#dying in front of you and leaving you to grief about it and blame yourself and change irrevocably only for them to come back

[garlic-sauc3]

thinking of the boostle vampire au now . . .

[jnxjoop]

Let it happen

hwang in-ho x reader

Chapter 3

The team your companion procured hovered around the pair of you, Eun-Shin occupying the dull minutes with endless chatter that you yearned to be deceased- the newfound team less enthusiastic about straining the cords within their neck to speak with you. Although your partnership with Eun-Shin promised neutrality, you could feel the pierce of daggers in their gazes, the X patch merely tagging you with a target, a deer in the scope of a hunter. It was ironic, considering you were the cynical one.

Your head settled against the cool frame of the beds, the vibrations thrumming through the metal to your skull, a nice distraction from the isolation. You couldn’t even blame them for it since you’d brought this on yourself by pushing everyone away, portraying a near emotionless front. For all they knew, you would throw their lives away without a second thought- and you would, you convinced yourself. After the last game, their perception of you would be lasting, but somehow, the rush dulled whenever you realized people with actual lives were dying. These people weren’t simply nobodies who lacked depth anymore, you’ve witnessed firsthand the whirlwind of emotions that consumed them- the grief, the horror, even the cruelness. What about the trembling girl from earlier- 95- pleading to everyone for a shred of mercy, to leave? It gnawed at your intricately crafted persona, something that had been engrained into your being since you were young.

“You seem bored over here,” A voice intruded your daze, clearing the fog that dwelled the crevices of your brain. You blinked, a slight surprise flickering briefly in your eyes before your head finally tilted, revealing the origins to the familiar voice- dark eyes meeting e/c ones.

A glance back at the team not so far from you, your tongue formed words, voice free of the feelings that your body teemed with, “I just have nothing to say.”

Young-Il cracked a small smile, releasing a breath of air through his nose- something about his demeanor appearing to disbelieve your answer, seeing right through that cracking persona of yours. He sat beside you, hands wrung together, elbows settled against his knees. “Our group over there is taking safety precautions for lights out,” He revealed, voice harboring a lower tone, hushed from potentially prying ears. “With the addition of another person I thought Jun-hee might feel safer, considering you two are already acquainted.”

“Jun-hee?” You repeated, the name void of memory in your mind, face revealing your lack of awareness.

His eyebrows raised, realization seeping onto his features. “222,” He clarified. “The one you brought to us earlier?”

“Oh. I remember now.”

“So what do you think? Wanna join us for the night?” Young-Il’s gaze drifted between you and your group, the one so eager to leave you secluded. Looking into his eyes, you searched for meaning and explanation behind his question- but alas, his eyes offered no translation. So you took it at face value.

“I’ll do it for her,” You agreed, finally stretching your legs after being sat for so long- trapped within your own thoughts. “It’s not like they’ll notice,” Speaking of your group, referencing their distance from you.

You followed Young-Il, his hand hovering over your back as he introduced you to the rest of the group- your name now known among the individuals apart of it. They were nice, offering a space with them, but still, you found yourself a black sheep, unsure what to say or do- unsure how willing to be. Awkward.

Lights later fell, signaling lights out had began, the six of you situated on mattresses on the floor- you laid between Young-Il and Jun-hee, back soaking in the small comfort of the bed, blanket tugged to your chest snugly. Gi-hun, you learned his name was, sat ahead of you, volunteering to keep guard first- eyes having seen the brutalities of this game once before. While you should’ve been asleep, you found yourself unable to, simply staring up at the ceiling dimly illuminated by the golden piggybank, the silence borderline deafening.

You turned on your side, facing right; where Young-Il slept, oddly sound. You shouldn’t have- you felt strange doing so- but you examined his sleeping face; the creases left from smiling throughout his lifetime, one spent joyously, and his at ease features, which were usually so stern and unrevealing- dark. He appeared at peace, the tenseness from the day’s events ebbing and allowing him to rest cozy. Your eyes then lowered, concentrating on the steady rise and fall of his chest, and you wondered how someone could be so at peace in the wake of disaster, having no inner turmoil- so confident and sure about himself, about his morals. You envied that. You envied his sureness about himself.

At that, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut, mimicking the man inches from you- copying that shred of peace tackling his face, your muscles easing. And for once, you had a decent rest.

“Your attention please. The third game will begin momentarily,” The monotonous voice beckoned from the intercoms, stirring the contestants inside, including you. “All players, please wake up and prepare to move to the game hall.”

When you awoke, you’d nearly forgotten of your predicament with Jun-hee’s group- recollecting your memory from the day prior. The previously mentioned girl blinked as she sat up, groggy and squinting from the bright lights raining down on the players, but she still managed to offer you a small smile, one that soothed your already bubbling nerves. You were unaware if you were anxious for the interrogation awaiting you- or if you were afraid of what was to come.

Rubbing your eyes, you noticed the familiar outline of Young-Il directly in front of you, having been his turn to keep watch while the rest of you slept soundly. You hadn’t even heard him move in the night, as quiet as a mouse. He dared a look back, hearing the sounds of the group’s stir- their faces soured by unwillingness to wake, eyes resting on your face briefly. As he stood, you crawled slightly forward, using the frame of the bed to hoist yourself up- hand extended to the other girl to make her attempt less strenuous.

“It was… nice.. being around you, Jun-hee, but I must return to my own group now,” You alerted, unsure how to word your time spent with the group- the kindness of your words tasting bitter on your tongue, so foreign to you. “Best of luck this game.”

And with those parting words, you slipped away to merge with the horde of people, in search of Eun-Shin, eyes skimming across the wave of contestants, each of the faces you spotted just as weary as the last.

An arm locked around yours soon enough, tugging you toward them, shoulder clashing with their’s. “What the-“ You spat, puzzled until the perpetrator’s face entered your vision. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yep. You can’t escape me that easily,” Eun-Shin joked, nudging you with his elbow, the rest of the group to his right. They were never interested in your doings, but you weren’t very intrigued by their’s either. “How was your little sleepover, huh?”

“I just slept. Nothing more, nothing less,” You shrugged, lips smushed into a fine line, boredom plain on your features, this line of questioning gaining you no entertainment.

“Odd that he invited you over there, though,” He mumbled, his expression thoughtful- almost mockingly so. Always trying to pick apart Young-Il for reasoning you couldn’t be sure of. “Seems kinda off. What if he tried murdering you?” His hands mimicked a strangling motion before becoming firm on your shoulders, shaking you back and forth to emphasize his point.

Prying his hands from your shoulders, you responded to the notion, “There were other people there. But I didn’t go because of him, I went for 222. She’s pregnant, so… I felt a little bad,” You attempted to phrase your words less empathetic, not wanting him to believe your frozen heart had started watering. “Not for her, the baby, I mean- the baby didn’t sign up for this,” You clarified, though that sentence only appeared to cement the opposite impression.

“You know, it’s okay to care for people, but here is.. probably not the best place for that,” Eun-Shin stated, eyes flying to the other members of your group, voice lowering to where only the pair of you could hear. “Listen, you’re the only member of this team I can rely on- even if you’re a little crazy. I can’t have you dying on me. Just be careful,” Surprisingly, his statement eased the strange worry of abandonment, feeling a little more useful to them.

“I won’t, and I won’t… do anything..” You gritted your teeth, the words difficult to let out. Change proved difficult. “….crazy… anymore. At least not here while our lives are at stake.”

“Wow, you really have changed. Are you sure you’re really… 11… anymore instead of a clone?” Eun-Shin teased, a joking smile present on his face. “I’m just kidding. I’m glad you’re coming around.”

Eventually, guards escorted everyone out of the room, leading you up the colorful and seemingly endless amount of stairs- up and up you went, trudging unbearably slow up each step, Eun-Shin silent and thoughtful throughout the entire process- probably pondering the next game’s events, wondering the difficulty and severity. Even you couldn’t deny your curiosity, palms a twinge sweaty from what pulsated beyond flesh- and you shouldn’t have felt this way, with your morphing perspective, but ecstasy threatened to seize you, heart hammering and body pumping with the buzz of adrenaline. You clenched your fist, snuffing out the growing intensity- you needed to stay focused for the livelihood of your group, or else you’d easily be sidetracked by euphoria.

Everyone came to a halt at a set of cream colored curtains, which added a sense of mystique to the already anxious crowd, guards stationed in front of everyone, waiting just as you were. Curtains spread apart, the pink clad figures entered, standing on either side of the entrance while the rest of you cautiously followed, eyes darting around the sleek room to study its interior, the center piece of it a trio of galloping horses, reminding you of a carousel. Seeing your reflection in the floor, your eyebrows furrowed, your face lighter- something different in the way your eyes gleamed, sparked with will.

“Players, welcome to the third game. We will begin momentarily,” The intercom chimed. “The game you will be playing today is Mingle. I will now repeat the announcement…”

“Mingle? Do you have any idea?” Eun-Shin peered across the faces of your group, questioning if anyone had any idea about the game. You could only shake your head, “mingling” being the last thing you ever did while out in the world.

“I will now explain the rules of the game. All players will step onto the platform in the center of the arena. Once the game begins, the platform will spin. Shortly after, a number will be called out. You must then form a group that matches this number, enter one of the surrounding rooms, and close the door within thirty seconds- or be eliminated.”

“There’s the answer to your question,” You remarked, eyeing your partner, the five of you approaching the middle of the room. The horses loomed over you, being a mock to all of you down below, just within shooting range.

“Well, this one’s gonna suck,” He muttered, turning to the four staring at him, awaiting a speech- or maybe a game plan, looking to him like they were disciples in need of knowledge. “We’ll try to stick together the best we can- but I doubt it’s gonna be as simple as that, so just… no matter what number they call, don’t panic, just think first and do the most logical thing. We just have to trust one another, and we can all make it out.”

“What if she leads one of us to dying?” 30 directed a pointed glare at you, her eyes peeling from you to your companion.

Before Eun-Shin could respond, you stepped in for yourself, “I understand my actions from the game before frightened you- but I won’t do it again- or not this time. I like gambling, but…. not to the point of someone… dying.”

Eun-Shin appeared surprised at your accountability, eyes flickering to something behind you briefly- darkening for merely a second before he threw his arm around your shoulders, not revealing the sourness on his features. “Plus, we need our token crazy girl- and besides, while she may have taken a risk last game, she did it knowing she could come back from it,” He added, the group’s resentment slightly dissipating as they mulled over his words.

“I guess you’re right… I didn’t think of it that way.”

You sighed, again feeling overshadowed- your words less impactful than that of your peer. You only wallowed under his arm, beneath him as always, a tinge of envy at his ease in dominating everyone- having all of you enamored with him. The effect of extroverts.

“With that, let the game begin,” Music reverberated throughout the room, a catchy tune chorused, and the platform all players stood on jerked as it began its deathly spin- everyone wary and preparing for the moment it would stop. Eun-Shin had a grip on your wrist and 155’s, keeping each of you interlocked and close.

“Ten players.”

“We need five more people,” Eun-Shin declared, grabbing another nearby player. Nerves were scattered, panic settling among some players, the addition of flashing lights helping none- regardless, you found yourself grabbing ahold of a nearby number’s hand, tugging them toward you while the rest of your group clung to anyone near- running with haste to the nearest door once the numbers reached ten and shutting it. Each of you heaved a sigh, backs supported by the wall as a sense of relief washed over you. The game wasn’t over yet, however, so tensions still ran high.

The hand you gripped scarily tight ripped itself from your grasp, the man rubbing the aching spot, wearing a grimace on his face. “I had my own team,” He grumbled, approaching the slot in the door to peek into the open space where stragglers were left defenseless. “My friend.. She’s- She’s out there!” Frenzied pounds reverberated from the knuckles hitting metal, hands frantic against the locked doorknob. “Nari! Please..! Please…” His shouts bled into whimpers as bullets scattered, the sounds jolting you and his reaction shattering you, the tremble of your hands only slightly recognizable. The rest of you inside could only watch in silence, having nothing to say- nothing that could comfort his cries.

He turned to you abruptly, hands springing to the collar of your shirt and slamming your back into the wall, feet hovering inches above the floor- gasps escaping opened mouths at the sudden action. “You did this! Why would you do this!” He demanded, your arms drooped and demeanor showcasing your lack of willingness to defend yourself- because truthfully, you agreed.

“Hey, hey, it’s not her fault,” Eun-Shin’s hand cautiously settled on the player’s shoulder, to which the opposer removed a balled fist from your collar, jamming his elbow into Eun-Shin’s chest, causing him to barrel over, a wheeze torn from his throat. It was the first you’d seen him unable to deescalate a situation.

“It’s fine.. Eun-Shin,” You managed, the pressure against your throat leaving little room to speak, eyes flickering between the enraged expression directly in front of you and the view of your partner on the floor from the corner of your eye. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

He released you, body instantly socked to the ground, regaining all the air your lungs were deprived of for those moments, a blizzard of coughs terrorizing your throat. “I would’ve rather died out there with her than been the reason she died,” He spat, towering dangerously above you, the gleam in his eyes making your mouth go dry. “Touch me again, and your neck will be more than bruised.”

With that, the door clicked, signifying it’d been unlocked- the time until then seeming infinite under the intense scrutiny. Another female inside helped you stand, putting your arm around her shoulder as the two of you walked toward the circle, the aid something you didn’t reject as you were still blindsided.

“Are you okay? He shouldn’t have done that to a girl,” She shook her head disapprovingly, trying to soothe you, a hand on your back- Eun-Shin was busy being comforted by the rest of your group, who were more or less unaffected by the actions when it involved you. “I was scared he was gonna hit you- or any of us if we had tried stepping in. I mean- he did hit your friend.”

“It’s okay,” You sighed, gently removing your arm from around her, lessening the weight against her. “I deserved it.”

“You couldn’t have known, you grabbed anyone you could,” She comforted, a sympathetic look on her face. “Plus, if he really believed what he said, he wouldn’t have let you drag him all the way there. People in grief just need a person to blame, especially here. Everyone is scared to die.”

The tune started again, the platform spinning smoothly, but the repeated and drawn out motion made you dizzy, nausea creeping into your body as you peered further at the puddles of blood, your mind trailing back to the man. Like the woman said, he needed a person to blame- but really, was he unfounded?

“Four players.” The jerk of the platform stopping abruptly brought you back to the hectic situation, Eun-Shin’s grip on your hand causing your gaze to shoot up, “Come on, let’s go. 30, you go with 33,” The woman you had just spoken to. “We’ll meet back with you.”

Along with Eun-Shin, 155, and 77, you darted toward a door, your hands interlocked, footsteps hurried- the hammering of your heart swift and filling your ears. Opening the door revealed a man inside, trembling in fear at the sight of your group. You swallowed thickly, casting a glance at the men beside you. They looked deranged from this angle. You wished you were courageous enough to sacrifice yourself- but instead, you stayed silent.

“Sorry about this,” Eun-Shin frowned, nodding at the other two, who each took one of the man’s arms and shoved him into the chaos- something so ruthless you wouldn’t have expected it from Eun-Shin, your eyes wide, merely watching as the door slammed shut, the duo (155 and 77) guarding the door, in the chance someone would try forcing it open. His eyes fell on you, taking in your appearance. “I put the safety of our group above all. I know it’s hard, but we have no other choice. You understand, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say anything,” You defended, the gunshots a grim reminder of what would happen if you failed to make it inside. You wondered if the man, who’d nearly strangled you, survived, hoping to not summon his wrath later on.

“You were thinking it, I could tell. Come on, at this point, I need crazy you back.”

“You can’t be picky now when you almost killed us earlier,” 155 snarked, stealing a glance out the slot.

“I… understand..” You muttered.

When you exited the room, your shoulders were slumped, an exasperated sigh threatening to leave your mouth. It didn’t matter how you behaved, people were still unhappy- no matter if you said anything or kept yourself tame. What could possibly appease them? Perhaps it was for the best to act how you always did and be how you always have been. Even when you tried to do good, it only resulted in wrong.

The music’s thrum became repetitive, a childish tune used to conduct such dark acts- everyone’s nerves frayed from the amount of people dying with each round, with each countdown, the number of people to be in a room lessening.

“Three players.”

You looked to Eun-Shin, hand on the cloth of his jacket to keep him close. “Okay, okay, 11, 155, come with me, 77 and 30, find another player- quick,” He instructed in haste, the three of you running toward a door while the remainder sprinted in the opposite direction. He slung you inside, the door falling closed behind the trio. His hands were on his knees, recuperating- the flashing lights, the running, the sprinting, the mixture overwhelming.

“Are you… okay?” You questioned, eyeing him.

“Yes. We made it in, didn’t we?”

You nodded and walked toward the slot in the door, watching the guards shoot the individuals scattered about the room, pleading helplessly for the pink figures to spare them- and then you removed yourself from it all, distancing yourself little by little. You’d done it once, and you could do it again, building your cold demeanor back piece by piece, mend the melting heart and make it cold again. You would never see these people again- whether it be because you died, or because you survived.

“Scared?” Eun-Shin asked, noticing your prying eyes.

You looked at him, eyes stern and cold, something he was certain to discern. “No. You?”

“Me either,” He admitted. But you almost scoffed at the statement, believing it a lie.

Once the doors were unlocked, you stepped out, regrouping with the parting teammates. You remained silent while the others chatted a little bit, relieved to see one another alive, but you weren’t apart of that relief.

The music mocked you with its cheerful tone, the spinning leaving you in a slight daze. Your face beamed with disappointment, for a reason you shouldn’t have been disappointed for- people betrayed you countlessly, caring only for their wellbeing, it was foolish of you to believe otherwise, at least for these people.

“Six players.”

Again. Six of you scurried to a room, tensions high and aggravation settling underneath the mask of panic. More people dead- a repetitive cycle that you wondered how long would last. When would you die? How long would you last? Six players was generous this round, but when would it shift again, flipping a switch and catching everyone off guard. The blood on the floor greeted you, shoes slick with the red substance, but that had grown normal after the last game, your shoes stained with pink.

“Attention, players. The final round will now begin,” The intercom announced, slight anxiety spilling into your stomach, organs twisting into knots, the next number to be called unknown- a question of what it would be on every player’s mind. The music doing little to quell anyone’s nerves. “Two players,” The lights dimmed, the light’s enthusiastic flashing and jolt of the platform sending everyone into flight mode.

Your eyes darted to Eun-Shin, having the intention of grabbing him, but his arm was already tangled with 155’s, lips in a thin line as he blankly acknowledged your stare, haste to leave you behind. A sacrifice had to be made- and looks like he’d chosen you for that role, disregarding his earlier statement. Your eyes then darted to your last two teammates- even if it’d been one, you were aware they’d rather die with you than be in a room with you. Because of your attitude, or maybe because of the X patch.

Mouth dry, the time ticked by awfully slow as you stood there. Your face was void of panic or anger- and the thought that this would be your last day alive struck you for a moment, you weren’t fearful of it. You expected it to happen eventually, especially with a game containing such high stakes. You took a small step forward, stealing a glance back at the platform- should you just sit down and give up now? Fighting against it would be shameful.

Before you could decide, your hand had been grabbed, the sudden grip stunning you, but your reflexes acted accordingly, the pace of your feet fast. Maybe you didn’t want to die after all. You were dragged into a room, a pair of hands then firm on your shoulders once safety had been secured, causing your eyes to finally lift from the floor to your savior.

Young-Il?

“What were you doing?” He questioned, eyes fixed on you. His eyebrows were furrowed, seeking an answer, determined to find one within your expression like he were a detective attempting to crack a code. The last thing you’d expected was to be saved- your mind vacant in those moments, merely basking in gloom. “Why wouldn’t you run? Try to find someone, try to get a room?”

