#+ DISTRICT. DO YOU EVEN FUCKING CARE ABOUT THEM? DO YOU? This fucking boils my god damn blood.))
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Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)
Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?
#txt#might delete this later but i also might not because my irritation and rage is real and i shouldnt have to so constantly discard it#i am so tired of constantly putting it aside#i want your blood in my fucking teeth. and it's your fault i want it there- certainly- because I TRY. I try so hard not to feel this way#but eventually you get tired of those little games too#okay I drafted this for a minute bc idk if this fucker is actually spending the night or not i just know he took off his belt. BUT THEN ONE#+ OF THESE FUCKERS DECIDED TO START TALKING ABOUT SPIDERS. A THING THAT I HAVE A VERY BAD PHOBIA ABOUT. I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU#thinking of killing and maiming and maiming and killing and killing and shredding and tearing and killing and-#seriously though what. the fuck. you even go ''oh they're not gonna like this'' THEN HOW ABOUT YOU DONT FUCKING SAY IT#ohh and now you're sitting here making plans for when you go out without me next! I'm going to make you a bloody smear on my fucking floor#i am going to Dissect you. I'm going to rip you apart and feed you to the local strays and csrrion birds.#not even getting up and leaving right fucking now would assuage me. i wish i wasn't so full of fucking hate but you just keep adding fuel +#+to the fire#im so tired. I'll come back with a ''im fine now'' if he fucking leaves but im going to seethe now. im so fucking angry.#how do you fucks continually just bounce between the topics that makes me feel Most Violent Towards You? literally how do you not realize i#+ want you dead at this point? how do you not realize the grave you've dug for yourselves in my mind?#i dont fucking mask it that well. i know i dont. and still you fucking do this#((part of why it being a bar specifically that bothers me besides the very deliberate and careful avoidance of mentioning it to me is that#+*one of you is at serious risk for becoming an alcoholic. why the fuck are you being enabled this way?*))#((if i was dating someone with a genetic predisposition of alcoholism i would make your regular dates nights- idk- NOT THE FUCKING BAR +#+ DISTRICT. DO YOU EVEN FUCKING CARE ABOUT THEM? DO YOU? This fucking boils my god damn blood.))#(ultimately its their decision if they want to fucking drink yeah sure whatever YOU DONT NEED TO REGULARLY AND READILY ENABLE IT. BASTARD.)#(If they want to drink so fucking bad- if they push for the bars- JUST BUY SOME ALCOHOL AND BRING IT FUCKING HERE. It limits how much they+#+can have for one- and it would isolate me from you two less! just as an added fucking bonus! but no very unreasonable of me. what was i +#+thinking? clearly not about them 🙄)#i might be a little out of line here. i can admit that. but if anyone spent a week in my fucking shoes back when they first got together +#+and then now? you would fucking understand.#and they just. keep. talking. to eachother. no attempts to include me. not even glances my way. like always.#''oh nothing will change'' IT FUCKING CHANGED. I want to hurt you so bsdly for that lie with ever passing day. do you even know it was a li#do you? anyway was abt to post this and noticed a gif i have of a woman ripping her shirt off so im going to stare at that until im calm ig.
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Summary: When 19-year old Feyre Archeron voluntarily takes her sister's place in the Hunger Games, she expects nothing but her imminent demise. But Feyre is a survivor, and as she is thrown into a battle between life and death, she discovers there are things worth fighting for.
Pairing: Feysand
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of blood and gore, Feyre being sexy and unhinged, wait a second is that Rhysand? Is he also sexy and unhinged? AKA Feysand (literally) slaying the game
Read: Chapter I || Fic Masterlist || AO3
Chapter VII: Burn Them All To The Ground
THIRTEEN HOURS AGO
The air was thick with shadows, exactly as Rhysand preferred.
He soaked up the darkness, swirling along the narrow space of the corridor, and let it swallow him fully—let its gentle tendrils wrap around his body, calm and soothing. A moment of peace in a life of turmoil.
Rhysand hated the Capitol.
He didn’t care much for the landscape—it had stopped bothering him about five years in, ridiculous and pretentious as it was. In some way, he’d even become part of it—blended into the glittery crowd, into their pompous lifestyles and, as he’d recently found, their expensive tastes. At times, he loathed himself for it—and today was one of those days. He loathed his extravagant suit, made of the finest, black velvet and perfectly tailored to his measurements. He loathed his hair, carefully combed and gelled back instead of ruffled over his forehead in soft waves. He even loathed his posture, the way he walked—as if he owned the fucking place when, in reality, he was nothing but a cockroach quivering under the Capitol’s golden boot.
But what he truly loathed—what he completely, wholeheartedly despised—were the people.
He was in the sponsors lounge when the neck of the boy from District Three—Thesan—snapped with a loud crack. The Capitol woman sitting beside him covered her mouth at the sound, her gasp rippling through the room. The other women followed suit, and soon, every hand, adorned with heavy, golden rings, was laid over their hearts, mouths, anywhere to display their shock. But Rhysand didn’t miss it—didn’t miss the slight curve of their lips, the twinkle of delight in their eyes as the boy dropped to the ground.
He’d spent the entire night in his bathroom after that, retching his guts out and into the shiny, porcelain bowl.
They loved it—the same way they loved him, bloodied and nearly starved to death, exactly ten years ago. The boy he killed was the same age as Thesan, then, only two years older than him at the time. And he would’ve bet all his money that when that boy fell under his sword with a heavy thud, the Capitol cheered all the same.
He’d nearly reached the corridor’s end when he heard it—the barest sound of footsteps over the stone, almost impossible to make out in the darkness despite the silence that filled it. But he had been doing this long enough to notice—to recognise who they belonged to.
And so, Rhysand stopped, and the sound died out immediately, stopping a safe distance behind him.
He made himself count to three before he turned.
“I don’t have much time,” he said.
The response came with cool indifference. “Neither do I.”
“Make it quick, then,” he urged.
He could almost feel the darkness narrow its eyes on him. “You forget yourself, Rhysand.”
“I am simply trying to do my job.”
A low hum. “Perhaps you should try harder.”
Asshole. “I would, if you would stop getting in my way,” Rhysand said.
The shadowed figure stared at him, its disdain almost palpable. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rhysand scoffed. “Have you seen that fire? Who the fuck thought it was a good idea?”
His companion merely shrugged, the small movement betraying that a person hid in those shadows, watching. Waiting.
After a moment of silence, Rhysand asked, “Will it happen again?”
The man snorted, a sound that sent his blood boiling every single time they met. “I’m afraid that information is outside of your pay grade, Rhysand.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he snarled. Today was not the time for bickering.
“Believe it or not,” the man said, “but I, too, have rules that I need to follow. There are too many prying eyes in the Gamemaker’s room, and I’d very much like to avoid their attention.” A brief pause. “I’m sure that, in my particular position, you’d do the same.”
At that, Rhysand said nothing.
The man continued, “Besides. She survived the fire without a scratch, so I’m not exactly sure what your concern is.”
Rhysand’s fists tightened. “She has bruises,” he gritted out. He’d seen them—splattered all over her swollen ankle in a spectrum of purple, blue, and a sickly shade of green that somehow made him hate the Capitol even more.
Another shrug that sent his vision flashing red. “So what? It’s not like she broke her leg. That would be an issue. Grow some guts, Rhysand. Your own arena, from what I remember, was much worse.”
Rhysand’s entire body went rigid, the comment like a cold splash of water. “I don’t want to talk about my Games,” he said through a tight throat.
“No,” the man mused. “I’m sure you don’t.”
Rhysand surveyed him, the tall silhouette standing no more than two feet before him. His voice was cold as he challenged, “Excuse me?”
