#you're like your father in the sense that you hurt people to relieve your anger. got it? got it. bc i dont think i was clear sdgkjgdshjbk

[snekdood]

im so happy for you that fiction doesnt effect your reality. thats not the case for all of us though ✌️

[ladygatuna]

Chapter 04: Some things never change

"So, you have a rich father?" Veronica's mocking voice echoed through the cave. Lydia rolled her eyes, imagining another jar of pickles flying toward her friend. "I always wanted a rich friend to support me!" Veronica's laughter filled the space, reverberating off the damp walls.

Lydia sighed tiredly. "Why are you like this?" she asked, while Veronica made a face and stuck out her tongue, like a naughty child. If she could, she would have flipped the bird too.

"You're rich now, let's go to a stripper club?" Veronica shouted the last part, making her voice echo throughout the cave. Lydia blushed from head to toe, sensing Bruce's presence somewhere in the shadows. "I've always been curious about these houses!"

Despite her embarrassment, Lydia couldn't help but smile. She missed these moments with Veronica, even if it was just to relieve the tension that the last conversation had left behind. Many tears were shed in that discussion, full of thorns that needed to be removed, even if they hurt. It was a conversation they should have had years ago, but Veronica always avoided it. Facing monsters was easy; Opening up as a person, without the spider mask, was the real battle.

"I see you're better already, idiot!" Lydia stood up, stretching. "If you need help, there's a button next to your right hand!" She showed a small device to Veronica, who just waved.

"Where am I exactly?" Veronica tried to lift her head, but her body was numb. Hatred for Miguel burned in her eyes.

"It's a secret place, only trusted people know the address." Lydia received a hopeful look, like that of a child about to be given a special mission, only to crush the hope afterwards. "And you're not one of them, spider lady!"

Veronica made a face, eliciting a laugh from Lydia.

"I'm your best friend!" Lydia shrugged, adjusting the IV on Veronica's arm. Soon she would need another bag.

"You could be a doppelgänger. I need time to trust." Veronica snorted, turning her head, ignoring her friend. "I'm going to take a shower. There's a handsome man waiting for me in a warm bed!" Lydia whispered, only for Veronica to hear.

"Having a handsome boyfriend doesn't give you the right to be jealous, you idiot!" Veronica shouted, hearing Lydia's laughter gradually disappear.

The room was silent, only the sound of equipment filling the space. The hours passed, boredom set in. Without television, all that was left was to sleep, and so Verônica did.

Later, the sound of the door woke her up, but she kept her eyes closed. She felt safe there. A firm hand held hers, making her startle. She opened her eyes to find a figure dressed as a bat.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," said the figure, but Veronica continued to look, scared. "I just wanted to check your signs."

She nodded, still paralyzed by fear. The man turned on the light, momentarily blinding her. When the light adjusted, he didn't look as scary, although still large and muscular.

He went back to what he was doing, measuring her blood pressure. Looking closer, Veronica noticed the symbol on the uniform, the same one that shone in the sky when she arrived. Maybe the bat wasn't a big mobster. The idea of ​​a crime boss dressed as a bat made her laugh, catching Bruce's attention.

He gave a questioning, lifeless look. His laughter died.

"I had a funny thought about bats," Veronica explained quickly, fearing she would anger anyone who was so close to needles and medicine. Bruce went back to what he did.

"Can you move your body?" he asked without looking at her.

"Just my fingers, which is a miracle. Last time I thought I would be vegetative for the rest of my life!" She laughed, but Bruce remained serious.

"So, have there been other times?" He grabbed a bag of blood from the refrigerator at the end of the room, looking at it with intimidating eyes. Veronica just nodded with her head lowered.

"Spider side effect?"

"Depends on the spider," she said, turning her head as he approached with the needle. "He was the leader of my old group. He can produce this toxin. We fought and he bit me a few times." A cynical smile appeared on the bat's face. "My luck is that I have great stamina."

"So, you had a fight with your leader?" he asked, trying to distract her from the pain of the needle.

"He thought that because he was a leader, everyone had to agree with him!" Veronica suppressed a groan of pain, holding back tears.

"So, you came back because you were expelled?" He got bandages from the closet.

"He lost. I could have stayed, but I was tired of solving problems that weren't mine." Bruce murmured, affirming, as he changed the bandages on his back. Veronica shivered when she felt his hot breath, his hands covered in leather.

She tried to focus, but years of struggle and isolation made her senses flare at the touch. Sure, she'd had boyfriends, but they didn't last. She He had a weakness for troubled and dangerous men, always ending up in maximum security prison.

Her last boyfriend was two years ago. Since then, she has promised not to get involved with anyone else. But she was still a woman, susceptible to the same old tricks.

She prayed that the dressing change would be over soon.

"I'm done. The others, your friend will do. Is that okay?" He helped her lie down.

"Yes sir!" It came out as a whisper, her face burning with embarrassment. Bruce left, turning off the light, leaving her in the dark with her shame.

Some things never change.

[author-morgan]

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist:  @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part five: Click here, butters, elpacho, last meheecan.

Part six: You're here, dumb!

Part seven: Finally here!

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Peeta and I end up helping Haymitch to his compartment, the reek of vomit and alcohol wasn't exactly pleasant.  Since we couldn't set him down the bed, we ended up hauling him to the bathtub, setting the shower on him. 

Peeta gave me an odd look when I laughed awhile ago; there was no humour in the situation after all. Forming a good impression wasn't really on my agenda. "It's alright; I can take it from here," he said.

I nodded, "Okay," I nodded, putting my lips together. "Do you—need me to call those Capitol people?" I asked, stumbling over my words. My confidence seemed to have been drained at some point.

He shook his head "No, I don't want them," he responded. I nod for the last time and head to my own room, relieved that I don't have to wash putrid vomit off Haymitch's chest hair, or something. Though it would be the perfect "revenge" for the people working here, I get why he doesn't want to see them. 

I wonder, why does he want to help such a wreck? Was he simply kind like the time he gave me bread? Or was he using this to gain Haymitch's favour? A feeling of nervousness bubbled up within me, a kind Peeta Mellark was way more dangerous than an unkind one. Not everyone in the district can afford to be kind, so kind people make such a mark on me.

I looked at the packet of cookies at the table beside the fancy bed—a lump formed in my throat. Kindness would've been nice, but not in this situation. I sighed, taking my attention to the window instead. 

There stood a lonely yellow flower, a dandelion. It took me back to the schoolyard, all those years ago. My eyes had just left Peeta's bruised face when I saw that dandelion; hope rose within me that moment, I plucked it gently from the ground and hurried home. I grabbed a small, broken bucket and grabbed Nal's hand and headed to a meadow. It was filled with the same flowers.

It was the first moment where Nal smiled after our Father's death. He loved the way the flowers smelled and looked. However, he was quite upset because we had to eat them, with the rest of the bakery bread. My father loved his plants, maybe a bit too much. 

I remember countless hours we spent in the woods looking for a specific type of plant, whether for eating or for medicine. He had me memorize them by heart, which took a couple of years because I got distracted halfway through. 

The next day, we were off to school. I hung around the edge of the meadow after, contemplating whether I should jump the fence. My mother couldn't get a job, well, she didn't want to. She thought the whole District would shame her the moment she stepped out of our crumbling home. It made no sense to me; we had nothing to lose anymore.

Which is exactly why I went under the fence, retrieved the old, leather-bound daggers my father made from scraps and wood. It was pretty frail, but if you handle it carefully and throw it properly, it won't break—most of the time.