“I… was looking,” You defended, though the lie was blatant, and as someone who already saw through the carefully crafted persona, it was even more so- so you crumbled. “Okay… I just didn’t have anyone. I’m not scared of dying, why not accept it?”

Young-Il sighed, arms falling to his sides- seemingly disappointed. “You should value your life more,” He examined your features, the concern on his face clear, but you didn’t understand why. You wouldn’t ever understand why- but you did know him to be caring, he would react this way with anyone so willing to surrender their life. “What’s that on your neck?”

Your hand flew to your neck, the spot sore under the brush of your fingers. “Oh….” You paused, words unable to form on your tongue- all the sentences you could possibly say falling short. What would you say? “I pulled someone into a room with us, and his friend got killed… so…”

“He blamed it on you,” He finished, a noticeable grimace on his face, eyes lowering, the ideas brewing in his mind unknown to you, and for once, you wished you could know. But the mystery surrounding him drew forth a curiosity within you. The door then clicked, signaling it had unlocked- with that, the game ending. “Join my team, Y/N,” His words were less of a question and more of a demand, sounding as if he wouldn’t accept no as an answer, the door still shut.

“For Jun-hee.”

“For you,” He corrected, sending you a final glance before he finally opened the door, keeping you near to him.

His words rattled your brain, and although you yearned to be alone- to be cold, isolated, distant from connection- you stayed with him, your eyes never straying from the number displayed on his back, oddly comforted in proximity to him. Conflicted feelings arose in you, unsure how to return the group’s kindness- or how to accept it, rather. You’d been alone the majority of your life, so affection was limited, gambling and making enemies being your way of survival.

“Once we all get back, somebody should go around and do a head count,” Your ears caught the low tone of Gi-hun, whose eyes darted across the scape, cautious and noting all surroundings. His senses keener since the last time he’d been here, wary of anything and everything- and who could blame him? This was your third day, and already, you felt your sanity crumbling.

“Why?”

“If we figure out what the X and O split is, then we’ll know which of the two sides is gonna have a better shot at the next vote,” He clarified.

“Guess we have to hope more O’s died than we did,” Young-Il remarked, a condescending air to the statement that proved clear as day to you- almost as if subtly pointing out the contradiction Gi-hun faced.

Eyes traced his back, pondering the midst of his mind, the storm concocted inside- what conceived such an arrogance toward the second time player? The pair seemed strangely familiar to one another, though that was impossible, as Young-Il was just another player led astray and down on his luck, but the strive to one up- could you call it that?- Gi-hun struck you as personal. Regardless, it didn’t involve you, and you’d prefer if it remained that way. After all, Young-Il had come to your rescue, one of the few to notice and tend to you- even besides that, you were a new addition to the group, perhaps there was context you lacked.

“You seem thoughtful,” The aforementioned individual commented, nudging you gently to grab your attention.

Chin tilted up to peer at him, you responded, “It’s nothing.”

He didn’t pry any further on the matter, a trait about him you appreciated. “What was your life like before?” His question surprised you, but you were aware he probably perceived it as a simple maneuver of topic- your life having just been chaotic. “Before all of this.” His eyes glimmered with intrigue, dark but there was a lightness.

And for some reason, you answered, treating him like a sinner to a confessional, excusing the frail admission, because you were likely to never see his face again, at least someone would know you- maybe even remember you if he survived, “I gambled. A lot.”

“Is that why you’re here? Debt from gambling?”

“No… I just love gambling in any capacity,” Gaze flitted to the steps, each of them a new color- the gnawing anxiety of being judged gargantuan. Which wouldn’t be completely wrong, most of your bad decisions stemmed from it.

Young-Il nodded, his features lightly submerged in realization. “That explains the last few games,” He noted, drawing your eyes back to him. “So even your life you’re willing to gamble?”

“Yes, but they’re usually… estimated gambles. Here, at least,” You expounded, unusually talkative- you felt like you were rambling a bit. “I don’t want anyone to die because of me. But… that probably sounds like I’m lying.. You think I’ll get you killed?”

His laugh was low, eyes drifting to the floor briefly as a smile crept onto his face. “No,” He rejected, amused by the question you’d posed. “We’ll be killed anyway if we lose the games. I think I’ll take my chances.”

“I guess you’re right..”

Herded back to the room you were originally contained inside, you couldn’t train your eyes any longer to Young-Il, allowing them to wander across the room, scanning for the broken partnership that dangled you above the crushing jaws of death. He was settled among the rest of your team, gaze drooped, appearing very thoughtful and dazed.

A hand hovered along your spine, ushering you toward an area in the back- Young-Il guiding you to the spot his group claimed, feeling so meek, like a rabbit in the paws of a wolf. Uncharacteristic and strange, you reveled in the sensation, your stomach churning with a fond emotion unknown to you.

“Don’t worry about him right now,” He instructed softly, showcasing an assuring smile that bloomed spring in your stomach, butterflies the evidence of such. You’d never experienced euphoria so vivid before- is this how blossoming friendship felt? Was this the sickening sweet symptom derived from affection? You found it more addictive than adrenaline, a new sickness to fester within you.

“Okay.. I won’t,” You relented, heart hammering in your chest, fingers giving a little twitch, a part of you worried he would hear the rhythmic beating.

—

sorry this chapters a little shorter than the rest, but i wanted to get a chapter out for you guys since its been a while!! thank you so much for the support:)) hope you enjoy!!!

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Kafni | Faith Over Blood | Platonic

Following the Messiah brings forth division when you lose more than just your sister.

Requested by Lizzy

“Are you ready to go?” 

Your hollow eyes find John’s as the innocent question reaches your ears. Still, it makes you want to snap at him. Your expression is crestfallen as you regard him with nothing but silence and an empty glance. Of course you aren’t ready to go; you doubt that you ever would be. He sighs at the look on your face and reaches out his hand.

“Come,” he says instead, not awaiting another answer, and you take it to allow him to help you up. He leads you to the cart where Ramah lies in off-white linen and a dark blanket, her fragile body wrapped up and making her appear tinier than you had ever seen her as. 

Your heart rests like a heavy stone inside your stomach, shattered into a million pieces when you find the man who would have been brother-in-law if things hadn’t gone the way they did. John squeezes your shoulder as he releases you, leaving the two of you be with your grief. 

“I can’t believe this,” Thomas whimpers as his forehead rests against her covered one, “How could this happen? I looked away for one second. One second!” 

“Don’t blame yourself for this, Thomas,” you whisper, realising a second too late that his bitterness was directed elsewhere. You knew that the former vintner is enraged with Jesus, blaming Him for not healing her as she bled to death on the dirty ground in Capernaum, dark red saturating her gown as her face paled, and honestly, you cannot hold that against him. 

Ramah had been everything to you, too. Growing up together, you had always looked up to her, admiring her diligence and sweet nature, hoping to be like her one day. You had seen the way she and Thomas looked at one another back when they didn’t realise that they were in love yet. Your heart is just as broken as the one of the man in front of you, even though you have a different way of showing it.

Unlike him, you do not blame Jesus for what happened nor that He didn’t revive her from this state. When Jesus says it is not the time, you want to trust Him. Even though it is difficult to do so, you are well aware that Him saying no does not take away from His divinity. Ramah loved Jesus, so you refused to do otherwise. After all, you weren’t the one ripped away from life itself way too soon. She whispered her wish for you to follow Him in her dying breath, and so, you would honour that.

The hand you rest on Thomas’ shoulder blades is met with tense muscles. “We need to go,” you croak, your eyes burning with unshed tears. The vintner sniffles and releases your older sister, turning to you with dejected eyes. 

“What will you tell your father?” 

“The truth,” you whisper in honesty.

“You know how he will take it.” 

You nod meekly in reply. “But it is the way of things. Being dishonest about it will not soften the loss.” 

“But it might harden his heart.” 

You bite your lip, letting your gaze go to Jesus as He stands with a few other Disciples, discussing the journey towards Tel Dor to deliver the remains of your sister for burial. “I know,” you say softly, “But I will let Him figure it out.” 

“I don’t know how I feel about Jesus figuring anything out for us right now.” Thomas bitterly confesses through gritted teeth. The words make your chest burn.

“I know you are grieving. I am, too.” 

“I don’t understand why you aren’t angry.” 

Your brow furrows. “I am angry, Thomas. I am enraged at how unfair and broken and full of sin this world is! But it is why we need Him!” Towards the end of your sentence, your voice has increased in volume, and by the time you point at Jesus to put power behind your words, tears roll down your cheeks unannounced. 

Thomas’ throat moves visibly as he swallows. “You know what He can do! You know that Jesus is the Son of God! Could we not have expected of Him to heal Ramah? Did she deserve this, with a faith like hers?!” 

“Jesus owes us nothing!” you sob, “We cannot decide for God to whom He does and does not heal! It is not how things are! If anything, we all deserve death! His ways are not our ways—” 

“I do not need you to rationalise it for me, (Y/n)!” Thomas hisses. 

The two of you stare at one another for a long moment before you avert your gaze. “I know. I’m sorry. We deal with this in our own way. If you need me, you know where to find me, but I’m not looking to argue in a futile attempt to find a reason that both of us will understand. Because neither of us will.” 

Thomas’ gaze softens in apology. “I didn’t mean to yell, either. I suppose we’re both exhausted.” 

You close your eyes and sigh. “Right,” you say, “We should go, yeah? My father is already on his way.” The former vintner nods, and the group sets out on their trip towards your hometown to meet Kafni somewhere in the middle. 

You choose to travel without someone next to you, needing the space to sort out your thoughts. Mary and Tamar seem to understand the sentiment, allowing you the distance.

As you wordlessly walk in front of the humbly decorated bier, your mind drifts to your father. You feel your chest tighten in agony as you picture the anger and grief on his face. Ramah had told you that Kafni was not a believer in Jesus yet, and you have always remained hopeful alongside her. Every night before bed, your older sister and you would pray together that your father may come to Christ. This event, however, makes you way less confident that it would happen one day.

Your gaze is fixed on the back of Jesus’ head. He leads the group, walking with Big James and Simon Zee, eyes upon the horizon. The sun stings your skin. You had imagined your ministry otherwise.

How much hatred would your father spew upon seeing the Messiah Who he would ultimately blame for Ramah’s passing? You pitied his shallow view, had known of his skepticism, and even though it had been your older sister’s greatest wish that Kafni would believe in Him, you are well aware that your father will forever use it as the reason to not believe. 

It’s human nature after all, as it is to try and find a scapegoat to explain a lack of righteousness in this world. It’s an instinctual thing, you remind yourself. The last thing your father needs right now is for you to calmly explain why this happened, even if you would have known the answer.

Dust blooms in the distance, a cluster of people headed your way at a rapid pace. The bier creaks behind you as John and Thomas dutifully push Ramah towards the arms of her loving father. For a moment, Jesus looks over His shoulder to look at you, giving you a small nod, which you mirror. Nervously, you hug your bag a bit tighter to your body.

Kafni can barely keep up with how fast he wants to go. He has called a handful of men from the village to come with him to fetch Ramah, and they leg towards you with purpose. The group halts, Zee releasing the rope he had been using the pull the bier forward. Behind you, you can sense your brother-in-law tensing. 

“Thomas,” Simon the former Zealot mutters, “I’ll talk to them.” For a moment, his gaze goes to you in question, but you shake your head. 

“You stay back, we will take care of it,” suggests Peter.

“No,” Thomas says, “This is ours to do.” You give him a small nod. “I can’t let you shield us from this.” 

“We’ll just ask them what they want and report back, okay?” 

Jesus joins the conversation. “It’s alright, Zee. Thomas, (Y/n), I’ll go with you. We will face them together.” 

The three of you head for your seething father, Jesus holding a hand on both your and Thomas’ shoulders, and you feel your feet heavily thump in the sand with every step as your gaze finds Kafni’s face, almost feeling too overwhelmed to look at him. 

“Where is she?” is the first thing that your father mutters, his bad leg barely allowing him to walk in a straight line as he leans onto his walking stick. “Where is my daughter?!” 

He comes to a halt and looks between you, where the bier with Ramah’s wrapped body stands. 

After a beat of silence, Kafni pushes his way between Jesus and Thomas, completely ignoring your presence alongside them. “Abba!” you try, but the plea is in vain as he hurries to his oldest. Out of breath, he cradles her face and removes the covering from her head, staggering back at the pale greyness of her lips. Ramah looks oddly peaceful. The defeat slips into his shoulders as Kafni leans back over her, starting to break down as he holds her and cries bitter tears. 

 Quietly, the men from the village approach just as he pulls the covering back over her face. You don’t dare to turn to him, feeling his gaze prickle on both Jesus and yourself. The men take the poles of the bier to start pushing it towards Tel Dor. There are no words exchanged, nor is there resistance as Ramah is taken away.

Your father watches the cart go past and takes a breath. “(Y/n). Come.” He doesn’t even look at you.

Your eyes widen. “What?” 

“You will come home with me to Tel Dor.” 

Feeling your throat run dry, you straighten your back. “No.” 

He sharply turns, now finally regarding your presence for the first time ever since walking up to the group. “What do you mean, ‘no’? It isn’t a suggestion.” Kafni steps forward and takes your wrist with more force than he intended. You flinch a little, an almost apologetic look flashing through his gaze before it hardens again. “I am not going to lose you, too.” Behind his words, more heartbreak lingers. 

“Abba,” you whisper, “This is not your choice.” 

“You are all that I have left now.” Kafni pleads, “Please, if you ended up the same, it would be my undoing.” 

You give a small shake of your head. “No, abba, I will not come with you. Ramah would not have wanted me to stop following Jesus.” 

“Ramah is dead!” your father spits, “Because of your Preacher!” 

“It is not His fault—” 

“—If He is such a wonderful Miracle Worker, I have yet to see it! You and your sister may have fallen for this— This blasphemous farce, but I will not let you follow this nonsense any longer!” 

Biting your lip, you fight the tears blurring your vision. They fall regardless, rolling down your cheeks. “We prayed for you every single night,” you tell him, “That you would join us one day—” 

“—And look where that brought your sister!” he hisses bitterly. “You will come with me, home, and we will—” 

“No,” you once again refuse, “Ramah is dead because of a Roman soldier, not because of Jesus.” 

“If the two of you hadn’t gotten the idea to follow some rogue, wayward Preacher—” 

“—Ramah’s last words were a plea to stay with Him.” 

Kafni’s eyebrows knit together. “I can verify that,” Thomas whispers. 

“Of course you can,” your father scoffs. Brief silence as he looks you up and down, pondering over his next words. 

“You will either come with me,” he says, “Or I will go home alone and mourn your passing, too.” 

Your heart rears as the weight of his words settles in. 

You’d be dead to him.

Instead of verbally responding, however, you maintain eye-contact for a few long beats of silence, until the message is loud and clear; you will stay right where you are. Your father gives you a disappointed look as he lets out a noise of disapproval and turns on his heel to follow the men to get your older sister back to Tel Dor.

Thomas attempts to follow Kafni, but is forced to a halt when your father sharply turns. “Thomas, stop! You will proceed no further.” His gaze goes to Jesus. “You are forbidden to enter this town.” 

“Kafni,” Jesus reassures him, “We are in mourning with you. We grieve, but we are not dangerous.” 

“Then why,” your father bites, “Is my daughter dead?” 

Thomas lets out a sob. 

“Dead?!” your father repeats.

“I’m so sorry— I’m so sorry.” 

“You’ve already killed me, Thomas.” Kafni taunts, “And you, (Y/n). Then you went and killed her.” 

Kafni’s gaze goes between you and your brother-in-law. “You did this.” 

“I blame myself.” Thomas whispers, “I’m sorry, I failed in my promise.” 

“Thomas loved Ramah dearly, Kafni.” Jesus adds. “And she loved him.” 

You nod. “And Ramah loved Jesus until her dying breath.” 

The man from Tel Dor won’t hear it, directing his anger towards Jesus. “What are Your words worth?! You are a fraud and a devil! Deceptive sorcerer…!” He pauses, then turns to look at you from the corner of his eye. “The biggest disappointment in my life is that I didn’t teach my daughters better… Both of them. They had brilliant minds until You cast a spell on her.”

“As (Y/n) just mentioned,” Thomas says with sudden confidence, “Ramah was murdered by a Roman, Kafni. And you don’t speak for her. She loved Jesus, just as your other daughter said. She felt her calling was an honour. And she wanted everyone to know that, including you! Maybe you should have listened better to both your children!” 

In an attempt to calm him down, Peter puts his hands on Thomas’ shoulders to lead him away from Kafni. Crying softly, the former vintner allows himself to be pulled back. The group turns to head back to Capernaum, but Jesus, Big James and Zee remain with you for a few more moments. 

“Let’s go,” Jesus announces, turning away to give you a moment with your father. Perhaps for the last time, you think to yourself as tears streak down your face. Instead of a heartfelt goodbye, however, your father spews his disdain as well as dark promise.

“I curse You,” Kafni utters, causing the three men to momentarily turn. “And Your followers.” 

Big James gently leads Jesus away. “We grieve with you,” he calmly responds, the only reasonable reaction to such hate.

Your father’s shoulder hits yours rather painfully as he storms past you, legging after Jesus. “I will spread the word far and wide, as long as blood runs in my veins, I will move mountains to expose You, Jesus of Nazareth!” 

There is immense mourning in Jesus’ eyes as He momentarily looks over His shoulder, snapping you out of your dazed state, and you quickly follow them as your father rants and raves on.

“I will make sure the world knows You are a liar and a murderer!”

“You have made your feelings clear,” Simon Zee speaks up, “We will leave you in peace.” 

“You will see me again,” Kafni threatens, “And when you do, it will be the last thing you see!” 

Zee halts and paces back towards your father, pointing a finger at the man. “I said no more.” His eyes find you. “Come on, (Y/n).” You say nothing whilst you join him. Feeling Kafni stare at the back of your head, you walk towards Jesus and the rest of the group, whom have started to withdraw back to where you came from. 

“(Y/n)!” he exclaims, “Turn back to me now or suffer the eternal consequences!” 

You want to tell him off, to say that he will be the one suffering for eternity instead if he chooses to reject the Messiah like this, but you know that it would not help. Instead, you cannot fight the sob that leaves your lungs, and beside you, Jesus puts a hand on your shoulder, Thomas walking on your other side. 

“Let it all out,” Jesus allows you to cry, “It is not easy losing family, let alone two people in such a short span of time so quickly.” 

“Ramah knew the cost,” you sniffle, “And so do I.” 

Jesus gently squeezes your shoulder. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier. Give yourself time, now. You have a different Father to turn to. Allow yourself to mourn.” 

For a moment, you glance over your shoulder again, seeing your abba’s dejected form stand in the middle of the road, the bier carrying Ramah a dot at the horizon. 

A heavenly Father, yes. One Who is not tied to Earthly boundaries and death itself. You cast your gaze upwards, praying silently for comfort, as you proclaim your faith with every step away from Tel Dor.

[harleys1nhawaii]

LACRYMOSA

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x gn!reader

warnings: angst, major character death, implied sexual intercourse

a/n: not proof read. pure angst and sadness. this song always created an atmosphere in my mind like this. i’m happy i got to write about it cuz i’m terrible at writing down my thoughts. i’m proud if y’all feel terrible<3

“grief is the price we pay for love.” said queen elizabeth. perhaps because of it’s uniqueness, you had never truly understood how it felt before. you couldn’t have guessed how much it would hurt, or how the world around you would fade away and leave you alone by yourself in the burden.

the sun is shining too bright. the birds aren’t chirping like they used to. even the stars are refusing to shine. grieving over the things you can’t repair. out on your own, cold and alone again. can this be what you really wanted, baby?

you couldn’t get your last night with him out of your head. shedding silent tears with your head on his chest, sinking into his embrace. you knew this was the unavoidable truth and couldn’t have prevented it. assuring yourself that this time wasn’t that time wasn’t something you could do forever. you couldn’t escape the truths of his wicked life, you couldn’t hold him back.