“Your temperament hasn’t changed, it seems,” he hedged, something like amusement creeping into his tone. “I’m merely saying that for all that hate you’ve got for the Hunger Games, you sure seem to be enjoying your…ah…victor privileges.”
Rhysand’s jaw clenched. “Privileges? Are you hearing yourself right now?”
A hand motioned towards him, towards the silver-lined suit draped over his body. “Am I wrong?” he asked.
“Do you honestly think I want any of this?”
The man angled his head. “You signed up for it, did you not?”
Rhysand bristled, “I did—but I did not do it for what you so inaccurately describe as privileges.”
“Who did you do it for, then?” he asked, and Rhysand went still.
Who, not what. He doubted it was a mistake.
Rhysand knew exactly why he’d agreed to this all those years ago—knew exactly who he’d done it for, but it’s been so long, and sometimes…sometimes it was difficult to hold on. Sometimes, he wanted to give up.
And this question…it was a reminder—a reminder that it wasn’t time to give up just yet.
So, when Rhysand said nothing, the man continued, “What is she doing now?”
“Sleeping.”
“Sleeping?”
Rhysand said, “They didn’t exactly leave her much choice, now, did they.” Not a question—he wanted to be done with this conversation, and this man was not superior in position enough for him to keep caring about formalities.
With a roll of his eyes, the shadow asked, “Is she still in that cave?”
Rhysand nodded. “Yes. She hasn’t come out since the fire started.”
“This isn’t good,” the other noted with a click of his tongue. “It’ll be the first place they search once the fire fully dies out—it’s already gone in the north of the arena. If she had some brains, she’d get out of there the second the flames subdued,” he added.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rhysand snapped.
He could practically hear his eyebrows perk up. “And I suppose you do?”
“Yes, I do,” he told him stiffly. “You don’t know what it’s like out there.”
A small chuckle. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about your Games.”
“I will if it makes you stop talking shit. She’d barely had any water over the summer day, and she’s dangerously dehydrated.” He tried not to think about that right now. So Rhysand continued, “Not to mention, she hasn’t had anything to eat since that pathetic squirrel she’d caught earlier. You can’t think straight in such conditions—the only thing you can think about is finding wherever seems safest at the moment. Right now, it’s that cave. She’s doing everything she can to survive.”
Silence fell, and Rhysand could only interpret it as the man shooting him a long look. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown to care for the girl.”
“I’m just trying to do my job,” Rhysand repeated.
“Fine,” he agreed with a sigh. “Tell me what they’re saying.”
Rhysand blew out a breath—at last, they were moving on to the point of this meeting.“They’re betting on who’s going to die next.,” he told him.
“And?”
“Ressina,” he said, something tightening in his chest. “The girl from Eleven.” Her only friend.
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Rhysand frowned. “Why is that?”
“Come now, Rhysand,” he drawled. “You and I both know you’re much smarter than this. They want to get rid of her, obviously.”
He knew—of course he knew, though that didn’t mean he didn’t want to be proven wrong. Unfortunately, the girl had signed her own death sentence the day of her interview at the Capitol, the day she’d proclaimed its mistreatment of the poorer Districts.
Rhysand’s face had been made of stone as he watched it, sitting far back in the audience. He didn’t let them see the pride in his eyes—didn’t let them hear his heart cheering at her words.
“Who, exactly?” he asked through clenched teeth.
The man’s voice was solemn. “You know who.”
He was afraid of that, Rhysand thought, his lips forming a thin line. “This isn’t good,” he said.
“No, it isn’t.” The darkness heaved with his sigh. “Anything else?”
“The boy from Twelve is the favourite. Tamlin,” Rhysand tried not to grimace as he spoke his name.
“I’ve heard.”
“You have?”
“Yes,” he told him. “From my observations, it seems that even the Gamemakers feel inclined to be more…lenient towards him.”
“How so?” Rhysand asked.
“Let’s just say he…miraculously avoided most of the fire.”
Then bring it back, he wanted to say, thought the ridiculousness of the thought stopped him.“This isn’t fair,” he argued instead.
“Nothing about this is fair, Rhysand,” the shadow told him. “Tell me what else the sponsors said.”
He bit on the inside of his cheek. “Most of them still talk about his love confession from the interviews. They’d even invited Spell-Cleaver to join them in the lounge tomorrow.”
Something shone in the darkness at that—like a pair of eyes sparkling with surprise. “Did they now.”
“Yes,” he nodded.
“You’ll know what to do, then.”
Rhysand nodded again. “I will.”
“Be careful,” the man advised, and Rhysand tried not to laugh. He’d been nothing but careful for the past decade.
“I always am,” he told him anyway.
“Anything else?”
Rhysand considered. “Two of them have sent him food so far—Tamlin. Since he’d saved her from the Careers. Another sponsor was talking about sending medicine, even though he doesn’t appear to be injured.”
“You’re telling me they liked the double spy act?”
Rhysand shrugged. “Apparently so.”
The man hummed. “Is he still with them?”
He shook his head. “He got away after Briallyn died in the fire.”
“The girl from One?”
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck.”
Against his better judgement, Rhysand’s lips twitched. “You shouldn’t say that,” he told him.
A scoff. “Please. You and I both know she was dead meat, anyway. If it was down to her and Feyre, which one would you choose?”
Rhysand said nothing—as if the answer wasn’t obvious. If it came to it, he thought—if, by some cruel fate, Briallyn’s sword had been pointed at Feyre’s neck and about to strike, he’d force his way onto the arena and make the girl rip her own throat out—and delight in the massacre.
He blinked at that thought, at the murderous intent behind it, one he hadn’t felt in years—since his very own Games, to be exact. His shoulders rolled back, and he made himself take a breath.
Feyre Archeron was the mission—that was why, for the briefest of seconds, his restraint had snapped. She was meant to be their salvation—she was meant to be their hope.
“That’s what I thought,” the man’s voice reached him, as if he had somehow managed to hear the thoughts in Rhysand’s head. “Now, onto the more important things since we’re running out of time. What are they saying about her?” he asked.
Rhysand’s eyes lifted back to the shadow. “Not much. She hasn’t had any direct confrontations since the Games began, save for the one with Ressina yesterday.”
“Ah, yes,” the darkness mused. “That one was…problematic.”
Rhysand knew. He could still hear Feyre’s voice in his head, her words little distorted through the holo transmission, though their meaning clear as day.
Surely, if we all refused to kill each other…I doubt they’d keep us trapped in here forever. What could they do if we all stood our ground?
“How bad?” Rhysand asked calmly, even if he wanted to scream.
“Bad,” the man answered. “The Star of the Capitol is dimming fast, and it seems like everything she does ends up working against her favour. Which is exactly why I called for this meeting with you. I need you to act—and fast.”
There was no hesitation in his tone as he asked, “What do you need me to do?”
“What you were meant to do from the beginning.”
“And you?” Rhysand crossed his arms. “What can you do?”
“Not much, unfortunately,” came the response. “I have very little control over this matter. Last I heard, they want us to draw her out. They’re frustrated that she’s managed to stay hidden so well.”
His heart stopped for a moment. “Draw her out…how?”
“Again, I can’t share this information.”
“I swear to—”
“Rhysand,” the man pressed. “You do your job, and I’ll do mine. Call your sponsors, do whatever it is you do that makes them spend their money with their dicks perked up. Keep her alive.”
He could all but stare into the darkness. “I will.”
***
The snow was fucking everywhere.
A labyrinth of snow and ice—that’s what the forest had become. In less than twelve hours, the Gamemakers had somehow managed to create her worst nightmare.
Back home, the winters were unbearable—but at least they were home. Here, she was navigating a space where everything had been designed to kill her, and the frost building up at the tips of her shoes was not helpful whatsoever.
