An hour past a nurse, after checking your vital signs, asked him to leave.    "I’m sorry sir but you’re not allowed to stay here. Visiting hours are over.”    "Please,“ Michael begged her, "I love her. I want to be here if and when she wakes up.”    Although he tried to calm his tone, it still insisted on cracking ever so slightly that the nurse must’ve heard and taken pity on him allowing him to stay. He'd thanked her before returning his attention to you.    "Come back to me, my little angel, come back to me.“ He whispered to you quietly that everything would be okay and that you would be okay. Even though he spoke to you, it was mostly for him.     After two more days and one night spent here at the hospital, Michael's heart saddened. He was sure you’d have awoken by now. This was you, you were a hero, a savior, he couldn’t have it end this way. He sighed and continued to rub small circles in a comforting manner on your hand though it had no grip and you could not respond but he hoped it would calm you. A small tear ebbed down his face but no emotion was displayed on his features.    "I love you, little angel. Come back to me. Y/N, I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t say it every day before this because I’ve known for a long time that I love you but I was afraid. Afraid of rejection or not being enough for you or possibly too much. But I’m not afraid of any of that anymore. I’m only afraid of losing you, you better hurry up and get back to me because you know I hate being afraid and this time you can’t comfort me. I love you, Y/N.” he looked down to the grey floor away from you. he was about to get up and leave when your hand gripped his. His eyes fluttered open and Michael made a small cry out of joy.    "Y/N…“    "I love you too.”     Then he was pulled into a loving hug which he welcomed by pulling you closer so afraid that this wasn’t real or it was all a dream. You nuzzled his neck breathing in the fresh, sweet scent of him which you had missed so much while he buried his head in your neck and stroked your hair in a calming manner. It felt like you were there forever and in your opinion even if it was, you wouldn't have spent eternity any other way.

Raphael-

The relationship you had with Raphael was very complex and far from simple but the one thing that was simple was the foundations of your relationship that were made of pure love. An unspoken but known love for one another. Neither of you had ever technically said you loved each other but you both knew it. The first time you said you loved him was when you found out he was dead. You were devastated that he was gone and mourned over him. It was the first time you visited his grave where you buried him and you admitted your love for him.

You walked up solemnly up to your lost love’s grave and sat on a bench facing it. Your eyes wandered across the writing that was engraved on the tombstone. Many thoughts had crossed your mind the day you got the news that he was gone. He had apparently fought and died at Castiel's hands but some part of you thought that even though it made Raphael sound like a monster, which he was not, it didn’t seem like him. He would’ve been smarter, quicker, better than that. Maybe it was just grief. Maybe it was the last part of your mind clinging on to the last memory of him.     “You’re really gone…” you whispered to yourself, “After all of that, you’re gone and I never got to say goodbye. Oh, Raphael. Why have you left me? Some part of me says to move on that you are gone but something in me says that you had one last trick up your sleeve. One last act but maybe that’s just wishful thinking or maybe it’s a deluded vision but every part of me hopes it to be true. That you’re alive. I did this before. I grieved but this is different; this is definitely worse. It’s going to be a long life without you and in truth, I don’t know if I can survive it.”      You stood up and placed several red and yellow orchids upon his grave and let a tear slip down your face. “You know what the saddest part of this whole thing is? I never got to tell you I loved you. Because I did. With all of my heart and you’ll never hear it. It’s too late but I love you, Raphael: brother, son, friend, lover, Archangel, healer, and the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you.”     “I love you too.”      You froze. It was his voice but… He was dead. He was gone. It couldn’t be him. How could it be? You turned slowly round to see your lover standing a meter away from you with a small smile forming on his thin lips. You just stayed silent contemplating what just happen. He moved first holding you tight to his chest and stroking your hair gently.    "Raphael…“ you pulled away and cupped his face almost as if to check he was real, "You lied to me,” a wave of confusion hit his face but he didn’t interrupt you, “You said after you left last time, you’d never leave me. You’d never let me feel that pain again and you lied.” His face saddened but pulled you closer and held you tight. “Don’t ever leave me again. I love you.”    "I won’t. And I love you too. I’m so sorry I left you but it was only for your protection and I won’t ever be leaving again.“

Lucifer-

The first time you told Lucifer that you loved him and he told you that he loved you was when he got extremely angry and frustrated. Lately, he had been having really vivid nightmares and was starting to remember how many people he killed. Lucifer had started drinking early in the evening and when you came in he had smashed the glass against the wall and was crying out of frustration with his back against the side.

You approached him cautiously having just come in to see your boyfriend in clear turmoil and pain. You called out his name softly and tried to edge closer to him not wanting to anger him any further. He heard his name being called and looked up with anger in his eyes which soon faded when they fell on you. The stance you had taken to was now a crouch so you were at his eye level, “Lucifer? What happened?”      His sorrowful and regretful eyes looked back at the ground. You thought and looked at the bottle remains which had been scattered all over the kitchen floor. “Lucifer. Let me help.” You reached for his hands but he pulled them away and continued looking down. “I just want to help, Lucifer, please let me.” He looked back up and anger filled his eyes but this time it didn’t fade. It was pure rage.     “You can’t help a monster like me! A murderer! You can’t help me! Why do you stay?! Is it out of pity? Because it surely can’t be because you’re here by choice! I bet it’s my dad! he still hates me!” he cried out bundling his fist tightly. They made a crunching sound which you assumed was glass.     “You want to know why I stay?” you ask, not waiting for a reply or response, you continue, “I stay because I love you, Lucifer. You are not a monster. You’re the man I love who would do anything to protect his family, who is a hero, who has a good heart, and is the amazing man that changed my life. I love you.” Lucifer looked at you with regret for shouting at you. “Do you love me?” you asked.     “How could I not love you? Of course, I love you! You’re perfect in every way and I am so thankful that an amazing human like you could ever love a devil like me. I don’t know why you stay with me but I’m going to do everything in my power to treat you like a princess and try to be the decent guy that you deserve.” You smile and pull him into a hug and he quickly hugs you back. “Let’s get you cleaned up then, shall we?” you whisper into his ear not breaking the hug. He pulls away after a while and you both clean up the kitchen. You are quickly done with it soon enough.     “I love you,” Lucifer says taking your small, delicate hands in his.     “I love you too,” you say then kiss him.

A/N- Hope you enjoyed the longest thing I've ever written, I couldn't sleep so why not write.

if you have requests or questions send them in

[raineydays411]

Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be  making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

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

The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head. 

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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

Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved. 

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course  he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why? 

Because she has her mothers eyes.

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

“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming. 

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother. 

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well.  He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair. 

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months. 

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him. 

“My lord, you--” 

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth. 

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there. 

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--” 

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

***  “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter  reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?” 

“Love”  ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes. 

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of. 

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence. 

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?” 

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?” 

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting. 

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine. 

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.” 

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table. 

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!”  Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,” 

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it.  He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him. 

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part. 

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times  prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound. 

Thor walks up to him with the baby. 

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child. 

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well. 

No, this was not his child. Not anymore. 

“Get rid of it.” 

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga. 

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.” 

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind  his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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[captainmarkone]

come back.

Characters: Suprise CE Character x Reader. Warning(s): Angst, heartbreak hotel. A/N: I got hit by inspo. Enjoy this drabble of nonsense. But imma guess it's not a huge secret as to who the character is... but enjoy!

June 23, 2021 —

Storming down the stairs, I felt nothing but anger. Hurt. My heart absolutely breaking at the sight I saw mere seconds ago. Footsteps falling behind me, their breathing deep as if I was the bad guy; his own anger radiating off their body.

“I didn’t know you were coming home early!” my husband yelled, staring at me with a smirk on his lips. His robe tied around his body to conceal the naked skin underneath. He stood there, watching me as if I owed him some sort of apology.

“I hate you… I cannot believe… I ha-hate you,” I said, words fumbling out. A quiet plea to whatever god that was out there to smite me where i stood. For the pain, the betrayal. It was all too much.

“Who is she?” I asked, his eyes not showing an ounce of concern. He didn’t care that I hated him.

“Someone I met,” he simply answered. His wedding band glowing in the dim light. Something that was now a joke. A sham on what we were.

“My lawyer will be in touch with yours, you spoiled piece of shit. A little boy that married someone to feel like he was a man. You take all the goddamn money because I want nothing, absolutely fucking nothing to do with you, you manipulative little shit. I hope you eat shit and fucking live so all your life someone can remind you that you ate what you become!” I sneered, my voice laced with venom.

He staggered back a bit. Not sure what to say. No snide comment. His hands came up, as if he realized what he had done.

“Angel…” he whispered, as if he spoke louder would make his voice crack. A simple gleam shone in his eyes. Liar, I thought.

“Oh Ransom,” the voice upstairs sang his name. And that’s what hit me. Like a fucking freight train. He saw it then. The gleam in my own eyes. The pain that shown in them.

“Angel, please. She means fucking nothing. Please,” he began to beg, his voice now becoming something different. Sincere? Apologetic? Whatever it was, I wasn’t buying it. He said my name, a soft whisper that left his lips.

“Go to hell,” I said, grabbing my keys and walking out of the house we bought together. He had someone in our bed. Ours. He promised the world to me. Only to take it all back because he wanted his dick wet.

I needed time. To think. To cool off. Before going back there again to gather my things and rip him a new one. Hugh Ransom Drysdale was the love of my life. And that was something I never should’ve admitted to him; to anyone.

At the traffic light, I saw the soft gleam of the diamond perched on my left hand. His token of faithfulness. Sliding it off, I placed it in the cup holder and drove once the light turned green. I didn’t notice the car next to me had stopped just in time before the large truck rammed into my side of the car. Letting my world go black.

————————————————————————————————

RD -

Ransom paced in the bedroom he shared with you. His own heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. Sick of himself. His actions. The way he let you, the only person who has truly loved him, go. When he sat on the edge of your side of the bed, he couldn’t think anymore. All he could was replay the year and half you spent together.

He had called you multiple times. But of course you didn’t answer. He didn’t expect you to but he had a small sliver of hope that you’d answer. Hear him out. Take him back. But straight to voicemail. He had kicked the blonde out the moment you drove away. Wanting nothing more than to drive after you. But he didn’t. He should’ve.

His phone rang then, before he could check who it was, he decided to just answer.

“Angel?! I’m so sorr-“ he started but was quickly silent when it wasn’t your voice talking.

“Hello. I’m Nurse Bellow from Boston Medical Center. I’m trying to contact the next of kin. Is this Hugh Drysdale?” She asked, following to check if he was your husband. “Hi sir. Your wife is here and in critical condition. We will be expecting you.” She hung up, and Ransom was up in a flash.