“will you come back?”

there you were, such a helpless fool. asking questions that you knew the answers of, hoping for a miracle to happen. praying to your gods as you curse at them at the same time. maybe if they weren’t so cruel, maybe if they were kind enough to bless him with a beautifully written fate, you wouldn’t have been begging your boyfriend to stay. to live.

he was silent as the blood made it’s way all the way through his cheek to the soft cotton case of the pillow. the bright moonlight shined into his cerulean eyes as he cracked a wicked smile to himself. this fresh wound that has opened deep inside of his heart had to be aching, but instead it was filled right up to the brim with a burning excitement.

he wasn’t going to lie, nor sugarcoat his words.

you dug yourself into him harder, pressing your face against the fabric of his tshirt, wet with your own tears.

you weren’t stupid. you knew what that meant. he wasn’t coming back. he’s no longer eating dinner you would make for two . he’s no longer watching stupid horror movies with you and then making out on the same couch for half the movie. when you go to bed at night, he won’t be there to hug you and fall asleep. after tonight, he wasn’t going to bed again.

after all those years of living a lowlife and waiting for the right time, he couldn’t go back and lose all the progress. he wasn’t going to die before he could kill his father. and since not dying has became a goal for the night of his day, he couldn’t turn down his this one only chance. “i can’t change who i am now, not this time. i won’t lie to keep you waiting for me. and in this short life,” he paused, exhaling a deep breath. “there’s no time to waste on giving up.”

“and you can blame it on me. set your guilt free, honey.” you squeeze your jaw to not let out a sob, gulping with the taste of his ashes.

“i don’t want to hold you back now, love. goodbye.”

that night you didn’t sleep. you wrapped your arms around him and tasted him on your tongue. his scent, his curves, his burns, his fresh pale skin. you memorized every little detail to keep him forever alive in your mind. you didn’t resist when he shifted from under you at pre sunrise. you didn’t move, you didn’t open your eyes. you knew you wouldn’t let him go if you saw how he pulled his clothes on and grabbed his coat from your hanger.

you shivered when you felt his mismatched lips press on your forehead, burning your skin.

“live a beautiful life, baby.” you heard him whisper into your neck. you kept your eyes closed, forcing your tears to hold in. you heard the front door open. you prayed to your gods to send down a miracle to make him change his mind and go prepare some breakfast instead. they didn’t.

you heard the door slam back when tears made their way rolling down on down your cheeks.

your love wasn’t enough.

[flyxbyxnight]

You Didn't Kill Your Pain; It Just Switched Hosts...

(Trigger Warning: This is something I wrote to help me process the death of my close friend who committed suicide on November 11th 2023. If that could be triggering for you, dear reader, or If you know that it will trigger you, please do not proceed. You Matter, You are loved, and If you are caught in the middle of a mental health crisis please call or text 988 for the suicide and crisis lifeline. Dying will not kill your pain, it will only spread to those who love you most. Please Stay.)

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

One

🍂

The grief is heavy;

It hangs in the air so thick that you can cut it with a knife. 

Everyone is here, I wish you could see. Everyone who loves you has all gathered at your mothers house. Every friend you ever had– Even your military brothers have flown in from wherever they’re from. I’m not sure where, I’m sorry I’m not feeling social enough to ask. 

Everyone seems to be in various stages of mourning; Some angry, some sad, some completely numb… I guess I fall into that category at the moment. 

I’m sitting on the front porch steps, practically eating cigarettes one after the other as the low rumble of the chatter from inside disturbs the stillness of the night. It’s cold here on the holler, and I bring the collar of my jacket up to my ears to save them from the biting breeze. 

You picked a bad time to leave us, Vernon. It’s so close to the holidays. Thanksgiving is next week and your sister, Miranda, is already talking about how you won’t be around to tear into her special deviled eggs. You won’t get to meet the baby girl she’s carrying inside her. 

There’s so much you’re going to miss. Why couldn’t you have just hung on for one more hour…another minute, even. 

“Hey…” Virginia’s gentle voice cuts through the low roar of conversation coming from the open front door. She comes and sits by me, and I put the cigarette out on the bottom of my boot. I know the smoke bothers her. 

“How are you holding up?” I ask. Your sister-in-law has been my unsung hero through all of this– From being there to answer the call when I tried to get you help, to being the one to notify me of what you did the next morning. 

“I’m holding up, I guess… About as well as everyone else, I suppose. How are you?”

“I don’t really know. I guess I’m still in shock,” I reply with a heavy sigh. I don’t know how else to answer but with honesty. I know I’m hurting, I’m confused, I’m mad; I’m all kinds of things at once. When Virginia called me that morning and told me you were gone, I just collapsed. It hit me like a truck heading full speed into a brick wall. I screamed, I cried, I wailed into the void begging you to come back. I made sounds that frightened me as I looked back on it. I’d never experienced a loss quite like yours. I’d never felt pain quite like you’ve inflicted. 

You… You really are a bastard for doing this to me…

I know…I’m aware that I’m not the only one who lost you. I’m aware enough to know that I’m not the only one suffering, but… My own pain seems to be the only thing I’m focused on. I guess I’m selfish like that. Yes, you did this to your family, your other friends, your beautiful three year old daughter, Harper; but you did this to me. 

So much for being numb;  I went from numb to bitter in a matter of seconds. 

Grief is weird like that, I guess…

“I’ve gone over it so many times in my mind… I should’ve called you first. I should’ve–”

“No,” she interrupted, placing her warm hand gently on my shoulder. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.” she said, pulling me close so that her arm could reach around my shoulders. I shake my head, and the tears begin to spill out. I do. I do blame myself because you called me when you needed me most and I couldn’t help you. When you held that gun up to your head– I… damnit…

Here comes that horrible noise I make. A new noise I just discovered with your passing. A noise that registers somewhere between an extended bleat of a goat and the braying of a mule. I hate this noise. I hate the way it pulls from deep within my chest, the way the contents of my broken heart spill into it after every shaken breath. I feel helpless, like a small child crying out in distress signaling to a nearby parent— I’m hurt, I’m hurting! Someone please make it stop, because I’m hurting! 

She holds me for a moment, letting her own pain saturated tears drip down onto my hair. 

I love you, Vernon! I love you so much, you said that you loved me too that night; You said I was your sister. 

I don’t want this. I don’t want to hurt this way, I was never meant to lose you like this. 

My mind flashes with visions of your face, none of them with a smile, or any happy memory we shared together- no. It’s all from that night. The emptiness in your eyes, the strain in your voice, the way your tears burned scars on my heart.

 And that gun, always the goddamned gun. 

You didn’t want any services, no wake, no funeral– nothing. Just straight to cremation. 

Not only did you leave me like this, but you took my ability to say goodbye away. 

There’s a process to this. You know there's a process; Those who love you gather together, we say goodbye, we bury you. That’s how it has always been, but you wouldn’t even give me that. 

I would rather have my last memory of you lying peacefully in a beautiful satin lined casket, surrounded by photo’s and flowers, but you wouldn’t give me that.

I’m so mad, Vernon. I’m hurt and I’m mad, but I don’t want to be mad at you. 

I hate being mad at you, because I love you.

I love you… and you can’t even tell me you’re sorry. 

Are you sorry?

Two

🍂

Last Saturday

If I knew this would be the last time I ever spoke with you, I would’ve done better to express how much you mean to me. 

I knew you were drunk when you called. I knew before I even picked up the phone. It was late; around 3am. You weren’t forming coherent sentences, but through the slurred mess I was able to make out what you were trying to express to me. You kept saying “ I want to see you, let's facetime.” So we did, because I wanted to see you too. I wanted to see you; but not like that.  It’s still such a blur. Bits and pieces come to me over time but it was just… so awful. You told me that I didn’t understand, but when you pulled the gun from your desk drawer and put it to your head, I understood. I understood fully. 

Clip in, Clip out, Clip in, Clip out.

Your finger trembles against the trigger. 

I cry out, “Please Don’t! Don’t Do This To Me!” 

I begged you, “Please, Don’t Go!” 

Don’t go…and don’t force me to watch.

 I messaged everybody– Anybody I could think of; Doing everything I could to get you some sort of help. But I didn’t do it right. I must not have done it right. I couldn’t have, or you’d still be here. 

You told me you loved me; but how could you do this to someone you love? 

You kept hanging up, and I kept calling back. But, when you didn’t respond to my calls anymore, I panicked and began to call for help. Nobody answered; No one, except Virginia. She alerted your older brother, Ronnie, and he was able to get you on the phone. You were crying. I was crying. Virginia was calming me down as Ronnie tried to talk you into putting the gun away.

1…2…3…4…5…6…7…

Silence.

You muted the phone before you pulled the trigger.

What you don’t realize is that the same bullet that killed you, 

Killed a part of me too. 

Three

🍂

Present Day

Where are you?

 I seem to be asking this question a lot these days. It feels like I’m closest to you when I’m sad. It's like the connection between us is stronger when I pick at my wounds. 

Am I picking though? Is it picking or is it processing? I can’t tell. 

All I know is that I’m not ready to let you go yet. Even though it seems that everyone around me is done talking about it. It seemed to come and go so fast for them. Kind of like, “Oh he died? Oh, I hate that.” then it's over for them. I’m not finished. I may never be finished, but it feels like my circle of those I can share this with is getting smaller. It is getting smaller. I can’t speak as freely as I want to because it bothers people. I don’t want to bother anyone, it’s not in my nature. But with this, I want to tear my chest open in a crowded place and scream, “Look What He Did To Me!... LOOK AT WHAT HE DID!” for I know that if my heart were to be exposed, if it were out in the open for all to see, It would be covered in gashes, open and bleeding, rotting down to the meat and muscle that it’s made from. I wanted to fix it. I should’ve been able to fix it. Everyone always comes to me for everything. And thus far I’d been able to say the right things; to give some sort of relief. 

But I couldn’t fix you. 

I couldn’t, and I’m sorry. 

I love you.

I’m lost. 

I’m completely consumed by the emptiness you left behind. I can’t see anything else. 

I can’t hear anyone else. I’m sensitive, and raw. 

I just want you back.

[ilovebubblegum]

Reunited (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of car accident, mentions of loss of a child, grief, separation (let me know if i missed any)

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Words count: 2.4k

A/N: I feel so bad and so stupid for not putting warnings for the previous chapter. Please forgive me😭 I don't want to leave you hanging with sadness so I'm posting this now to end the depressing chapters asap. I don't know if you will like this one or not but I tried my best! Still feeling guilty about the previous chapter. I'll try my best to post fluffs for the next chapters! This is part 16 of Where It All Starts.

And also thank you for all the opinions you sent me! ❤️

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Epilogue

“Baby, you need to eat.” Joel sat beside you on the bed with a tray of your favorite food.

“I’m not hungry.” Your eyes were red and you couldn’t shed tears anymore. 

You cried for days. You mourned for days. Joel mourned too but he didn’t want you to see him look weak. He wanted to look strong so you could be strong.

“It’s my fault. Not yours. Blame me. Don’t blame yourself.” Joel wanted to take the blame. 

He needed you to blame him so he could feel better. So you could feel better. He didn’t want you to feel guilty about what happened.

“I know you probably won’t forgive me. I totally understand. But you should know that I’m more than sorry. I’m so sorry. Tell me what I can do to make you feel better.” Joel was on his knees apologizing to you.

You just stayed quiet.

“I’m dying too, baby. It should have been me. Not him.” Joel sobbed on his knees.

You started crying seeing him vulnerable in front of you.

“Leave me alone, Joel. Please.” You asked him to go away.

“Baby..” Joel begged.

“Please.” You cried.

Joel didn’t want to argue so he decided to go out of the room and give you some space alone. You stood up right away and went to pack your suitcase. You put in some of your clothes and important stuff. You couldn’t stay in your house with Joel anymore. You needed some time alone to heal and he probably needed one too. You couldn’t comfort him and he couldn’t comfort you. So you decided to move out and stayed at your parents’ for a while to breathe and heal. But of course, you didn’t talk this through with Joel. You just suddenly went out of the bedroom ready to go out with a suitcase in your hand.

“Where are you going?” Joel rose from the couch. He had been sleeping on the couch since the accident happened.

“Don’t follow me.” You walked to the door, not even looking at him.

“Please, at least tell me where you’re going. I can’t leave you alone outside this late at night.” Joel begged.

“I need some time alone.” You didn’t tell him where you were going.

“Okay, take all the time you need. But please, tell me where are you going?” He repeated the question again. 

“You don’t need to know.” You insisted.

“Baby, please. If you don’t want to be with me, then I’ll leave. You stay here.” He offered for him to go rather than leaving you alone wandering at night.

“No. I don’t want to be here. Just please let me go, Joel!” You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You sobbed as you forced open the door and ran to your car. You rushed inside your car and drove right away. Joel ran to follow you and shouted your name. You cried as you drove away. 

Days went by, weeks went by, and months went by. You had been staying with your parents and your family had been very supportive. You were grateful to have them in your life. They took care of you and you were finally able to breathe and got mentally stable. You had never seen Joel or Sarah all those months. You didn’t even call Joel. The last time you knew Sarah was in Tommy’s house and Flo was taking care of her. Flo kept you updated on how she was doing and you sometimes talked with Sarah on the phone. That was enough for you. You didn’t want Sarah to see her mother looking awful so you tried sounding like you were okay on the phone. You told her that you and Joel were on a business trip and the two of you will not be back anytime soon. So you told her to be patient. You always cried each time after you called Sarah. She always asked about you and Joel and how she missed you. Most of the time Sarah cried on the phone and your heart broke. Tommy sometimes slipped in some news about Joel. He sounded bad. But you knew you and Joel needed space.

Every night when you closed your eyes, it all happened again. Joel yelling at you, you were crying, the car moving so fast, the sudden stop of the car, and then bam. 

You loved Joel. You couldn’t live without him. And he loved you too. He couldn’t live without you too. Both of you were soulmates. You wanted to forgive him so you were trying your best to find reasons to forgive him. You listed all of his kindness and everything you wrote was his good deeds. The only thing that hurt you was that accident. Why should you hate someone for only one wrong thing when he did more good to you? 

“Honey?” Your mom knocked on your door.

“Come in.” You closed your notebook.

“Tommy’s here.” Your mom slowly walked inside your bedroom.

“Tommy?” You tilted your head.

“Yes, he brought Sarah.” Your mom awkwardly added more information to you.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

You weren’t ready to meet Sarah yet. Tommy was crossing the line. 

“I can’t see her. I’m not ready.” You shook your head. 

“She’s playing with your dad. But I think Tommy has something important to tell you.” Your mom put her hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear anything, mom.” You insisted.

“Honey, please. Just hear him out.” Your mom suddenly called Tommy inside.

“Tommy, come inside.” 

“Hey..” Tommy put his hand in his pockets as he walked slowly inside your bedroom.

“Sit here.” Your mom patted the empty space on your bed.

“How are you doing?” Tomy started a conversation.

“I’ve been better.” You replied coldly.

“Okay, I’m just gonna go straight to the point now.” Tommy sighed.

“We’ve checked the CCTV.” 

“What about it?” You raised your head as you heard Tommy say that.

“It’s the other guy’s fault. He hit your car. Joel drove on green light. Not red.” Tommy explained.

You cried as you heard that. You remembered it but you lied to yourself because you needed someone to blame. Now, you felt guilty for blaming Joel when you knew it wasn’t his fault.

“You need to see Joel, (y/n). He’s not doing well without you. He’s been caging himself inside the house. Sarah’s been crying asking for her mom and dad, that's why I brought her here. I hope you’re not mad at me.” He put his hand behind his neck.

You couldn’t speak. You cried. Hyperventilating. Your mom moved closer and rubbed your back. Her tears fell down her cheeks seeing her daughter like this. Tommy left the bedroom to give you and your mom some space. 

“I remember it, mom. I know it wasn’t his fault. I was just looking for someone to blame.” You sobbed at your mom’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, honey.” Your mom patted your back.

“How can I see him, mom?” 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Both of you were hurting and I’m sure you will forgive each other.” Your mom comforted you.

After you cried your heart out, you and your mom went to the living room to see Sarah. 

“Mommy!” Sarah ran to hug your legs.

“Hi, sweetie. I missed you.” You crouched and hugged her.

“I missed you so so much! Where’s daddy?” She asked with innocence.

“He’s busy. You’ll meet him soon.” You stroked her head and smiled.

“Can I sleep with grandpa tonight, please, please, please?” Sarah begged.

Her grandpa spoiled her too much because he loved having girls. 

“Of course.” You chuckled.

“Yay!” She ran to her grandpa’s arms. 

“Okay, I think I’ll leave now.” Tommy waved his hand and walked his way out.

“Tommy, wait!” You followed him.

“Yeah?” He turned his head to you.

“Can you drop me to Joel’s?” You asked him to drive you.

“You sure?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes.” You nodded.

Tommy drove you back to your house. He offered to wait for you until Joel opened the door but you insisted for him to leave. So he left.

*knock on the door*

You knocked a few times and Joel hadn’t come out yet. You knocked again and again. Joel groaned as he got up from the couch. He had been drinking alcohol since you left him and slept on the couch. He didn’t want to sleep on the bed because it would remind him of you. After a few more knocks, he finally opened the door.

"Hey.." You tried to smile at him.

Joel looked awful. His hair was messy, beard was also messy. He had always had messy hair and beard but this time was messier. He got dark circles and he seemed like he had lost a lot of weight just like you. 

"How-Everything all right?" The first thing that was on his mind was your condition. 

"I-I'm okay. You okay?" You knew you weren't fully okay and he was absolutely not okay but you needed to ask. 

"I-uh-" He couldn't say anything.

"Can I come in?" You asked.

"Of course." He opened the door wider for you to come in.

Joel rushed to hide every trash on the tables and floors. He didn't expect you to come so he didn't have the time to tidy. It was like he was expecting a guest when you were actually his wife. In fact you lived there for a few years just until a few months ago. 

"Have you been drinking?" You scrunched your nose at the alcohol smell around the house.

Joel cleared his throat. He was embarrassed that you saw him in this condition.  

"You lost a lot of weight." You looked at him up and down.

“Did you even eat?” You asked him.

Then you walked to the fridge and checked inside. Nothing. Just alcohol. 

"Joel.." Tears welled up in your eyes.

"I'm sorry." The two of you said it at the same time. 

"No, baby. I'm sorry." Joel said.

"No, Joel. I'm sorry." You cried as you closed the fridge.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You breathed out.

“No, it’s my fault.” Joel kept blaming himself.

“No, Tommy told me. He saw the CCTV. You drove on green light. Not red. And I-” You couldn’t finish your sentence.

Joel looked at you and tears fell down his cheeks. He was relieved to hear the news. He remembered he pressed the gas pedal on green light but he thought he was hallucinating. 

“I’m sorry I blamed you. I was just-I needed someone to blame.” You sobbed. 

“It’s okay. I needed someone to blame too.” Joel walked closer to you to hug you.

“I will never forget this pain, Joel. It will always be here. But I know we have to move on. But I can’t do it without you.” You put your hand on your hurting chest.

“I know. Me too. Our baby will always be in our hearts. And I can’t do it without you either.” He nodded as tears fell down his cheeks.

You buried your face right away to his chest and he hugged you so tight. He placed his hand on your back and another on the back of your head caressing your hair. His chin resting on top of your head while your arms hugged him tight, pressing your body to his. You and Joel missed each other so much. The two of you had been away from each other for too long. 