Sure, the forest was beautiful. The snow-capped trees glistened in the sunlight, and the wintry breeze was as refreshing as it was cold. That didn’t change the fact that Feyre was in hell.
There was absolutely no chance she could find food—any food—out here. The squirrel was long gone, and the soup…
Feyre stopped in her tracks, sinking an inch deeper into the snow. The soup.
Last night, Rhysand saved her life.
There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that the package had come from him—the encrypted message had told her as much. Just as he’d told her before she entered the games, she only had to pray to the stars—and salvation would arrive.
For some strange reason, the man she’d almost killed had taken it upon himself to save her life, and Feyre could not wrap her head around it. Was it the fact that they’d both come from the same District? She’d never seen him in Twelve—if she had, she would definitely remember. It was hard to forget a face like that.
She shook her head. Fine, they shared a background—why would that be enough reason to save her? Perhaps he used to know Nesta, or Elain—they were closer in age. But, no—Feyre remembered the night he’d won his Games. Even though she hadn’t watched them herself, her sisters did—and she’d never once heard them mention him by name. “The boy from our District,” they’d only ever called him. They were never friends, then.
Perhaps he’d bet money on her, then? Alis did tell her he had plenty—a fortune he’d amassed as a Capitol favourite, whatever that meant. Still, Feyre doubted the possibility—after all, there were plenty of Tributes with chances higher than her own. If she had the money, she would’ve bet on someone like Brannagh. It only took one look at the girl to know she would rip her throat out with her bare teeth if given the chance. At times, Feyre wondered if she’d prefer it—to feel the metallic tinge of blood on her own tongue instead of a blade.
Feyre flinched. Brannagh was still alive, and with each passing day, Feyre grew more restless. The Careers were quickly making their way through the group, with almost every murder committed by their hand. The cannon had already gone off once this morning—mercifully, somewhere far away from her, its loud boom only echoing through the trees. Feyre wondered whose death it announced. Wondered if her death was coming next.
Had it not been for Tamlin, she would’ve been dead already. He saw her—their eyes had locked then, and he could’ve betrayed her with ease. He could’ve broken the promise he’d made her all those days ago, and Feyre wouldn’t have blamed him. In the end, they were all there to survive—and in the Hunger Games, the survival of one Tribute meant the death of twenty-three others. And yet…and yet Tamlin had chosen to spare her.
Feyre’s mind was racing. Had Tamlin truly…loved her, then? The idea had always seemed impossible—she had nothing to offer in return.
Loving Feyre had always been a means to an end. Back home, in Twelve, the black market merchants would show her kindness, and she’d bring the skins of her prey in return. In Twelve, Isaac would go out to accompany her in the forest, and she’d take his mind off the things he wished to forget. Back home, she’d bring food back home, and Nesta would smile tightly as she laid it on the kitchen table. Back home, Elain would draw her a bath, and Feyre would take her place in the Hunger Games.
Maybe…maybe love could be different. Maybe Tamlin would save her life, and Feyre would get to live it. Maybe he could love her, and she could love him back, and that would be it.
If things had been different…if things had been different, then perhaps she could love him—freely and openly, a love based on nothing but their happiness.
But these were the Hunger Games, and it meant that at least one of them was bound to die.
For some reason, the thought filled Feyre’s heart with sadness. Her one, true chance at love—and the Capitol had taken it from her, too.
Finally, she realised she’d been standing ankle-deep in snow for the past few minutes, completely still and consumed by her own thoughts. Her cheeks heated at that, and she truly hoped the camera had not been on her throughout this whole time. She must’ve looked ridiculous, and not in a funny way that the sponsors would’ve found entertaining. What if Rhysand was watching her right now? Was he wondering what went on inside her head?
Feyre sighed, and started moving again. She’d allowed herself to lose awareness, and anyone could’ve killed her with little difficulty then. She’d always experienced a similar trance when she painted—a state where there was nothing but her and her own mind, running at an impossible speed yet somehow making perfect sense as it reached its final destination.
That was what Feyre needed, she realised—an end goal. And with only ten of them left, she needed to act quickly.
She promised her sisters she would try to survive, just like she promised Ressina to never lose hope. If Tamlin thought she was worth saving…then perhaps Feyre could believe it as well.
Brannagh was out there somewhere—her and her cronies, smiling as they plotted her death. For the first time, the thought didn’t freeze her veins with fear—no, it poured fire inside them, hot and raging with fury.
Feyre made the decision then.
She wouldn’t let the Careers find her—she would get to them first.
***
The sun had already begun to set when Feyre finished installing her last trap.
Her palm stung again, and she hissed, licking off the excess blood. She cringed at its taste, like warm steel in her mouth.
Still, the pain had been necessary, and Feyre had too many scars over her body to weep over one more. If she survived this place, she’d look at it as a reminder of Ressina’s words—a reminder that hope was not a thing to be afraid of.
By her careful design, her blood now stained the fresh snow, sinking into the plush, white path that led straight to her hideout in the trees. She’d set up traps like this one all over the area, hoping someone would take the bait before she bled out completely. After hours of meticulous work, she was starting to feel a little lightheaded.
If, by some miracle, one of the Careers caught on to her bloodied trail, they’d inevitably step over a ditch she’d found and carefully covered with dried-out branches and snow. A hole in the ground, large enough to immobilise a person, appearing in the middle of a wintry forest seemed almost too convenient—but Feyre was in no position to complain. If the Gamemakers had deemed her plan amusing enough to entertain, the least she could do is make use of their help and hope there was no ulterior motive to it.
She’d been working physically for so long that the cold air no longer seemed to bother her. Or, perhaps, it was adrenaline rushing through her veins, a mixture of panic and excitement putting every last one of her nerves on alert.
Feyre reached into her pocket and pulled out the scrap of dark, stretchy fabric—another piece of her jacket she’d cut out now that her body was rising with heat—and wrapped it around the cut. She’d managed to tie a makeshift knot with the help of her teeth when the forest rippled with a scream.
Feyre’s heart stopped beating as she realised it came from where she’d set up her trap.
What have I done?
Ressina screamed again, and Feyre launched for the sound, her feet moving faster than she could think. Her vision blurred out slightly, the evening breeze like sharp little needles prickling at her eyes, but Feyre didn’t stop running, only cussing out the thick roots that peered from under the snow as she continued to trip over them.
When Ressina’s third cry echoed through the trees, Feyre’s eyes filled with heavy, salty tears. How badly was she injured?
At last, she reached the clearing.
“Ressina?!” Feyre called, desperation closing up her throat.
“FEYRE!”
The sound came from the hole.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Ressina!” Feyre shouted, already moving toward the trap. “Ressina, please, I’ll get you out of here.”
“Nice…ah, shit…” the woman swore weakly, her hand peering up from over the edge. “Nice trap.”
Tears dripped down Feyre’s face as she said, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I thought the Careers—”
“Don’t” came the reply. “Don’t apologise, you did what you had to do. If I found this hole first, I would’ve done the same thing.”
“Let me help you out,” Feyre reached out a hand.
“Feyre,” Ressina said quietly, “I don’t think you should.”
“What?” She was being ridiculous. “Did you hit your head? Of course I’ll help you. It’s my fault you’re in here, it’s my fault that—”
“Feyre,” the sound was but a breath on her lips. “I think I broke my leg.”
Feyre’s heart stopped beating.
Slowly, she leaned over the edge, tossing the scattered branches aside. A small sob escaped her at what she found at the bottom.
Ressina’s leg was twisted so badly that Feyre felt the burning taste of bile rising up her throat. Down from her knee, the leg jerked to the side in a position so unnatural and disturbing it seemed almost impossible for the human body to be capable of. Sitting in a pool of blood was Ressina—pale and her face contorted in anguish, her chest heaving quickly, each breath more and more wheezing.