Dressing appropriately and making it to the hospital in seconds. Harlan already there with his coat hanging over his arms. They had moved you to a private suite. There you lay. Wires connected and the beat of the machine that checked your heartbeat on. He was devastated at the sight. His world crashing in one night.

“Ransom,” his grandfather said softly. Coming up behind him. Ransom fell on to the chair, taking your hand in his. “Baby… baby please,” he said softly. His turn to plea with the gods.

“I’m so sorry Ransom…” Harlan continued but it was all cut when the machines started going off.

“SHE’S CRASHING!” A nurse yelled, ushering Ransom out with his grandfather. The two sat in silence. No thought in Ransom’s head but you. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you said I love you unconditionally. These were the conditions in which you didn’t love him.

After hours of surgery, the doctor came out and he didn’t seem to have the best news. He sighed heavily and held his hands out and then put them back together.

“Mr. Drysdale… I am so sorry, but your wife didn’t make it. What we thought was just a simple internal bleeding, turned out to be much worse. Your wife… she was about two months pregnant. And well… it made surgery a little longer and little tougher but… she bled out and both didn’t survive. I am so sorry,” the doctor said, making it perfectly clear.

But Ransom stopped listening after he said sorry. Tears streamed down his face, his own heart shattering at it all. Harlan’s hand rested on his grandsons shoulder. Ransom turned to his grandfather and held the old man tight. Weeping in the chair, his world gone.

————————————————————————————————

Five months later —

He stood at your grave. The grass fully grown over your slot. Harlan had paid for the funeral, and even the plot that yielded DRYSDALE on the plaque. He never deserved you.

He had placed the flowers on your grave, standing there in silence. Tears slowly sliding down his face as he watched the flower petals blow with the wind.

“Ransom,” Harlan’s voice lifted Ransoms head. Turning and helping his grandfather down the small hill. “Ah. Thankfully they’ve been keeping this area clean,” he continued. His own bouquet of flowers being placed next to Ransom’s.

“She loved you Ransom. Saw that spark, that good in you,” Harlan said, fetching out a box in his pocket. The small velvet box was placed in the young males hand. “What’s this?” Ransom asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Harlan nodded to your grave and said, “She asked me to get it fixed for you. Said it was dull and needed something. A surprise.”

Opening the box, he saw his lost pinky ring. You must’ve taken it in June. Etched on the flat surface were the first letter of your name, his H, and small b.d.

Tears stung his eyes as he slid it on.

“B.D.?” He asked, Harlan raising a brow.

“I believe it was for ‘baby Drysdale’. Probably going to tell you on your anniversary,” Harlan said. Only making Ransom’s heart sink deeper. “Let’s go eat breaks on, Ran. She’s gonna be okay.”

As Harlan walked back to the car, Ransom stood there with his thumb playing with the band of the ring.

“I love you. I love you both,” he declared, turning before glancing back one last time. He got into the car with his grandfather, feeling a weight being lifted. As if… you had forgiven him.

[acourtofthought]

Lucien's romantic arc is already everything

Lucien said he didn't care that she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap into place soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers.

"You know it's...hard for him where females are involved."

"I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch. There was no magic spell, no miracle to bring her back. There were no gathered High Lords to resurrect her. I watched, and she died, and I will never forget that moment when I heard her heart stop beating."

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless.

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

"Elain loves this lord's son."

"My mate is engaged to a human male."

"I want to see her. Just once. Just - to know. If she is worth fighting for. Then I'll ask your mate how he survived it - knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male's bed."

But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.

"No - I didn't have time. I felt her, but..." A blush stained his cheek.

Lucien inclined his head in a a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye - the longing and sadness.

Lucien, haggard and blood, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.

"She wants nothing to do with me."

Cassian's heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing.

"Stop this" Lucien staggered a step forward as Elain was gripped between two guards and hoisted up. "That is enough."Lucien surged for Elain, for the Cauldron. Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, "Don't just leave her on the damned floor - " There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints. Water poured fourth, Lucien hoisting Elain in his arms and out of the way. "Where is he keeping her?" "Tell me anyway. List all off them." "You'll die the moment you set foot in his territory." "I need to find her." "I'm getting my mate back." "Tell me about her - about Elain." But Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he'd heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her. "She needs fresh air. Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two." "Let me do something. About Elain." "Please tell me,what the healer says. And if - if you need me for anything." "I'll go." Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. "I heard - what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you." "He was a good man, he loved you all very much." "How is she?" "But is she still..." "Does she still mourn him?"

Just like SJM told us about her own husband, Lucien has never once wavered when it comes to Elain.

[marshmallow-phd]

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

**

Yixing knew that he needed to get out of the car. The engine still rumbled, giving away his presence. Inside the farmhouse, the others were waiting for him so they could carry out the “family meeting”. Yixing already knew what it was about. And he still hadn’t made up his mind on how – or even if – he was going to tell his pack that this whole situation might be his fault.

Seeing the front door open, Yixing cut the engine and jumped out. Baekhyun poked his head out the screen door. “Are you coming? Junmyeon’s started pacing!”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Yixing murmured as he kicked his car door shut.

So many doors. So much opening and closing. And the most important one he’d slammed shut himself. He could still see the dejected look on your face more clearly than the steps in front of him. Why did he have to be like this? So noble and overly righteous? He had his mate in his hands and he pushed you away. He needed to keep you safe – but was distance really the right way to do that?

Everyone else was already squished into the living room. There wasn’t much space in this area of the house, which was why they usually had meetings in the kitchen. Junmyeon must have been determined that no one be distracted by food or other easily reachable items.

Said alpha gave Yixing a very pointed look as the latter made his way to the back of the room, squeezing in between Chanyeol and Minseok against the wall.

“Everything okay?” Minseok asked quietly. Yixing nodded, but Chanyeol still threw a concerned glance his way.

“Alright, now that everyone is here,” again with the classic scolding Junmyeon glance, “we need to have a serious talk. There was another attack-”

“Another one!” Jongin exclaimed. His mouth hung on its hinges as he glanced around the room.

“Yes. Thankfully, this one survived. And he might have seen the wolf that attacked him.”

Chatter broke out among the wolves. Some where ecstatic at the possibility of finally knowing who this killer might be. Others were thankful that the man survived. Guesses bounced around about what this rouge wolf could look like. Baekhyun enjoyed the idea of it being a bear-like wolf, larger than even Chanyeol or – he’d stopped himself before he said another name that would shift the mood of the room in a flash.

“Nah, I bet its weak and sickly,” Jongdae interjected.

“Red fur?”

“No, those are rare.”

“I bet it’s blonde and shrimpy like Jongdae.”

“Watch it, Sehun.”

The chatter grew, even with Junmyeon’s insistence that they quiet down. So many voices piled on top of each that finally Yixing couldn’t take their theories anymore.

“It was a gray wolf.”

Despite Yixing’s neutral and low tone, the rest of the pack heard. Immediate silence. All eyes turned to him in confusion. He kept his arms crossed over his chest with his own gaze down on the floor.

“That’s a boring guess,” Sehun grumbled.

“Its not a guess,” Yixing admitted. “That’s what the man said at the hospital.”

Junmyeon stared hard at Yixing. “How do you know that’s the man said?” Lifting his eyes up, Yixing hardened his features. Under his arms, his fists curled tightly, his nails digging into the skin with a dull pain. He’d opened another door. And he didn’t think he could close this one again. Junmyeon sighed. “Everyone out.”

Everyone was reluctant to move.

“Now!”

Feet scrambled and tripped over one another as everyone but Yixing ran out of the room and to the kitchen. Junmyeon hated being forceful like that, having to raise his voice at the others. It was no surprise that he immediately melted back into a calmer state.

“Yixing…” came his steady, yet authoritative voice. “Tell me everything. Please.”

Yixing took a deep breath. It was better this way. He hoped. 

“I’ve been blacking out.”

“What?”

“They started around the same time the attacks did,” Yixing explained. “Sometimes I get a headache first. Sometimes it just happens. I lose time – hours usually. And then within that time, there’s an attack.” He could feel his throat closing in. It was more devastating than he’d pictured – telling the truth. He feared his pack turning on him, putting the blame on him, even if it was rightfully done. He’d always been the odd one out, the wolf with a different ancestry. He used to have others to relate to, but when they left….

“Have you ever woken up with blood on you?” Junmyeon asked cautiously.

“No.” A small miracle. There was one time, but he’d found the poor rabbit just a few feet away and the smells matched. 

“There could be another explanation for this,” Junmyeon insisted.

Yixing wanted to believe him, but there was other evidence against the hope. “He said it was a gray wolf.”

“Its not that uncommon of a color.”

“But he was attacked right during another one of my blackouts.”

“And where were you?”

“I was in the forest. Running. Alone.”

Junmyeon frowned. “Why were you doing that?”

Yixing shrugged. “I was… happy. Things were going in a good direction with Ming. I just needed to let the energy out and I wanted to be alone….”

“And then a blackout?”

Yixing nodded. “I woke nearby. (Y/n) was the one who had found him. I’d heard her screaming. We took him to the hospital and then I saw (y/n) home.”

“Did you talk to the police?”

“Yeah. All I told them was that I was in the area next to the nature center and heard (y/n) scream.”

“They didn’t think it was odd that you were naked?”

Yixing cringed, embarrassed. “I had my pants on, (y/n) gave me her jacket-” his jacket - “so they didn’t question it.”

“And (y/n)?”

“I doubt she fully believed my hiking story.”

Junmyeon let out a full lung’s worth of a sigh. His shoulders were weighted down by the pressure to keep their existence a secret and also take care of his pack. Would he outcast Yixing to protect the rest? Yixing wanted to cling to the hope that that wouldn’t be the case, but there was always a chance.

Stepping forward, Junmyeon placed a hand on Yixing’s shoulder. A smile, strained but reassuring, crept on his face. “We’ll figure this out. I don’t believe it’s you, but something bigger might be happening. Don’t go through this alone anymore, okay?”

As expected, a rumbling off footsteps shook the floor. Seven pairs arm wrapped around Junmyeon and Yixing.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Baekhyun whined.

“We could have helped you,” Chanyeol jumped in.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Minseok agreed.

Yixing smiled, but said nothing. He still wasn’t sure if he’d made the right decision in revealing his condition. There was no telling what lied at the end of this road – either Yixing would be free to live his life with you or he would be outcast from the pack with a heavy conscious.

“Did I miss something?”

All heads snapped to the front parlor. Ji Yeon stood in the entryway with a coffee cup in one hand and her laptop bag in the other. Small chuckles echoed around the room as the group shifted away from each other. Even Yixing gave off a short laugh. It was a nice release, but now that meant Ji Yeon would need to be made aware of the current situation, adding to Yixing’s fear. As Minseok shuffled closer to his mate, Yixing slipped out of the room, wondering when he would be able to be close to his own mate again. 