“I missed you, Joel.” You mumbled in his chest.

“I missed you, too. I can't live without you, baby.” Joel kissed your head.

“I love you.” You pulled your head away from his chest to look him in the eyes.

“I love you more.” His tears fell down then he kissed you.

“I’m sorry I left.” You rested your forehead to his as you apologized.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is now you’re here.” He gave you another peck then hugged you again.

“I’m never letting you go from now on.” He hugged you tight.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” You swayed him a little bit. 

*stomach growling*

“Not me.” You chuckled.

You raised your head to look at him, hands still around his waist.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?” You chuckled as you looked at his embarrassed face.

“Yeah.” Joel chuckled.

It was late at night and most of the stores were closed so you and Joel drove to the nearest McDonalds and ordered a drive-thru. You and Joel bought burgers, fries, chicken nuggets and of course ice cream. Joel looked like he had starved for years so you made sure he ate a lot. Then you asked Joel to drive you to the hill, his favorite place in the city. 

“It feels good to be back here.” You took off your seatbelt and passed him his burger.

“Good memories are made here.” Joel took a bite.

“Hmm.” He sighed and closed his eyes as he chewed on the burger.

“It tastes so good.” Joel chuckled and bit another big one.

“Slow down, mister. I know you have been starving yourself for months but you need to slow down or you’ll choke.” You chuckled.

“Just realized I’m starving now.” He chuckled. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” He extended his right hand to cup your cheeks.

“Me too.” You smiled and caressed his hand.

“Eww Joel! Your hand is greasy!” You grabbed a tissue and wiped your cheek.

Joel’s hand was greasy from the burgers and fries and he just held your cheeks with it. Joel chuckled. 

“Oh! Payback time!” You took some french fries and wiped them on his face. 

“That’s fair.” Joel scrunched his nose and closed his eyes while he giggled. 

You giggled then you took a tissue to clean his face and beard. 

“I love you.” You leaned in closer to his lips as you wiped his face.

“I love you too.” Joel kissed you with his greasy lips.

You smiled and kissed him back ignoring the greasy lips. The two of you finally reunited and be each other’s shoulder to cry on. Your bond with him grew stronger because you were each other's purpose in life.

To be continued… 

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @padgraysonssram8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr @avengersfan25 @xixxala @dianaffddz @onzayhe @violetwitchmcu @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @kelh27

[salem-xx]

reversed and upright ending for Sage & MC

So the final showdown with Mike happens and Sage turns but MC manages to change him back or something and they're about to take down Mike but Mike gets the upper hand and decides you know what i'm gonna actually kill MC and be successful this time and manages to kill them in front of sage and sage goes berserk and kills mike not before mike dies he's laughing and tells sage that MC basically died for nothing and that it still worked out for him bc sage went back to being corrupted

so then sage is filled with grief and corruption and tulsi and the group do what they can to try and pull him back, but sage is a master of alienating himself from the people who love him and he's so angry (imagine he never even got to say I love you until MC was dying in his lap IMAGINE THAT TO HEIGHTEN THE ANGST) and he decides he's gonna bring MC back (it's giving beginning of the whole damn story but i don't care) and sage goes to felix for help and felix and rime are like ummm don't think you should be doing that and sage is like i have to try so they tell him that maybe he can reach MC in the void if their soul is there. so Sage goes and is trying to find MC and finds them and tells MC his plan of trying to bring them back and MC is like no blah blah i love you blah blah the price would be too steep blah blah i don't want you to lose yourself and your humanity, you need to be with your family/friend (this would be an upright ending) and they have a final goodbye where they kiss and say i love you

in a reversed ending, the void works weirdly so maybe he has to leave before he dies for real and MC warns him against the plan but they don't get their final goodbye. in the real world he lies to rime and felix and says he couldn't find you bc he got lost and in that moment he decides he's gonna bring MC back consequences be damned I don't remember sage ever using magic in the story but say for argument sake he becomes basically the lord of shadows/rime in felix's route but instead he has to gather a shit ton of souls and trade them in order to bring back MC. so he goes around collecting souls (the logistics do not matter and I can't explain it) and finally he gathers enough souls and goes to where MC died and maybe the group had caught onto what he's going to do (time and felix had their suspicious that he had lied but felix was trying to give him space) and they're begging him not to

maybe they're about to fight him (felix telling sage not to and sage yelling at him like you got rime back why shouldn't I get MC back blah blah) bc they dont recognize this angry broken shell of sage (maybe he's even worse than when MC found him bc this time that mc "died" there was a body and the visual confirmation that they died and he blames himself partly) but sage manages to fight them and do the spell or whatever and he opens the void and trades ____ amount of souls for MC's soul and life force. he gets it and MC comes back from the void and MC is visibly different (they have white streaks in their hair or different colored eyes idk depends on what you would want your MC to look like) and everyone is stunned that MC is back

i've run out of ideas but MC is alive but asleep bc coming back from the dead is exhausting and the next day comes the angst, they're so happy to see sage and sage is happy too, but MC starts getting headaches and it all starts coming back in flashes--MC dying, MC talking to sage in the void, and then the coming back to life and (let's say sage has been hiding from them lowkey bc he noticed they didn't remember) eventually MC is just like uhhh what did you do ? and sage explains and angst ensues where MC is grappling with the fact that they're life was brought back at the expense of so many others and the fact that sage literally fell even more off the deep end and idk someone write this bc i cant write and MC grappling with the fact that they're basically an "abomination" and they try calling the astrolabe but realize they've lost their connection to it (so more angst)

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 15: A Clan of Three

Warnings: really bad depression and mourning in the beginning, mentions of large amounts of death and violence, and injury.

Author’s Note: Almost to the end! I hope you enjoy! I also went a bit off canon for this one, so I hope that’s ok!

(Gif gotten from fuckyeahgrogu)

Your walk down in the sewers was….. indescribable.

You felt like the opposite of a ghost. You weren’t a soul roaming the sewers, you were just a body. Only the physical means of you survived this long, and the remaining piece of your soul was left behind with your Mandalorian.

So much so, that you didn’t even know where you were going. You presumed a way out was the end goal, but you didn’t even think about it. You stared at the floor for what felt like hours, sniffling and trying to find your breath.

You hadn’t felt like this before. Not even when Mando figured out who you were…. because he was there.

You didn’t care if he was bloodied, bruised, half dead, or had a physical ailment for the rest of his life that forced you and only you to carry him for the rest of your days….. you just wanted him here.

The kid seemed to be having the same feelings of numbness and shock that you did. His emotions were completely blocked from you and you could tell he didn’t want you to know what he was actually thinking. You couldn’t blame him, your walls reached their peak once more when you felt Mando squeeze your hand one final time.

How did you even get here? Weren’t you trained to always put the mission first? Why did all of your rational and strategic thoughts go out the window as soon as Mando ate with you the first time?

You wanted to go back in time and tell yourself to look at him for even a second longer. Ask him a stupid question one more time. Just one glimpse would tie you over enough to at least speak again.

“I uh… I made the IG promise to bring him,” Cara said at one point, but you didn’t even react.

You were grateful for her trying to lift you up when mere minutes ago she thought you were the reason everything went wrong, but it felt as if it wasn’t even worth it to hope that Mando was alive. Not when there was a chance he could be dead.

You thought about turning back one too many times, but you couldn’t betray Mando like that.

He asked for a warrior’s death… and he got one.

The child started acting funny and crying in your arms, and you tried to sooth him.

“It’s ok little guy,” you whispered into his ear, trying to keep your burning throat at bay. “We have to get out of here, ok?”

But it was no use. The kid wouldn’t stand still.

You almost let your frustration with him get the better of you, until you felt it.

The tiniest, faintest tingle crawling up your spine, causing your brain to echo danger throughout the rest of your body.

Something’s coming.

You spun around, eyes widening as you scanned your surroundings. Your eyes were wide and your heartbeat quickened.

You didn’t know if you had another fight in you.

Cara saw your quick movement and spun around as well, using her flashlight to illuminate the tunnel.

“What is it?” Karga asked, and you slowly but surely heard footsteps approaching.

You wiped your tear stained face and took your longspear from its holder on your back.

Mando wasn’t here. You had to take care of the child, and dying in a sewer underneath an Empire base wasn’t the way you wanted to go.

The form of IG-11 appeared through the faint shine of Cara’s light, and you expected to be disappointed.

You expected him to apologize for your loss and be on his way.

But, a limping form of shiny metal was right beside him, and you felt yourself enter your body once more.

The feeling was almost euphoric. If this was the only blessing the universe could give you in your whole life, you would be a damn happy woman.

Cara instantly ran to him to help him stay up, but your shock and joy only allowed your body to drop your longspear and stay frozen in place.

The child squealed slightly in your arms, and that was the noise that made it real.

This was real. He was here.

Not even a second after Cara helped prop him up did you run to his side, slightly slowing down once you got to him, and collide with his chest.

You felt the tears of pure joy start exiting your eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the small puff of air Mando released when your chests collided.

“Easy,” he chucked out, and you laughed into his armored neck, only squeezing tighter. He rubbed your back with his free arm as you sobbed happily into his neck, and the child tapped Mando’s chest slightly with happy giggles.

You finally pulled away to place your hand on the side of his visor, framing the helmet, and looked into his eyes.

You were stuck in an Emperial sewer, beaten and bruised, with virtually no way out in sight….

…but this wasn’t the last time you would look into his eyes, and that was enough.

“Sorry to.. break up the reunion… but we are kinda stuck,” Karga finally stated, and you let out a breathy laugh with Mando following with one as well.

You kissed his cheek, and then lifted his arm over your shoulders while your free arm reached around his back to help Cara move him down the hallways.

It felt good to finally help Mando up, after the many times he had helped you. Even in the horrible circumstances you were in, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Do you know which way to go?” Cara asked Mando, referring to the coverts he had lived in before.

“No, I don’t know these tunnels,” Mando admitted, the child still managing to giggle in your arms.

“If we follow the smell of sulfur, it will lead us to the lava river,” Karga said.

“The Imps will catch us before we make the ship,” Mando said, and you couldn’t help but agree.

“We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety.”

You could tell Mando was using his helmet to search for tracks, and you could feel his body becoming stronger. So much so, that he started standing and walking on his own.

You felt more relieved than you could even explain. Your “partner in crime” of sorts was back by your side, and it felt damn good.

The group was moving faster, until Mando stopped abruptly after turning down a corridor.

A huge pile of Mandalorian armor and helmets was laying on the floor in front of Mando, and he dropped to his knees.

You knew what this meant…. the Empire had taken an entire covert of Mandalorians down. This was Mando’s family, and the Empire had plucked them off their list as if they were nothing.

“We should go,” Cara said, trying to be gentle for Mando’s sake.

“You go. Leave the ship. I can’t leave it this way,” he said, and the familiar pain in his voice was returning.

You bowed your head slightly, trying to show respect to the warriors in the little time you had to stay there. You had fought Mandalorians before, and they were some of the fiercest people you had ever met. They deserved better than this.

“Did you know about this?” Mando asked Karga, and you could hear the venom returning to his voice.

“Is this the work of your bounty hunters?” Mando said, getting more into Karga’s face. The anger in Mando was strong and dangerous. If the group started fighting each other, there was no way any of you were making it out alive.

“It was not his fault,” a voice said from behind you, and a woman Mandalorian appeared from the shadows.

She was taller, but lean and built. She looked strong and tough, but you could feel her mourning as well.

“We knew what would could happen if we left this place. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter,” she said, referring to when the covert revealed themselves to save Mando.

He had very briefly explained how he got the kid off of this planet before, but you didn’t realize an entire covert of Mandalorians revealed themselves. You were surprised the Empire didn’t wipe them out sooner.

“Did any survive?” he asked the woman.

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off world,” she responded.

Mando took a moment to think, before looking up at her and saying, “come with us.”

“No,” she said instantly. “I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.”

She began to gather up pieces of armor from the pile and holding them above large blue flames.

“Show me whose safety deemed such destruction,” she asked, and everyone turned to the child in your arms.

“This is the one,” Mando said, gesturing to the now sleeping child.

You tried to keep your face neutral, looking down at the child, but all the eyes on him scared you. This woman was in deep grief, you could feel it, and that made people react in very rash ways. If she felt that Mando was at fault for the pain she had….

“This is the one that you hunted, then saved?” she asked, and the confusion in her voice was slightly comical.

“Yes,” Mando responded. “The one that saved me as well.”

“It looks helpless,” she said.

“It is injured, but not helpless,” Mando responded. “We think he has the powers of a Jedi.”

“Ah, yes, Jedi,” the woman responded, and your heart tightened with fear. If she knew about Jedi, then she had to know what you once were.

“The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and the Jedi.”

“Are they an enemy to us?” Mando asked cautiously, and you could feel the protective emotions he felt towards his creed and his people.

“No,” she said. “Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.”

She looked at the child once more. “It is a foundling. By Creed, it is in your care.”

Mando tightened, as did you.

“You have no choice. You must reunite it with its own kind.”

“Where,” Mando asked.

“This you must determine.”

“You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver it to enemy sorcerers?” he asked, and you couldn’t help the faint grin on your face at his bluntness.

“Until that time, or it comes of age, it is in your care,” the woman said.

“You are as it’s father,” she said, and your eyes widened.

Mando was a father?

If Mando was the kid’s father….. what does that make you?

“And you,” the woman says, looking at you straight on. Your head popped up to meet her gaze, trying to hide the timidity and wonder in your eyes.

“You have helped?” she asks, and you glance at Mando with your eyes for less than a second before meeting the woman’s gaze again.

“Yes,” he responded for you, registering that you were asking for his help. Normally, you didn’t like when people talked for you, but this was Mando’s department, and you didn’t want to speak incorrectly for him.

“She keeps the child safe, same as I do,” Mando says, looking at the woman with confidence.

You grin slightly, looking at the child once more.

“Well then… if you so choose… you are a clan of three,” the woman says, and your eyes snap back to Mando, who is already looking at you.

You had heard about the Mandalorian clans. They treated each other like family, and fought till the death for each other. It had been something you had never had before, but if you were going to do it with anyone, it would be with Mando.

This thought boosted your confidence, and you gave Mando a slight nod of your head, showing that you want this. You want him.

Mando nods back, and says, “Yes. If that is possible.”

You feel the blush creep up your face, and even if you were in a dark and shadowy room, everyone could see it.

You were in his clan. His family. You wanted to jump for joy and squeeze into Mando’s arms once more.

“You have earned your signet,” the woman said, affixing the mudhorn signet to Mando’s right arm.

“You are a clan of three.”

You felt the happy tears creep up again, but you blinked them away. Trying not to ruin the moment.

“Thank you,” Mando stated. “I will wear this with honor.”

You were convinced you had never been happier. The day started with Kuiil dying, fighting for your life, and Mando almost dying, but you made it through. You made it to right here.

You bowed slightly to the woman.

“Thank you,” you said. “I am honored.”

“The honor is mine,” she says to you.

You smiled up at her, enjoying the butterflies in your tummy and the happiness in your eyes.

You had everything you ever wanted… now, you just needed to get out.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic

[bcdwhcre]

How about a little hurt/comfort request of Levi x reader where the reader used to be happy and bubbly but one day they lose everyone in their squad & they feels guilty for surviving so all they do is train to get better, barely eat and nearly push themselves near the brink of death and Levi tries to help them through it

“Comfort,” Levi x Reader

Summary: Levi trying his best to comfort you after you lose your whole squad and fall into a deep depression hole.

Warnings: none, I think.

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.

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Levi couldn’t help but lie awake in the bed you two shared. He would lie awake for hours most nights as the spot beside him always remained empty and cold, just like your empty heart as you stayed inside one of the training rooms on the base, working yourself past your limits to make you feel anything except guilt and pain.

At first he had given you space, let you grieve in peace because that’s what you said you wanted. You pushed him away and even yelled at him for coming too close to you, it pained him but he didn’t want to drive you away.

The guilt had you pinned down. It felt like you were trapped under water and couldn’t swim up to the surface, it was your fault your whole squad was dead. If you were only there in their last moments they would still be alive.

Your fists beat against the punching bag over and over again, the tears stinging your eyes as the flashbacks of their dead chewed up bodies laid out across the ground.

You had came across their remains, most were just arms and legs but at one point one of your cadets face was ripped in half, the picture implanted in your head permantely as you continue to blame yourself over and over again.

You wouldn’t eat for days at a time, you were never hungry, you were never feeling up to anything. You felt nothing inside of your dark soul, nothing.

Levi had grown worried as more days pass, the way you were grieving wasnt normal and it was pushing you to the brink of death at some points. He watched you turn into a complete stranger, someone who was once happy and full of life and love to now a dark person who was more cold than him.

As he stared up at the ceiling, thinking about everything and having everyday flash before his eyes, the reminder of you pushing yourself to death, the way you lost so much weight from not eating, from the bruises you gave yourself on your skin, it had made him reach his breaking point.

He had tried to avoid arguments for your sake but he was at a point where he didn’t give a shit anymore. He didn’t want to lose you, he loved you more than anything and if that meant he needed to either give you tough love or comfort you even when you said you didn’t want it- then that’s what he’ll do.

He walked down the hallway of the base, only wearing a simple white tee and a pair of sweatpants as his feet hit against the wooden floors towards the room he knew you were in- you were in there everyday for hours while everyone was asleep.

His hand pushed open the door, almost startling you and when you seen the look on his face, you grunted and turned back to the punching bag in front of you. The sweat dripped down your forehead and you continued punching it even though you were well past your limits.

“Y/N.” Levi said sternly, walking over and stopping you from punching the bag which annoyed you but he couldn’t care less.

The guilt and the grief that weighed on you had turned you into such a depressed angry person. You would easily take your anger out on Levi and even the other Scouts before you locked yourself in your room and let your depression send you into a deep sleep for hours at a time.

You hated to be so cold, especially towards Levi but the way depression had clouded your judgment- you honestly couldn’t care what happened. You didn’t care about the nasty words that left your mouth, it was better than sitting on the floor crying for hours.

“Can you move?” You simply said, your empty lifeless eyes met with his and he sighed.

It was nearly three in the morning, he was tired but he also was tired of not being able to sleep beside you or see your smile in the morning. He hated himself for letting you get this far into this, he hated not being of much comfort to you.

“No, we’re going to bed.” He had reached down to grab your arm but you were quick to rip it away from his grasp, making his eyebrows furrow.

“You can go, I’m staying here.”

“Y/N.”

“Levi, just leave me the fuck alone, okay?” You snapped, the sudden attitude you gave him had made him upset but more in a way where he was sad to see you like this.

He was also annoyed with the fact you acted like you could get away with such an attitude and at first he let you. He gave you so many passes because of your squad dying. He understood your grief and your pain but you had started to take advantage and be heartless to everyone around you- including your own boyfriend.

“No, this is not how you grieve.” He stared down at you, a pained expression on his face while yours was just emotionless.

“It’s been helping me grieve just fine.”

“Quit lying to yourself. Not sleeping, not eating, only working yourself to death is what you call grieving? Being a spiteful person isn’t the way to go about this.” Levi started to say, reaching over and grabbing both of your arms as he searched your eyes, trying to find any sign of life in you.

“I get it, I lost my entire squad too and at first it feels awful.. like you’re to blame for it but you’re not. The best we can do is just honor them and mourn and move on for their sake and ours.” He was never the type to give out some stupid inspiration speech but in this case, it was either yell at you or try to break down these walls you’ve built.