I didn't go beyond twenty yards that day; I didn't feel confident enough to go deeper, fearing I'd get lost in the forest. I took home a small rabbit that day, we hadn't had meat for months, so it honestly looked like a full course meal, like the one we were served in the tribute train.

My mother isn't the greatest cook, so she burnt a couple of bits, mainly the thighs. But it still filled us. The woods became my second home, escaping the sad atmosphere my mother gave off and the pressure the Peacekeepers would regularly make us feel. 

The hunting started slow, but each time I went under, I went deeper. I stole eggs from nests, jumped from tree to tree and managed to shoot a squirrel or two down. I struggled with the fish; my father would always throw his dagger to the fish with little to no effort. Whenever I'd throw mine, it would miss. It took me a couple of times to figure out the water distorts my vision.

The plants were no effort; I knew which one to pick, which ones were poisonous. The signs of danger used to terrify me back to the fence until I gathered enough courage to climb the tall trees, then I stuck with it, not liking the feeling of being chased. The wild dogs would always leave me alone after a while.

On July 15th, I finally signed up for the tesserae, carrying the first batch of grains and oils in the same broken bucket I used to gather those dandelions. I patched it up with some scrap bark. On the 15th of every month, I would put my name once again. I still had to hunt; grains weren't enough. We still needed soap, milk, thread and many more things we used to have. I began to trade in the hob, learning how to hold my tongue in the process. My father used to trade there as well; he used to do all the talking while I watched, stayed silent. 

And so I simply tossed the game I had to their tables. They caught on fairly quick; I'd only speak up when it came to bargaining or when I'd change what'd I'd buy. Or when I would insult wild dog soup. My father was a charismatic man, always able to persuade people to buy whatever. Not me, though, I was like a sore thumb. Painful, to talk to at least.

My mother wasn't very enthralled with the fact that I had been hunting, too much like my father, she said. That's when we argued, "Don't be stupid like your father!" she shouted. I remember my face contorting to anger, how my fists clenched as she continued to scream. 

I finally exploded, "Why don't you go out and get a job if you don't want me hunting, then? You'd rather we starve?!" I said, slamming the table. "I won't die, I won't end up like father! I won't be Capitol's pig, neither was he!" 

"But if you do die?" She argued back, tears flowing down her cheeks as she gripped both my shoulders. "I'm only thinking of you, Y/n!"

I scoffed, glaring at her, "If you're thinking of us so much, then why aren't you helping us?! If I don't die being accused of rebellion, then I'll die because of those stupid games because of you!"

"Don't blame me for this! It was your father's fault for being brash—" She reasoned, but I cut her off by pushing her off me. I stared at her as if she grew three heads. "They asked you," I whispered, "All you did was nod, you could've lied."

Her green eyes shook at my words, "Lie to the Peacekeepers? The Capitol? And get us killed as well?! I only what your father wanted," 

"They didn't have anything on father! It was your voice that gave it away! It's your fault that he's dead, now we're over here starving because you can't get over yourself—"

Then there was a sting on my cheek. She had slapped me. My eyes landed on a crying Kunal; guilt surged through me, so I ran. I ran to the woods and slept on top of a tree, humming a soft tune to the mockingjays next to me. They listened and sung back. I fell asleep to their lullaby, surprisingly, not falling off.

I found my hand on the same cheek my mother slapped that day. I was going to die the same way I said, how ironic. I won't be able to apologize or tell my mother I loved her anymore. A sigh left my lips as I continued to stare out the window. 

I clenched my fists, punching the wall as my breath hitched. I let out a groan, holding the stinging part of my hand. I glared at the wall, grumbling under my breath before I decided to fall asleep, not wanting to think of my regrets and what I could've done. As I closed my eyes, I only hoped my dreams would be pleasant. 

"Up! Up! Up! It's a big big day!"

Effie Trinket's voice awoke me from my dreamless slumber. I groaned, muttering profanities as she left my compartment. I tried to imagine what it was like in that stupid wig--- well--- head of hers, it made my head hurt.

I had fallen asleep in the green shirt, causing it to become wrinkled, the. Not that I cared, there will be some stylist stripping me anyways. I shuddered at the thought of Capitol people touching me, what a nightmare. My eyes landed on the packet of cookies on my bedside table. I decided to grab it.

I entered the dining compartment, still half-lidded and yawning. Effie Trinket brushes me with a cup of black coffee. She was muttering obscenities, probably because of Haymitch. Peeta held a roll, looking somewhat embarrassed  "Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch said.

Peeta flashed me a smile, amused by how dishevelled I look. To be fair, I wasn't a morning person, I find waking up to be a tiring task. I rubbed my eyes, the packet of cookies still in my hands as I slid down the chair.

They served an enormous platter of food. I'd hate to admit it, but I was starving. So for the first time, I decided to stab it with the fork, not sure what to do with the cookies so I pocketed them. I figured I'd eat them much. . . much later.

I chewed slowly, glare on my face as my eyes struggled to remain open. I didn't even notice the orange juice next to me because of it. Peeta nudged me, handing me a cup of brown, rich liquid. It was quite warm. "They call it hot chocolate," he said. "It's quite good,"

My green eyes moved from him to the cup, then back to him. As if asking for permission. I sniffed, muttering a "thank you," before I took the cup from him. The moment the hot chocolate touched my lips I felt awake.

Not only was it hot, but it was also amazing. I've never tasted anything like this before. Coffee was a luxury, this I cannot even fathom. After I've drained my cup, I put it down and muster a sheepish smile. "Is there more?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Effie seemed to be excited by my sudden interest. "Glad you're finally appreciating the finer things," she quipped as another cup was passed to me. "Right," I responded, gripping the cup tightly.

I stopped eating when I felt somewhat full, only asking for more hot chocolate. Peeta is still eating, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them in his hot chocolate.

Haymitch hasn’t paid much attention to his platter, but he’s knocking back a glass of red juice that he keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it’s some kind of spirit. I don’t know Haymitch, but I’ve seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He’ll be a mess again by the time we reach the Capitol.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He grinned, "Here's some advice, stay alive," then he burst out laughing.

My brows furrowed, "Ha. Ha." I let out, unamused. I glanced to Peeta, surprised to see Hardness in his eyes. Usually, he looked mild. "That's very funny," he said as if adding to my remark. He suddenly lashed out at the glass in Haymitch's hands. It shattered, spilling the blood-red liquid on the floor. "Only not to us,"

Haymitch took this opportunity to punch Peeta straight in the jaw, knocking the boy out of his chair before turning around to reach for more spirits. I stopped him, driving a knife into the table, between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers.

I expected some sort of retaliation, but that didn't come. "Oh, well what is this?" he said. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta rose from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He started to raise it to the red mark on his jaw.

"No," Haymitch stopped him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you’ve mixed it up with another tribute before you’ve even made it to the arena."

"That’s against the rules," said Peeta. "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren’t caught, even better," said Haymitch. He turns to me. “Can you hit anything other than the table?"

I shrugged, pulling the knife off the table. "Your head or. . ." I said, before tossing the knife in between the seams of two panels. If I was confident at one thing, it's my aim. But not so much with a bow.

"Stand over here. Both of you," ordered Haymitch, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces. “Well, you’re not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you’ll be attractive enough.”

Peeta and I don’t question this. The Hunger Games aren’t a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors. Though I do enjoy the fact that the stylists are likely going to have a hard time styling me.

"All right, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you," said Haymitch. "But you have to do everything I say,"

Of course, there's a catch. "Fine," Peeta said while I shrugged carelessly, sipping on my hot chocolate. "In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist," Instructed Haymitch

Oh, well there goes my plan on being a general nuisance. Damn you, Haymitch.

He takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but outside it’s as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains made them easy targets for the Capitol's air forces.

Peeta and I stood in silence. My finger raised, mouth opening but I decided it wasn't worth it and awkwardly shuffled to one of the windows. He seemed to have caught on, however. "Nice view, isn't it?" he joked.

"I guess if you're blind," I answered dryly, raising the warm cup to my lips. "Sophisticated darkness, my favourite type," I finished.

He chuckled, walking next to me, the train slowing on cue. My muscles tensed as the sunlight entered the compartment. It was blinding. After my eyes adjusted I finally saw the Capitol.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't beautiful. Rainbow hued buildings that tower to the sky, possibly beyond. Shiny cars rolling on the fancy, clean pavement streets. The cameras failed to capture its beauty. It would've been perfect if not for the fact that the oddly dressed colours, wearing blizzard wigs and painted faces exist.

They looked painfully artificial. I much prefer the natural tones of district 12. "Eugh, how do they look at themselves?" I muttered, catching the attention of Peeta, who chuckled at my comment.

Huh, I forgot that he was there.

The same disgusting people began to point at us, enthralled. I was sickened, they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other like wild wolves. I suppose that's better than ending up at soup.

I stepped back, a scowl on my face. No longer able to stand the obnoxious attires and the mocking smiles of scums. Peeta held his ground, smiling and waving at them.

He only stopped when the train stopped at the station, blocking up from their view. "Who knows?" he said. "Some of them may be rich."

My body seemed to freeze as I took one last sip of the now-luke warm hot chocolate. That's when I realized, I had misjudged him. Not that I can read people well.

Which made sense, if I could I would've known that his father visiting me, offering to help Haymitch only to challenge him and now, waving and smiling at those slugs. He had a plan in mind.

He hasn't accepted his death yet. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread was fighting hard.

And that terrified me.

word count: 2.8k

Hey guys! sorry for the long wait! Had to take a break!

tags;

@nin3s

[wann-der-lusst]

00:00 (Zero O'clock)

by Audrey S. Bill

It was late in the evening, and she knew he'd be there because he'd dropped his cigarette in the sink... and just knowing he was there made her entire body shiver.

"Why were you late, Athena?"

As she was about to turn the doorknob, she felt his heavy hand on her shoulder. Her hands trembled and her heart pounded as if it were the first time something like this had happened.

"When will I ever get used to this?" That was her thought as she let him lead the way to his room.

She was putting on her clothes while staring at the man fast asleep next to her. Tears stream down her cheeks as she walks out of the room quietly.

After several days, she is still sore. No matter what she does, she can feel it all over her body. She couldn't eat anything and couldn't go about normal routine... And there she lay on a cold floor, helpless and alone, wishing to be seen, heard, and saved.

Two years later, she attempted to live and interact with others again. She joined a school organization and spent most of her days at school, where she met Eros. He is a year older than she is. Everything about him is beautiful, from the depths of his eyes to the gentle expressions on his face. Eros had the kind of face that makes you want to stop in your tracks. While Athena appeared to be an ordinary girl in the corridor, she wore a downcast expression on her face and eyes, as if she were trying not to draw attention to herself. Eros walks her home, buys her dinner, and speaks words that make her want to sweep on her knees. Athena was surprised because it was the first time she had felt so cared for; this is the joy and comfort she has been looking for. It is the same feeling she had as a child. She wiped away the sticky stream of tears that streamed down her face as she recalled her father's days. All of the walls she had built up over the years crumbled. She appears to be willing to let people in... yet again.

Months have passed, and she still can't believe someone has stuck by her side. She now has family-like friends, a boyfriend who adores her, and a mother who looks out for her and has promised never to abandon her again. She couldn't have asked for more. She remembers how sweetly he confessed to her, how he strummed the guitar for her while singing in front of the crowd. She had no idea what she deserved at this point.

Eros flicked her forehead when she was zoning out.

"Are you okay, Athena?" He gently touched her cheek to see if she was okay.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks for walking me home again!" She exclaimed joyfully.

"I'll never get tired of you, Athena." He gave her a warm smile.

"Indeed, it's the little things that matter the most." She reflected on herself before going to bed.

It was the fourth of the month, their special day, and they had decided to go to the mall. On the other side of the road, Athena was waving to Eros.

“Wait up,” he said with a smile and a wave. They waited for the stop sign to turn red before continuing their walk.

3... 2... 1...

As they walk towards each other, he suddenly pushes Athena, and all she sees is him... lying on the floor... covered in blood. Athena was stunned, and her entire body went numb. Her only sensation is the flow of hot tears from her eyes down her cheeks. This was far from what she had hoped for. Many people have gathered around him, calling an ambulance, and photographing him. People have also gathered around her, asking about her health. But all she can think about is how she can't move at all.

“I should be there instead of him. What exactly am I doing here? Why did he bother saving me?” So many thoughts had built up in her head. And when she heard the ambulance, she completely lost it. She has a lot to say but can't seem to find the words. It's just her eyes... closing.

“All I can see is white. Am I dead? Was it all a dream?” She thought to herself.

"Athena," she then noticed her mother's concerned expression.

"What am I doing here? Where’s Eros?" She asked.

"Don't worry, you're fine now. You're here at the hospital."

"Where's Eros?" She asked again.

She simply looked at Athena with a worried expression on her face. “What the hell is going on?” She reflected on herself once more, trying to remember everything that had happened before she passed out. Her head ached at the thought of Eros lying on the floor full of blood... She screamed and cried hysterically as her mother and nurses tried to calm her down, and she gradually weakened as sedatives were injected into her body and her eyes closed.

Five hours later, she woke up and just stared at the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks as she remembered the incident. Now that she thinks about it, she realizes how perfect that day was. She awoke the next morning, to find her man sleeping soundly because she forgot to turn off the Skype App on her laptop while speaking with him. She made perfect eggs; she didn't burn the hotdogs. Her Research Paper also received an A+. Everything worked out perfectly for her to get to this point. Her mother just hugged her, but she couldn’t feel her. She can't feel the warmth of this embrace. She was... lonely.

The man she adored was inside the coffin. She can't look at him because the mere fact that he's there breaks her heart into a million pieces. Athena believes that everyone in the room despises her; she feels responsible for everything because she is the one beside Eros as he breathes his last.

“No one expected this to happen... but life is truly cruel to me. How did we get to this point? Why did he fall in love with someone like me? I should be the one inside that coffin, not him. He does not deserve any of this. God, why now?” She sobbed quietly as she stared at Eros’ face.

After Eros died, Athena began cutting again. She couldn't get his smiles out of her head while trying to save her. When Athena sees blood from her wrist, thighs, and other areas that aren't visible to the naked eye, her heart calms. For her, physical pain was easier to bear than the emotional pain she was going through. She couldn't fathom how people went on after Eros died. All of the memories she had buried in the past resurfaced. And as she browsed through her gallery, she noticed that it was filled with photos of Eros and her.

“You know that I rarely pray at night. But I'll do it for Eros' sake. Please make him come back to me. Just this once please...” She cried and prayed until she fell asleep.

After a few months, at her mother's request, she began seeing a psychiatrist. “It's all for the best.” That is what they continue to tell her. Athena, on the other hand, felt she was labeled as "crazy" as a result of this.

"I completely understand what you're going through right now."

"Everything is going to be fine."

"You can count on me."

These are the words she keeps hearing from the Doctor. Athena believed the doctor was simply doing her job, as she had told all of her patients the same things. She still has a sense of emptiness. The words, however, lingered in her mind, and she felt as if her heart was gradually giving in.