**

It was one thing to think about personal issues on personal time. It was another to stop coming to class altogether. And for once, it wasn’t you avoiding the problem.

You had gone to class like normal, even though you were fully aware that a certain someone would – or, at least, should – be sitting in his usual seat when you arrived. You weren’t surprised at all when he hadn’t found you to walk you from class to class. That was to be expected after the abrupt ending to your last encounter. But him skipping class altogether was unexpected. Yixing was a dutiful student. Being in class was important. And yet, his seat was conspicuously empty when you stepped into the lab.

It was suffice to say that you were a little put out by his avoidance. You had conceded to the idea that you were going to suffer through having to sit next to him all class period and yet, all your panicking and worry was for not.

Maybe this was secretly a good thing. Maybe you would be able to concentrate better with the table to yourself.

That was not the case.

While you tried to concentrate on Professor Jiang’s lecture, your mind kept wondering back to Yixing.

Was he okay? Was he avoiding you? Had he dropped the class for good? Because of you?

What were the “things” that he needed to figure out? Were you right in thinking that he had a girlfriend off campus? Or was something else going on? Family things?

Your head was spinning with all the different possibilities. You might have heard a few technical terms during the lecture, but none of it sunk in. The pencil in your hand hardly scribbled across the notepad. Words floated meaningless from the textbook.

When Professor Jiang ended the session, you closed the textbook with a hard slam. Many eyes turned to you in shocked curiosity.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you quickly packed away the rest of your supplies. Keeping your head down, you rushed out of the classroom and through the halls until you were outside under the cloud-hidden sun.

Finding a bench, you sat down, leaning forward on your knees as your eyes trailed over the cracked concrete sidewalk. That period was a dud, you were sure of that. At some point you would have to squeeze in extra study time to make up for the inability to control your attention. It was all Yixing’s fault. He was the one who had kissed you and then left. A few times you had unlocked your phone to call him, but never went through with it. You didn’t want to come off as desperate or clingy. You were trying not to care. In the past, you never had before. There was no reason for Yixing to be any different.

Except that he was.

You felt a bit… broken. Or perhaps rejected was the right word. There was a lot going on inside you that it was hard to pinpoint the exact emotions. Those words were both exaggerated and not enough in their explanations. 

Deciding that you were done with this oddly out of character pity party, you stood up and continued walking until you’d left the campus grounds all together and crossed the street in the direction of your apartment.

Ran was home when you walked through the door. Her music – vibrating loudly through the miniature Bluetooth next to her on the floor – drowned out your steps into the living room. Spread out around her were notebooks, textbooks, different colored pens and a half-filled coffee mug. A one-person study session. She jumped when she finally noticed you. “Oh, hey!” She reached over and turned down the music so it was now at a low background noise level. “What are you doing already?”

“I wasn’t feeling too well,” you lied. She believed you since you were sure you looked the part. “I thought it might be best to come home and lie down.”

Ran jokingly cringed away from you. “Ew, don’t get me sick. I have plans with Hae In this weekend.”

“I don’t think it’s a bug or anything. My body might just be rebelling against lack of sleep.” Surely Ran had heard your tossing and turning the last several nights.

“Hey,” Ran caught you attention again before you could escape to your room. “So, uh, did anything happen between you and that Yixing guy after I left?” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

You shook your head. “No. We talked about class a bit and then he went home. Family emergency or something like that.”

“Hm. Interesting. Well, take it form me, he definitely likes you.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, seriously.” Ran took a sip from the mug, flinched at the now probably lukewarm liquid, and then put it back down. “The way he was looking at you, he likes you. A lot. I think you should give him a chance.”

You chewed on her observations. “I’ll think about it.”

Safe in the four walls of your tiny room, you curled up on your bed with your back against the headboard. As wonderful as sleep sounded and even with Ran now keeping her music at a more manageable level, you doubted your brain would be able to shut off. To try and be distracted by something, you logged into the “Dream University’s” website to check your status.

Still waitlisted. Okay. This was fine. You weren’t actually expecting any change. You just wanted something to do. You were growing antsy. Coming home might not have actually been the best idea. It was the walk itself that had been helpful, freeing for your mind. Now that you were still again, you were back to where you were in the classroom. Unfortunately, the overthinking anxiety wouldn’t let you just get up and go – not with Ran still in the living room. Did it make any sense? Absolutely not. Did that matter? Nope.

About twenty minutes or so went by with you simply scrolling through social media until you heard the music stop and the rustling of the school supplies being picked up. After five minutes of clean up, the front door opened and then closed again. Just to be extra sure that Ran was gone for good, you watched the clock on your phone click by for ten minutes.

Now you were able to leave.

Wrapping up in a jacket (not Yixing’s), you checked your pockets for all the essentials and then headed out the door.

It was back to the nature center for you. It probably wasn’t the smartest place to go given your last adventure in the park, but it had nice winding trails and there would be people around – at a distance, that is.

The clouds were still heavy in the sky when you arrived. Not to the point where they threatened rain, but enough to color the world a dull gray. Squirrels dotted along the path. Their bellies were round and full, telling you that the locals had been feeding them despite the signs that clearly advised against it. Some were brave enough or curious enough to come close to you, but scurried away as soon as it was clear that you were not one of the gracious humans that bestowed them fluffy bread.

Letting your feet guide you along the asphalt path, you let yourself be absorbed in the trees. Your mind still wander towards Yixing, but you didn’t fight it anymore. You were hoping that overexposure would lead to a numbness, an immunity. But he wasn’t a disease attacking your body, he was just a boy. A cute, dimple-smiled boy who made you feel at ease.

Crack!

You snapped your head up at the sudden sound. You half expected a bunny to come hopping out of the side bushes, letting you laugh at yourself. But it wasn’t a bunny twenty feet off the trail.

It was a wolf.

A gray wolf. Just like the hiker said. And it was staring right at you.

Scanning the area, you searched for the closest route to the main center, but you were too far in. This was exactly why you avoided the woods!

You vaguely remembered the advice not to run because then the wolf would treat you like prey. It always sounded like stupid advice. Even more so now as the creature charged in your direction. You charged off the path in the opposite direction of the wolf, pushing the air out of your lungs and screaming as loud as you could.

**

“Are you sure it was around here?”

Yixing threw Junmyeon a look. “Yes. I’m sure.”

The two wolves were currently trotting through the woods to find the spot where Yixing had found the man and Ming. Junmyeon wanted a better look at the scene in the off chance he might get a better intact of the scent left behind. Each time they’d gone looking for answers in the past, the scent had been too old and dulled to really pick it apart. They were probably too late now, but they’d spent the last few days at the farmhouse, keeping an eye on Yixing to see if another blackout would occur. It hadn’t, much to Junmyeon’s disappointment.

“It was close to the nature center,” Yixing explained once again. They’d come from the north, rather than straight from the center. Yixing had hoped that he’d have a better insight to the location. They were getting warmer.

A sudden twig snap made their human ears perk up.

“Could that be--”

“It was probably just a rabbit,” Junmyeon guessed.

As if to prove him wrong, the snap was followed by a wolf’s rumbling howl. And then a high pitched scream.

Yixing gasped. He knew that scream.

“That’s (y/n)!”

Junmyeon looked at him, unconvinced. “Are you sure?”

Yixing’s response was a ferocious growl as he took off without his alpha. A wolf always knows his mate.

[pigeonp0st]

Kara Danvers x Reader #8

Words: 2,333

Summary: reader trades half her life for Kara’s

Warnings: Death, Depression

Notes:

I just wanted to nerd about philosophy and ponder about psychological egoism and it turned into this...sorry about spelling mistakes.

———

Psychological egoism; the theory that no one can truly be selfless. The theory that, even when we’re helping others, deep down we’re acting in our own self-interest.

When you came across the theory a couple of months ago you thought it was ridiculous. It was something you couldn’t believe, not when your girlfriend seemed like the paragon of selflessness.

Kara.

Kara who risks her life everyday for the people of National City, Kara who risks her life for the world. Kara who has lost, and Kara who keeps on fighting anyways. Kara who cares, who cares so much.

Kara gives, and she gives, and she gives, and she’s dying because of it now, so she isn’t a bad person. She isn’t a bad person, but now you’re starting to think that selfishness doesn’t necessarily need to mean bad. When selfishness brings you to help others, it isn’t a bad thing. It can’t be.

You don’t want to be a bad person. You have to believe that the decision you made an hour ago was the right one, because when the disfigured voice spoke to you with it’s compelling offer of; half of your life for Kara’s survival/revival...you couldn’t say no.

———

When Kara wakes up from her coma a day later, not even the mystery voice saying: “it’s done” in it’s weird enchanting voice keeps you from your relief and joy.

If your decision was ‘selfishy good’ in nature, if it was just selfless, or even if it was just plain selfish...well, you can’t really bring yourself to care right now because Kara is smiling and hugging you and...and fuck everything else.

This is worth it. Even if you hit the halfway point of your life tomorrow and die...this is worth it. It’s Kara. Kara who sacrifices a lot, but Kara whose worth sacrifices too. So yeah. ‘It’s done’... and it’s okay.

———

It’s not okay.

It’s not okay because when you get into a near death experience a year after Kara looks at you like she just experienced another world dying.

She holds you when you wake up in the hospital bed like you’re made of glass. She holds you like you’re the most precious thing on earth.

It’s not okay because it’s unfair, because it hurts how much you’re going to hurt her, because even while the decision you made a year ago isn’t something you’d change, you hate it anyways.

It’s not okay because Kara proposes to you. She proposes to you right there, with you in the hospital bed. She proposes to you and makes a beautiful speech talking about forever, talking about happinesses. She paints a beautiful picture of the future with her words, because she’s Kara Danvers the Pulitzer Prize winner, and you want.

You want. Desperately.

You can’t have.

Kara says, with her beautiful tear streaked cheek, with her embarrassed eye shifting, “I can’t imagine my life without you,” and suddenly ‘want’ turns into hatred. Not hatred…

It turns into rage. Rage, and helplessness, so much helplessness, and pain. All consuming pain. Pain that floods your eyes with tears until your choking on sobs, until your body is shaking. Pain.

Pain that Kara doesn’t understand—can’t understand because you’ve never been able to tell her about the sacrifice you made a year ago.

She gets her own type of pain though, when you force out a trembling, and raspy; “No—no Kara. No.”

“What?” Kara asks, with a look that’s somehow disbelieving, and unsurprised. Like a part of her always expects to not be enough.

You shut your eyes against the look on her face—against the deathly silent—and you wish for different. You wish to be in another timeline where things don’t hurt as much, you wish for a timeline where the offer of forever with the women you love isn’t just waking up everyday for as long as you have left wondering if it’s the day your forever is cut short too soon.