“I know you’re hurting, I can see it and I’ve given you so much space and time because that’s what you said you needed but you’re killing yourself and I can’t allow that... I can’t lose you too.” His words had stung like a snake bite full of venom, it had hurt you in ways you didn’t expect it to.

Then everything started to come to light, you started to realize everything and snap back into reality as you stared up at Levi, his eyes full of pain and hurt and it had made you rethink every decision you had made the last few weeks.

Your eyes started to burn with tears, a lump forming in your throat as you thought about how you were slowly killing yourself and hurting Levi in ways you didn’t mean to. Hurting him was something you never wanted to do and you didn’t realize you were doing it for weeks because you were being selfish.

Your shaky hands had reached over towards him, pulling him in a hug and buried your face into his shoulder as you silently cried. The tears continuously running down your cheeks as he tried to be of as much comfort as possible. His soft hands rubbing your back and holding onto you as tight as possible, not wanting to let you go.

“I’m so sorry..” You shook your head, clinging onto the back of his t-shirt and continued to repeat apologies.

“Don’t be, I know how much you’re hurting.” He mumbled, turning his head to plant a kiss on yours and gently pulled back.

He couldn’t help but sigh, brushing strands of your hair back from your face before wiping your tears off your cheeks with his thumbs. He cared about you more than he can explain and all he ever wanted was for you to be happy and seeing you in such a state where you were the opposite absolutely killed him.

“I just feel like I could’ve done more for them.” You said out loud, the first time actually talking about the deaths and how badly it hurt you.

“You did all you could, Y/N..” He tilted your chin up to look at him, his eyes burning into yours and you sniffled before nodding.

“Please, come back to bed with me.” He barely said over a whisper, his hand moving down to grab yours and slowly walk towards the door, praying you wouldn’t pull away again.

Instead you let him walk you back to your bedroom, the silence on the way back was deadly but everyone in the base was sleeping and you didn’t want to disturb anyone or wake anyone up. Once you both had stepped inside the bedroom, you were quick to step over to your shared bed and take off some pieces of clothing before settling under the blankets.

The bed was soft and cold, the blankets making you feel secured but when Levi laid down beside you and pulled you into his chest, it made you feel more safe and it made you feel better deep down.

You always pushed him away, always told him to leave and always ignored him, barely slept beside him and now as the reality of everything came rushing to your head, the guilt of pinning everything on Levi was lingering over you making your eyes water again and you sniffled, trying to hold back your tears.

You were surprised that he had stayed here and dealt with this, dealt with everything you put him through and he continued to do so. He continued to cuddle you, hold you tightly in his arms while rubbing soft circles on your back, making you calm down just a little.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... be so angry towards you.” You spoke softly, making his head turn down to look at you.

“No matter how angry or upset you get, you’re not getting rid of me so take that out of your head.” He said, moving one hand up to caress your cheek and you nodded slowly.

You had leaned up, pressing your lips onto his in a short but soft kiss, almost forgetting just how soft his lips actually were. You have been so distant that you two have barely talked, kissed or hugged. You didn’t realize just how fucked up you were and you didn’t realize just how much you missed his touches.

After you pulled back, you planted a quick peck on his lips before laying your head back down on his chest, a sudden weight being lifted off of you but the guilt still remained and you knew you had to grieve properly and not continue to beat yourself up while dragging Levi down with you.

.

,

,

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

Read bio before requesting AOT

[hexpea]

Chapter 11: Star Cult

The Star Globe Cult's building wasn't far from Tokyo, but it was far enough away from the school, your parents, Naoya, and Kento for you to be comfortable.  You appeared on the steps of the large church-like building with Suguru greeting you in traditional garments. He had a wide smile and open arms as you rolled your suitcases to a stop next to you.

"It's good to see you in person again," Suguru sighed, sounding like his old self for once. You hadn't seen him since before he murdered his first village. He sounded as if he were happy that a piece of his past had returned.

"You, too, Geto," you smiled back, accepting a warm embrace as if you were once both inseparable friends - which was not the case. Suguru's genuine friendliness came as a bit of a shock, knowing him originally to be someone who clung more to your brother than to anyone else.

"Please, call me Suguru," he turned to enter the building, guiding you inside.

He had shown you around the building briefly and explained his current plans, everything still making some kind of sense. You were hesitant to follow his ideas considering their violence, but the outcome just seemed so great. Something else that grabbed your attention was your familiarity with him, even after two whole years. He was the last bit of positivity from your past, smiling in front of you. That warmth provided a bit of comfort in your grief.

Considering the building was a place of worship, there weren't any spaces for bedrooms - Suguru resorted to converting a hallway of prayer rooms into tiny living spaces. You at least had a space to yourself, something you were a bit worried about after joining his group.

You settled into the space and come the evening your phone lit up with your brother's name across it. You were incredibly nervous to answer it, especially after your last encounter.

"Hey," you answered hesitantly, seeing his face on the screen. Getting used to FaceTime on your new phone was a bit difficult after leaving so brutally.  You were laying on your back, phone held up in front of your face with both of your hands. It was wild being able to hold a phone call and see his face. His kind expression felt like a dagger in your heart.

"Hey, sister," he smiled happily as if nothing happened, as if you weren't practically bunking with his ex-boyfriend. "Get there safely?" You were stunned by his casualness.

"Y-yeah, I did," you furrowed your brow but kept an otherwise neutral expression.

"Great!" He smiled genuinely, though the way he harshly rubbed his eye from behind his sunglasses told you otherwise. "Listen, I'm not going to hold this against you. I physically can't. You're family."

"Just because we're family doesn't mean you can't hold a grudge," you mumbled guiltily.

"Oh, trust me, Y/N, I know," he continued his smile, the smile that hid his hurt. "I can't blame you for thinking and feeling the way that you do. If you ever need anything...just let me know. You know you can always visit me at the school, we can always continue our training."

"I know," you continued mumbling, feeling undeserving of his kindness. It was as if he didn't realize the danger of you returning - between Naoya and your parents, it just wouldn't be a smart decision, at least not until things cooled over. AKA, a few years, you thought.

"I love ya', Y/N. You're always gonna' be my little sister," he tilted his head playfully.

"Well thanks," you took a deep breath and gave a pathetic, little smile to give his words some kind of meaning.

"Oh, and dye your hair! I can't believe you left it like that for graduation!" Satoru teased before quickly hanging up. You blushed bright red, teeth clenching with embarrassment, though he was gone, one of your hands slapping the top of your head.

You had gone a lot longer without dying your hair, the white roots now about four inches from your scalp. You decided to go through with it, not much else going on for your night anyways.  You dug through one of your suitcases and found the box of hair dye you recently bought in preparation for graduation. You were going to dye it for graduation, but, just like this time, you hesitated to the thought of dying it black.  You stared at the box intensely, weighing your options and desires. You no longer had a need to dye it. You always told yourself you enjoyed your hair dark, it being that way since elementary school. You hadn't seen your true hair color completely since you were seven...

You were disturbed by a light knocking on your door. Still holding the box, you verbalized permission to enter - already knowing it to be Suguru.

"Hey," he greeted, leaning casually on the threshold in a pair of black harem pants and a white t-shirt, hair in a bun just as he looked when in high school. That's the Geto I know, you thought.

"Hi," you smiled, your attention now on him and not the box in front of you.

"Going to do your hair?" He asked, walking into your room to stand next to you - looking down at the box in your hands. "It's definitely been a while, huh?" He looked up at your roots.

"Y-yeah," you stuttered out, feeling embarrassed about your hair once again.

"Hmm..." he took a moment to think, narrowing his eyes and rubbing his chin while staring at the top of your head. "I don't think you should."

"You don't?" You gulped as he took a strand of your hair between two of his fingers. He shook his head, something about his threatening proximity making you feel intimidated despite his soft demeanor.

"Well no, you always dyed it to fit in. You don't have to do that anymore," he chuckled, releasing the strand. His tone made your cheeks blush. "You're a part of the new generation. Show them who you really are." His words were like magic somehow. You dropped the box back in your suitcase which made his smile widen.  "And look at your eyes..." he pointed briefly before placing both of his hands on his hips. "I thought it was only possible for one to have the Six Eyes."

"It is," you looked away, his piercing gaze was almost too much to bare.

"Well those are getting pretty blue..." he cocked his head in confusion, "you know what I'm talking about, right?" You shook your head. You never really paid attention to it in the mirror, that and any change was too subtle for you to even notice.

This time you purposefully took a look into the mirror that stood in the corner of the room. You peeled back one of your eyelids to get a better look. Geto was right.  The ring that had originally formed around your eyes had grown brighter and a few bright cyan spots sprinkled about your iris. It was quite trippy to see your usually pitch dark brown eyes suddenly lively with color.

"That's so weird," you mumbled worriedly to yourself.

"Satoru was right," Suguru watched you lean into the mirror with his hands in his pockets, imperfect posture. "You are an anomaly."

"I don't mean to be," you said quietly, immediately thinking of how you couldn't control your power.

"That doesn't matter anymore," he walked toward you until he stood behind you in the mirror. He held a proud stance while yours was more of defeat and pity. "I want to make a world for you where that doesn't matter." He leaned a bit forward until his warm breath hit your neck, sending chills up your spine.

"Geto..." you whispered, eyes wide while staring at him through the mirror. He leaned away from you and cleared his throat. You were shocked by his strangely sexual behavior.

"Sorry," he smiled, "you just remind me so much of someone." He didn't dare say the name. He knew it wouldn't be appropriate. Somehow you felt your body physically reacting to him anyway, as if it just needed some sort of release to help the pain go away.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" You blushed, stepping away from the mirror and back to your suitcase to put more of your items away. He blinked hard while still standing in that same spot, watching you unpack for just a moment.

"Yeah, let's see what you can do tomorrow." He walked to the door and paused. "There's a pretty thick forest behind the building. We should be okay there. I'll come get you around nine."

You slept restlessly that night, body still adjusting to the new environment and your own emotions forcing you to toss and turn.  Your alarm went off at eight, just enough time to roll out of bed and wash-up - giving no thought to your appearance. You were just unmotivated to do so after such a horrible night.

Geto stood behind you in the forest that he mentioned. You were surprised at how thick it was for being in the middle of a small town. If the space wasn't big enough, the amount of trees certainly would be.

He watched you casually as you brought your hand up, fingers twisted in the proper position for the cursed technique lapse. The bluish-colored energy began to grow in your palm, your body preparing for the impact - wincing as wind stirred around you both.  Suguru took a few steps back just before the moment of explosion, several trees snapping forward from your energy that was collapsing in on itself. When it did happen, you quickly shielded your body from the remaining shrapnel headed in your direction - your infinity quickly stopping any stray pieces. Suguru had used your body almost like a shield, though a few feet away he stood directly behind you to avoid the stray twigs.

"Do I really need to do the other one?" You whined, looking at him surrounded by the devastation you caused. Suguru chuckled and dusted his clothing that had been slightly covered by dirt.

"I'd like to see everything," he nodded with that same sweet smile.

You whimpered a bit as you brought your hand up, pointer finger extended. You stretched your arm out hesitantly as the red ball of energy twisted and formed around your digit. Just as soon as it was big enough, you slowly pointed it in the direction you wanted it to go - just as it left your  finger it completely exploded outward - the two of you yet again needing to take cover.

"And you can't do purple, correct?" He lifted an eyebrow, acting as if you didn't just completely annihilate a huge chunk of the forest. You shook your head. "Then we have a lot to work on."

"I can't go back to Satoru," you shook your head.

"You don't have to," he answered sweetly, "I know his technique fairly well. I'm sure I can help you hone it down."

"I'm sorry, Geto, but if he can't even get me to control it after a few years, what makes you think you can help me tame it?"

"It's worth a try," he shrugged, bringing his body close to yours and wrapping his arms through your own to help position you properly. You felt his entire body pressed against yours, making your body react to the presence unexpectedly. "I think what you're missing is the confidence," he whispered in the ear, wrapping his hand around yours until it was positioned into a pointer position once more. "Try it again."

Your breathing increased as the red energy formed once more, this time Suguru's sweet voice encouraging you, reminding you of your stature and position. When the time came, the energy slowly left - leaving an organized path of destruction in its wake. A smile spread across your face as it dissipated, excitedly turning to Suguru who released you - a prideful look of his own.

"See?" He shrugged. "Let's keep working on it."

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 19

Request: Yes or No

In the last few chaps two years have passed, in this one three have passed so the five year gap is overrrr. Endgame is three goddamn hours longgg. I'm sorry this one feels short. I just hate doing more than one or two timeskips

~

"I'll visit soon, Sarah. Tell the boys I said hi, alright?" You smiled softly, saying bye to Sarah before hanging up. You sighed softly, putting your phone down. You buried your face in your hands, sighing heavily. You heard your phone buzz, looking at the text on screen.

Starks Bitch Ass

You still coming for dinner?

You picked up the phone, going to answer Tony before you got another text. You furrowed your brows, clicking on it.

Nat

I need your help

(Y/N)

With?

Nat

You know

You frowned, gaze lifting to the picture of the Barton family, your family. You sighed again, eyes shutting briefly. The last time you had seen Clint had been three years ago.

Nat

And also with Stark

Nat

We're outside

You scoffed, standing up and walking to the front door. You watched the car stop, dust and dirt flying up behind it. You went down the steps, approaching the car. You saw Steve driving, Natasha in the passenger seat.

"How you been, (Y/N)?" Steve asked, unlocking the doors.

"Shitty." You got in the back, glancing at Scott.

"I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were like fifteen last time I saw you." Scott replied, looking you over. You cocked a brow, putting on a seatbelt.

"So.. What do you need me for?" You asked, brows furrowing.

"Convincing Tony of time travel." Natasha answered as Steve began to drive. You stared at her, confusion evident in her face. Scott noticed, clearing his throat.

"Okay, so-"

"If it has to do with science or math, I don't want to hear about it. I'll only get a headache." You waved him off, leaning back against the seat and shutting your eyes. You took a nap on the drive, waking up when the car came to a stop. You yawned, getting out of the car and walking towards the the lodge.

"Momo!" You called, smiling softly. Morgan's eyes lit up, wiggling in her dads grip. Tony set her down, watching her quickly run over to you. You chuckled, picking her up.

"Hey, Momo. Missed me?" You asked with a gentle smile. Tony turned and headed into the lodge.

"We didn't get to finish our story." Morgan said, pouting. You chuckled, watching Tony bring out a tray with drinks. The others stood at the porch, explaining their idea to Tony.

"And you came along because..?" Tony turned to look at you after you convinced Morgan to head inside while the adults talked. You took a seat, shrugging lightly.

"Had nothing better to do." You replied. You slightly spaced out as they spoke about science stuff, taking the drink Tony offered. You looked at the nature around the area, eyes squinting slightly.

"Are you gonna entertain this, (Y/N)?" Tony questioned, turning to look at you. You looked back at him.

"Wouldn't hurt to try, Tony." You said softly. Tony stayed silent, sighing through his nose. He turned his head when Morgan came running out of the lodge, climbing onto her dads lap.

"Mommy said to come save you." Morgan said. Tony held her, standing up as he looked at everyone. His gaze settled on you.

"Will you be joining us for dinner?" He asked, brows raising slightly. You licked your lips.

"Yeah, I suppose so." You nodded, standing up and smiling softly at Morgan. Tony nodded, walking inside. You looked at Natasha.

"Let me know when you find out where he is." You told her. Natasha understood, nodding. You followed Tony into the lodge.

"Tony-"

"You were brought along to convince me. I knew it." Tony set Morgan down, facing you with his hands on his hips. You gave a small nod.

"Yeah, I was. I wanted to see you as well. Nat wants to find Clint." You told him gently. Tonys' gaze softened, nodding. He had Morgan go to Pepper before sitting down on the couch.

"You ready?" He asked gently. You sat on the couch, grabbing a pillow a gently hugging it. You stayed silent, staring at the floor.

"I don't know. I.. I don't know if I'll punch him or scream at him when I see his face."

"I wouldn't blame you. I'll punch him next time I see him."

"Tony." You shot him a look, raising your brows. Tony shrugged, leaning back in the couch. You watched him, shifted and sitting criss cross.

"So, the.. Time heist-"

"Is the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

"Can you at least give it a try? Stop being a Negative Nancy, that's my job." You gently kicked his leg.

"If his theory even works.. Who's to say we can snap them back? What if we make things worse? Make that fifty percent into twenty percent?" Tony questioned. You could understand his concerns. He had a kid to worry about.

"I know, Tony.. Could you at least.. Think it over? Do some small tests?" You asked softly. Tony stayed silent, thinking it over. He took in a deep breath, rolling his eyes when he noticed your puppy eyes.

"Fine! Fine, I'll have F.R.I.D.A.Y run over some tests after dinner."

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~

"You think you're up to this?" Natasha asked softly as the jet neared Tokyo. You nodded, watching the city lights come into view.

"Yeah, of course." You replied softly, slight nerves bubbling in your stomach. Natasha gently grabbed your hand, giving it a light squeeze. You gave her a small smile. Natasha landed the jet in an empty parking lot, getting out. Natasha took out an umbrella, wrapping an arm around you to keep you under it. You and Natasha followed the sound of gunshots, hearing them ease. You slowed down, watching Clint kill a man. You swallowed.

"You shouldn't be here." Clint said. Hearing his voice made your jaw clench.

"Neither should you." Natasha replied, watching him. Clint turned to face you and Natasha, features hard. His gaze softened when he saw you before he looked away.

"I have a job to do." Clint said, the water dripping down his face. You scoffed softly, stepping out from under the umbrella. You didn't mind the rain as you walked towards him. Clint looked at him, lips parting to speak but you didn't let him, slapping him as hard as you could. Clint stumbled back, fingers brushing over his reddening cheek.

"You had a job. You were supposed to be my dad! You left me to do what? Kill some guys?! I was drowning in my own fucking grief and where were you, Clint?! You missed out on 5 years of my life. Five years you'll never get back. How could you call yourself my dad and then abandon me when shit gets hard? I lost Laura too. I lost Lila, Nathaniel, and Cooper too. Then, I lost you and you left by choice." You stared at him, vision blurry. The tears mixed with the rain.

"Tony fucking Stark was there for me when you weren't. The selfish asshole himself.. Was a better father figure than you were." You breathed out, sniffling.

"(Y/N)-"

"These men dying won't change shit but what we're trying to do might. If not for me, do it for the kids. For a chance of seeing them again." You stared at him. The old feeling of safety you used to get from him had disappeared.

"There's a chance we can get them back. If we do... Things won't go back to normal. You easily abandoned me and I can't forgive that. I'll never forgive that. For three fucking years.. You never bothered getting in contact, never bothered checking in, never bothered being a father. You wouldn't have left if I was Cooper. You wouldn't have left if I was Lila. You proved it." You took in a deep breath.

"I was in pain-"

"And I wasn't?!" You snapped, chest heaving. You noticed you didn't feel the rain anymore, seeing that the rain drops had stopped mid air. You took in a deep breath like Tony had taught you, feeling the rain resume before it eventually eased and stopped completely.

"Are you gonna help the team?" You asked, studying his face. Clint gave a silent nod, gaze flickering back to Natasha. You turned around, opening your palm and feeling the water on your clothes and body move towards your hand. The water mixed together, making a large water bubble. You let it drop to the ground as you walked back towards the jet. You entered, getting in the pilots seat and buckling in. You were incredibly angry but you didn't want to accidentally cause a tsunami so you focused on your breathing. You set the course as Clint and Natasha quietly spoke. You stared at the night sky, watching the clouds pass by. You called Steve, watching the blue screen pop up with his face

"We got Clint, Cap. We're heading back now."

"Copy that." Steve replied, nodding before his gaze shifted onto the two behind you.

"How have you been, Clint?" Steve asked.