“Ressina,” Feyre choked out.
“Feyre,” her friend told her. “You’re gonna have to kill me.”
Feyre’s eyes widened. “What?”
“There is no way I’m going to survive this.”
No, no, no.
“No,” Feyre repeated. “No, we’ll get you out of here, and then—and then we’ll get bandages, medicine—”
A small chuckle, immediately followed with a pained hiss. “Feyre, I guarantee there isn’t a single sponsor in the Capitol that’s going to want to help me.”
Feyre shook her head, leaning further over the hole’s edge. “No, that’s not true, there’s a way—we’ll send a wish to the stars, you’ll see—��
Ressina looked at her as though Feyre had gone mad. “Did you hit your head on the way here?”
“Ressina, please,” Feyre said. “Just take my hand.”
She swallowed hard, hesitating.
“You told me not to lose hope,” Feyre begged again.
Ressina sucked in a breath. “Alright. Alright, I’ll…I’ll move slowly.”
“Thank you,” Feyre whispered. “Thank you.”
A small smile tugged at Ressina’s lips. “You’re a strange one, Feyre Archeron.”
“Just give me your hand.”
Ressina did, and gently, Feyre pulled.
Ressina’s scream was nearly primal—like a wounded animal, left for death in the woods, stirring in its own blood until its time came. She screamed and screamed until her throat was hoarse—but, against all odds, half of Ressina’s body was now up and over the ground.
“Just a few seconds more,” Feyre grunted. “We’re gonna lay you on your stomach, okay?”
Ressina’s lip was bleeding under the force of her teeth, but she nodded.
“Now, what do we have here?” a shrill voice drawled behind her.
Feyre’s head whipped towards the sound, and she fully stopped breathing.
She knew that face—knew the light, blonde hair, the pale blue eyes, the pink lips that twisted cruelly as she sliced the girl from Four’s neck.
She did not dare to rise to her feet as Ianthe met her gaze and smiled. “The Star of the Capitol herself,” she mused, her bow—the same bow Feyre risked her life for at the Cornucopia—drawn in her direction. “I am so glad I beat Brannagh to it.”
She looked behind Feyre, and her grin widened. “Two birds in one stone? Looks like I got lucky,” she said, that infuriating satisfaction shining in her tone. Her eyes settled on Ressina’s battered leg, and the corners of her mouth pulled down in feigned sympathy. “That looks painful, Res. Let me put you out of your misery.”
“Fuck off,” Ressina spat.
Ianthe shrugged, her arrow still pointed at Feyre’s face. “Don’t take it personally,” she told them. “Only the best of us can win this thing. Clearly, it’s neither of the two of you, so really, if you think about it, I’m doing you a favour.”
Ressina snarled, and those cold, blue eyes shifted toward the sound.
Feyre would not waste this opportunity.
In one, swift motion, she pulled the knife out of her belt, her grip tight around the hilt.
Ianthe’s gaze darted back to her, but it was too late—the knife had already flown across the air, released with Feyre’s breath—just like Ressina had taught her.
It delved into her chest, deep into her heart, a second before Ianthe’s arrow flew inches past Feyre’s head.
The girl dropped to her knees with a choked cry, her eyes wide with shock.
Feyre’s hands began to shake as she watched her drop the bow and fall to the ground.
Ianthe missed. She missed, and now she was dead.
I killed her, a voice, cold and unfamiliar, spoke inside her mind, the words hitting something low in her gut. I just killed someone.
Feyre released a trembling breath. It was done. They were safe.
“Feyre…” another voice, so quiet and small, groaned behind her.
Feyre turned, and the world stopped.
Ianthe’s arrow pierced straight through Ressina’s chest.
“No,” Feyre said, her head numb and so, so empty. “No, no no.”
“It’s okay,” Ressina breathed. “It was a good throw. You know…how to handle your daggers, you…you must’ve had an amazing teacher.”
Feyre’s entire body shuddered. “Ressina,” she said, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.
Silver lined her friend’s own, brown eyes as she told her, “It’s okay. Can you…” she wheezed again, a sharp breath through gritted teeth. “Feyre. Help me lie down.”
Slowly, Feyre’s arms wrapped over her body, gently pulling Ressina over her lap. “Please,” she cried, her hands closing over Ressina’s head, caressing her hair softly.
“It doesn’t…” Ressina coughed, and to Feyre’s horror, twin streams of blood dripped out of the corners of her mouth. “It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”
“Ressina, please, you need to save your strength,” Feyre begged again, but Ressina was still staring at her, still with that sparkle of mischief, now dimming witch each passing second.
Her friend shook her head just barely, and something cracked in Feyre’s chest. “It’s too late,” she told her. “Feyre. You need to promise me something.”
Feyre took her hand and didn’t let go. “Anything,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Anything.”
Ressina coughed again, more blood spilling down her beautiful face. “Promise me,” she choked, and squeezed her hand lightly. “Promise me you’ll kill them all.”
Feyre laid her head on Ressina’s as she wept, “I promise.”
Ressina’s chest stopped moving.
The cannon exploded above them, and then…and then her friend was dead.
***
Feyre buried Ressina under the stars.
She used mud—the greenest mud she could find under the snow—and painted flowers over her hands, her neck, her face, until every inch of Ressina’s cold skin was covered with things that, wherever she had gone, would remind her of home.
Somewhere out there, District Eleven mourned for their fallen Tribute. Feyre could only hope they would see this—would see their daughter’s, their sister’s, their friend’s final goodbye.
Feyre rose to her feet and took one, last look at the body sleeping in the melting snow.
Promise me you’ll kill them all, Ressina told her.
Feyre wouldn’t just kill the Careers. She wouldn’t simply win the Games.
She would burn the entire Capitol to the ground.
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @fieldofdaisiies @vulpes-fennec @houseofhurricane @reverie-tales @kingofsummer93 @melting-houses-of-gold @labellefleur-sauvage @shadowriel @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @headcanonheadcase @cascadingmoon @rhysiedarling @msfeyredarling @itisiyourfemur
#chapter 7/30#acotar hunger games au#feysand au#feysand fic#feysand fanfic#feysand fanfiction#feysand#pro feysand#feyre x rhysand#feyre archeron#feyre acotar#rhysand#rhysand acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#my writing
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mr policeman ♡
— hey mister policeman i don't want no trouble
Changbin x Seungmin
summary : Where a Changbin overwhelmed by work follows the recommendations of his colleague Seungmin. But should he have?
contain : weight gain , weight gain denial , mention of thight clothes , button popping , public humiliation (?) , police AU
A/n : GUYS I'M FINALLY ON HOLIDAY YESS and my arms is a bit better now so here is a long awaited fic that I had in my drafts ♡
Enjoy ♡
☆ミU^ェ^U☆ミ
—I fucking told my mom I'd be there tonight. She's gonna kill me. muttered the brunette as she filled out the paperwork they'd assigned him.
The District 9 police station seemed quiet, but it was full of officer just as passionate about their thirst for justice as they were about their work.
It's very simple: here, Seo Changbin, inspector, had to fill in the case file 143, since Jeongin, who was in charge of the case with him, had broken his arm by chasing the criminal.
The poor man was so stressed, and his poor mother kept sending him messages to make some blind dates for him. In fact, it was another date he'd missed that evening.
—Sunbae, you seem tense, are you okay? Asked then asked his colleague and office neighbor Seungmin.
The two of them had a Tom and Jerry kind of relationship, always bickering, but caring for each other only when things got really bad.