“Is this okay, Eros? This doesn't mean I'll forget about you...” Athena contemplated herself.

It's been a year, but it only seems like yesterday. Athena had given up hope, but she is now smiling. She attends church every Sunday, she has grown closer to her family, her friends have consoled her, and they have all contributed to Athena becoming the person she is today. She was overjoyed that God had restored her life. When Eros died, Athena's world collapsed around her, but she soon realized she wasn't to blame; his death was an accident. Her nightmares keep her awake at night, but she is relieved that the man who abused her weaknesses as a child is now in prison.

***

Am I seeing things? Or is this really Eros? He is dressed in a white coat and is smiling and waving at me. I felt him as I held his face to see if he was real. He doesn't say anything, all he does is stare at me with his piercing eyes. Finally, he spoke...

"Athena," he begins.

The air became cold as he said my name... it's different.

"Why didn't you help me? Why... why did I even save you in the first place?!"

For a brief moment, I was stunned. This is not what I am expecting. I can feel all of his anger, despair, and betrayal from the way he said those words and the way he looks at me now.

I was about to approach him when he took a step back, his eyes welling up.

"...Eros..."

He shook his head and moved his gaze away. Is he going to leave me again? He's becoming blurry now. No way... We should be together… Eros. No, please...

***

"EROS!"

Athena screamed as she struggled to breathe. Her vision became blurry because of the tears. She had been fine for months, but it suddenly reappeared. Eros was blaming her in the dream… A single dream that has now destroyed everything she has worked for. She's blaming herself once more.

"It's entirely my fault..."

As she stood next to the bridge, she reflected on her day, which she described as "beautiful." She went to see Eros in the cemetery. Everyone was smiling and doing their best to make her feel "loved." She smiled heartily at the thought of people going to such lengths to make her happy. Her heart skipped a beat as she considered all of her loved ones, and the thought of leaving them. Athena gave everything she had, but she was also a master of disguise. Her mind is already made up that all of her misery and the monsters within her will not stop unless she makes a move, and she believes that people who get too close to her, such as Eros, will only hurt themselves.

The cool breeze caressed her skin, as if it wanted to embrace and feel her.

“Is that you, Eros? Dad?" Her eyes welled up with tears as she remembered them. She simply hopes that no one will blame themselves for having to die because it was her choice. She is certain that she will be happier. She sincerely wishes for the pain to end. She's desperate to put an end to it.

She took a deep breath and looked out at the water, which was plain blue but beautiful. She looked down at her phone and smiled one last time.

“Happy Birthday, self.”

At exactly 00:00, she jumped off the bridge, allowing her body to be thrown into the deep blue sea.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

'What does the devil fear..?'

You know those days when you wake up and feels like... not wanting to exist at all?

He was having one of those. And he didn't like it one bit. All due to a night terror of his.

Just about two months ago you were almost shoted and kidnapped due to your relationship with him and your strings with the yakusa... not only you were a easy target by many rivals gangs, but also the heroes were constantly at your back... his rage and disgust only growing even more at them for involving someone that he parcially apreciated and wanted to leave them at peace.

He felt like utterly trash when he scolded you once for being late for a date, only for you to explain that one hero named sir. Nighteye stopped you along with bubble girl on the street to interrogate you about what were your exactly affiliations with Chisaki Kai.

He knew that when he entered your life... your whole world was turned upside down. You weren't exactly safe in anywhere, everyone on this stupid and sick society looked down at his angel for only being with him.

Guilt wasn't a constant feeling on this man's life... but now? He felt that this was consuming him, little by little.

Not only that but... he is a mess. Despite his arrogance, he knew ever since he was little; due to those two that he reduses to call mother and father; that he was... broken. Not physically but mentally ill.

Cursed.

Pops was kind and generous enough to take him out of the streets and the once hell he lived in... but yet, after so many years, never he found a way to show his gratitude to the old man... and the solutions he had to bring the yakusa to their once glory were neglected immediately by his mentor.

This angered him to no ends... why didn't he listened? Was he that... useless and broken?

Normally he would voice out his frustations to you... he felt light and relaxed when he just vented with you for the first time... yet extremely frustated at himself for just depositing all of his own frustations on the first and only person who said it out loud that loved him and him reciprocated... honestly loved him, not by fear or because someone or him demanded it.

Love... also another thing he couldn't understand... neither voice it out loud. He was a man of action, not words. But he was just so awkward and his cursed mysophobia didn't helped him at all.

Never on his life he felt good about touching someone. You weren't sick, nothing about you made him cringe in disgust. Yet he was so hesitant and aprehensive of touching you... corrupting that sweet and angelic skin with his own disgusting disease called 'quirk'.

He sighed, feeling all of his body way too cold than normal... his hand coming to fist the area where his dark and cold heart layed on.

He didn't deserved living. He didn't deserved being taken in by the yakusa.... He didn't deserved his angel.

All he deserved was to burn on the deepest flames of hell... and he didn't even doubt or neglected tgat as soon as he died he was going straight forward to this place... where he belonged.

Away from the one he loved. Yes, he loved (Y/n)... it took way longer tham necessary for him to realize that... but what does it matter?

You will be taken away from him at any moment or just leave him in the dark by hatred, fear or even disgust.

The thought killed him, hurted more than one or two stabs would... he was already used to pain... but not this kind.

His breath quickened and he tried to take slow breaths, in and out, but he was far too gone when the disgusting warm liquid accumulated on his eyes and were threatening to spill from his eyes and fall on his pillow.

A knock on the door caught his attention, he didn't even bothered looking at who was opening the door as he numbly stared at the ceiling, still gripping on his shirt and bed sheets like his life depended on it.

"Kai, Pops asked me to call you." Kurono spoked, frowning hsi eyebrows at seing that his childhood friend didn't even looked at him "we... are going to-"

"I don't want it." He hoarsely spoked out, cringing at hearing how his voice sounded so weak.

"Want to at least come? Probably the old man is going to spill some news from the others gangs. It could be useful."

Kai shooked his head and did something that left Hari with wide eyes, noticing how Chisaki was NOT well at all.

"You can leave Hari. Just please leave me alone." He numbly spoked as he still looked up at the ceiling.

Hari. Not Chrono, not Kurono, not block head or other stupid title. Chisaki NEVER used his first name. Not even comenting that HE ASKED for him to leave. Not demanded.

He nodded hesitantly and closed the door, scratching at the back of his neck as he made his way to where Pops was waiting. Just as he entered he started to tell Pops about the situation... the elder widening his eyes before letting out a sigh and getting up as well.

He knocked on the door and put on a smirk before completpy falling when he heard numb sniffles... Chisaki still layed on his back and gaze on the ceiling, just like Hari described it for him.

"My boy you're feeling sick?" He asked with crossed arms, furrowing his eyebrows at not receiving a answer "Chisaki." He called again, the young man only blinked before muttering that he was listening.

"What happened Kai? You surely aren't okay..."

"... Hari will take my place on my duties today. Tell him that if it isn't much asked Pops."

Okay. This was dead serious. Chisaki trusting other people to do his own work? His brat wasn't alright. Definitely not.

"Pops with all respect I have towards you... I would likd to be left alone, if its not much asked." Pops furrowed even more his eyebrows and nodded, freezing in worry when he heard his sucessor's trembling breath.

He got out and was soon metted with Irinaka and Chrono, both with crossed arms whille waiting.

"He is sick?" Mimic asked, Pops shocking his head as he brought one hand to his chin as he thought for a second.