"Never better." Clint answered, sighing softly. You frowned, focusing on the clouds as the jet flew back to the facility. Steve and Clint caught up until Steve hung up, leaving the jet in silence.

"Did Bruce have any luck with Thor?" You asked, glancing back at Natasha. Natasha nodded, gently toying with her braid.

"Yeah, he mentioned it was a bit tough to see him. Thor wasn't himself." Natasha stood, approaching the front and placing a hand on the chair. You hummed softly. You felt your phone vibrate, taking it out and seeing Peppers contact. You answered the call.

"Yeah?"

"Morgan wants you to tell her a bed time story. She's sad you didn't have time the other day." Pepper explained in a slightly apologetic tone. You smiled, chuckling softly.

"Yeah, okay."

"(Y/N)?" You heard Morgan's soft voice, immediately feeling relaxed.

"Hey, Momo." You cooed, making sure the jet was on auto pilot before you leaned back in your seat.

"What story do you want today?"

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Duck, Duck, Grief

The newly reopened wound on Aubrey’s thigh throbs dully as she limps away from the base of the ruined Mt. Kepler and back towards the gate.  She hears a voice in the back of her mind, the sensible one that sounds a lot like Duck, telling her that walking on an injured leg is a bad idea and that she’s only gonna make it worse.  A louder, more vicious voice tells her she deserves it.  This one doesn’t sound like Duck.  She ignores them both and keeps walking.  The night air is cold, numbing her exposed arms and face.  Aubrey is grateful for it.  Having a body feels like an impossible task right now.  Thinking is out of the question, because thinking means acknowledging everything that just happened- 

(gone all gone all gone he’s gone he’s gone it’s all your fault why couldn’t you heal him useless you didn’t even try you told him to leave he was supposed to leave now he’s gone it’s your fault)

-and she wasn’t ready.  Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her ears were buzzing and it was too cold and she couldn’t breathe-

(he’s on the ground his eyes are open he doesn’t see you he isn’t breathing why isn’t he breathing his hands are cold he is never cold he is always warm warm warm warm smile warm laugh cold)

“Miss, are you okay?  Can you hear me?”

There is a voice above her-

(it is not his voice you will never hear his voice again your fault all your fault dead dead dead)

-the voice continues, but it is not talking to her anymore.

“I think she’s in shock-- Oh god, she’s bleeding, oh that’s real bad, aw jeez,” warm hands grip her arms and lift her to her feet.  She doesn’t remember falling to her knees.  That explains why her leg feels like it’s on fire-

(burning burning the house is on fire there is a man in a mask her dad is on the ground burning)

  She is vaguely aware of being half-carried over to an ambulance.  They sit her down, telling her to put pressure on the wound, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.  She does this without comment, cannot open her mouth for fear that the words will come tumbling out and never ever stop.  She does not move.

…

Duck and Minerva had just finished taking down the abomination and were making their way over to Leo Tarkesian and Dr. Sarah Drake when they saw the top of Mt. Kepler lift into the air, then came crashing back down, shaking the earth and causing the telescope to creak and sway a little, which in all honesty was really terrifying.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Duck yelped as the ground shook with the aftershocks of the mountain’s collapse.  He lost his balance but Minerva grabbed his arm to steady him before he could fall over. 

“Duck Newton You Should Be Careful!  Core Strength Is An Integral Part Of Any Hero’s Skill Set!” She exclaimed cheerfully, clapping a hand onto his shoulder with almost as much force as the mountain’s collapse.

“Thanks Minnie,” he wheezed, rubbing his sore shoulder.  Sarah ran up to them, her eyes wide with shock.

“What the hell just happened to the mountain?” she asked, her face pale with fear.

Duck scratched his head.  “Honestly, Sarah?  I got no earthly idea, but we should probably go find out,” he sighed.  “C’mon, we got a ways to go.”

The group of four made their way across the field towards the parking lot, Minerva still giving Leo a piggyback ride on account of his injuries.  When they reached the front gate, Sarah paused and turned to Duck.  She looked as exhausted as he felt.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, “As fun as this has been, I think I’ve just about maxed out my daily limit for weird.  If it’s all the same to y’all, I think I’m gonna head on home.”  She points to him, “Don’t think this means I’m gonna let you off the hook about this, mister.  I expect an explanation.”

He salutes her playfully, “Yes, Ma’am.  I’ll have that report on your desk by Monday.”

She smiles and says, “See ya around, Newton,” before turning and walking into the night.

Duck, Minerva, and Leo do the same, making their way to Duck’s government-issued truck.  He chucks the extra broadsword into the truck bed, slings Beacon back around his waist, and slides behind the wheel exhaustedly.  A part of him waits for Aubrey to call shotgun before remembering with a start that she isn’t with them.  He’s so used to having her and Ned as back up in life threatening situations that their absence right now is disconcerting.  He’s more than a little anxious to see them again; they’d all been so busy with their own situations the past few days that they hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out.

“What A Fine Chariot This Is, Duck Newton,” Minerva booms jovially, slapping the roof of his truck.  There is the distinct sound of crumpling metal.

Duck squints blearily at her as she squeezes into the passenger seat, mentally cycling through the five stages of grief as Minerva buckles her seatbelt.  He turns the key in the ignition and drives out of the parking lot.

… 

The closer they get to Amnesty Lodge, the more nervous Duck gets.  Not for the first time since the whole Sylvain mess started, he resents Kepler’s location in the Radio Quiet Zone.  Usually he didn’t mind not having a cellphone, but right now he would give just about anything to call Aubrey and Ned and make sure they’re okay.  The herd of ambulances and police cars heading towards the Lodge do nothing to quell Duck’s mounting anxiety levels.

His anxiety turns to dread as he turns onto the dirt road leading to the lodge and sees the crowd of townsfolk gathered in front of the gate, an ambulance parked off to the side.  He jerks the truck to a stop and jumps out, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition as he scans wildly for his friends.  Minerva moves to follow him, but he stops her, telling her to watch out for Leo.  Things are complicated enough without throwing an honest-to-fucking-god alien warrior into the mix.

When he finally does see Aubrey’s colorful shock of dyed hair, it is both a relief and an extra source of stress.  A relief because she’s alive, and a source of stress because she’s sitting in the ambulance.

Duck rushes over to her, his heart dropping into his stomach as a list of every worst case scenario runs through his head.  Someone found out about the lodge, someone went through the gate who wasn’t supposed to and went on a rampage, Agent Stern arrested someone, someone got hurt, someone got killed.  At least Aubrey is okay.  And while he doesn’t see Ned anywhere, Duck isn’t too worried about the old guy.  He’d survived ramming into a Pizza Hut sign with a jetpack, as well as the explosion of said jetpack immediately afterwards.  The man was damn near unkillable.  He skids to a stop in front of Aubrey, his momentum almost causing him to crash into the side of the ambulance.  He takes her in, noting the bandage on her leg and the shock blanket around her shoulders.

“Y’okay, kid?”  He asks, “Aubrey?”  She doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him or even seem to register his presence.  

That’s his first clue that something’s wrong, because he’s seen her like this before, after the whole ordeal with the Pizza Hut sign.  The hollow, haunted expression on her face is nearly identical to the one she’d worn that day.  It scared him then and it scares him now.

“Aubrey,” he repeats her name.  “C’mon kid, ya gotta talk to me.  I just got here, I’m way outta the loop.”  Nothing.  She just keeps staring blankly ahead.  He crouches down in front of her, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention.  Again, nothing.  Shit.

He stands back up and starts pacing, raking his hands through his hair, “Aubrey!”  He snaps.  The longer she stays unresponsive, the more nervous he gets, “I need you to say something, kid, you’re fuckin’ scaring me!”  Try as he might, he can’t quite keep the panic from bleeding into his voice.

Finally, finally, she looks up at him, and his heart breaks.

Aubrey looks absolutely wrecked.  Her eyes are bloodshot and ringed black with smeared mascara and eyeliner, her face blotchy and tearstained.  Disconcertingly, both her irises are a bright, piercing orange.  Duck figures this is something important, something he should ask her about right away.  He doesn’t, though, because he couldn’t care less about whatever earth-shattering event made Aubrey’s eyes change color.  He doesn’t care about all that world-saving, chosen one stuff, and he never has.  He cares about people, his people, and right now that’s Aubrey and Ned.  They’re the Pineguard, his family, and he would rather die than see them hurt.

“D-Duck,” Aubrey whimpers, her voice fragile like his ma’s best china.  “Duck, I couldn’t…h-he…”  She shatters, then, curling in on herself as she sobs.

“Hey now, uh,” Duck has never been good at comforting people, especially when they’re crying.  But this is Aubrey and she needs him, social anxiety be damned.

He sits down next to her on the tailgate of the ambulance, shifting so that he’s almost facing her, and puts his arms out, “Do you-- Ooph!”  Before he can finish his question, Aubrey collapses against him, sobbing into his shoulder.  Duck freezes for a moment, unsure, before wrapping his arms around her.

“I-It’s all,” she hiccups, “it’s all m-my fault, Duck, I-I couldn’t…”  She dissolves into sobs again, too distressed to continue.  Her shoulders shake with the force of it.

Duck pats her back awkwardly.  “Aw, Aubrey, I don’t know ‘bout that,” he says, “I don’t think-- don’t blame yourself, kid.  I’m sure you did everything you could.”  Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying even harder.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just hugs her tighter instead.  He hates himself a little for that, wishes to god that the words didn't stick in the back of his throat like old gum on the underside of a picnic bench.  Aubrey hiccups, and Duck rubs her shoulders soothingly.  He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her this broken.  Sure he’s seen her cry, seen her upset, but never like this.  Something is very, very wrong, and Aubrey’s clearly in no shape to tell him what, so he scans the crowd for someone who can.

Finally, he makes eye contact with Jake Coolice.  Which, okay, not exactly ideal, except for the fact that he’s standing next to Mama, who’s engaged in conversation with Detective Maygen.  Duck jerks his head towards the matriarch of Amnesty Lodge, hoping Jake picks up what he’s putting down.  The neon-cloaked Sylph looks confused, and he points at Mama and mouths her name in a silent question.  Duck nods emphatically.  Jake smiles and gives him two thumbs up before tugging on the sleeve of Mama’s duster to get her attention.  The older woman turns to Jake, who points in Duck’s direction.  She squares her shoulders, like she’s preparing for battle, and makes her over to the ambulance.  

The first thing Duck notices is how tired she looks.  The second is the blood on her shirt and hands.  

His blood turns to ice in his veins, “What the fuck happened?” he demands, “Are y’okay?”

Mama sighs, her whole body moving with it, “It’s not mine,” is all she says, and her shoulders slump in something a bit too much like defeat for Duck’s taste.

“Whaddya mean, whose is it then?” he asks, panic setting in.

She exhales softly through her nose.  “Duck, honey, I’m real sorry,” she begins, “now I don’t want you blaming yourself for this, ‘cause it ain’t no one’s fault.”  Mama pauses, looking up at the night sky before running a hand down her face.  There is dried blood under her fingernails.

“Whaddya mean, Mama, what happened?  What don’t ya want me blaming myself for?”

She looks pained, “Duck, sweetheart--.”

“No!  Don’t baby me, I aint a fuckin’ kid,” he snaps.  “What. The. Hell. Happened.”

“I-it was Ned.”  The response comes not from Mama, but Aubrey.  She pulls aways from Duck, exhaling shakily and wiping her eyes.

Duck stares at her.  “Whaddya mean, did he get hurt or somethin’?” he asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer to that question and hoping to god that he’s wrong, “Aubrey?”

She shakes her head.  “No, uh,” she takes a shaky breath, “Shit, I can’t do this.  Mama, uh, can you explain, please?”  Her voice trembles as she gives the older woman a pleading look.

Mama gives her a sad smile, “Sure, baby.”

“Thanks,” Aubrey sniffles.  Duck puts an arm around her and she buries her face in his shoulder.

Mama takes a deep breath, “Duck, ya said ya didn’t wanna be babied, so I guess I better just say it outright.  Ned ain't hurt, honey.  I’m so, so sorry, Duck, but he’s dead.  Ned’s dead.”

The words hit him like a punch in the gut, leaving him breathless and gasping.  

That can’t be right, Ned can’t be dead.  Ned ‘Cowardly’ Chicane, the only one of them with any sort of self-preservation instinct, the guy who just the other day had assured Duck that he didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt because he quote-unquote, “knew when to get the hell outta Dodge” was dead?  No way.  This had to be to work of the shapeshifter, or some sick practical joke.  It couldn’t be true, because if it was, it would mean Duck had failed.  It would mean that something happened and he hadn’t been there to take the big hit.  It would mean that Ned had taken the hit instead.  And he can’t handle that.  What’s the point of being the “Chosen One”, the so-called savior of the planet if he can’t keep the people he cares about safe?  

“Duck?”  Mama’s voice cuts through the haze of grief and shock clouding his brain.  He doesn’t respond, “You with us?”

He wants to argue, wants to break down and scream at the injustice of it all.  But he doesn’t, because he’s not the only one grieving Ned’s-- he’s not the only one affected.  Aubrey’s here too, huddled against his side like a barnacle on the hull of a ship.  God, she’s so young, still just a kid, really.  She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.  She shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, truth be told, but that’s not in the cards.  The least Duck can do is be strong for her.  He’s good at being strong.  So he pushes aside all his grief and anger and self-recrimination, packing them away in a cardboard box in some dusty corner of his mind to deal with later.  Aubrey comes first.

He takes a deep breath, “Yeah, Mama, I’m with ya.”  He runs a tired hand down his face, “What, uh, what happened?”  His voice trembles right at the end.  He clenches his jaw.  

Mama glances ever so slightly at Aubrey.  “I’m fine,” is all the young woman says.  Mama looks to the night sky, as if hoping the stars can tell her how to make this easier.  Whatever she was looking for, it isn’t there and she faces Duck once more.

She does that thing again, squaring her shoulders like she’s getting ready for a fight, “The Abomination, it took Ned’s shape an’ then spilled the beans about everything on television.  The lodge, the gate, Sylvain, all of it.  That’s why all these folks are here,” she gestures to the crowd of townspeople.  

“Ned, he killed it and came down here to try and divert ‘em, send ‘em on a wild goose chase.  It sorta worked, actually, he got rid of about half of ‘em.  He starts talkin’ folks down, tryin’ to get the rest of them to see sense,” she laughs bitterly, “And it mighta even worked, too, ‘cept then the glowing coffin shows up and out pops Dani.  And she’s all feral, completely outta her mind after being separated from the hot springs for so long.”  

Her mouth presses into a thin line.  “And then she, well… She charged these here folks, and Ned, he tackles her.  Thing is, you get a buncha scared folks with guns in one place, well, someone’s bound to get hurt.  And tonight, that was Ned.  He got shot, and by the time the ambulance got here it was too late.  There wasn’t nothing any of us could do,” she looks over at Aubrey when she says that.  “And that’s… that’s the whole story.  I’m sorry,” she gives him a sympathetic look, “Y’alright, Duck?”

Duck says nothing, just nods sharply.  Because how do you respond to something like that?  What do you say when someone’s been ripped from your life and you can’t remember the last thing you said to them?  What do you say?  What can you say that would be enough to encompass the raw, gaping wound that takes the place of your heart, the way your stomach drops, when you think of all the things left unsaid?  What do you say?

As it turns out, “Let’s go home,” is a pretty good start.

[remsmoonlight]

— title : i need you

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : ryuji goda x reader

— summary : convincing ryuji of doing the opposite of what he’s set out to do is a pointless task, yet you will attempt if it gives him even one more day.

— warnings : blood, mentions of violence, some swearing, mentions of imagining of death, angst

notes : inspired by a prompt from here .. i had to do a self indulgent thingy for tumblr .. because why did they have to kill him off like that .. i tried to be dramatic as i possibly could

" none of this would've happened if you had just listened! "

A muffled silence drowns your hearing, the spinning of the Earth decelerates until it feels little more than a crawl with a weak grip. Rough cement scrapes the smoothness of your knee, leaving an angry blemish as grit fights to find its way into your bleeding wounds. No graze can pull you out of the deep end your heart finds itself fighting to stay above of, as you witness your worst fear painted perfectly on a canvas steeped in blood. The stillness of the air leaves you feeling flustered as your mind tries to make sense of what it observes before it, hoping that it’s no more than a deceptive trick played on itself by the fear you felt as you made your way up the tall structure.

A romantic thread of words have never failed in supply, but words left unsaid threaten to crush you under their weight, lost moments to time. A shudder of a breath shakily is let out, the cold air kick starts your body as you push yourself up and scramble to where the battered and bloodied body of Ryuji lays, almost motionless in pain. A childish cry to wake up from this nightmare is all you can think of, but reality does not bend to the whims of humanity, it continues with the path it has set. Resentfully, you can see the similarity that it shares with the male.

“ none of this would've happened if you had just listened! “ A broken cry full of fiery misery lick at the delicate snowflakes that descend from the heavens with a short lived grace, full of threats to burn as they penetrate your space.

The shock of the vibrancy of the liquid that escapes Ryuji leaves time standing still, you care not however, your fingertips gripping a heavy shoulder as the other lends a gentle touch to his cheek. Pain and grief masks itself as anger. You sorely wish to blame someone or something, but you had warned him.. You’d tried to reason with him that this course he’d set would leave him chasing an unattainable taste of sweetness of satisfaction that would dull with each day that dawns. A strong will that had left you in an addictive awe leaves you with a decaying taste in your mouth now, it creates an impossible amount of scars on your soul.

“ ‘Guess I should’a listened to ‘ya after all. “ He reluctantly answers, the humour unable to battle the drain out of his voice completely.

“ Why couldn’t you have just let this lie? “ A ticking pulls your attention away for a fraction of a passing second, a groan causes you to turn back.

“ Was always gonna end this way. “

A weakened grip that belongs to Ryuji ignores the resistance from his body, enduring the pain from the movement in order to experience skin against skin contact for himself once more. He wishes he could have found it within himself to have turned left, but he’d have lost himself without this self imposed purpose, fading into the background. It was selfish, to bring you into his world.. But to him? You’re an unfinished book, your words inked with glittering star dust that etch themselves into existence. He was unable to tear him away from your pages that you may have worn like wings. Selfish. To know how his story would end, yet knowing he would not be around for yours.

“ No. “ Your lips close, pushing against each other to numb the other, your features twisting into an aching grimace.

“ Can’t stop it now. “ he insists, brows drawing together as he scrunches his eyes up from the agony that throbs through every inch of flesh. “ Shit’s set in stone now. “

“ Stop it! “ You sob, hating how vulnerable you sound.

There is a sorrowful beauty in the scene, notes Ryuji. Pale beams of moonlight triumphant until the point of reaching your body that blocks it. Leaving no more than a radiant glow surrounding your head, providing an inhuman glow that illuminates your body as much as your soul — a wistful image that he’s glad to witness once more. Your being here is something of a majestic collision into a door to his person he’d fought to keep locked, if this is a departing gift he would gladly take it. He’d thought the last time he saw you would be when he unwillingly shared his plan, should this ending occur, he could take comfort in there not being a picture of you waiting at the door waiting for the other half of you to walk through the door, only to be met with a crushing realisation of never seeing him again. Only, he’d not expected you to follow in his tracks, not after he’s ignored your pleas of turning away from this path.

“ Ya better get outta here, ‘place is gonna blow soon. “

“ Not without you. “ you argue, refusing his direction — your grip strengthens ever so slightly, fearing the winter breeze has the power to boldly grow and tear you away from the man.

“ Ya got’a whole life ahead of ya. “ A twist of his heart is the dominant sensation he notices at the thought.