— Oh, it's nothing, but between my mother, the work I have to manage on top of Jeongin's chores and my neighbors who fuck every night, I think it'll be a miracle if I don't throw him in the Han River by the end of the week. The brunette massaged his temple , causing his friend to chuckle, and as if a light bulb had gone on above his head, he suggested something. I've got a good stress reliever I bet that could help. No sooner had he said this than Changbin turned his full attention to him. When I finish a file or feel I need it, I eat a praline, which motivates me to finish quickly and get my fix.
Changbin wasn't convinced, but no sooner had he mentioned it than Seungmin shoved a handful of pralines into his mouth, leaving Changbin to macerate them before swallowing. The sweet taste of the caramel that coated the peanut was a delight, an unimaginable sweetness, it was as if all his problems had vanished.
— See ? It works! exclaimed Seungmin proudly. Yes, I admit it, where did you buy them? Changbin asked curiously.
Seungmin simply smiled wryly, at least he had helped his friend to get better and was no longer preoccupied with his files or the messages his mother had sent telling him that Yeri's appointment was waiting for him.
☆ミU^ェ^U☆ミ
— And another box finished, it's time for what? Praline time. The brunette seemed to have acquired the happy habit of grunting an praline ever since Seungmin had told him about it. He wasn't going to admit it, but from the first day he'd gone to bought some directly, he'd only taken one packet, thinking that given his stress, one would be enough. But when after two days the whole pack was emptied without a single crumb, he went back to the store and took a stock so he'd never run out.
Because yes, one praline was never enough, you needed at least one pignet to get the taste in your mouth, like a lollipop that you suck until there's nothing left.
But is eating so much hard-boiled caramel-coated kosher good for your health when you spend eight hours a day sitting on a chair, doing administrative work to replace your colleague? Definitely not. And although Changbin was a really atheletic, muscular guy, the lack of exercise and time was starting to show. After all, if he had to manage on the runway and go to dates that in 99% took place at the restarant, no wonder he put on weight.
His figure was still just as toned, well, you could still see his broad shoulders, his big arms, but added to that bulging cheeks, a prominent belly to which were added love handles so big they fell to the sides of his uniform and an ass so round and juicy that Seungmin could have sworn he'd seen it wedged into his seat once.
But let's get back to the story. Changbin euphorically swallowing his praline fist
— one praline for this case, another because Changbinie wrote over 200 words, another for-
— Changbin-nim ... about pralines ...
—oh they are sweets fallen from the sky
— yes surely but how to say ... you look quite ... fat
Changbin almost choked on a praline as he glared at hil. How dare he call him fat, he wasn't, uh?
After a few long seconds of trying to sit up, catch his breath after that effort and eat another praline, he pointed at Seungmin. You ... how dare you call him fat, this is a place of work an not a recreation center.
But Seungmin wasn't even offended by these words, he just smirked, concluding with As you wish.
But honestly, Seungmin would be lying if he said this new Changbin didn't trigger something in him. After all, he'd always found him attractive and had already openly asked him out for a drink after work, but it had never gone any further. But now ... ... he found him seductive, sexy and hot as hell.
How could he resist?
☆ミU^ェ^Uミ
—Yes and so in case to this folder I thought- Hey oh Felix are you listening?
-Shh look, Changbin's trying to get out of his chair but he can't it's so cute
Effectively , in the meantime and from eating other bags of pralines, Changbin had put on even more weight, going from a muscular, athletic body to a simple ball of fat, so fat that he'd been on the official administrative charge ever since chase with a crimminal went wrong.
His belly was so massive that you could see it through his shirt, it was so big that it was always resting on his knees. His chest, which he often flaunted with pec movements, had also rounded out and looked bigger than a C or even a D cup . But the biggest thing was still his ass, still round and juicy, shaking with every step he took, now he couldn't take a step without waddling, letting his whole body shake from the shock of his body weight.
But did Changbin seem to notice? No, not so much as to stop his addiction to pralines or to waddle away, as he'd gone from tons of dates to almost none at all. Anyway, he didn't mind, he loved the peace and quiet now.
—Wow, we've got to get this on film. When Jeongin sees it later, he'll be hallucinating.
—Changbin-ah do you need help? Felix asked politely, amused by the scene.
-N-No .. hff... i-i'm fine and finally after an umpteenth effort to get his ass out of the seat, he'd managed to do it, he was both proud and surprised to see that half the office had their eyes on him, the former jock turned to a pig.
—What, do I have something on my face? But the only response he got was from Seungmin, who discreetly pointing his shirt. Indeed, all his efforts had led to his blouse giving way at the seams and popping a few buttons in the process. Come one Sunbae, I'll help you find a solution Seungmin walked over to him and led him to the shop where he hoped to find a solution.
☆ミU^ェ^U☆ミ
Seungmin offered one of the district's XL jackets, which was often lying around for those who had a clothing problem.
I mean, it's mostly when someone get a a coffee stain, but rippint his shirt to the only strength of his fatty body was a first
—Am I fat? Changbin asked, visibly confused, the only one not yet aware of it.
— honestly... yes, you are huge
But Changbin swallowed his saliva, his ego had just taken a hit and now I understood why Mum wouldn't give me a date anymore. Nobody wants to date a pig
—If you think like that, then yes. Changbin looked up at him, confused. His puzzled look denoted Seungmin's confident face.
So confident that he approached him and placed a kiss on his lips.
—If you're looking for someone who wants to date this pig, call me.
Seunglin so left without saying a word
Changbin was perplexed and impressed by what had happened in the last few minutes.
Wait-
Seungmin was asking him out?
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Diego Jimenez x Lauren Wolffe (OFC)
Word Count; 1,522
Part 3: Burning Bridges
In which Lauren's anger reaches a boiling point and her questions get a bit better of an answer than she bargained for.
Warnings: Language, mentions of murder, slight physical altercation
Author's note: This chapter is brought to you by me wishing I was still on vacation in northern Michigan.
Also, here's an offering: A Delicate Balance - Playlist
Any gifs used in any posts for this story do not belong to me.
Lauren bursts through the front door out onto the sidewalk just as Muñoz and Nguyen are about to get into a cab, having taken the stairs down two at a time. The sky outside is still a dismal grey; the rain that had been threatening to fall since earlier had finally broken free. Ice cold needles pelt against her hair, her skin.
She's too angry to care.
Catching sight of Lauren, Brian quietly instructs his client to get in the vehicle. Muñoz wisely does as he's told, but not without a smug smirk that she wants to wipe right off his fucking face.
"Can I help you, Detective Wolffe?" Brian questions, deceptively pleasant.
Lauren doesn't even bother to attempt the same facade, choosing instead to get right to the point.
"He's one of Jimenez's guys, isn't he?"
Nguyen's face turns sour in an instant. It's not a particularly endearing expression, especially not for someone who's profession centered around keeping a cool and level head.
"Careful, Detective-"
"Well? Is he?" Lauren demands, cutting the lawyer off. She's completely indignant, not caring if she's toeing a dangerous line.
"Lauren," Brian says in a low voice, his tone sharp. It carries a warning. "Don’t go setting fires to bridges you don't need to."
His words are cryptic, or at least they are to everyone but her; she understands perfectly well what he means, but doesn't care.
A little boy is dead, and he is allowing the pathetic waste of life responsible for the boy's murder go free?
"Just answer the fucking question," she snarls.
It doesn't make sense. It doesn't fucking make sense. If this piece of shit was one of Jimenez's guys, then what was the angle of this? What purpose was there in paying the bail, cutting Muñoz loose? He was a murderer, had killed an innocent child in cold blood and it just makes no sense, especially when-
"Did you not hear what I just said," Brian bites back, cool composure slipping.