It doesn’t work.

The pain, the helplessness, the rage, it leads to you doing something selfish, but this time there’s no question about whether or not it’s the ‘good selfish’. It’s just selfish. It’s selfish but you’re tired, so you tell Kara about that day a year ago where she shouldn’t have woken up from her coma.

You weren’t going to tell her because you know Kara, you know that she’ll try to change your fate if it’s the last thing she does, and you know that when it eventually fails it’ll crush her completely, because being brave enough to hope then having it squashed...it’s awful.

——-

When you’re done with your retelling you say, “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” with a look on your face that Kara never wanted to see, a look that can only be described as...heavy. Unbearably heavy.

Kara’s own face is full of darkness. There’s a hauntedness about her as she sits silently in her seat, staring at you, and it’s scary because Kara isn’t here anymore. Not mentally.

——-

It takes nearly half an hour for Kara to come back, and when she does she doesn’t react the way you expect her to. You expect sobs and pleas, and hope, and anger.

What you get instead is her arm pulling you into a hug, and her face pressed against your neck, and silent tears wetting the collar of your hospital gown.

What you get is fear. Her fear that sits over you like a blanket.

And an hour later, what you get is a whispered, “Why does it feel like nothing in life will ever go right?”

“I’m sorry, Kara,” you say, though you aren’t. “Saving you was practically saving the world...you’re a hero.” You know Kara doesn’t think she’s worth it as is. Appealing to her hero is the only way you can think to make her understand.

“I know you’re tired of hurting—”

“Please,” Kara cuts in. You feel her jaw clench. “I never asked you to defend yourself. What’s done is done, I just want to lay here.”

Lay here and pretend her world hasn’t been shattered. Lay here and not think about the future, or the past.

“I just…” you pause, pulling away to examine Kara’s face. “I feel like i’ve just really hurt you in a big way.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Kara says, and it sounds like a plea. “I don’t want to— Fuck.”

And now she’s sobbing, and you’re pulling her back into the hug while she shakes her head over and over again, while she squeezes her eyes shut.

These were the sobs you were expecting. These sobs that only someone who has lost as much as Kara can manage. They’re loud and full of heartbreak, she’s shouting broken questions that aren’t for you all the while, and this was what you were expecting but it’s...it’s unfair.

——-

Her emotions change quickly during her processing period but none of it is anger...it’s all just sort of defeat manifested in different ways.

Kara feels defeated. She feels helpless...and this isn’t what you wanted.

——-

It’s two weeks after the incident in the hospital that Kara decides it’s time to actually talk about ‘it’ with you. You know she’s been going to Alex and her friends for advice, you’re glad she’s finally going to you.

“I feel like I'm mourning you while you’re still alive, and I hate it,” Kara admits, eyes downcast. “I hate that I feel like I can’t talk to you, because I know you didn’t want to tell me for a year because you didn’t want to make me sad and-”

“And that’s exactly what you are,” you finish for her, laughing in a way that’s not at all humorous.

Kara closes her eyes, and whispers, brokenly, “I'm so sad,” in her agreement. “I’m sad, I'm lost, I'm angry, I'm desperate...I don’t know how to feel yet I feel so much—I just—Rao Y/N, I just want you to be okay,” Kara says, and you know. You know. Have known since last year, watching Alex brokenly try to tell you that Kara might not make it this time. You know how it hurts.

It hurts hearing that the person you love is going to die. It hurts in an all encompassing way that makes the future seem so terrifying.

But there’s nothing that can save you now.

“Lena is- she’s trying to find a way.”

That doesn’t really surprise you. You used to believe that there was nothing Lena couldn’t do if she really wanted it...but this...well it has to be impossible. How are you supposed to change the fate granted to you by a higher being…?

“Alex is trying too,” Kara says, “she and Brainy are contacting everyone they can think of to help you.”

The thought of your friends fighting so hard for you makes your eyes water and your chest hurt. The Superfriend always land on top when they work together, they always win...

“How?” You ask, your voice trembling on the word. “Kara, how?”

Kara glances up from where she was glaring holes into the edge of the couch to look at you. She hesitates for a moment before saying; “they believe that if they can somehow grant you immortality they can save you…”

No.

“Kara,” you whisper, feeling a large amount of guilt, “I don’t want to live forever.”

And Kara knows. She knows but— “but then you won’t even have a full life,Y/N.”

She sounds so terrified again, when she says that, that you can’t even say anything in response but shake your head.

“If you’re supposed to die,” Kara pauses, studying your face, “am i supposed to- do you just want me to just let you?”

She sounds repulsed by the idea...but…

“Yes, Kara. Yes. You’re supposed to let me.”

The, ‘I don’t believe you can change this and I don’t want this to hurt you more than it should’, goes unsaid by you.

———

Kara doesn’t listen. She tries, and she tries, and she tries, for months, and only months because you die 5 months after your initial accident.

The doctors have no clue why...you just pass peacefully in your sleep one day and leave Kara to wake up next to you trying to shake you awake and pleading for you to just “wake up, please, please.”

Kara is devastated.

More devastated than any of her friends expects, more devastated than Alex expects. They’re trying to help her but they lost you too and everything is just harder because of it.

Kara tries for revival. She asks John Constantine and everyone she can think of but everything doesn’t work and eventually Alex has to force her to stop.

After is what Kelly calls Kara’s second phase of grief. Her first stage, denial, went longer than Kelly expected so she expects the second phase to last a long time too.

It doesn’t. Kara’s anger seeps out of her quickly.

Stage three doesn’t last long either. The “what if’s” and “if only’s” just feel pointless to Kara.

She settles into stage four though. She settles into it and stays. Depression fills all the empty spaces in her apartment where you used to be, and it tries to fill the place in her heart that used to be for you. Depression stays.

Kara avoids going home because it isn’t home anymore. It’s the place you died. It’s the place where your things are scattered around everywhere like they belong, but they don’t belong anymore, because you aren’t there. You aren’t there, so the stupid mug on the nightstand shouldn’t be there anymore but it is.

You aren’t there so your clothes shouldn’t still be in her closet, and your toothbrush should be in the trash, and everything should just be gone. Everything should just be gone because you aren’t- you aren’t there.

You aren’t there and Kara hurts, because you’re supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be home with her. You're supposed to be her home.

You can’t be anymore.

Kara grows to hate the word “forever” because it’s just a whole bunch of lies, she grows to hate the word “sorry” because it’s all anyone ever says to her anymore, she grows to hate people saying “you’ll be okay” because she won’t be.

She grows to hate the word “hope.”

Hope people say, as if hope isn’t just denial trying to look pretty. Hope as if doing so isn’t just deluding yourself so things feel worth it.

Lena tells her one day that there needs to be hope, because there needs to be light. Without it you’re just lost in the darkness.

Lena tells her that but she looks uncertain, like she believes the ‘light’ is just a myth or a trick of the eye meant to just keep you moving.

So Kara hates hope, and she hates lies, but she loves love.

She loves the love, and support, and all of the things her friends give each other to make everything better for a while.

Kara hates hope but she still believes in trying anyways, so she begins to try after a while. She tries to get more sleep, she tries to spend more time with her friends, she tries to talk about feelings, and she tries to make fighting feel worth it.

She tries but she still misses. She misses desperately, but she eventually hits the final stage of acceptance.

Acceptance doesn’t feel like the final stage because Kara still hurts, and she still wants things she can never have, but she never even imagined she’d get here a year ago when you were lifeless in her bed—so this is fine.

This is fine. Kara finally places the mug on your nightstand in the sink and sobs while she washes it, but this is fine.

This is fine.

Kara wanted more than fine. She wanted you.

[liptonsbabe]

Havoc [Thomas]

A Maze Runner fanfiction

//

Summary: When the reader, the second-in-command of the village goes out into the maze looking for a way out, the last thing she hopes to find is a whole new community on the other side of the walls. Much less, when it seems to be inhabited only by boys her age.

Warnings: none

A/N: Hey! This is my very first fanfic here and i decided to start with some tmr stuff ;) English not my mother language so please let me know if something is wrong. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter one: Leaving home

YOU WAKE UP THAT DAY WITH AN INCREDIBLE MOOD, although things in the village were not encouraging at all.

The dew hadn't fallen yet when you were already in front of the maze, impatiently waiting for the doors to open. You were carrying a backpack with the breakfast on your back, the belt resting on your hips, and an awl strategically hidden in your back pocket.

You didn't understand why your heart was beating so fast even if the night before had been the worst of all. The disease was progressing, it was devastating the village and the parents were leaving their children alone. You trembled in your place. You've never seen anything like that before. The illness, the confusion, the tiredness, the agony. The desease was ending with all of you. If you and the trackers didn’t find a way out as you had promised, then the village would be devastated.

You couldn't allow it. You weren't going to give up. Maybe the answer was out there, waiting for you and you weren't going to keep it waiting.

Maybe the feeling of your restless heart was a good sign. Maybe your heart was sensing things that you could not know and, with a little bit of luck, get it right as he almost always did.

The village had exits from its four points, so, as the sun was in the west that day, you decided to start with the east gate, considering it a good sign. You pulled your hair up in a high ponytail, ate an apple as fast as you could, and waited for the doors to move.

A curtain of dust and pebbles rose in front of your face as you listened the doors opening. That day the main corridor to the maze had a strange smell, but you thought that your nose was already damaged by the medicines and infusions that you had been smelling in the nursery, so you ignored it. You adjusted your boots waiting for the stench to disperse when a strong pull carried you backwards, scaring you.

“What the hell...? Asenat! "You muttered releasing the grip on your shirt. The girl smiled haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest “How many times do I have to tell you to not pull me like that? I hate being pulled!

“You can do it as many times as you want, I honestly don't care, I'll keep doing it anyways”

“You're an idiot”

“Where do you think you are going?” Cassidy asked, standing next to Asenat, both of them staring at you with their arms crossed over their chests and frowning. You rolled your eyes

“To do my job, the same as you should be doing right now”

"You are no longer a tracker”

“I am the leader, I can give myself that position”

"Second leader," Asenat corrected you, "After Richard, and he was the one who gave you the order to stay in the village, remember?"

You clicked your tongue as the trackers were already leaving to the maze. Asenat caught your shirt between her fingers again preventing you from running. Cassidy sighed, shaking her head. If something was clear to them about you, it was how stubborn you could be.

“Yes, I remember”

"Do you still have those headaches?"