He wishes he could be there for it, to see the petals of your success bloom in the depths of your determination. One thing he could never understand was how, despite the tainted reputation that follows him like a shadow, never had been enough to put you off. Not a criminal tie to your name and you voluntarily merged your time and energy with his, with little care. Perhaps that’s where an addiction to his selfishness began. All his life and his Yakuza connections secluded him from genuine human connections and you’d trampled all over that with your impartial view. Many would prefer to cower in their fear, you’d scratched past the surface to see who he could be capable of being.

All the time spent together, and yet he still craves more. To linger in your orbit, time is his nemesis — for he still feels as if there has not been enough. Not the hours spent with the sun setting and you’re there by his side, when he’d spent more time committing the wonder at such a simple thing to his memory. Not the darkened hours spent together surrounded by silken sheets, and all that graced his ears was a musical symphony of breathy moans as you set about learning each other’s bodies. Never were the hours spent talking in order to hear the passion in your voice when speaking about something that interests you enough for him.

“ You can’t do this. “ You whimper softly, almost looking through the man you hold close. “ You can’t come into someone’s life, you can’t make them care about you and leave just because you want to. What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to sit by and let you do this? “

He says nothing, leaving space for a groan of pain to leave his lips as he tips his head back. He’s met with a darkened blanket where millions of stars are scattered so ungracefully, yet do not collide an uncoordinated dance across the sky. Uncertainty overwhelms him, over that is causing more pain — the wounds or the grief in your every word.

“ Just get the fuck outta here already. “ His voice echoes across the large space as he turns his attention back to you.

“ Were you lying all that time? “ You ask with a trembling lip at the thought of being without.

It feels like an endless amount of early mornings had been spent planning and chattering about the most random things. Your mind lighting up with the power of a thousand suns before the world had awoken around you. You can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but the two of you awoke a little earlier than necessary to bathe in the image of the other — to forge a most perfect illusion of normalcy before stepping out into the real world. Mornings were not your most happiest bedfellow, yet you’d grown to love them just a little more when waking to the most simplest treat to sweeten your tongue.

“ What ya on about? “

“ All that time when we were talking, about what we were going to do? What we could do? ”

“ Why ya going on about that ? “ He asks curiously, eyeing you as you speak.

“ If you die, how are we meant to do any of it? “ Your words are rushed as you question him plainly.

“ Yer gonna .. just won’t be with me. “ Colour from the world feels as if it’s fading, merging into one bland monochrome depiction of a bright, bubbling city.

“ Can you stop?! “ A frustrated shriek tears from the bottom of your throat in response. “ I’m done talking in circles, I’m not dying here and neither are you. If I have to, I will drag you out with me. “

The world pauses in shock for a quiet fraction of a minute. To be spoken to in such a manner is not something Ryuji has experienced much in his life, even rarer by you — words that fell from your lips are always bathed in the sweetness of sugar, not an ounce of poison to anyone. Even the individuals who drew your temper out of its sleep were met with an incredible amount of restraint, he can hear the desperation — acting as a bucket of ice water to shock his nerve endings from the low temperature.

“ You did what you had to do. It wasn’t meant to be, but you can find another purpose. Build something else with your life, just.. Just come with me. Please. “

To be responsible for dragging you down with him, away from providing the world with your bright rays of sunshine in the bland day to day lives of everyone you came into contact with weighs heavily on his chest. Extra time spent with you, perhaps getting to know who his little sister has become are the treats tied onto a stick in front of him, life’s cruel bribe. He’d imagined how his ending would have been sketched by above, yet to have ties keeping him there had not been what he would have included. If he couldn’t be the one dragon, this would be a consolation prize that would allow for the petals of peace to bloom before he’d tear them down once more.

A strength he’d thought abandoned him glows with a dull hue, for a minute, he contemplates using that for Kiryu. Yet the other half of his soul wins the battle, a hand of his reaches out to push himself off from the concrete. It’s not an easy feat after being battered more than once, yet it’s not half as arduous as it could be with you supporting his weight — he’s fully aware how much of your strength he is using from your audible gasps of air.

“ Ya don’t gotta yell at me. “ he complains softly as he grips his side with as much force as he can dedicate to.

“ I don’t think it’s the time for this. “ You argue back quickly.

“ The red one. “

“ Huh? “ The sound escapes you as your features turn into a frown over how to get away from the ticking time bomb fast enough.

“ The lift, to get down. Press th’red one. “ He instructs you with a finger barely lifted, pointing in the direction of the button behind you.

You say nothing in response, the wheels in your mind working faster than your body as it moves purely on an instinctive reaction when receiving messages from your brain. Your stomach twists and turns from the descent to below, unable to process the way the city shifts into a state of obscurity from the swift movement. It would be a beautiful sight if it hadn’t attached a violent night as a parting gift.

“ You really scared me up there. “ You confess with barely a whisper. “ Can you promise me something? “

“ What’s that? “

“ That you won’t do something like this again. “ You say, with your heart hoping that he’d shy away from an impossible task should it present itself. Your eyes had seen enough hurt for one night, you’re confident you’d not be able to withstand it once more.

“ Wish I could. “

Teeth grind against the bottom of your lip, you should have known that he wouldn’t. Yet you also cannot find the strength to tear yourself away from the fire that burns within him, like a moth to a flame, you find yourself wondering how close you can stand against the heat before you flee from the pain it brings.

[itamiiscribble]

Tobirama Senju X Uchiha Reader [M/F]

Title: | Lover's Death |

Chapter 3: "Favor"

"SUMMARY":

"You don't have to be on the battlefield."

Slowly looking over your shoulder you raise a brow, not sure what he means with that.

Sighing in annoyance at your puzzled expression he turns around and jumps onto a branch of the nearest tree.

You turn around again, lifting your head high and watching his back tuned towards you. And right before you can ask what he means, the grey haired boy addresses you again.

"If you don't want to 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 life's, then 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 life's."

____________________________________________

Chapter 3:

Forcefully you are being pulled out of your comfortable warm futon. Someone is tugging and yanking at your blanket, startling you out of your slumber.

"Wake up!"

Sitting up you rub your face, trying to drive away the weariness in your eyes. The sun shining through the window makes it hard for you to decipher the person standing right above you.

"Help me set up the breakfast, be useful!" Literally spitting those words at you, your aunt leaves your room.

"Yes, aunt Suzume." You croak out, but having left your room already you doubt she heard you. You answer her regardless, as always.

You are used to this. Being treated like a nuisance, a plague by most of the people in your clan, even your own family.

Family...

Your aunt and uncle had no choice but to take care of you after your mother and brother had died. Five years you have been living under their roof. Five years you have been looked down on, treated like a servant in this household that should be feeling like your home.

But can you blame them?

You are the sister of a traitor, the daughter of incompetent parents. The only misfortune left in your family.

That's what your clan thinks of you.

But...you know the truth.

The truth which no one but 𝘺𝘰𝘶 believes in.

That your brother, Seiko, was murdered for refusing to kill a child Shinobi on the battlefield. Your mother, not being able to handle the death of your brother, dying out of misery and the hate that came from everyone in your clan after Tajima, your leader, had declared your brother a traitor of the clan.

She wasn't a weak woman, but having lost her husband on the battlefield eleven years ago, and only four years later losing her first born child had weakened her immeasurably to the point that she refused to eat or drink for weeks.

You had tried your best with your ten years of age to comfort your mother, to be there for her.

But to no avail. It had been like she had already given up on life.

It had hurt immensely to see her like that, but what hurt you more was the fact that it felt like she totally had forgotten about her second child, her daughter which tried to comfort her mother as much as she could with her only ten years of age.

Tried to make her feel better...

Not a year later, your mother had passed away. Medical Shinobi's declaring her death with the words 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

But it wasn't weight loss why your mother had died. It was sorrow, grief, the hate she had received from her once called friends in the clan.

You remember the loathing you had felt towards the people in your clan after losing your last family member.

You had stood there, beside your mother's bed in which she had been lying, dead. The three medical Shinobi's in front of you tried to explain you the reason of your mothers death. But you hadn't listened to one single word, your eyes had been fixated on your mother's deceased body.

"(Y/N)? Do you understand...?" Hiroshi, the head of the medical Shinobis took a steps towards you, crouching in front of you and looking up to your eyes. His expression was no where hostile, in fact, you believed he was the only person who didn't disdain you, your best friend included.

You had forced yourself to look away from your mother's body to gaze down at the old man with his too big glasses waiting for your answer.

Appalled, Hiroshi exclaimed in shock. Seeing the Sharingan manifested in your eyes his expression changed from shock to sadness. The old man had put a hand on your cheek, his eyes full of sorrow and pity.

"I'm sorry, child. You did not deserve this... ", he had slightly squeezed your shoulder before raising to his full height.

The way he had handled you, as if you weren't a nuisance like everybody else saw you, has made unwillingly memories of your deceased brother cloud your vision.

The way he had also been crouching in front of you, his eyes full of misery and tears-

"(Y/N)!"

Your aunt's voice strartles you out of the memories of the past. Rubbing your face you sigh slightly, quickly standing up from your comfortable futon.

After tidying up your futon and changing from your nightgown into your casual day clothings you are ready for a new day.

Leaving your small room you make your way to the kitchen where your aunt is already waiting for you. And as expected, the moment you join to help her, she speaks up with her usual grim voice.

"Set the table, i'm already finished in here."

Nodding you leave the kitchen with small rapid steps.

You don't really talk much if you don't have to, not in this household at least. Your uncle and aunt barely start conversations with you, only the inevitable matter. It used to upset you, when you were still a child. But over the years you have managed to accept the fact that their behavior towards you would never change.

So you just hold your head high and do as you are being told. Only for the sake of avoiding any dispute and destroying your small amount of peace in this household.

When you enter the living room you find your uncle already cross legged in front of the table, watching out of the window right beside the table.

You bow slightly, even though you know he won't see it, so fixated he was looking out of the window. But the moment you start putting down the tableware, your uncle speaks up in a stern tone, not moving his head away from the outside world.

"When do you plan on doing your training and going to the field?"

You freeze in place. You don't have to ask what he means. You know exactly what he is talking about;

Training to become a Shinobi.

It is required from every child in your clan to train from a young age to become a Shinobi and join the battlefield as soon as possible.

You were an exception. Having lost your family at a young age and being called the traitor's sister, people had avoided you. And that meant, no one had forced you to join the other children on the battlefield. You don't know if it was out of despise or fear of following your brothers footsteps and becoming another traitor. You believed it to be the latter.

But it did not matter, you were glad. You did not want to become someone who has to kill others to serve your clan. To kill 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 to survive. Having witnessed the death of your brother you had realized that a Shinobi's life was not an option for you. And you were glad that no one had forced you into it.

Until now it seems...

"I'm helping you and aunt Suzume out at the shop, uncle." Your uncle and aunt have a small shop right beside their house, selling various herbs. It wasn't a pleasant job, not when your aunt was making you work more than herself. But as always, you did not complain. Never.

You slowly continue setting up the table, hoping he will let the subject fall, like he did for many years. But apparently this time he wasn't planning on going easy on you.

"Me and your aunt can handle the shop by ourselves."

Changing the direction of his gaze he starts following your movements with his eyes. Avoiding looking at him, you continue your task at hand, swallowing hard.

Why is he being so obtrusive all of a sudden? You don't understand. You just want him to stop. You don't want to become a Shinobi. Not after what happened to your brother, your 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺!

Doesn't he understand that you have no desire to be on the battlefield? That you can't handle the thought of taking people's life? That's it's just not in your nature? How can he be so 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦?

What foolish questions.

They never cared about your well being, your thoughts and wishes, so why would they 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

"I enjoy working at the shop, uncle." Unwillingly your voice sounds harsh and you regret it immediately. But before you can add something to soothe the harshness, your uncle snaps at you.

"It is every child's duty to be on the battlefield!" Brows knitted and mouth pressed into a thin line he looks at you. Both of his hands are formed into fists on the table, he is obviously trying to subdue his anger.

This time you stop at your task and look back at him. If the atmosphere has changed already, then there is no harm in joining the thunder, right?

"I won't become a Shinobi, uncle Jiro."

You stand tall opposite of the table, trying to act calm in front of your uncle who get's more exasperated each passing second.

"You have no choice, (Y/N). It has already been decided. Tajima himself made the decision."

Your aunt's word's from behind you hits you like a lightning.

Tajima? The leader of the clan? But why...after so many years?

You can't move from your position, still too shocked at the declaration from your aunt. Aunt Suzume ignores your disturbed expression and starts putting down the edibles on the table.

"No... I don't want to...", you whisper to yourself, totally dissociated, but your uncle catches on to it.

"What? You dare to not follow order's from your own leader?!" Harshly hitting his fists on the table he straightens his back and gives you such a venomous look, it makes your inwards turn in nausea and you take a few steps back anxiously.

"Stop being so selfish, child! You 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 follow order's, you have no choice in the matter."

Letting out a painful cry you start running.

Running out of your so called 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦. You don't know where you are running towards, but it doesn't matter. Anywhere is better than this so called home that gives you only misery instead of happiness.

The outside world is blurry in your vision, tears are flowing down your face uncontrollable. People around you don't even look your way when you pass them with wide rapidly steps.

You are thankful for that, this way no one will follow you to disturb you in your misery.

You are running for an unknown time, not caring where your feet lead you. Leaves hitting you all over your body makes you realize that you've yet again entered the forbidden woods.

Suddenly stopping in your tracks, you encounter a welcoming tree with it's branches low on the ground. Taking in a shaky breath, you make yourself comfortable on the branch, laying against it and lifting your head up to watch the morning sun shine through it's leaves.

The tears you had let flowing ceased the moment you've entered the wood. You don't have a single tear left to shed, exhaustion overwhelms your body after running for so long.

You don't know what to do. You just know, for certain, that you do not want to be a Shinobi.

It's simple... but yet so inevitable.

How can you convince your uncle and aunt that it isn't an option for you?

Is it even possible at all after what just happened between you?

But most importantly... How will you convince the head of the Uchiha, Tajima, that you do not want to go to the battlefield?

You refuse to be used as a weapon to murder people. You can't even think of harming another human being in the first place! No matter the reason...It's just not in your nature.

But... What can you do?

You don't realize you started crying again when you suddenly feel something wet running down your face.

Groaning in frustration you pluck a leaf from a near branch and start tearing it apart in fast movements. As if tearing it apart will also make your problems rip to shreds.

That is until u see a shadow like figure right above you on a thick branch, watching you.

For the second time this day you startle in schock from your berth. But this time you lose your balance and land right on to your face on the muddy ground.

Hearing footsteps landing on the leaves a few steps away from you, you get this familiar feeling again.

It is him. Tobirama.

And you are currently lying face down on the muddy ground.

Wonderful.

Could your day get any worse?

Standing up in slow movements you start wiping away the mudd on your body and face. Hoping that you managed to clean away the most of it, you finally look up at him.

There is nothing new on his appearance. He is again wearing his casual two-piece mahogany attire.

His face is also the same hostile expression as always, but for some reason you believe that's just his usual expression.

As mentioned, his appearance hasn't changed, so why is your heart beating so rapidly? Is it still from the shock he had caused you?

"Were you crying?" His voice sounds neither bewildered nor interested. He is asking you just plainly without any detectable emotion in his voice whatsoever.

Your eyes widening your gaze wanders down to the leaves in front of his feet.

"What are you even doing here again?"

"Those are a lot of questions, Tobirama." You counter, finally being able to look back at him again.

Apparently he wasn't expecting you to answer like that; one eyebrow raised he crosses his arms on his chest and just looks at you. Watching you, unblinking.

His eyes are darting back and forth between you.

Is he trying to intimidate you...?

For some strange and unexpected reason you find it amusing and can't hold back the giggle forcing itself out of your mouth.

Quickly putting a hand onto your mouth you watch his expression change from serious to confusion. His eyebrow knitted together he snaps at you, as expected.

"What is so amusing?" Snarling out those words he takes another step towards you.

Maybe you shouldn't have laughed on his account because the way he is looking at you 𝘯𝘰𝘸 is quite intimidating and you wish you never allowed that giggle to come out.

Immediately taking a step back you hiss in pain when your hand lands on a crust of the tree behind you. The tree you had been laying on its branch not five minutes ago.

Closing your eyes in distress you don't dare to move an inch more. You've cut your hand, you are certain of it, but you don't want him to know. Opening your eyes again you see the grey haired boy had stopped in his tracks and is looking rather confused in your direction.

You should've known that a Shinobi would catch onto every single one of your movements; the trembling of your right hand makes him understand the situation immediately.

Sighing in annoyance Tobirama takes the last few steps towards you and harshly takes your hand to investigate. You wince at his rough treatment and look up at him reproachful.

He doesn't even glance your way, still examining your bleeding hand.

And without a warning he turns around and starts walking, his hand still holding onto yours, carefully avoiding the injured part.

You don't know where he is leading you, too occupied with following his rapid steps.

"W-what are you doing?" You stutter out, meanwhile trying to avoid leaves hitting your face. Why must he walk so fast?!

Not taking the time to even answer you, the grey haired boy just continues his path.

Slowly getting annoyed at being treated this way you are about to snap at him, but right in that moment he crouches down, forcing you to do the same beside him.

Confused you look at him, what is he trying to do?

The moment he gently let's go of your hand you follow his gaze; right in front of you is a bush full of the wondrous Senju herb.

Immediately understanding his intentions you just follow the movements of his hands gently picking up a few herbs.

He was doing this for you...

You, still lost in mind barely see the way he puts some of the herbs blossoms into his mouth and starts chewing on it until it gets the perfect consistency.

Gently he takes your hand and puts it onto his own.

Watching his every single motion you instantly start blushing at seeing him take the mushy content out of his mouth. He doesn't see your blushing, totally concentrated on his task.

Why 𝘢𝘳𝘦 you blushing?

You get distracted when you feel a sudden pressure inside your palm. Tobirama is smoothly rubbing the mush on your wound, being extremely careful not to put too much pressure onto it.

And you are watching him.

Not the way he is handling your injured hand, no, you are watching the way he has is eyes slightly narrowed, his jaw clenched tight, highly concentrated.

You can't hide the smile appearing on your face at the expressions he is making. And for some unknown reason, you feel warm inside. You feel save...As if nothing bad could happen to you right now....

"Why were you crying?"

The question hits you like a lighting striking your body. Tobirama is still concentrated on rubbing the mush on your palm, not looking up at you and you are grateful for that.

You don't want him to see the expression you are making right now at the thought of what awaits you as soon as you go back to your home. Sadness overtakes the feeling of easiness, and unfortunately, you can't hold back the tear that runs down your cheek, falling into your injured palm and right into the grey haired boys vision.

He immediately lifts his head, looking you right into the eyes. You can detect that he feels uncomfortable, feeling out of place by your expression of sadness. It doesn't take long and he looks back down again.

Letting out a shaky breath, you decide to just tell him.

"I'm being forced to become a Shinobi." Your voice comes out in a whisper, but you are certain Tobirama was able to understand every single word.

You are sure, because the moment those words leave your lips, he freezes in his movements.

But not for too long, he continues his task with furrowed brows and lips pressed tightly into a thin line.

You don't blame him for being quite, in fact, you kind of appreciate it. You don't know how much you are able to tell him. Or even 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 tell him. He is still a Shinobi from another clan...

And strangely, that thought makes you feel even worse.

Another tear falls down into your palm. You try your best not to cry but to no avail. You are sure you look like a mess right now, but for some strange reason you don't care. You should feel vulnerable by showing your emotions so openly towards someone you barely know... But you don't...

A sudden stirr on your hand urges you to look down; Tobirama is currently wrapping up your hand with a fabric that looks odly familiar. Finishing up his task he slowly let's go of your hand.