"I don't-"
"Let me rephrase, Wolffe- don't go burning bridges that you-" he pauses, dropping his voice to what is barely above a whisper under the downpour of rain, "and especially not your daughter can afford to burn."
She sees red at the mention of Ellie, and it takes all the willpower she has to contain her temper.
"Don't bring my daughter into this-"
"But that's exactly what this is about, isn't it?"
Of course it is.
"Fuck you."
Brian rolls his eyes, closing his umbrella, "How articulate, Detective."
"Answer my fucking question," Lauren nearly yells, stepping forward to grab the door of the still waiting cab as Nguyen opens it, preparing to get in. He is quicker though, barking out a quick 'good day, Detective' before wrenching the door out of her grip, slamming the door shut in her face. Impulse takes over and she slams her hand down on the top of it, cursing and sputtering. She staggers on the sidewalk for a moment, watching as the cab makes it's way further up the block only to get stuck at a light thanks to traffic.
Thinking on her feet, she hails down a cab. One pulls to a sharp stop in front of her, tires screeching on the wet pavement. Climbing in the back, she flashes her badge at the driver and instructs him to follow the cab up ahead of them. The driver does so, turning them down street after street, until they come into a warehouse district about thirty minutes later. Lauren has the driver of her cab stop just up the street away from Nguyen and Muñoz, just far enough away to not be suspicious. Grabbing a twenty dollar bill from her wallet, Lauren passes it to the driver with a quiet ‘thank you’, and then gets out. Lauren walks to the end of the sidewalk, watching as Nguyen and Muñoz step out onto the sidewalk.
Muñoz's body language is jerky; he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands braced together. He's smiling, happy to be out of her precinct’s holding cell.
The sight leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.
Muñoz is out, walking free, just because he's got connections?
But Lauren has connections, too.
She just had to-
“Interesting finding you here, Detective.”
She turns slowly, looking over her shoulder, and meets the dark eyes of a lone figure. Diego Jimenez himself -boss of the Jimenez Cartel, one of the biggest players in the drug trade on the East Coast- grins at her like the Cheshire cat, smiling from ear to ear. Dressed like always in dark clothes that no doubt carry a price tag that would make her cringe, he is the picture of both excess and power, regal as she's ever seen him.
“This warehouse district is one of the places you do your dirty work; I figured I might find you here. You don't seem surprised to see me.”
“No, Nguyen called, said you-”
“What the fuck is this,” Lauren hisses out.
“Detective-”
“Do you have any idea what he fucking did?”
Lauren cuts him off, reaching into her coat pocket for the photo of the boy. She’s already spent hours looking at it -at all of the crime scene photos- and it still turns her stomach. She wants it to turn his stomach too, she wants to see rage burning in his eyes.
She wants to see the side of the man that she saw when she built those bridges that Nguyen had warned her not to go burning.
“This-” Lauren holds up the photo, practically shoving it in Jimenez's face. “This is what one of your guys did and you fucking bailed him out!”
He merely leans back, still smiling, and fixes his dark eyes right on her face. Lauren grits her teeth so hard she thinks they might shatter.
“As much as I admire your passion, Detective, it's misplaced.”
“Misplaced?” Lauren seethes, yanking the photo away from him. “He beat a seven year old boy to death and you think my anger is fucking misplaced?”
It doesn't make sense. He doesn't make sense.
Jimenez was a lot of things.
Businessman. Party animal. Deviant.
The list went on.
But one thing he was not, was someone who would condone the harming of a child.
Or at least, she didn't think he would.
“I'm well aware of what Muñoz did, Detective.”
“So then you condone it?”
Jimenez opens his mouth to respond, but Lauren doesn't let him.
“And you're a liar,” she snarls, and his expression shifts.
Jimenez strikes like a cat stalking prey; still and watching in one second, and then he pounces in the next. In an instant, he's got Lauren in his claws. Her back collides with the cold, wet brick wall of the alley and she bares her teeth. Throwing her arm up, she brings an elbow down hard, attempting to break his grip. It does her little good; he merely snatches her wrist, pinning it to the wall as his other hand comes up, grabbing her by the neck just hard enough to make a point. He knows she can’t overpower him, even if she tries; while they’re fairly even in height, he’s significantly stronger.
That doesn’t stop her from trying.
“All your fucking talk-” Lauren grabs the wrist of the hand he’s got crushed against her throat, digging her nails in hard enough that she knows it should hurt. If it does, he betrays no reaction. “-about how you don't harm children, how you don't allow your men to harm children. It was all just a line of bullshit.”
“Detective-”
She releases his hand, nails going for his face instead. With ease, he yanks her forward, slamming her back into the wall.
Lauren winces, and through a wheezing breath spits out, “will my daughter be a target, next?”
She's definitely burning the bridge, but she doesn’t care.
Their deal had been made for the benefit of Ellie, built on the one shred of moral standing that Jimenez claimed he had. If he’s going to allow someone who would murder a child in his ranks, then their deal is void, built on a lie, and she’ll take whatever retaliation he dishes out in return.
“When our arrangement no longer benefits you, are you going to go after her,” Lauren continues, her heart aching at the thought, because if he did, it’d be her fault.
Ellie had suffered since she was born because of her poor choices, and she was just trying to do the best she could-
“Of course not,” Jimenez responds, and Lauren finally lets him speak. “I have no reason to.”
“Then why pay the bail?”
Jimenez breathes in deeply through his nose and then huffs out a laugh, the grin on his face nothing short of maniacal.
“I paid the bail,” he says sharply, and Lauren’s breath catches. His dark eyes are glistening, full of rage, full of promise, and she’s entranced when his voice drops lower than she’s ever heard it as he growls out, “ I paid the bail because I'm going to eviscerate him.”
@1zashreena1
#maurice compte#diego jimenez#lauren wolffe#DETECTIVE!#things get interesting in the next chapter#starting to lay the foundation of Lauren and Diego's relationship#She refers to him as Jimenez because its impersonal#that will change#I really hope Lauren's moral compass is showing#she's a good cop but she will do ANYTHING for her kid#ANYTHING#Ellie Wolffe#This is not proof read because my brain is mush#this feels like mostly word vomit#feel free to hit me up if you wanna be added onto a tag list
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TASK 010 // THE INTERVIEW
The roar of the crowd was immense. It had felt good to stand in front of the people as he rode his chariot through the streets of the Capitol; it felt even better to be their focus, to have the spotlight on him and everyone's attention to boot. He felt good, looked good -- this was his moment, his fucking moment, and he wanted to erase everyone's memory of what they'd just seen. The pair from One, their devotion to each other; the Brick boys, their drama; the kids from Three, only at an advantage because of Nano, who should never have been a victor anyway.
Calix welcomed him warmly, as he did with everyone, and Caspian shook his head, smiled at him, sat down on the chair as if he were born to be here. Because he was.
The first question was an easy one, a lowball: "How are you finding the Capitol?"
Caspian laughed. "Oh, Calix, is that all you're going to give me? These are questions for the twelve year olds, the terrified little ones who have never been away from their parents. I'm a big boy now; please don't feel the need to humor me, though I'll humor you: I love the Capitol. It's the place I've always been meant to live. I believe I belong among you all. Don't I look the part?" With that he stood, holding his arms out wide, and spun slowly for the people as they applauded.
"Fine," Calix said, a devilish grin not unlike Caspian's spreading on his face. "You're right. I'll skip the usual fare, then. How do you feel knowing that your district hasn't turned out as many victors as some of the other Career districts?" He folded his hands on his lap, leaning closer to Caspian, who sat down as the audience quieted, interested.