"No," you lied. You'd been feeling terrible headaches for a couple of weeks now, before Richard fell sick from what the villagers called the glow. The man, who was also a tracker, had found you in the middle of your section with a terrible bruise on the back of your head and a pool of blood surrounding you. He carried you to the village, and when you were sufficiently recovered, you mentioned having a terrible pain and falling unconscious hitting the stone. Richard didn't need to know more to remove you from your job, forbidding you to return to the maze until your headaches were better. Until the night before you hadn't felt any pain, so you assumed you were fine “I'm great, don't worry about me. It was an accident”

"Yeah, are you sure?"

“Completely”

"Even if it were so, you are not allowed to go out," Cassidy said, determined. "We need you here, my friend."

"I'll be back before dark”

"Things don't work that way anymore," Cassidy replied, looking at you with a frown. "Richard hasn't died yet." His rules are still ours and since when we can do whatever we want?

“Don’t say it like that”

"You know Richard is not going to survive" Asenat lowered her voice preventing any other villagers from hearing her "he will die like the rest of the infected and when that happens all this will be over. We can continue with the rules that he made, but that will not be enough. There are families dying every day, our duty is to take care of them. We have a pact, okay? Treat the disease first, look for a way out later”

"How long are we going to keep waiting?" You asked, taking a step forward. Asenat sighed, "Three? Four? Another five years? This place is falling apart. If we really want to help the remaining villagers we need to find a way out, take them home, give them a better life, heal them "

"Nobody assures us that we will be better out there than here"

"Let's take the risk, we won't lose anything just by trying"

"We have kids in here, even babies. Their parents have died and they depend on us.

"This time it will be different" you said looking at them pleadingly "It's crazy, but something tells me that today we will find the answers we have been looking for. I could assure you that. Do you believe me? Do you trust me enough to believe in what my heart feels?”

Cassidy and Asenat looked at each other. Richard was still sick, confined to his cabin with the doctors trying to keep him alive. The night before he had lost part of the skin on his arms and his uncontrollable anger had made them tie him to the bed, however, that didn’t mean that in his small lapses of serenity he did not realize what was happening in the village.

Asenat shrugged her arms, leaving the decision to Cassidy. In her role as a teacher, she had no say in that situation and she didn't really care too much. You were reckless and almost always clumsy, but you had good ideas and that had helped you become te mainstay of the village. However Cassidy as the third in charge represented the third head of the monster. She would be the leader at Richard's death and if you didn't get back from the maze in time and that terrified her. She was not afraid of responsibility, nor making important decisions, but that represented visualizing a future where the three of you were not together and she preferred not to think about it.

"You know we do," she replied. "There hasn't been a single day when we doubted in your good judgment, but ..."

"It's different," Asenat said rubbing her chin. "The village doesn't feel like it used to. We are used to death, we can handle it, but the feeling of having it lurking over our heads is unbearable. The maze is not better. It is changing. I listen to it every night. The steel lobsters clattering through the halls. The giant woke up and will not go back to sleep”

"Cassidy," you called her, squeezing her hands. The girl sighed, thinking of the possibilities you guys had. Staying with your arms crossed was not an option, but neither was breaking the trust Richard had placed in all of you. Asenat watched you. The three of you shared the same fear, the same confusion and the same dread of losing the entire village. There were children who required the presence of someone capable to guide them, men and women waiting in fear to be infected with the glow and babies crying to feel the arms of their dead parents. You clenched her hands tighter. You needed to be covered for a few hours only and, in return, you would find the way out. You could do it, you trusted your instincts “Please...”

Cassidy sighed.

"We'll cover you until lunchtime, that's all."

"I only need that”

"Come back in one piece, will you?" She begged, looking at a small boy approaching. You leaned down, taking him in your arms letting out a groan as you picked him up. George was eight years old, he didn't weigh the same as five years ago. You kissed his cheek, returning him to the ground “The boy would go nuts if something happened to you”

"Are you going back to the maze?" George asked looking at you with his huge brown eyes. You nodded. Then you were hit by the little boy's suffocating embrace “the lobsters will hurt you!

"They are asleep now”

"They can wake up!"

"I doubt it little one. Don’t worry, I'll be fine. I'll be back at noon and we'll have a snack together, what ya think?”

“You promise?

“I promise”

"Okay, you can go," he said. You laughed, ruffling his hair

"Thanks, puppy. Stay with Asenat, okay? She can scold you while I'm gone”

"Ya’ heard it, boy," Asenat said, rubbing her knuckles at the top of his head. George complained, "You will stay with me the rest of the day and help me teach the little ones how to count to ten.

“That's not fair!”

"Life isn't fair, brat." Come on, maybe we can grab some chocolate from the kitchen later, huh?”

Asenat held out her hand and George took it enthusiastically as they walked together towards the largest cabin that you used as a classroom. George spun on his feet saying goodbye with a bright smile on his face. You blew him a kiss and Asenat turned to show you her middle finger. You smiled

"Take care of him, will you?" I highly doubt that Asenat will do it properly”

"I'm going to watch her. Now go before I regret it. And (Y/N)” She said, stopping you as you walked towards the main corridor of the maze. You turned around, waiting for his words “Don't die out there. The maze stinks enough to add the stench of a corpse” You nodded. It was a fair deal

“No prob”

You finished your run in your section faster than you expected. The meal would not be until three hours later so you decided to make a stop to rest. You sat on the floor against a wall. Hot sweat was running down your neck and the fucking headache was back. You closed your eyes, tired. It was terribly hot, and the stench of rotting meat numbed your nose.

You drank water, the little sip you had left, and put it back in your backpack. You were going to eat some of the apple slices you took with you, but the pain in the back of your head kept you from even chewing. You stood up wanting to continue your hike when the headache went down your neck and then numbed your spine. You leaned against the wall. It was covered in vines, moss, and fungus. You wiped your palms on your pants and started walking again.

The migraine erased your sight. For a second the world around you seemed to move in luminous spirals forcing you to close your eyes. The sound lightened and you swore you heard a static signal on your eardrums.

The floor spined over and over again. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands feeling the blood pour out from the sides, staining the stone. You heard the drops hiting the floor and suddenly everything stopped.

You were sweating. Your soaked shirt stuck to your body, your hair matted on your forehead and you opened your eyes. Pushing back the hair you noticed that this was not your section, that in some inexplicable way the maze had changed drastically and there was no way to return home.

Your heart beat madly. You fell to the ground on your knees, your head aching every second screaming in agony. You crawled down the corridor without understanding its course, but recognizing small fragments of leaves pointing a path to the north.

was that the way out? You, without being aware of the pain, could you have operated some kind of lever, changing the composition of the maze, leaving it unrecognizable? You weren't sure.

You kept crawling. The leaves spreading across the path, turning into a corridor covered in dust and dirt. You complained in pain and in the confusion, you managed to hear voices from the other side.

You buried your nails in the stone rising up. You pulled forward slowly approaching until you reached the exit (or the entrance?) of the maze. The wind ruffled your hair. Then your hands touched the green grass and the pain stopped.

You stayed alert. Your senses fading little by little from fatigue. Your head ached, your hands ached, your back ached. You heard the clear voice of a boy and, unaware of it, you got up as best as you could.

You got up with the help of the leaves on the wall. You narrowed your eyes focusing on the meadow stretching out in front of you. It was not the village, it was not the exit. The walls of the maze were surrounding the meadow and you could only think that the pain had caused you allusions.

Then the torture returned. You clenched your teeth. Your vision became blurry, however you could distinguish completely unknown figures in the mist. Your ears recognized voices, men's voices, and, unable to bear another second, you fainted.

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 4: The Interviews

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 8.1K

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.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2, 3

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

Very little was said throughout the rest of hearing the other tribute’s scores, and as soon as that was finished you were hurried into a car to the studio to begin getting ready. You were pleased to discover that each tribute was granted their own dressing room and you didn’t have to share with your district mate. You wondered if this theatre was uniquely built for The Hunger Games given the twenty-four individual dressing rooms. As you were ushered into the make up chair and had a black cape draped around your neck, you thought about all the other female tributes from district four that could have been seated in this very room before you. You wondered how many of them had lived beyond the next week.

Before you could fall into a depressive spiral you were yanked back into reality by the team as they began to work on styling your hair with an array of wands, brushes and sprays. From the corner of your eye you could spot a rack of dresses two of the stylists were arguing over, but you couldn’t turn your head to properly look at the options with the way your hair was being pulled.

Unlike the chariot ride, where your hair had been pulled into a partial up-do and styled with various decorative clips, extensions, and a tiara, your stylists were discussing with each other how best to show off your “natural beauty”. Their reasoning seemed to be that in the arena you would not be wearing make up, so they wanted to create a look that could somehow capture your beauty and still transition from the stage into the games.

They had chosen to leave your hair down and loose, the treatment from a few days ago still feeling soft and looking healthy. They had elected to tame your natural wave into a smoother style, running a straightener through your hair before going back over it once more to apply a very soft curl towards the ends. With the hair finished the team quickly moved on to make up as the two stylists, who had previously been arguing by the clothes rack hurried over with the dress they had decided on.

“Isn’t it perfect!” Garnet sighed, holding up the white gown that seemed more fitting of a bride than a teenager, but you couldn’t help admitting that the dress was indeed very beautiful. Made of lace with a pattern of flowers and vines crawling across the fabric, the dress was adorned with shimmering crystals that resembled snowflakes throughout the fabric. Although you didn’t understand how it was supposed to fit a “natural beauty” aesthetic. You didn’t bother questioning it, the logic from Capitol people was something you had far given up on trying to understand.

Ruby and Quartz chimed their agreement as the rest of the team all chorused their approval whilst hurrying to start picking out matching accessories and select coordinating colors for your makeup. The fact no one had bothered to ask for your opinion wasn’t lost on you, but it’s not like you could see anything else on that clothing rack, or anywhere else around the room, worth arguing to wear instead. You were forced to shut your eyes so the artist could begin applying your eye shadow and in the resulting darkness you imagined yourself walking out on to the stage in the casual attire you were still dressed in, no make up, and damp hair still not properly dried from your earlier shower. You smiled to yourself at the imagined scandalized reaction from the audience, pretend Caesar sputtering as he somehow tried to carry on with his interview, and imaginary Finnick watching backstage with his head in his hands. If only you were allowed not to care about all of the showmanship of these stupid games. You dress up, smile and wave, and still get slaughtered anyway, so what good did playing along with their little show do?

'Sponsors!' Imaginary Finnick answered your own thoughts, although this time his voice in your head was an echo of a real memory.