"He is acting weird since the accident with miss (Y/n) but never on my life I saw him on that state." Chrono muttered, turning his head at Pops when he hummed.

"... the only person who can put some sense and easy the usual beast that is Chisaki, is that girl..." Pops mused out loud before snapping his fingers with a 'oh!' before he looked at both Chrono and Mimic.

"What's the order boss?" Mimic already spoked, Pops furrowing his eyebrows a bit at looking at the closed door before he sighed.

"Bring Chisaki's little medication. I will call (Y/n) to warn about you both picking her up."

Both nodded before they went towards the exit of the house, Pops walking away thorigh the halls as he picked his phone and started to hit the spefic numbers.

"Good morning my dear (Y/n). I apologize to bother you in such a hour, but mind doing me a big favor? I would be very grateful of it" He spoked with his phone om his ear.

~

You nervously fisted the material of the clothing of your leg as Hari drived with Mimic's on the passing seat.

Both had picked you up just when you got out from your last therapy session. You had to apologize to your therapist for receiving a call on the middle of the session, but she was understanding on seing your look of worry when you saw Pops calling and explaining the situation.

"(Y/N). Not going to lie. I was fucking scared when he called me by my first name and with that tone of voice." Chrono spoked suddenly as he turned on a street.

"Yeah. Things are dead ass serious. He didn't got up ever since then." Mimic agreed with his friend as be looked a bit at you "Think you can fix it?"

"I hope so... if neither of you knows what is happening or got him out even despite knowing him more than I do... what gives me the vhance of vhanging something?"

Both bitterly let out a chuckle, Mimic almost quacking at your coment while you arched one eyebrow at both.

"Fuck miss you're not that dumb. Come on. Overhaul is with you for a reason."

"We may know Chisaki longer, but you're definitely the only one that actually know his... whole persona. After all... tell us one more person that touched him and he reciprocated without intentiond of killing?"

You furrowed your eyebrows together, adoring the words but yet still worried. Pops himself told you that Chisaki was... devasted, and he didn't even knew the motive.

The car stopped and you didn't even let neither of the man open the door for you, anxiously getting out if the vehicle and making your way inside the Shie Hassaikai residence.

"I'm relieved that you came." Pops smiled for a bit before he guided you through the halls, even despite you knowing already that place like it was your own.

You stopped in front of the door, Pops pattimg your shoulder and saying that no one would be listened, but gently asked you for at least ease down the storm that it was probably inside the dark brow haired man.

You took a shaking breath before gently opening the door and closing it behind you. Your heart shattwring at seing that what Kurono and pops described you of was the true.

The only difference and the most hurtful one... was that you saw that even despite the numb face he was wearing it, he had tears slipping down is face.

You took slow steps to be on his side, before you jumped a bit at the suddem breath he took.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked, voice broken but a hint of annoyance on it.

"I was worried. I got the news that you didn't even moved ever since morning." You sitted on the bed, feeling your form shake a bit die to your nerves.

"... you should go." You made a confused and hurt noise before your eyes soften in worry at seing the frow on his face as he still didn't broke his look from the ceiling.

"Don't play dumb. You should go. You're only getting hurt due to my affiliations..."

"Well-" you cooed blocking his view with your head, smiling down at him as his eyes widen a bit at seing you in there instead of the monotonous and cold ceiling. "I did sign up for it when I fell for you didn't I?"

Wrong choice of words apparently. You noticed that the moment Chisaki jjst closed his eyes to prevent him to look at your own as he let out a shattered breath.

"You're sick. Sick. Definitely sick." He shook his head and you furrowed your eyebrows as you distanced your self a bit from him.

Chisaki could call you by 1001 nicknames or titles, but 'sick' was one that he neglected of ever using it on you unless he was rarely feeling playfull... never like this. Complete serious.

"Why is that? I will have you know i did my exams." You tried to joke a bit but flinches when he got up abruptly, looking at you with what anyone else could be described with rage.

But you knew better... his eyes were screaming only one sentence.. 'don't say that.'

He wasn't mad at you... no. He was mad at himself. But why though?

"You still has the courage of asking? (Y/n)." He growled while lowering his head, fisting the back of his head in one glived hand "How can you say this without a hint of regret? Without a hint of fear for your life? Hell you were almost shoted and kidnapped some months ago because of me!"

"Hey, if this is about that, you know it wasn't your fault my devil, we ta-"

"No. You can't convince me that it wasn't my fault. Because it was. It is my fault that your damn life turnes to hell because of my selfish wish of having you by my side." He growled while you furrowed your eyebrows at seimg the familiar yet undesirable hives start to form on his skin.

"Kai, love, calm down-" you tried to touch him but he flinched away with wide and red eyes.

"Don't. Don't just be a damn suicidal idiot! You do know what my quirk does, so why you still insist on touching me?! Don't you know I can kill you qnd put it back like nothing ever changed?! I do this everyday without regrets!"

The hives were getting bigger while he got up on his feet, he started to scrub feevently at his forearm and left hand as you got up hesitantly as well.

"Kai. I know this. I know all that. But you never used your quirk on me without a damn good reason."

"See it? I already used it. Nobody can tells that I won't just-"

"But do you WANT to kill me Chisaki Kai?" You spoke a bit more sternly, getting a bit creeped out when he laughed bitterly.

"Of course I fucking don't! But I didn't had the intentions of killing that garbage either when I was young! Although I have no regrets of that decision." He growled while he scratched his skin as his eyes were wide and a vein was almost popping out in his temple.

"Kai this has nothing to do with us-!"

"Oh please don't act like you didn't feared me once in your life. You will sure one day woke up from that delusion you vreated of me and will leave me on the dark." He growled while lowering his head, cringing when he felt that known red fluid.

"Why do you say that?! Why do you keep thinking that I will just ran or leave you Chisaki?!" You opened in your arms in disbelief as you almost screamed.

"BECAUSE YOU SHOULD DAMMIT!" You flinched at the string and thundering shout he let out, he stopped scrubbing in his arm to make desperate and angru hands gestures while he sinply gave up on controling his tears.

"WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I AM A CURSE ON YOUR DAMN LIFE (Y/N)?! FUCK!" he brought one of his hands to cover his face as he cringed at felling his glives getting wet from his tear "I AM A MONSTER! A KILLER! A YAKUSA! A MURDER! HELL, A DAMN SOCIOPATH!"

You felt all fo your body going cold but not because of fear... it was because you were seing your lover most probably worst breakdown...

"Kai-"

"NOT EVEN COMMENTING THAT THOSE DISGUSTING SICK HEROES GET ON YOUR BACK BECAUSE OF ME! WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU COULD SIMPLY WALK ON THE STREET WITHOUT DIRTY LOOKS?! HUH?!"

His tears fell almost violently on the floor as you slowly took one step at a time towards him... calmly, slowly...

"I RUIN EVERTHING (Y/N)! AND AS MUCH AS I LOVE YOU, CRAVE YOUR PRESENCE BESIDES ME, I CAN'T JUST PRETEND THAT I DIDN'T DESTROYED YOUR LIFE WITH MY SELFISH WISH OF HAVING YOU AS MY GIRLFRIEND DAMMIT!"

He hund his head low, his shoulder shaking violently as he still continued his vent.

"Why..?!" He cried hand once in his head falling miserably on his side as he looked at you, the most broken and saddest loom you ever saw on Chisaki's face.

"WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I DESERVE IT BEING LEFT ALONE AND THAT YOU ONLY WILL GET HURT, BECAUSE AND BY ME?!"

You blinked your own tears while Chisaki just let out a miserable sob and fell to his knees on the ground, gripping each dide of his face with his hands as he miserably let out all what he had bottled up...