"That's simple, Calix," Caspian said. "We haven't been good enough. That's what it boils down to. We haven't been prepared enough, sure, there's that, but it's more. The reason the Careers are good? Because we have loyalty. We care about you all." A gesture to the audience, indicating the Capitol as a whole. "But maybe District Four hasn't cared enough. Maybe we haven't earned your love like we should have. And for that, I'm sorry."
Calix nodded, seeming himself to be intrigued. "Well well," he said. "What do you think your district can do to show your loyalty then?"
"It's a good question," Caspian said. "My parents always said we could ensure a bountiful catch. That's true, sure, but the ocean is something fickle. People are fickle, too, but I'll tell you a secret." He turned his eyes towards the camera whose red light was blinking, indicating it was live. "I'm not fickle. No, I don't keep score. I don't try to balance things out. No eye for an eye, no counting. I don't have to wait for the ocean to give me a bountiful harvest, I don't have to hope that others will treat me the way I want them to. I'm in charge." He gave the camera a little sneer then, a pulling up of his lip. "So what will I give you to show my loyalty? I'll give you a show."
Calix led the applause that came from the audience then. "So we've already heard tell tonight of a career pack. Is that true then? Are you on board with it? You can tell us the truth, it's just us." It was of course not true -- everyone was listening, watching. Alecta, Cyril, Mason, Smith.
"A career pack is just like an investment in a company whose stock has been soaring," Caspian said. "It makes good sense, if you're paying attention. And I'm paying attention." He paused, looked around him as if thinking about what he should say next, though of course he'd already thought this through hundreds of times. "But since it is just us here... like with investments, you need to have the good sense to know when to pull out."
Calix laughed, nodded, as if everyone listening could understand what Caspian was referring to, as if even Caspian himself had ever had access to enough money to make an investment of any kind. The only investment Caspian had ever made was with his body, himself, working his way through the Academy. An investment of devotion. That was the ultimate payment, and the Capitol would soon see the payoff.
"Well, Caspian," Calix said, "that's all very interesting. Thank you for spending some of your time with us, and the final question I have for you is, I do apologize, another lowball. But it's important. Who's watching you at home? Who's rooting for you?"
The question hadn't been expected. Caspian had gone through so many different answers to the questions he could be asked, had planned to grill Calix in return, hope he would get better questions than this. Who was at home? That didn't fucking matter. "I'll be honest, Calix," he said. "Families come in all forms in this country. You've got some who are tight, you know? Some who are a little... out there. Some who hate each other's guts." He shrugged. "For me, though, my family's always been you all. The people who are going to watch me succeed. The people I've done all this work for, preparing myself, getting ready for this. So you ask who's watching me, who's rooting for me?" He looked directly at Calix. "You are."
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Starters taken from my Matthew Playlist (5/7)
Taken from my Matthew spotify playlist (which can be found here). You don’t have to know any of the songs to use the starter, don’t worry!
*Please note that the presence of certain artists on this or any of my playlist is not an endorsement of the artists as people or agree with every action they do. There are some artists I know nothing about. The reason any songs are on here are because I like them and think they fit the character.*
Feel free to change pronouns as needed!
*Content warning for: self-harm, alcoholism. Lyrics for those songs will be under the cut*
Circus- Lindsay Mendez
“Hello kind sir, I'm so glad you never met me”
“Just to be fair, I admit that I'm scared. And sorry for what I must do.”
“Best not to talk”
“No one will know”
“Good afternoon, Miss! You are my second victim”
“Shhh, not a word”
“Just know that what I am doing is part of a plan”
“I will connect with as many souls as I can!”
“You have to go”
“Haven't you been in love on the edge where there's no turning back?”
“It drives you to boil right up till you spill. It can drive you to bliss. It can drive you to kill.”
“Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a circus”
“Goodbye, you're done!”
“If he could see me now, he'd know he's not alone”
“We could be together in a world where we exist”
“Sometimes... I'm in control...”
The Cigarette Duet- Princess Chelsea
“It's just a cigarette”
“Honey, don't you love me?”
“You know it makes me sad”
“I was different then, I don't need them to be cool”
“It's just a cigarette and it harms your pretty lungs”
“It's only twice a week”
“Honey, can't you trust me? When I want to stop, I can.”
“Is it worth it if we fight?”
“I only did it once”
“It'll make you sick”
“I'm sorry that I did it”
“You'll be sorry that you did it”
Cop Car- Mitski
“I get mean when I'm nervous like a bad dog”
“I miss riding horses”
“I miss running fast”
“I was meant for running fast”
“I am cruel, I am gentle, I can make you laugh”
“I've loved many boys, I've loved many girls”
“I don't think about the past, it's always there anyway”
“I will never die”
“I've preemptively blocked all the exits”
Backstabber- The Dresden Dolls
“I know you want to jump around but try to contain yourself”
“You're all alone”
“What do you care?”
“I feel for you, fool”
“Failure has made you so cruel”
“Show us what you're good for”
“Come on join the bloodsport”
“Is it because you’re a fucking backstabber?”
“Don't tell me what to write”
“Don’t tell me that I’m wrong”
Broken Horses- The Mechanisms
“Sometimes the screaming will cease”
"Warfare’s just one more title for hell”
“I wonder if devils get nightmares of all of their victims as well”
“I can’t outrun those broken horses”
“It was a slow, agonizing war of attrition against one of the best defended districts in the city“
“We honoured our valiant foes”
“When they finally opened the gates of the district, there were none left alive. The war was over.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to remember the city was not always here”
“Statues are all that remain now”
Bad Habit- The Dresden Dolls
“Happiness is just a gash away”
“You might say it's self-indulgent, you might say its self-destructive- but, you see, it's more productive than if I were to be healthy”
“The ugly marks are worth the momentary gain”
“I'd kick the bucket sixty times before I'd kick the habit”
“Even if I quit there's not a chance in hell I'd stop!”
“Anyone can see the signs”
“Thank you for your pity, you are too kind”
“Why on earth would anyone practice self-destruction?”
“Makes me want to give mankind a beating”
“I've tried everything”
“No one cares if your back is bleeding”
“Makes me want to give myself a beating”
My Alcoholic Friends- The Dresden Dolls
“I'll get home with my imagination”
"When we get the sign from God I'll be the first to call them”
“I'm taking back the number of the beast 'cause six is not a pretty number”
“I'm trying hard not to be ashamed”
“At least the ceiling's very pretty”
“I'll be on my best behavior”
“Love is never falling over”
“Should I choose a noble occupation?”
“They would stare at me with hatred”
“Plus, my only natural talent’s wasted”
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1UP, pt. 1.
⌗ Summary: When a girl tries to one up you.
⌗ Pairing: Manjiro Sano (Mikey), Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi, Nahoya Kawata (Smiley).
⌗ Warnings: Cursing, Nahoya Kawata.
⌗ A/N: Uh, so it’s universal that all of us has one encounter with someone like this, mhm?
Request.
Manjiro Sano Mikey.
He knows.
He tends to act like he doesn’t know about his surroundings and that he’s dumb but he’s not.
He knows that this girl in your classroom tries everything in her power to be better than you. And you even weren’t the class representative or anything.
You know too but you don’t indulge in her shenanigans because there’s actually nothing she could do to get on your nerves.
Till she uses Mikey for her little games.
She started talking to him really close, asking him questions that everybody knew the answer.
Your blood started to boil when she started to bring him bento boxes because??? What the fuck?? As if she isn’t seeing the two bento boxes you always bring??
And when she started calling him pet names is when you snapped.
But your sweet boyfriend didn’t let you act on your anger.
“I’m sorry, I know you have some kind of one side beef with my girl but that’s a little bit excessive,” He says politely. “Don’t call me love because I’m not your love,”
Because you never indulged in her shenanigans she always kept trying to get on your nerves but after that she stopped, too embarrassed to even look you or Mikey in the eyes.