From what time you had spent strategizing with him, the most important thing he had reiterated was always the importance of sponsorships, and the repetition of how he acquired his stupid trident. Easy for him to say when he had his carved face and had nearly been six foot back when he was fourteen. But Finnick had also been quick to rebut your snark with his reports and clips on how well received your chariot appearance had been in the Capitol. With training and the nightmare of dealing with Hoseok keeping you otherwise occupied, you hadn’t had any time to monitor the reactions of the people who were supposedly going to be betting on you. According to Finnick over the last few days, you were by far the most popular female tribute. As he walked you to the dressing room before, he told you that your surprisingly high Tribute score had done even more wonders for your odds, and all you really had to do now was show up on stage and look pretty. If everything worked out, you may actually have a shot of surviving this thing.

Was it fair that your only chance of survival in these games depended on outside interference?

No.

Did you care when a fair game would mean a guaranteed death?

Also no.

So you passively sat in the chair and allowed the team to work, until they told you it was time to stand up and change into the dress. You were lead to a privacy screen in the back corner of the room, and told to put the dress on as far as you could before you required help. You wondered how hard putting on a dress could be, but as you stepped into the lace and put your arms into the sleeves you realized the garment had a corset in the bodice, and you would need someone to pull the threads. You took a moment to enjoy the last few easy inhales and exhales you would enjoy for the next hour before calling on someone to assist. One of the triplets – you weren’t capable of telling them apart on their own – had you brace yourself against the wall as they set to work tightening the ribbons around your torso.

When she was done you fidgeted, trying to adjust to your newly restricted range of motion. Thankfully the corset was only under the bust so it wasn’t pressing upon your chest as badly as you were expecting. You uncomfortably stepped out from the privacy screen and ignored the staff reaction to your dress. You had already seen them fawn over you before, during the chariot parade, and you couldn’t care less how pretty they thought you were. Instead you looked around before spotting the pair of shoes that went with the dress; glittery silver pumps, with a modest heel so you could easily walk on stage. They were next to a full length mirror, so you walked over and slipped them on, before taking a step back to assess your appearance.

Oh.

The dress had appeared as merely a nice piece of fabric on the hanger, but actually being worn, it truly was stunning. The garment looked like a whimsical winter garden, the various jewels glimmering like snowflakes on the lace patterned white leaves and flowers that crawled across the fabric. The bottom part of the gown was long and flowed to the floor, with extra fabric underneath to create more volume. The corset cinched your waistline in tightly before ending just below your bust, pushing your breasts up, in the sweetheart-neckline bodice. The dress had below-the-shoulder sleeves that were sheer, with snow embellishments ending at your wrists. Your makeup was flattering; a neutral lip with a little gloss, and a focus on the eyes. Shimmery pearls and purples were used to create a smoky eye and crystal gems had been placed on the outer corners. You looked like an ice princess.

A knock at the door broke up your self assessment, before Finnick walked into the room.

“Show’s starting now, District 1 will be on in five, you’ll be up in about another fifteen minutes.”

Finnick stopped to take in your appearance, nodding his approval to the team, before coming over to stand before you.

“You look wonderful,” he spoke softly, reaching to pick up one of your hands and hold it both of his. He gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” you whispered, with a mild squeeze back.

“The Capitol already adores you after your chariot ride, so tonight just seeing you again, looking this beautiful will be all they need. You’ve done the hardest part with your tribute score, so just try to relax as much as possible.”

“Easier said that done,” you replied with a shaky laugh.

“I know that all too well,” Finnick conceded with a lop sided smile.

You envied him and his natural charm. But you supposed you had to have some of your own to have caught the Capitol’s attention, not to mention Hoseok’s too. You hadn’t been trying for either of those, so perhaps that was your best tactic to use with Caesar.

“How’s Namjoon?” You asked, your district-mate hadn’t said a word to you since the scores were read back in the living quarters.

“Calm.” Finnick replied honestly.

“Can’t even tell you what his plans are ‘cause he barely even tells me anything. Makes it hard to try and strategize, but if he doesn’t want the free help then I’m not going to force it.”

“But I thought you guys spent heaps of time together?” you frowned. If Finnick wasn’t helping you much, and Namjoon didn’t want his help, then what had he been doing? You guessed he had work to do with trying to gather sponsorships or trying to extract information out of the other mentors.

“Hardly. What little time you may have felt that we spent together is more than twice the time I’ve spent with him.” Finnick dismissed with a shrug.

“For the record, you’re my favorite between you, and I’m not just saying that based on your scores tonight. You’re humble and you listen. Arrogance doesn’t go far in games like these.”

“It did for you.”

Finnick huffed out a laugh.

“Keep that wit with you on stage and you’ll be swimming in sponsors. But to be clear, my arrogance was tactical, and I took outside help when it was offered.”

You nodded, not really knowing what more to say.

Finnick stepped past you to turn on a TV in the top corner of your dressing room. Krystal appeared on the screen, wearing a silk red dress and matching lipstick, laughing at something Caesar had just said. From the looks of it, her interview was nearly finished.

“Interviews are usually three minutes each, so not that long. There’s twenty-four of you and they have to keep the show under two hours,” Finnick explained as Caesar bid Krystal farewell.

Yoongi was quickly announced and stepped up on to the stage, to a round of applause from the audience.

“It’s worth paying attention because Caesar can be very tricky. He’s a showman and he needs to extract interesting information and reactions for ratings. Sometimes a tribute will accidentally let too much of their game-plan slip, and you can take advantage of that in the arena. Some of them crumble and you can pick out the easy targets, others become too hot headed so keep an eye open on people to avoid too.”

Finnick explained, as you simultaneously listened to Yoongi explaining how he volunteered upon hearing his sister’s name being drawn. Much like you had already suspected, his goal was to ensure that Krystal is the one to survive. You wondered how Hoseok, Athena, and Namjoon felt.

Once your supposed final six broke down there would already be a team of two. Knowing Hoseok he’d have to have some plan in place, especially given he was goading Yoongi over Krystal earlier. You didn’t like how his plan had involved you in it, immediately making you a threat to the alliance the same way Yoongi and Krystal were. But at least you had a friendship with Krystal. Maybe that’s what Hoseok was banking on. A team up of the two teams, to take out the outliers of Namjoon and Athena, then a fight between the duos. Hoseok could easily take Yoongi, but if this was his plan, he was giving you far too much credit against Krystal, who had kicked your ass most of the time in spar training. But he had been watching you and had to have known that too. Maybe he was planning to take her out another way? Maybe Krystal’s entire reason for being kind to you was to bring you into a team of three with her brother for their added protection, which also gave you a better shot of surviving against the likes of Hoseok and Namjoon in a final showdown. Or perhaps you would all be taken out by some rogue from an outsider district. You had seen a couple of pretty respectable scores of 7s and 8s.

“I’m going to go make sure Namjoon is ready, I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded in recognition at Finnicks words, whilst keeping your glazed over eyes in the direction of the TV. You weren’t actually paying attention to Caesar starting to wrap up Yoongi’s interview, too busy lost in your thoughts of how impossible this whole game was. Having strategies for the arena almost felt entirely pointless given how many things had to go right in order for them to work out vs the millions of ways something could go wrong. Alliances stab each other in the back, other districts are underestimated, the Capitol always throws out insane and deadly traps. Hoseok had to be insane to think he could somehow plan for all of these factors. But perhaps insanity would be the biggest advantage in the arena.

Finnick’s knuckles wrapping against the door broke your reverie and you turned to face the sight of him and Namjoon in your doorway.

“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered, walking out to join them and following along as Finnick started on a path through the corridors.

“That’s the spirit,” Namjoon sarcastically cheered at your monotone, clapping his hand over your shoulder to give it a shake.

You immediately swatted his hand away with an annoyed twitch of your nose. Finnick sighed, not even turning around as he continued to lead you, but you could see him pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He didn’t have time to stop and scold, as you could see you were approaching the backstage area. Several Capitol workers were busily rushing around each other, clasping clip boards, coffees, headsets, camera equipment, and a range of other items. A woman dressed in black impatiently waved her hand in Finnick’s direction with a frown. You weren’t sure if he was late or if she just hated her job.

You quickly found it was a combination of the two when she immediately scolded Finnick for showing up ‘one minute’ late as per the official schedule, before launching into snapped instructions on where you and Namjoon were to stand, how you would be called on stage, and where to go after. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Namjoon, just nodding docilely as additional staff hovered around you both; clipping on a tiny microphone, putting a small listening piece into your ear and applying last second touch ups to your hair and makeup. From here you were then escorted into a waiting section, at a wing on the side of the stage.

You swallowed a lump in your throat at the feeling of claustrophobia that the wing created. You were surrounded by large black curtains that hid you from sight and created a backdrop behind the constructed stage pieces. At the very end you could faintly see a tiny part of the stage, and a crop of short blonde hair you recognized as belonging to Athena. A few feet in front of you, behind a section marked off with red tape on floor, were the tributes from District 3 and their mentor, and at the corner of the curtain waiting with his own mentor and a stagehand, was Hoseok.

You vaguely recognized his mentor from a Hunger Games a few years ago. You didn’t recall her name, but from the sharp teeth you could see, you remembered her as the victor who had literally ripped a tribute’s throat out. You swallowed thickly thinking about Hoseok’s earlier bloodthirsty threats against your own alliance.

He was peering out from behind the curtain, watching his district mate with a bored expression, the angle giving you a view of his sharp side profile. He was dressed in a suit; fitted black pants, a white shirt with a thin black tie, topped off with a black jacket that was covered in black sequins. His outfit was completed by a pair of bronze boots, which complimented the shade of his russet hair that was styled in loose curls that framed his forehead.

His head turned at the sound of your heels on the floor, piercing brown eyes making contact with your own. You instantly froze, as if his eyes somehow were capable of inducing paralysis. He was eerily stunning, handsome beyond belief, but there was something more about him that sent shivers of fear down your spine. Memories from merely a few hours ago of him trapping you in the hallway, isolating you from the others, and forcing you into a kiss came to mind. You hated yourself for how weak you had felt, not even capable of pushing him away, again you still weren’t even sure that you wanted it to stop. Even now you could still feel the lingering tingle upon your lips, like a remaining taste of electricity that he had sparked. That same electricity was hovering in the air as the two of you stared at one another. But did you actually want him? Were you actually attracted to him, or was your fear of the games causing you to project these feelings?

“Two! You’re on!”

The stagehand’s instructions caused Hoseok to break the eye contact, nodding to the staff before turning to walk out. But not before he could look back at you once more, leaving you with a final wink. You shuddered uncomfortably, suddenly feeling cold and raising your arms to cross over your chest. You glanced up between Finnick and Namjoon, the latter watching you with a look of amusement whilst Finnick was staring out at the stage with a concerned frown. You knew he didn’t like Hoseok from the details you had already told him, so you could assume that little display didn’t help with his impression.