You wiped your tears away from your face with a scowl, more determined than ever as you kneeled down in front of him.

"Hey." You called, no response. "Look at me." He inly shook his head stubbornly as he bitted in his own tongue to stop the river of tears.

You clenched your teeth together as you grabbed onto his shoulders and touched foreheads with him.

"Chisaki Kai look at me!" You whisper yelled, finally catvhing his attention as he looked into your eyes, still with jaw clemvhed while the tears stopped with a fraction of seconds... eyesbrows furrowed.

"First. I did shower and sterilized my hands." He sobbed while you winced... okay this only worsened.

"Second. Kai for God's sake, I knew where I was getting into when I met you... being part of the yakusa or having a relationship with the leader leads to that! You warned me!"

"So why the hell didn't you lis-"

"Because I am in love with you!" You said gently while carefully lifting his head a bit while cupping his face in your hands, him lookimg down at you. "Kai you made me fall for you! Being whatever you are or aren't."

He scoffed and went to look down before his breath got caught on his throat when you were close to his face... your warm breath spreading on his face as you looked up at him.

"Is it so wrong of me to love you?" He wemt to speak but you grabbed his hand with a hush "No is not. I am a full grow adult just as you, and know damn well of the consequences of dating the leader of the Shie Hassaikai."

He started to calm down with his tremblimg, savoring like a starved animal from your sweet carress of your thimbs in his face and hand.

"Heroes on my back and dirty looks on the street? One answer to them. Fuck. Those. Sick. Bastards." You giggled at the look he gave it to you "I am dating the most handsome and overprotective man I ever met. I feel safe around you, it doesn't matter what you do or did, because I know who at least my boyfriend is."

He breathed out a sigh, shoulders sagging as he got enough strength to get up alomg with you to sit on the bed instead.

"And one last thing... I can take many bullets or shouts... but what truly hurts me more on this, is seing the love of my life suffering over something he can't control it..." you nuzzled your nose against his as bis breath got caught on his throat "And that's alright. Because when people love each other they suffer with the other pain and problems... and Kai, even if you don't say that out loud, you show it to me, everyday, that you care. That I matter something for you." You wiped one tear away from his cheek woth a smile

"And that is all I ever wanted. You're honest Kai. Bold honest. And I am so lucky to be yours... don't just say that I should leave you... because not only I know you would send precepts to haunt me, but because I won't do it. Simple as that. Trust me..." you pleaded with a smile.

His breath catched on his throat again as he finally let out a mixture of a broken sob and a scoff, burring his face on your neck as he let out more cries, grabbing onto your shirt like if je let it go, ghose words he just had listened were mere lies or hallucinations.

"I'm sorry..!" He muffled cried on your neck as you sighed through your nose with a smile... hugging him with one arm as your hand came up to stroke his hair.

"Sorry about what I wonder..?" You sadly commented "For being the men you are? Please dont be sorry about that... I love with all my soul the man I fell for..." he let out a broken whimper as he buried even more his face on your nevk to muffle his cries.

"I am a fucking sociopath-"

"My sociopath."

"(Y/N) stop. We both know that you would be-"

"Crying like a baby alone in my room watching series if I didn't have you." You giggled and stroked his hair more, feeling his eyebrows furrowing in your skin.

He scoffed but relaxed a bit in your hold, getting up from your neck to rest his head on your forehead with a sigh.

"My head... dammit." He growled while lifting his hand a bit to rest on his temple.

He opened his eyes when he felt you wiping a liquid that was scrolling down his nose... his face burning in embarrassment and disgust. But yet he sighed while nuzzling his head on you.

"Don't just touch that, is disgusting." He growled at your giggles but smiled no less...

His angel was here to stay... whether he derving it or not.

[emachinescat]

Title: Of Concussions and Incorrigible Cons | Fandom: Psych

Summary: AU of the pilot episode. After being reprimanded by the interim chief, Head Detective Carlton Lassiter bites off more than he can possibly chew after attempting to apologize to a concussed Spencer for the less than gentle arrest at the end of the McCallum case. Spoilers for "Domestic Pilot." Part 1 of my whumpy episodic AU series, "AU that Glitters."

Words: 1,951

TW: None

AO3 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Episode AU: s01e01: Domestic Pilot, Whump

Year Published: 2017

Full story here or on AO3!

Head Detective Carlton Lassiter stood in front of the interim chief's door, fist poised to knock and foot tapping an anxious rhythm on the floor. Vick had been rather short with him when she'd asked him to come to her office as soon as the paperwork for the McCallum case had been taken care of. It wasn't the "I'm busy, so make it quick" kind of short, either… she was agitated about something.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

Her voice rang out from inside, dead serious as could be. Yeah, she was pissed about something.

He entered, and opted for the ignorant approach, which was just as well, because he really had no idea what this was about. After all, he'd already been given a stern-talking to about inter-department romance and Lucinda was in the process of being transferred. A little swell of fury rose at the thought of the man – the so-called "psychic" who had so carelessly ruined one of the only positive things he had going for him.

"Detective Lassiter. Please sit."

He sat stiffly in the proffered chair, refusing to let the cushy trappings lull him into a false sense of security. He maintained eye contact with the chief, letting her know that he was completely comfortable in the situation that he found himself in, and that he had nothing to hide. Never mind the fact that he wasn't all that comfortable with the cloak and dagger business, being left in the dark about why he was here in the first place. "Chief. What can I do for you?"

Vick's eyes may have softened the tiniest bit at his cordial greeting, but she still did not look like a happy camper.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Detective," she said bluntly. "This could have turned out much worse. As it is, I am going to have to give you an informal reprimand and warn you to be very careful in the future."

Lassiter blinked. "Uh, Chief… What…?"

"Detective, you cannot be physically aggressive toward civilians who are in your custody, unless they are resisting arrest or are posing a threat to you or others around you."

Still trying to work through the confusion, Lassiter was both offended and relieved that there had been a mistake like this, that Vick actually thought that he'd attack a non-resisting civilian. Whatever she'd heard, it was all a big mix up. "Chief, let me assure you that I would never—"

"Shawn Spencer. McCallum residence. Yesterday afternoon. Ring any bells?"

Lassiter blanched. "Spencer hardly counts as a civilian. He's a hindrance to real police work, a distraction, and at the time, he was trespassing. I had to take him in." He left the bitter, At least, until he solved my damn case, left unspoken.

"Be that as it may, Detective, your shoving him head-first into the frame of the car was a bit overboard, don't you think?"

Wait, this was what this was about? Seriously?

"He was resisting arrest, Chief. He was… flailing and pretending to have 'visions' and acting like a crazy person!"

A delicate but ferocious eyebrow lifted. "Not when you shoved him into the car. And may I remind you, he did solve the case?"

"Did he tell you this? That little…"

"Detective!" the chief cut him off before he could say anything to get himself into any more trouble, which, although he didn't appreciate at the time, he was begrudgingly thankful for after the fact. "Mr. Spencer didn't tell me anything. I was there, remember? I saw the whole thing… whatever it was."

Oh. Right. Damn that Spencer for getting into his head like this!

"He's fine, Chief," Lassiter responded, much more calmly this time. "Don't let him take advantage of you. This country is crawling with people faking injuries just to get a few thousand dollars from a lawsuit."

"I told you, Mr. Spencer said nothing to me. His father, on the other hand, called me this morning in a rage. Thankfully, I was able to calm him down and help him to see reason, but it wasn't easy."