He doesn't waste time in making more space between the two of you, swiftly taking a few steps backwards.

Smiling at his behavior you observe your neatly wrapped hand. He was really good at this, you had to admit.

Looking up you give him a small gently smile.

"Thank you, Tobirama."

Giving you a slight nod he avoids looking at you, which makes your smile grow.

Minutes pass and no one says a word.

Clearing your throat you slowly bow towards him, deciding it's time to go back. It's not like your aunt or uncle will be worried, but you don't want to make the situation even worse.

Turning around you make your first step, but abruptly halt in your tracks when Tobirama speaks up again.

"You don't have to be on the battlefield."

Slowly looking over your shoulder you raise a brow, not sure what he means with that.

Sighing in annoyance at your puzzled expression he turns around and jumps onto a branch of the nearest tree.

You turn around again, lifting your head high and watching his back tuned towards you. And right before you can ask what he means, the grey haired boy addresses you again.

"If you don't want to 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 life's, then 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 life's."

Eyes widening you can't say a single word but watch the way he crouches on the branch and takes a leap to the nearest tree, again, leaving you behind.

And here you are, alone, your thoughts running wild since the moment he said those words. You can't believe you didn't thought of this sooner. Well, to your defense, you never expected to be forced to become a Shinobi in the first place.

You cant hide the smile forming on your face on your way back home.

You've made a decision. You would turn things around to your favour.

Running. You are running again. But this time you are running towards hope instead of hopelessness.

It doesn't take you long and you are already standing in front of the door that will change the direction of your fate.

Knocking eagerly on it you can't await the person you wish to see opening it.

And to your luck, it doesn't take long and a white haired old man with his too big glasses opens the door, looking at you surprised.

Not wasting a single second, you bow down and ask him the question that has been lingering on your tongue since the moment you had made your decision.

"Let me be your student, Hiroshi-sensei."

Visit me on AO3 (*´꒳`*)

[passable-talent]

Is this even necessary? Yes please part 6!!!

and so we return, one whole month later

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

After Azula’s attack, and the forced flee from the Western Air Temple, you spent a few days being pissed at Zuko. Like, really pissed. You didn’t speak to him at all. This was something that concerned and confused the prince, because it had seemed like the two of you were making real progress only a few nights before.

What had happened?

He didn’t try to fix it before he left with Katara. Partially, he thought, to give you space, and because he assumed that your issue would be easier to fix than Katara’s. So for a day or so you simmered, just like you had back at the Western Air Temple, rage as always masking your hurt.

When he returned, and things with Katara settled down, he found you perched among the jagged stones that lined the pathway up to his family’s old vacation home. You were still hidden here, but felt even excluded from the team, which let you think, and sulk.

“Y/N,” he said, announcing his presence as he climbed up the rock. You had your back to him, and your shoulders tensed up. You didn’t face him.

“What do you want,” you asked, giving him a shoulder so cold he’d lose his firebending.

“I want to know why you’re angry with me,” he said, and you looked up at the sky, frustrated, as though he should clearly know without you needing to tell him.

“That so?” You spat, and as you weren’t wearing shoes, you sensed as he walked closer to you, arms at his sides. It seemed he was attempting to be non-threatening.

“Yes. I realized I’ve done a lot of explaining, and not much listening. Whatever is keeping you so angry at me, I’ll listen.” You fixed your gaze to the stone in front of you, glaring, before you shut your eyes tightly. Your fists tightened up, and you brought your arms to your chest, and it was like your body was contracting to prepare for an explosion.

It was.

“You want to know why I’m angry with you?” You shouted, turning around while throwing your hands down to your sides, “it’s because you’re so stupid!” Your gaze avoided his, but not purposefully, instead because your anger manifested in rapid movements while you spoke. “You get ambushed by your psychopathic sister, who has been known to manipulate you, and you- you go after her anyway?” You held up your hand, four fingers shown to him, just in case he’d forgotten how to count.

“She had four airships. And you had nothing. No backup. You didn’t let Aang or I follow you, and you charge off into battle.” You leaned forward, a snarl on your lips.

“I watched you fall. I thought you died!” With the final exclamation of your anger, you stepped forward and shoved him backwards, but with a twist of your planted front foot you moved out of the way some of the jagged rocks he might’ve stumbled or fallen onto. Anger finally released, your expression turned to one of pain, of fear, of sadness.

“You told me you’d make it up to me. You can’t do that if you’re dead.” You turned to the side, now avoiding his gaze as he collected himself from the ground, and felt tears begin to fall.

“For so long I mourned Lee, right? Thought that the guy I loved was gone, because who you are isn’t who he was. And I finally figure out that that’s not true, that you are almost as good as I thought you were, and then I think you’ve died...” you trailed off, wiping the wetness of your face with a roll of your shoulder.

“I’ve already mourned Lee, I cant mourn Zuko, too, okay? I don’t want you to die, especially not by something stupid, like charging into a battle you couldn’t win.” You turned your eyes back to him, and found him staring at you, an expression you’d never quite seen on his face. It wasn’t a clear expression that you could pin, other than that he looked so... young. Surprised, almost.

“What?” You asked, voice still a bit jumpy from being choked up.

“You said you loved me.” It took a mental backtrack through your words to realize that you had, indeed.

“Zuko...” you breathed, and you turned toward the horizon, where the sun had long ago dunked into the ocean but still it reddened the sky. You brought your hands to the other’s bicep, as though it could help you protect your heart, and you forced some of your own hesitation away as you breathed out.

“Zuko, I loved you,” you admitted, finally, and that rush of it almost made tears re-emerge. “I did. You were sweet and funny and we got on so well.” You heard him step toward you, and you looked away from where he was near to being. “But the reality I thought I was living in... the floor fell out from under me. The Dai Li were secretive, and they weren’t what I thought they were. Iroh wasn’t just a kind old man, but was a fire nation general. The new leader of the Dai Li wasn’t a brilliant young soldier, but was a fire nation princess. A manipulative and snakish warrior who wanted to topple the earth kingdom. There was a war going on I’d never even heard of!” After the volume of your statement drained away, you hung your head, closing your eyes before your gaze could find the ground.

“And I wouldn’t have minded finding out you were the prince of the fire nation. Some part of me says I should’ve figured it out myself. What hurt me was that... you had so much more anger than I thought you did. Sure, you could be moody, but when we found you in those catacombs, the way you looked at Aang...” You let out a breath, and opened your eyes to look out over the ocean.

“I didn’t know you could be so... malicious. It was something I’d never seen from you before.” You turned your gaze to him, and let your mind wander to the moment when you stood between him and Katara, when Aang was dying. You remembered that predatory look in his eye.

“Did you even see me, that day? Or could you only think about getting to Aang?”

He didn’t answer, and you spared him from needing to. You didn’t think you wanted to know his answer.

“I think that I’ve blamed you for everything that went wrong that day. Aang’s death, your betrayal, the Dai Li’s betrayal. And I guess that isn’t fair. But I can’t seem to let it go.” You felt tears well up again, and Zuko slowly slipped his hand into yours.

“I want to forgive you,” you said, squeezing your palm around his fingers, “I want to let go of all this anger, and grief, a-and confusion, but I look at you and I... I see this boy who made the wrong choice. And that’s so frustrating, because you’ve made the right choice, again and again, you’ve defended us and helped us and fought alongside us. It’s not fair of me to focus on your mistakes when you’ve been making up for them.” You took a deep breath, and with its shaky exhale, let go of some of the sadness still clawing at you.

“I just want to let it go, so I can love you again.” There was an instant’s pause, when the prince took in your words, an instant’s pause in which the waves crashed on the shoreline and a bird cawed overhead. An instant’s pause, and then Zuko tugged you by the hand into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You hugged him back, tightly, almost squishing his torso into yours while a final few trembling breaths fought their way out of your lungs.

“I’m sorry,” he said to your shoulder, and you could hear emotion in his voice. “You deserve so much better than me. I’m so sorry. I- Y/N, I loved you then, too. If it weren’t for you, I might not have had the courage to leave the fire nation. You helped me change, and you didn’t even know it. Please, please don’t be mad at yourself.”

“I’m glad I met you,” you whispered, when a few moments had gone by.

“Me too,” he said back, laying his face down and into the crook of your neck.

You could’ve stood there and hugged him forever. You could’ve stayed in his arms, where you knew it was safe to be conflicted. He understood, and didn’t ask you to change, or make a decision. Maybe Zuko was better than Lee after all- he was flawed, but he chose to overcome those flaws and be a better person in spite of them.

It made him stronger. And, you thought, it would make you stronger.

Your heart had been broken. You’d been lied to, and cast aside. But you found it in yourself to forgive him, and to be honest with him, and to keep him close to you.

“Zuko?”

“Hmm?” You pulled from his chest, your eyes dry of their tears but heart still raw and open. You were ready to forgive him, and to move forward.

But there was one more thing.

“I need you to tell me what happened to Iroh.”

request for pt 7

edit: pt 7 requested!!

edit: | part 7 | part 8 |

-🦌 Roe

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[karlnapity]

Some Things Live But All Things Die

AO3 link here.

TWs: Major character death, explicit grief, torture.

>

Sapnap appears on your doorstep on a gloomy day.

Perhaps it’s apt for the occasion. You’re shivering, and so is he, and it’s more alike than you’ve been in months.

It’s raining, and he is too.

You force open the door with more than a little hesitance; you’d ignore it, usually, but there’s something in his gaze, in the way he’s holding himself.

It’s only once he opens the door that you realize he’s crying.

It pulls at you, makes you want to pull him close. You don’t.

He makes no move to talk. You don’t urge him to.

There’s a sinking pit in your stomach.

He sobs, then, sinking to his knees on your porch step. The lights of Las Nevadas twinkle in the background, a cruel mockery of everything you always did for him.

This isn’t right.

“He’s gone,” Sapnap wails, and you immediately know what he means.

Something in you shatters.

>

Getting the full story is difficult between it all. You fall to your knees in front of him like a man begging forgiveness, and maybe you are.

He tells you the story in stops and starts as the rain tumbles down, in sobs and heaves, and you want to pull him close but he’s so far despite the distance.

You don’t want this story.

>

It’s not quite a surprise, really, what happened, when you think about it; you were always going to lose him first.

You’re not sure why it surprises you that he was as fragile as you thought.

He disappeared, says Sapnap, for days at a time, and you think you remember witnessing it a few times yourself. He says he couldn’t remember hardly anything.

It stings. Your absence is irrelevant, now, but some part of you is clawing, dying to know whether he chose not to tell you about his country or if it was all the set-aside madness of an already dying man.

You will never know.

>

He disappeared, Sap explains, and he thought it was normal, one of his casual disappearances, and he didn’t worry until it had been a few weeks.

Sap sobs, apologizes maybe ten times, for not realizing, and your anger flares for a second before the shame comes crashing down.

You didn’t even know. You knew none of it. You have no room to speak.

>

“It was George who found his body,” Sap says.

>

You don’t want to see him, but it’s the fucking least you can do.

It doesn’t feel real until you see him. You hardly have time to think about his kingdom as you’re led through for the first time (and that burns in and of itself), the glowing lights dimmed as though the land itself is mourning.

He looks like he’s sleeping, such a difference from the last dead body you saw.

He’s gray, like one of the ghosts, as though he’s coated in soot and ash. You almost want to reach out and try to brush it off, as stupid as it is.

His clothes, even, are as grayscale as the rest of him, like a washed-out film.

“He was like this when we found him,” George says. You don’t point out his use of ‘we.’

And it suddenly feels real. You feel like throwing up.

“I need to leave,” you say, and you ignore the way you’re running away again.

> You don’t want him to come back. You don’t want to see him shaded in gray, not like his death.

He was always meant to be colorful. This isn’t fair.

> “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, despite the way you are.

“Are you crying?” Dream repeats in delight. He found a weakness and he’s weedling it like a boy pulling off the wings of butterflies.

“Shut up!” You scream, despite the way you are. You take his collar and slam his head into the wall with a sickening crack.

“What happened, Quackity?” He sings.

You wish you knew.

His pain feels useless for the first time.

> You visit his kingdom.

It’s beautiful, but empty, and you know it was all him.

He was what made it special, and without his watch it seems decrepit, as though it’s been abandoned for centuries rather than days.

You don’t look around. It deserved his tour.

> You think of Wilbur, in his grand gestures and the beautiful way he destroyed himself, and you think you understand it, just a little.

My grand symphony, he’d said, forever unfinished, or at least that’s what Philza had said.

Forever unfinished.

When it had exploded, you hadn’t understood it, had wanted to ask how a man could be so destroyed that he’d take the life of his own nation.

The slime helps you collect sand for TNT.

You're too cowardly to use it. > Mourning is a funny word.

You’ve mourned enough, really. Your ex-husband, your relationship, your dreams, and now him.

Your last funeral was a celebration, and you sit back, now, wonder if it was a mistake to let him go at all.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” You ask a ghost.

It blows smoke in your face. “I don’t think I’m the one to give you advice on self-destruction, babe.”

You wave it away. “Maybe not.”

There’s a silence in which you observe its cave. It’s a pale imitation of its character, but then again his ghost is anyways. That stings too.

“Is it right to wish it never happened? So I can avoid the mourning?”

It looks at you, then, red horns flashing. “There’s no right to pain.”

> Your husband’s body was all harsh lines and pained twists. His is soft and peaceful.

You can’t stop thinking of it.

He looked like he was sleeping. You don’t know why that hurts so much.

> Dream can bring him back.

This time it’s personal. You will not let him be lost. >

You let him die. This is your fault.

You were petty, and vindictive, and you are to blame.

“We wondered why you didn’t come home,” Sap says, and it grates, feels like nails on a chalkboard, but you have to hear it. You deserve every bit of guilt.

“And George told us, then, that you didn’t want to, and we were so confused.”

“He never told me,” you whisper.

Sap’s hand twitches, as though he’s resisting reaching out to you. You’ve been doing that a lot lately, unsure where you stand. It hurts.

“I know, Q,” he says. The sympathy doesn’t, shouldn’t belong to you.

“I should’ve come home anyways. I’m sorry.”

“I wish you had. We never would’ve left you that easily.”

It’s not much use now. > Dream doesn’t matter.

You’ve been more vicious, lately, as even Sam grows uneasy, but it doesn’t matter.

You hardly feel in control of the violence anymore. > The slime asks you about the abandoned machines, one day, asking about the matching colors, and you crumble.

It doesn’t much know how to help with tears, but its company is welcome.

You’re taking advantage of its kindness like this. It doesn’t understand what you did.

> Meetings are useless. Technoblade doesn’t seem to understand this.

He snaps his fingers in front of your face, repeats his question, but it doesn’t matter. You push your chair, stand up, prepare to leave-

“Are you alright?”

You let out something between a whine and a scream. “You’re not the kind of person to be asking me that.”

“I know. But I’m asking anyways.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You deserve this guilt. > “I can’t bring him back,” Dream wheezes. “This is useless.”

You push your knife through his shoulder, pin him to the ground. “You’re lying.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” He shrieks, and you let up, only barely.

“Quackity, Quackity, I need a ghost, please.”

You sit up on your heels, scream into your hands. You signal for Sam to raise the lava, leaving Dream pinned. “If you’re lying, I’ll kill you this time, I really will.”

He’s scared of you for the first time, and it’s not satisfying. >

> Sap looks at you like he doesn’t know you.

Did he ever know you? That’s a frightening thought.

If he knew what you were doing, he would hate you.

You don’t care. You just want him back. > And thus begins your search for a ghost. You ask your own. It shrugs.

“But everyone has a ghost,” you plead. “That’s what you told me.”

“That doesn’t mean they want to be seen.” The plumes of smoke obscure its face. “Remember the kid? He hardly showed up at all in the time he was dead.”

“But he’d want to see me,” you whine, and it sounds wrong to your own ears. “So he has to be somewhere around here.”

“Q.” Its voice is surprisingly serious. “If you ever brought me back I’d hate you forever. Don’t force this on him.”

“But-”

“Listen to me. If I came back? My shitty fucking heart would probably give out again immediately. You don’t know why he died, right? Don’t hurt him because you miss him.”

You crumple. “I need to fix this. I need to.”

“There’s no fixing, babe. Just don’t break it more.”

You hate it. > “Q.”

Fuck.

“What, Sap?”

The nicknames are familiar on your tongue, just like the tension in the air.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing?” He comes up behind you, holds your arms like he used to when you got upset.

You never look at people when you’re upset. He’s the one who noticed.

“He was so observant,” you murmur. You’re not sure when the habit started, of needing to tell people about him. As though you’ll forgethimlikeheforgotyou-

No.

“He was,” Sap replies as you curl in on yourself, holding you closer.

“What are you doing?” He whispers. “Just tell me. I can’t lose you too.”

The last part is so quiet you have to strain to hear him. You wish you hadn’t. You let loose a wail, almost a scream.

This isn’t fair. None of this is fair.

“I want him back. I’m going to get him.”

Sap pulls you to the ground, still holding you close. “I know. Me too.”

“Dream has the book.”

You hear him suck in a violent inhale, like he’s been punched in the stomach. “Q. No.”

“He can bring him back!” You exclaim, twisting to look at him.

He looks… sad. It’s an inadequate word, so simple for the expression, for the feeling, that it’s almost useless. He looks like… he looks like you.

“Why don’t you want to? Why wouldn’t you?” You argue. You plead.

“Q, he wouldn’t want to! He told me!”

“That’s fucking bullshit!” You shoot to your feet. “That’s bullshit! Just ‘cause you don’t want to-”

His expression hardens. “I want to see him just as much as you do, Q-”

“No you don’t!” Your hands raise to grip at your beanie. “No you don’t! I need to- I need to apologize I need to tell him-”

“Quackity, shut up for five seconds and listen to me!” He’s sobbing, now, you both are, breathing heavy.

It gets you to shut up.

“He knew. He knew something was wrong, and he told me that if anything happens to leave him alone. And I thought he was joking. I didn’t take him seriously.” He wipes at his eyes, but it’s no use with how hard he’s crying. “And I kick myself for that every single day. We all regret things, Q.”

And when he holds you close this time it feels comforting instead of constricting.

“I thought you left me,” you start. “And I never got to see him or his kingdom or you and I never got to spend time with you because I was too busy being a stubborn asshole.”

“You know he’d forgive you.”

“But I don’t forgive myself.” It hurts to admit. “Because I never got to see him again.”

He holds you tight. “I know.”

> “Were you mad? When I got with Sap and… him?” You can’t say his name.

It shrugs. “I don’t really remember. It doesn’t really matter.”

“I don’t want him to be mad.”

“Don’t let the dead make your choices, sweetheart. We’re past our time.”

You let out a low chuckle. “Isn’t that all the dead do? Make our choices?”

It smiles ruefully. “Only if you let us.”

> “I was scared,” you say, entwining your fingers as you lay on the roof and pulling him down with you, “that it was wrong, to still love you.”

“I know,” Sap does, laying next to you. He looks at the stars. “Me too. But I do. Still love you, I mean.”

“But we’ll always be missing something.”

“That too. But it’s… it’s not okay, but it will be, I think.”

“I hope you’re right. I want you to be.” > And you don’t forgive yourself, but Sap does, but your ex-husband does, and that has to be enough.

You don’t see his ghost. Maybe it’s around, maybe it’s not, and that has to be enough, too.

Grief is awful. Mourning is awful. It hurts, a constriction around your throat.

You grieved your relationship, thought that would kill you, and it was only child’s play. Sometimes you’re certain you’ll die just from the pain of it all.

It’s not fair. Not to any of you. And that has to be enough.

But it will be okay. And that will have to be enough.