It was clear very early that the Capitol had taken a liking to the District 2 male. Hoseok walked out to loud applause, cheers, and a few whistles. He took it all in his stride, waving to the people, and smiling in a way that flashed his dimples and almost made his mouth look like it was in the shape of a heart. He charmed Caesar and answered his questions about his home life in two confidently (“We work hard to provide The Capitol with the finest weapons and masonry we can provide, in return the Capitol provides us with everything we need”), along with providing some details of his family life (“what can I say, I’m a momma’s boy at heart”). His mentor watched on stoically by the wings, the barest hint of a nod every now and then being her only reaction. You could tell Finnick was trying to get a read off of her, but she wasn’t giving anything away. Meanwhile the mentor for Three was doing all they could to try and reassure their tributes they weren’t going to die on stage.

“What are your expectations?”

Caesar’s question brings your focus back to their interview and you pay extra attention for this answer, given Hoseok has always been extremely vague with his actual game plan besides ‘kill everyone except you’.

“You know, it’s funny Caesar, the thing about these games is you can never truly expect anything. I spent eighteen years of my life training myself for this moment to come. I’ve studied all the arenas, prepared as much as I could for wherever we may end up, but nothing could prepare me for who was going into that arena with me. I showed up to the chariot ride and training, expecting to meet people who I would just see as targets to kill. Instead I’m now going into the arena with the love of my life.”

Oh no.

You feel your stomach drop as you instantly realize Hoseok is about to talk about you.

“Three days is an awfully short time period to fall in love with someone, don’t you think?”

“It took much less time than three days, Caesar. I was in love the second I saw her.”

Shit.

“So what was it about these games that made you realize your dormant feelings for Athena?”

Hoseok balks at Caesar’s assumption, his eyebrows raising, before he quickly moves to smooth his expression over with a laugh

“No, my feelings are for YN.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“Mother fucker,” Finnick curses beside you. N

amjoon merely looks amused, whilst you also notice Hoseok’s mentor has now turned her attention from the stage to you. You feel even further unnerved from the fact she doesn’t seem remotely surprised by his words. She is far from an expressive woman, but you somehow get the feeling from her as she assesses your appearance, that it’s out of interest to know who her tribute has been talking about the last few days.

Meanwhile you wish that the floor would somehow open up and swallow you whole. Away from Hoseok’s advances, all the unwanted attention it resulted in and away an imminent painful death.

“But this is The Hunger Games, surely you know only one of you will come out alive?”

“I’m faced with an impossible task, but I’ve never felt more certain of anything in my life. Maybe we will both die in that arena, and that will be our way to live together in eternity in the next life. However, I do have one idea, and it’s a crazy long shot, but for her I have to to try.”

“Well I am just dying to know what that one idea is, but I have a feeling if I asked you wouldn’t tell me anyway!” Caesar exclaims with his trademark uproarious laugh at the end.

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok shrugs and shoots him a grin.

Caesar’s laugh continues and the audience joins in before the host bids him farewell and Hoseok leaves the stage.

You’re still lost in your desire to no longer even exist anymore that you barely register anything that has happened. You vaguely hear Hoseok’s concept of a long shot plan but it seems so unrealistic that it’s not even worth considering what it might even be. It’s not like you were planning on going along with it anyway, especially not after how he had just thrown you to the wolves in his interview.

You realize that Finnick is talking to you again, he’s trying to process Hoseok’s interview just as much as you are and has quickly taken to offering advice now. “This may not actually be too bad, maybe we can work this to our advantage. Hoseok is the top betting favorite, so potentially this can boost your odds too” … “Caesar loves gossip so the more time he spends talking about Hoseok in your interview, the less time he’s trying to extract things that could make you slip up” … “talk about your loved ones back in four” You’re not sure if you’re capable of processing his advice but you nod along anyway.

Namjoon continues to say nothing, but you don’t like the expression on his face. He has a smug air about him, similar to the one back in the apartment when his scores were read. You have an eerie feeling from him and you don’t like it.

The time district three takes for their interviews passes in what feels like seconds. Before you know it you have the stage hand waving you on stage and Finnick whispering a rushed “good luck” as you’re ushered out.

The first thing you realize is that you can barely see the audience, the bright lights being directed upon the stage are nearly blinding and you can’t see much from behind them besides a warped blur. The next thing you realize is that although you cannot see the audience, you can definitely hear them. You are met with a loud reception of applause and cheers as you make your way over to the directed couch. You attempt to take it in your stride, smiling and waving before you dip to a curtsy as you take your seat.

“Isn’t she lovely folks!”

You turn your painted on smile to Caesar, who is even more green in person. His hair is shockingly vibrant, his emerald suit reflective in the stage lights and you can see the sparkling details of his matching contacts.

“Now YN,” Caesar immediately launches into business and you mentally begin a countdown clock of the 180 seconds that you will be forced to remain in his presence. “I simply must say that you are gorgeous on camera, but even more stunning in person! I almost can’t even believe you’re a real person and not some divine creature!”

You respond with an awkward shrug and humbly averting your eyes to the floor, your hair flows down over your shoulder at the movement. The audience cheers again and whistles their approval at Caesar’s assessment of your appearance.

‘Shallow cunts.’ You remember Finnick’s words from the train, and you huff a small laugh to yourself in agreement. You allow this to bring a more natural smile to your face as you raise your eyes to meet Caesar’s once more.

“Oh Caesar, you really are too much. I assure you that much of this is the work of my talented stylists and make up artists.”

“Now, now don’t be so modest. Surely your beauty must still exist without these glamorous outfits for you to have District 2 so enamored with you!”

You have to mentally restrain yourself from scowling at the mention of Hoseok and his interview. Instead you settle for attempting to coolly rebuff him.

“I’m flattered, but really I don’t even know him.”

Caesar isn’t deterred and continues with his angle.

“But yet Hoseok still fell in love with you. And who could blame him folks I mean look at her everybody isn’t she gorgeous!”

At this the crowd launches into another round of applause. You attempt to appear bashful, yet flattered. You pretend to hide behind one hand whilst waving to the audience with the other.

“Now come on YN, tell us what you really think of Hoseok,” Caesar begins to press and you find yourself becoming increasingly frustrated with how he’s making your interview about another competitor. As if you are only in these games to exist as a romantic interest for a man.

“I don’t.” You reply bluntly, and if you weren’t in a fight for your life that relied upon being likeable you would have folded your arms and left it at exactly that. But instead your force yourself to continue on.

“At least not in an emotional sense. These games are so intense, from the parade, to the three days of training, the assessment, and now this interview, and that’s before we even step inside the arena. I barely have time to breathe, let alone develop a romantic connection.”

You hope this is enough to get him off your back.

“She’s really not going to give us anything!”

You’re confused for a moment before you realize that Caesar thinks you’re lying.

“I swear, it’s the truth,” you try to implore, looking at Caesar in the eyes before trying to see into the audience as if begging them all to believe you.

“The only man I love is back home in four, my father. I can’t allow myself to get distracted by anyone when I need to win to see him again. My mother died a few years ago and I’m an only child. All we have left in this world is each other.”

You have to stop and take a deep breath as by the end your throat is starting to choke up. You’ve barely allowed any thoughts of home to enter your mind, as you know it will only lead to you becoming upset and you have to remain focused for any chance of survival.

Sensing your distress Caesar finally starts to change the topic.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry about your mother,” he coos and you hear similar hushed “awes” from the crowd.

You refrain from snapping that they’re clearly not sorry about the loss of life to prevent the annual slaughter of twenty teenagers. Instead you settle for a demure “thank you”.

The remainder of your interview is spent talking about your parents, your home, your work on the boat and ends on a final note of your skills with a knife. By the end you are exhausted; emotionally spent from the topic of your parents and feeling like Caesar had somehow drained the energy out of you through his exuberant and overbearing presence.

After your final courtesy to Caesar and the audience, you are directed to an exit on the opposite end of the stage from which you came. You don’t stick around to watch Namjoon from the side, all you want is to be by yourself and you figure that your dressing room is probably the best place for that. Following signs that are up on the walls of the hallway, you easily navigate yourself back to your room. Though you pass some of the other tributes who are approaching the stage for their interviews, you are relieved you don’t see anyone you really recognize.

Entering your room, you head straight for the chair you had been sitting in before, noticing that the TV had been left on from before. The camera was focused on Namjoon who sat comfortably on the lounge, and gave the impression that he was totally at ease.

“…doesn’t know what he’s talking about when it comes to Y/N.” you catch him mention your name and frown.

“He thinks he’s fallen in love with her at first sight just because she’s beautiful, which of course she is, I mean come on Caesar we all have eyes.”

He pauses to look to the audience with his arms outstretched, as if he’s stating the obvious, and they respond with a laugh. Caesar cackles along, clearly please to have a guest that is hamming it up for the cameras.

“But she’s my teammate. We’ll work together in the career pack as long as we can but when that inevitably reaches the end I’ll be the one protecting her, not him. He’s known her for less than a week, we grew up together.”

What?

“Why Namjoon, is there a bit of a love triangle going on here!”

“There just might be”

Whatever relief you were hoping to find upon your interview being over and finally having some time alone was absolute gone. For the second time in less than half an hour, you feel as if your stomach is made of lead and plummeting to the floor.

“Tell us more! You simply have to tell us more! When did you first realize your true feelings for our darling YN?”

He doesn’t!

“There was no moment, no instant spark, because that’s not how love really works. Love is the familiar, the regular presence and comfort she brings just from knowing she’s in my life. Her name was never meant to have been called at the reaping and I wish when I volunteered it could have been in her pla-”

“What a load of bullshit!” Your cry at the television, cutting off the sound of Namjoon’s lies, as you threw the remote at the screen.

Perhaps the Capitol had experienced tribute outbreaks in the past because it merely bounced off the surface, however it thankfully turned off the stream. You bunched the skirt of your dress in your hands, preparing to storm out onto the stage and call out Namjoon’s bluff yourself. You turned towards the exit of the room, only to swirl into a hard surface. You grunted at the impact of hitting a muscular body, the toned figure made you think it was a Capitol security guard coming to investigate your TV tantrum, but a familiar drawl suddenly caused your blood to run cold.

“What’s the rush, darling?”

Even in all his terror, Jung Hoseok truly was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. The television cameras failed to do him justice. They didn’t capture the warmth to his skin, the softness of his hair, nor the addictive scent you were being forced to inhale from his sudden presence.

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice was unintentionally soft as a whisper, almost as if you were praying he wasn’t really in the room. But your hands on his chest from where you had collided reminded you he very much was real, as you tried to push yourself away. He only hummed in contentment upon feeling your touch on his body, locking his hands upon your wrists to keep them there. Hoseok’s long fingers were like iron chains, grasping so tightly you couldn’t even think to try and push past him.

“Get out, or I’ll scream,” you hiss, trying to sound threatening, but the instinctual fear that Hoseok’s presence set off only caused your breath to shake and your words to sound pleading.