"So he went and told his daddy that he got a boo-boo at the crime scene?" Lassiter couldn't keep the disgusted contempt out of his voice this time. "I thought they hated each other, anyway?"

"They have a… complicated relationship, and it really isn't our place to bring that under speculation. However…" She sighed. "It is my job to make sure that my officers are not allowing their emotions or anger, no matter how warranted said anger might be, to get the better of them. Especially after what Henry told me this morning. Apparently, Mr. Guster had to take Shawn to the emergency room last night after his headache peaked and he lost consciousness briefly. Mr. Spencer is being treated for a concussion, Detective, and that is why we're having this talk."

"Oh." Lassiter wasn't sure what to say beyond that, but he slapped away the little niggle of guilt that tried to burrow into him at the news. He hadn't meant to hurt Spencer, certainly not that badly. The man was being difficult, had lost Lassiter his girlfriend, his respect… had mocked him by acting like an idiot and still managing to solve the case first…

"Shawn himself is not going to press charges or file a report, though I was obligated to contact him about the matter. He said – and these are his words – that 'Mr. Grumpy Detective-Face is emotionally stunted and is just trying to express how much he likes me in the only way he knows how.'" Vick looked marginally amused as she read Spencer's response off the sheet in front of her. A muscle in Lassiter's neck twitched. "Now, those exact words could be because of the concussion…"

Lassiter fought the urge to roll his eyes. "They're not, Chief. Trust me."

Now appearing to be fighting a smile, the chief said, "Consider this your unofficial reprimand and warning to control your irritation when you are faced with a particularly difficult witness… or consultant. Because once he is feeling better, I do believe the department will be calling on Mr. Spencer again."

This time, Lassiter couldn't stop the eye roll. Or the groan. Vick smiled. "You're dismissed, Detective."

"Yes, ma—uh, I mean, Chief."

***

Shawn was woken when the doorbell rang, the sound slicing through his aching head like a butter knife through steak... or however that saying went. Without bothering to get up from where he was sprawled on the couch, he called out, "It's open."

Damn, concussions sucked. It was bad enough that Gus had practically dragged him to the hospital after he'd had some sort of dizzy spell last night, but then he'd called his dad to boot? Was this now Gus with his mom for additional parental torture? Not that he would mind seeing his mom… but he was so over worried hovering. Gus played the part of a worried mother exceptionally well, and Shawn couldn't handle two of them… Which was made irrelevant when the door opened to reveal not his mother, but…

"Detective Lassiter?"

Lassiter stepped into Shawn's apartment, keen blue eyes taking the coffee table littered with empty pudding cups, icepacks, water bottles, and prescription bottles. "You just leave your front door unlocked for anyone to come waltzing in? You're just begging to be robbed." Upon taking another look around at the untidy living space, his lip curled and he added, "Or maybe not."

Shawn struggled to sit up past the monkey playing cymbals in his head. "Your contempt for my apartment aside, what are you doing here?"

The detective hesitated. "I was just in the neighborhood and I…" Shawn watched knowingly as the detective's gaze shifted to the rather impressive bruise on his head.

"You wanted to check on me? Oh, Detective, you shouldn't have!"

"I didn't," growled Lassiter. He paused. "This was a mistake. I'll just—"

"Wait!" Shawn shifted, patting the sofa seat beside him. "Come in. Sit down. Rest your rumpus. Put your feet up. Slow your roll. Chillax your—"

With an irritated grunt, the detective passed the threshold and sat in the chair farthest away from Shawn. "Look. I didn't exactly… yesterday, when I…"

"I know, I know. You were just expressing your love for me in the only way you know how, like that little boy in school who pulls the little girl's pigtails because he thinks she's cute."

"Absolutely not."

"Okay, you got me—" Shawn winced as a particularly painful wave shot through his poor, abused noggin. "I was that kid in school. Her name was Melinda, and she had the cutest, bounciest set of—"

"Dear Lord, please stop talking."

"I was going to say pigtails, dude. Mind. Gutter. Get it out."

"This is a monumental waste of my time," the detective spat, standing up so abruptly it almost gave Shawn vertigo… Or wait, he might have already had vertigo, wasn't that a concussion symptom ? And what was vertigo, anyway? Besides an Alfred Hitchcock flick?

Past the pounding in his skull, Shawn heard footsteps stomping away, toward the door. Despite the telltale ringing in his ears, Shawn scrabbled to his feet, ignoring the dark spots dancing wildly in front of his eyes. His pulse hammered, his breath felt short and stunted, and the dizziness spiked. He knew what was going to happen seconds before it did. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

***

When the world swam back into focus, Shawn was surprised to find that he was back on the couch, not in a heap on the floor. He noticed blearily that his hands tingled like he'd been sitting on them for a couple of weeks, and his ears were still ringing like a high school band had paraded between them and accidentally left the triangle player behind. With a groan against the horrible pounding that had overtaken his skull – the procession of drummers must've gotten left behind, too – he rolled over to see Head Detective Carlton Lassiter kneeling next to the couch.

"You passed out," the detective stated helpfully.

"I did not," Shawn argued, mostly out of obligatory need to irritate whoever was in his general vicinity. "I fell asleep, suddenly and quickly, in a very manly and not wimpy way."

"Sure you did. Just be glad I got to you before you hit the ground. You would have a matching bruise on the other side of your head."

Shawn feigned shock. "So you dashed to my side, caught me before I hit the ground, gently placed me on the sofa, and lingered over my prone body until you knew I wasn't on death's door? Detective, I'm touched."

Lassiter half-sneered, half-smirked. "You were only out for a handful of seconds. I was hoping you'd stay out of it long enough for me to escape, but of course you had to ruin that plan, too."

Shawn winced, only partly out of pain. "Look, man, I'm sorry about your girlfriend. I just—"

The detective stood hastily, popping up from the ground like a Jack-in-the-Box with a strong Irish hairline and lots of pent-up aggression. "We don't talk about that. Ever."

Shawn lifted both hands up in mock surrender. Lassiter's face softened, just the tiniest, miniscule bit. "You're okay, though? Do I need to call your father or someone—?"

"No! I would rather you leave me here to die."

Lassiter shrugged. "Works for me." He strode for the door.

Shawn hesitated, licked his lips, and then offered, "Detective? Thanks."

"Just take it easy," the detective advised.

It was as close to an apology as Shawn was going to get, and, though Shawn might not have shown it through his next words, he did in fact appreciate it.

"Lassie," Shawn said, testing out the new nickname he'd been considering since he'd met the detective. He watched with glee as the man bristled in agitation.

"What?" the detective ground out through gritted teeth.

"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

The head detective had fled the apartment and slammed the door before Shawn could blink. Shawn settled back into the couch cushions and tried to will his head to stop raging against him. Or at least a plain but not drop-dead-ugly working tolerance, he amended in his head, before he drifted off to sleep.

[yourcreepyneighborhoodelftwink]

As the Hero fell upwards through the sands of time, the days rewinding like the gears of a clock, he landed calmly on the cobblestones of Clock Town Square, at the dawn of the first day. He had been through this many times before, and had grown accustomed to reliving the same 3 days, helping the same people with the same schedules, slowly making more and more progress each time. At least he didn't feel an enormous time crunch, even with the threat of the moon hanging above him, he was always able to rewind the days, and could take days to rest, to sleep or ride Epona or play with the inhabitants.

He rarely did, but it was nice that the option was there.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Tatl getting his attention with a soft tinkling sound, looking over at the stand near the Deku flower, and the note pinned to it.

"That's certainly new…" she said cautiously as they approached, Tatl reading aloud to Link.

The pair exchanged a confused and frightened look. It wasn't signed, but they knew exactly who left the note for them.

BEN sat on the edge of the field, their boots hanging over the barrier where the grass turned into sand, looking out at the canyon leading to the beach. It had been so long since they had entered their game, only playing it from the outside. Perhaps they had been showing too much love to Breath of the Wild lately and not enough to the dark masterpiece of their former prison, or perhaps it was the only world they could enter that felt truly real, where the sun was warm and the wind blew. They HAD become a bit spoiled, learning that adding weather effects and random wind blowing did wonders to immersion when they entered a game.

They closed their eyes, speaking up before looking behind them.

"You didn't have to rush over here. "as possible" doesn't mean "instantly", you know…" BEN said gently, lowering their ears with a guilty smile.

Link frowned softly, keeping his distance from the elf. He couldn't draw his sword AND sign, after all, so he would have to make due. "You didn't specify. I've learned better than to provoke you."

BEN couldn't exactly blame his caution. It's why they were here, after all. "My bad. I'll be more specific next time. But I suppose it's neither here nor there now…"

"...is there something you want, BEN? " Link asked, clearly a bit anxious by being asked to meet.

"...a few things. I won't lie and say there isn't a favor I'd like to ask the both of you-"

"Like you have any right to ask Link for anything, at this point!" Tatl quickly interjected, turning red in anger. "You've terrorized us for no good reason, revealed truths we didn't need to know, and then just left us alone one day!"

"-BUT," BEN continued, "that isn't my main reason for being here. First and foremost... You're long overdue for an apology from me."

Link and Tatl looked at each other in confusion. "...pardon? " Link questioned.

"...I've been doing a lot of thinking and self reflecting lately. Especially because I finally have reason to want to improve myself. And I think I've gotten pretty far in trying to right the wrongs of my past, and try to change as a person. But I still never gave the both of you a proper apology, or even an explanation for how I treated you…" BEN sheepishly said.

Link looked down at the seated person, absolutely dumbfounded. All the times he had been attacked by BEN came instantly into his mind, only to not even be able to so much as scratch them in return, even the might of a Goron doing nothing to them. All the times he had been followed and told he was insignificant, worthless, a joke of a hero, told he was nothing more than a bland, boring conduit for the player of a game in a world far grander than his own. Only for BEN to just... Disappear one day. Gone. Vanish into thin air, and only return occasionally, seemingly at their leisure. Something... Didn't add up to him, and he wasn't sure what on Earth made them suddenly stop tormenting him, and now want to make things right.

"...I'll hear you out, at least," Link finally said, stepping forward to sit next to him. If nothing else, were he going to harm Link, BEN would have done it by now.

"Not that it makes us all hunky-dory yet," Tatl offered, settling on Link's shoulder.

BEN smiled softly, letting out a relieved breath. They stayed quiet for a moment, deciding their words carefully. "I'm not... Sure where to start. So much has happened to me. I guess I should start when we first met. When I first entered this game. It was my favorite game, and with me when I died," they started.

Tatl interrupted, jingling softly. "...when you died?"

BEN nodded softly. "When I died. I was just about your age, Link, about 12. More specifically, when I was murdered. Father simply... Got tired of me, I suppose. He tricked my religion's leader- we refer to him as The Father- into thinking it was my time to Ascend when it wasn't. The whole explanation of my belief system isn't important in this, just that I was robbed of something very important and sacred to me because of it."

"That sounds horrible," Link signed.

"It was... And I was only 12, and not the greatest at understanding or expressing my emotions... I was so angry, absolutely furious at losing that chance, as what had been done to me. I've always had a strong sense of justice, if you can believe it. I don't easily stand for people wronging me. But when I died, my spirit was trapped in this game. All that rage bottled up, with nowhere to release it... Until I started releasing it on you. Very unfairly."

"I'll say," Tatl said, though there wasn't much bite behind her words.

"Eventually, someone played the game, and I was able to break free, find someone else to torment. And after that, start lashing out at everyone who had hurt me, making them

PĄŸ,"

BEN continued, their voice glitching out just a bit at the final word.

"...i moved on to more innocent people after that. I was out of control. To the point where my goddess, Luna, intervened. She stopped me herself, gave me a new body, made me into a young adult so I wouldn't be trapped as a child forever, and I carry the souls of everyone I hurt in my blind sadism, until I join her again one day. And I've worked hard to be a better person now. I've found so much to make my life wonderful, and to make the most of my second chance…" BEN trailed off.

"...but you still want to make amends to everyone you've hurt," Link finished for them.

"...I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't think I can be forgiven. But I really AM sorry for how I treated you. Both of you. Of everyone I've lashed out at, you're the least deserving of it. No matter WHAT'S happened to me, it's NO excuse for how much I've hurt you. And even if you never forgive me, I would love the opportunity to make it up to you…" they finished softly.

"...would you excuse us for a moment?" Tatl asked, flying a slight distance away. Link glanced over at BEN before rising to his feet to follow, and speak with the fairy alone. BEN politely stayed looking forward, allowing them the privacy.

"...do you believe them?" Tatl asked.

"...yeah. They seem genuine," Link admitted.

Tatl nodded softly. "I do, too. There's much simpler ways to trick us or convince us if that was their intention. Even if they said they wanted a favor, this is a lot of lengths to go to for just that…"

"I wonder what they want," the hero mused, glancing over at BEN.

"...maybe ask? Perhaps you can also ask a favor of him, test his sincerity," she said.

"What would that be? " he asked.

"Well, you've said you're curious about his world, whatever it is that our entire world is only a game in, a small part of. Maybe you can ask to explore his world. It'd give you the opportunity to spend more time with him and let him earn your trust, anyway," she offered.

Link nodded softly, then whistled to get BEN's attention. "Alright, BEN, we've talked it over. First, I want to know what favor it is you want…"

"Actually, it's a favor specifically from Tatl," they explained.

"Wait, me?" she questioned.

"...my daughter has watched me play this game a lot. And she's absolutely fallen in LOVE with you, she ADORES seeing you on screen. Her first birthday is in a few months, and there's... Circumstances about my life, and now hers, that will make her very different from other children, with so many secrets to keep. She could really use having a companion by her side, a friend to offer wisdom and company and help when she needs it. A copy of you, like how I copied Epona, to watch over her and make her feel less alone…" BEN said.

"...you have a daughter?" Link asked.

"And a boyfriend. Soon to be husband," BEN explained, holding up their hand to show off their ring.

Tatl let out a soft chime at this. "Well... I'm certainly flattered you think I'd make a good companion to her…"

BEN smiled softly. "I don't expect an answer today, don't worry. There's still a few months before her birthday. And I understand if it's not something you're comfortable with…"

"...we have a proposal for you, in that case," Link began. "You want to make amends to us. We're admittedly curious about this world outside of our own. So, let us explore. Show us your life, and what lies outside this "game", and earn our trust. Then we'll consider it."

BEN thought this over. They'd have to be careful, but this wasn't impossible… "...I can't completely remove you from the game. I'd have to copy you, then merge the copy and your true self after. It's basically the same thing, though, you'd keep the memories and everything. And you'd have to do EXACTLY as I say, I... REALLY can't have attention drawn to myself or the people I live with. If there's something that catches your attention, you can't gawk, just stay calm and ask me. And there's going to be a LOT, the real world is nothing like this one. Hylian sign doesn't match up with any sign language in my world, so you'll at least be able to speak freely. But if you can do that, and trust that I'm keeping us both safe when I tell you to do something... I'll happily show you around."

Link considers this, then nods. He holds out his hand to BEN, who shakes it.

"Then we have a deal."