The corner of Hoseok’s lip raised upwards into a cruel curl as he stepped forward, you instantly took a matching step back. But this only continued until your back collided with the wall, his body pushed against yours and your wrists held tightly in his clutches.

“I thought you were going to scream?” he taunts, cocking his head to the side, his eyes seeming to sparkle with glee as he mocked you. You were trembling, you had wanted to scream, but the second he started to advance upon you all of your thoughts had instantly turned into flight mode, foolishly backing away until there was no space left to go. Oh god, you truly were dead once you stepped into that arena tomorrow. Over his shoulder you could see the door shut on the other end of the room, with no way for anyone to see him inside of your room. How had he even managed to get inside without being noticed?

“HEL-”

Before you could even get a word out, his forearm was pressed against your windpipe, cutting off your cry. Your already panicked eyes blew wide open in fear, unable to move or breathe.

“Shhhh,” he coos, leaning in so his lips were ever so slightly hovering over yours as you tried to push him off – your lungs starting to burn from the lack of oxygen.

“You know I promised not to hurt you love, but if you’re going to be that fucking stupid then you leave me no choice.”

Restricted between his body and the wall, it was all you could do to vainly scratch your nails against his grip on your wrists, desperately trying to get him to release his hold. But all Hoseok did in return was gently brush his lips to yours, in a move that contradicted his violent chokehold, before pulling back to watch you struggle.

“C-a-nt … br-eee…” with no air, you barely made a sound, eyes watering in pain. You try to kick, but Hoseok’s body is too close, his hips and thighs pressing against yours making it impossible to move.

Finally, his pressure relaxes, although his arm still remains resting upon your throat.

You inhale a choked gasp before letting out a broken cough. You weren’t sure how long he had cut off your airway, every second burning in agony had felt like a minute, and the impact left you struggling to regain your breath even after he had backed off. Meanwhile Hoseok released his hold on your hands to snake his arm behind your waist and pat against your back, as you continued to splutter trying to suck in air with tears streaking down your face.

“You’re insane,” you wheeze, voice raspy and barely audible, but Hoseok’s quirked lip breaking into a wicked smile showed you that he had heard.

“Only because you drive me crazy,” he grins, moving his arm away from your throat to catch a tear rolling down your cheek with his thumb.

Your head was spinning and your vision was filled the kind of black spots you would get if you stood up too fast. Your throat was sore and your lungs still burned as you tried to regain your breathing. Too weak to fight back, it was all you could do to try and lean as far away from him as you could, turning your face to the side. But Hoseok wasn’t having any of that, tightening his hold on your waist.

A choked whimper escaped from your lips, the sound similar to that of an injured animal. You were frightened by the ease he had overpowered you, contrasted by his sickening affection. With his arm holding you around the waist, he gently rubbed his palm up and down against your back. His other hand came to rest on the side of your head, tenderly running his fingers through your hair, as if soothing a child woken up by a nightmare.

“I hate you.”

Your voice was a strained whisper, as your eyes deliberately focused on the ground to avoid his burning stare.

Hoseok merely hums in recognition, content to remain in this position for as long as possible – trying to ingrain everything into his memory. The softness of your hair was like liquid silk passing though his fingertips. Despite the thickness of the bodice, he could still feel the warmth of your body beneath his palm through your dress. As he looked down, he had a direct view of your exposed cleavage pressing against his chest, watching the swell of your breasts heave with every breath.

‘Soft, soft, soft’ his mind repeats over every little detail. From your hair, to your skin, to your breasts and your scent, everything about you was so delicate and enticing. He almost felt bad for how roughly he had handled you, except that doing so had resulted in you becoming so pliant in his arms. ‘a necessary evil’

“Good,” was his eventual reply.

“I hate you,” You repeat again, raising your chin to glare at him for dismissing your anger so flippantly.

He only smiled at you fondly in return.

“I love you.”

It was somehow like he had knocked the winds from your lungs all over again. In his interview it was possibly an insane strategy, but seeing the burning intensity in his eyes as he stared at you like you were the only thing in the universe, made you truly realize that this was what he actually believed.

“That’s impossible, we’ve known each other for three days,” you hiss back. “And you don’t hurt someone you love!” 

Hoseok closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slowly.

“Oh but darling, you hurt the ones you love the most”

As if to emphasize his words, his hands in your hair tighten into a painful grasp, causing you to whimper. You reach both of your hands up to hold onto his grip, trying to get him to release. In turn, he does, but only ever so slightly, just so he can enjoy the feeling of your hands touching him.

He leans further in to press his lips to the shell of your ear, the tickling feeling of his breath causing you to shiver.

“I love you so much it causes me far more pain than whatever you’re feeling now. I looked at you for one moment and you were like an insidious vine that crawled inside of my veins to wrap around my heart. So now it belongs to you, beats for you, burns for you and craves only you.”

“Please, I didn’t do anythi-”

You tried to beg, but he immediately cut you off.

“That doesn’t matter.” He snaps and you flinch.

“The instant I saw you it was like every tie that once bound me to this earth was cut, and then every thread was tied to you. In just a second you become my oxygen, my gravity, my entire reason for being.

Every night since the moment I saw you, I have dreamed of you. I dreamed of kissing you senseless at the chariots, like how I wanted to do the moment we met. I dreamed of you during training, that it was my bed you came back to at night. When I saw you in this dress I instantly knew that tonight I will dream of making you my wife. And I have a plan that will make that dream a reality.”

Finally, he released his hold on your body, stepping back to watch as you slump against the wall and slowly fall to sit upon the ground in a combination of exhaustion and horror. Your eyes were wide in a shell shocked daze.

Slowly, he steps backwards towards the door, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. But you don’t even notice. You’re no longer even looking at him anymore, just staring emptily at the room, but not seeing anything inside

“If you try to run from me tomorrow, I will find you. I will hunt you down and drag you back to me, where you belong.”

For a brief moment you regain a sense of clarity to ask him the question that has been burning in your mind ever since he started his insane proclamations.

“What happens when we’re the last two? Who dies?”

Stepping out of the room, his answer offers you no sense of closure before he shuts the door behind him…

“You leave that for me to deal with. All you need to know is that you will leave these games by my side, or not at all.”

 ***

 After Hoseok had left you in your dressing room, you had immediately scrambled to your feet to lock the door behind him. From there you rushed to strip out of your dress and back into your lounge clothes. Grabbing wipes from the counter, you angrily scrubbed off all the make up from your face. You weren’t sure if you had to go back out on stage at the end with all the other tributes, frankly you didn’t care.

“Hello?”

You’re startled by a knock at the door.

“It’s Finnick, can I come in for a moment?”

You suppose he’s only asking to be polite, given he very likely has access to any room you’re in as a mentor. With a huff you storm over to the door, unlocking it and wrenching it open.

“Did you tell him to say that about me?” You snap, referring to Namjoon and his earlier interview. Finnick hurriedly enters the room and pulls the door shut behind him.

“Is this part of your little fucked up plan for the tribute with the better prospects to actually win, by using me to try and humanize that bastard?” You continue to yell.

“No!” Finnick replies, vigorously shaking his head.

“Then what the fuck was that?” Your pent up frustration and anger comes out in a harsh shove, causing Finnick to stumble backwards, though he quickly regains his balance.

“I only told him to show that he cared about you as a teammate” Finnick sighs, holding his hands up in a surrender gesture, whilst emphasizing the word ‘teammate’ slowly. “I swear I never told him anything about acting like he had romantic feelings.”

You immediately feel bad for pushing him.

“Whatever rage you feel at me, and especially at him, save it. Save it and use it tomorrow the first thing you wake up because that is what you’re going to need to become a killer.”

“Can I kill him tomorrow?”

The question slips out before you can think it might be a bad idea to confess to your mutual mentor that wish to kill your district partner.

“If you think you can, that is the game after all,” Finnick shrugs with a lopsided grin.

You’re too stressed to properly laugh, but you let out an amused hum at his quip. You’re grateful for Finnick’s good nature towards you.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” you apologize.

“It’s fine,” Finnick quickly shrugs it off.

His relaxed demeanor quickly tenses though, before he turns back to the door to make sure it’s locked behind him. You mentally kick yourself for not doing that earlier.

“Listen, I’m here because I wanted to tell you that it appears the president has taken a liking to you.”

You blanch.

From all the ridiculous shit you have heard today, the president joining your little fan club is the least thing you expected.

“President Snow? But why?”

“I’m not one hundred percent certain, but if you remember when we first met on the train I told you that the Capitol loves beautiful things. I wanted to at least warn you.”

You nod to show you remember the conversation, but you’re still confused as to how this involves the president.

“But isn’t this a good thing? Maybe I might even be able to survive if the president wants me to. All those ‘natural disasters’ that game makers can cause and all”

“Yes, it’s very likely you won’t be impacted by that in the game. I especially wanted to tell you that alone, because I feel Namjoon would be too short sighted and threatened by any idea of favoritism, to see the long term benefits of keeping a protected tribute in his alliance.”

You nod again.

“Is that all?”

“No.”

Finnick pauses.

His intended break slowly extends into an uncomfortable silence. You want to ask him what he’s trying to say but you can tell he’s struggling to find the words, so you remain quiet and let him think.

“If you win, you don’t just survive the games and retire in peace in the victor’s village.” He eventually begins. “You have to keep coming back; for the victor’s parade, as a mentor, for visits to the Capitol for all your adoring fans”

“I… I could do that,” you respond, but the pained look in Finnick’s eyes tells you that there is more.

“But you don’t deserve to have to.”

It’s a strange moment to watch your mentor, the person you trust to be strong, the survivor of these games, appearing vulnerable before your eyes. The six foot one man in front of you is suddenly just another teenager, around the same age as you.

“As a tribute, what I wish more than anything my mentor had warned me about, wasn’t what was inside of the arena, but what awaited outside. I can forgive you for being preoccupied and not noticing but I haven’t been spending any of these nights in my own bed since we’ve been here and that’s not by my own choice”

“Why?” you whisper, although a sickening sensation in your gut tells you, you can imagine the reason why.

“The Capitol loves beautiful things.”

You don’t know what to say. There’s nothing you ever could say to express your sympathy for his situation. You’re torn between wishing to offer comfort that you cannot, and a newly awakened fear that this could be what awaits you should you somehow make it out alive.

“I wish I could say that you are too young to hear this, but I needed to hear it at fourteen, and I have spent every day since winning those games regretting the fact that I did. There are fates in life that are much worse than death. By all means fight to protect yourself in that arena, no child or barely legal adult deserves a painful death, but if an opportunity presents itself to go in peace, seize it, or else you will spend every waking moment of your life outside in regret.”