She even stopped trying to talk over you when you were participating in class.
You couldn’t love your boyfriend more.
Ken Ryuguji Draken.
Unlike Mikey, even though he knows about this girl trying to act like you he doesn’t do anything about it.
He doesn’t have it in him to argue with some girl that isn’t you. And that’s fine, your personality matches his.
But at some point, it gets too much when a random girl that is the girlfriend of one of his members is always tagging along with them just to get on your nerve.
And that what’s happening now, with you in a restaurant with a bunch of Toman’s members and her sitting on your man’s right.
“You never told me how was your midterm test, baby,” Draken says.
“Mhm, I got a 90,” You tell him with a small smile and he gives you one too.
“I got a 95!” The girl says in a cocky tone. You sigh.
“Look I know you have an inferiority complex, there’s no other way to describe this because—”
“Baby,” Draken says in a serious tone and that’s when the girl stands up, looking at you with a cocky smile.
Oh?
“Girl, sit yo ass down before I dog walk your ass from here to the nearest market in the neighbor district,” You say standing up too, because if she’s standing she means business, right?
“Baby,” Draken says sliding his hand on your sides at the same time he stands up, he makes you look at him and gives you a small kiss. “You know I don’t care about nobody but you, yeah?”
“If she’s standing up that means she wants to have her face—”
“But I don’t care about her, I want kisses,”
Well, if he put it that way…
Doesn’t gonna let you get physical but would let you confront her peacefully.
If he wasn’t that fine would give him a 4/10 but since HE IS 10/10.
Baji Keisuke.
I hope y’all know I headcanon him like a really mature and observant person.
But he’s also the definition of chaos.
Actually, he would know before you.
How she tries to speak over you, how she would interrupt you when you were talking to him or any other member.
He sees it all.
“Baby, have you notice how this girl that always comes with Pah is trying to get the attention away from you?” He told you one day, you frown but then smile.
“Oh, now that you mention it I was thinking of that but didn’t want jump into conclu—”
“She is,” He confirms annoyed and you smile.
“It’s okay Kei, let’s just ignore—”
“No”
And so the next time she tries to talk over you he actually shut her down in the most politely way Baji Keisuke would.
“My girl is talking, I don’t care about your little inferiority complex, when she talks you listen,” He says one day.
The girl even stopped saying hi to you and him. And you were glad.
Mitsuya Takashi.
If you’re not gonna talk nicely, forget about a confrontation.
He’s not gonna let you get physical.
He does have your back, letting you vent on why she has to do that, does she want attention? Your spot in the life of the founders? What the hell is her problem?
If you do try to get physical one day he would hug you from behind and take you in his arms like that to another place where the girl isn’t on your sight.
“Better now, love?” He whispers in your ear from behind, and you close your eyes enjoying his voice.
“Yes, I’m sorry for losing my cool,”
“It’s okay princess, I got you, just remember that we use violence to protect others,” You nod and let him kiss your cheek.
100/10 as a boyfriend, friend, husband, enemy… just him <3.
Nahoya Kawata Smiley.
Would let you fight, yup.
And would fight the girl’s boyfriend while you’re at it.
But that’s just if you want to confront her physically.
If you confront her verbally he would be behind you hyping you like “yasss, you tell her babeee~!”
Still, would trash talk the boyfriend while you’re peacefully talking.
He just actively look for problems okay, he a menace.😭
“Can you please fucking stop doing everything I do?” You snapped at the girl one day.
“Damn girl, you even started to talk like my baby” Nahoya’s chaotic ass says in the back.
Is down to anything, 10/10 to this 4lifer.
#☽. kk writes#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers fluff#tokyorev#tokyorev headcanons#tokyo revengers headcanons#baji keisuke#manjiro sano#ken ryuguji#draken#draken x reader#manjiro sano x reader#mitsuya x reader#takashi mitsuya#nahoya kawata#tokyo revengers nahoya#nahoya x reader
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Reverse Demon Slayer AU
a/n: a demon slayer au my friend and i were talking abt a bunch last week and i wanted to share it with you guys :))
like literally the au is just the demon slayers are the demons and the demons are the demon slayers it's prob been done before but still here it is besties (the hashiras turn into the 12 kizuki, the trainers are like the ex-kizuki members [like kyogai])
Genre/Warnings: Demon shit, body horror, just kinda creepy stuff cause the demons in Demon Slayer look busted most of the time, mentions of blood, gore, mentions of violence/death, religious stuff (gyomei)
~Giyuu Tomioka~
-Stays in the forest near a lake
-His voice echoes, kinda like how a siren's would. Since his voice is very calming and can go pretty far out, it lures a lot of people into his lake
-Blood Demon Art: Can create "reflections" of the demon slayers he's fighting out of the water in his lake. Every hit they land on Giyuu's version of them just goes straight through it since it's made of water but it's able to actually hurt the slayer (basically giyuu just makes little water minion to do his bidding)
-Would be very attached to the demon who turned him (which is Urokodaki) and would be absolutely livid if anyone managed to kill him
-After your encounter with an ex-kizuki member, you started hearing a strange voice echoing through the forest in front of you. Mistaking the man's calls as cries for help, you venture further into the forest not knowing you were walking into your death.
~Shinobu Kocho~
-Her eyes look just like a fly's, but instead of red they're purple
-Has pincers on the sides of her face
-Blood Demon Art: Can spit acid up to 5 feet (like an assassin bug) and if she manages to bite you, she can inject venom into your bloodstream with her freak ass bug tongue (like an ant)
~Sanemi Shinazugawa~
-The top half of his outfit would be tied around his waist (like how Susamaru had hers)
-The scars on his body would become mouths, and each mouth also has a voice so whenever Sanemi speaks it's like there are several voices speaking at the same time
-Blood Demon Art: Can literally take the their from a person's lungs and suffocate them. A demon slayer can't use their breathing technique if they can't breathe, right?
-Doesn't wash the blood off his clothes and he keeps the swords of the slayers he kills as trophies
~Tengen Uzui~
-Each dot on his face tattoo would become more eyes
-His three wives would change every so often because they're kidnapped female demon slayers
-Blood Demon Art: If he gets even the tiniest cut anywhere on his body, he'll be able to emit an incredibly high pitched sound to disorient his opponent
~Muichiro Tokito~
-Blood Demon Art: Creates a mist that, when inhaled, fogs the person's memory; making them forget what they were doing completely so he can easily attack them
-Honestly, he thinks killing the Hashiras Muzan sends after him is a chore, so he usually stays in the Infinite Fortress
-When he does go out though, he doesn't stay in one place for too long so he can avoid the demon slayers as much as possible. He doesn't want to waste energy on killing low level children
~Obanai Iguro~
-Pretty much a naga, the bottom half of his body is a serpent's tail
-Can unhinge his jaw to take some big ass fucking bites out of people
-His eyes can look in two different directions at the same time, making it hard for slayers to land a good hit on him
~Mitsuri Kanroji~
-Main territory is the red light district, she lures men into her little place and eats them
-Blood Demon Art: Similar to how Tamayo can force someone to tell the truth using her demon art, Mitsuri is able to attract people to her. No one wants to hurt the person they're attracted to, so it would make it easy for her to kill them.
-The prettiest demon Hashira by far, pretty much everyone else looks like some horrible grotesque creature
-She always tries to keep the clothes of the men she kills clean so she can give them to the girls in her house. Even if they are human, she still cares for them greatly
-Is the cleanest demon Hashira as well. She doesn't like making a mess of her room just to clean it up right after
-Mitsuri also likes to try different recipes with the men she eats. Having them raw just isn't as fun as cooking them herself
~Kyojuro Rengoku~
-Blood Demon Art: Similar to Esidisi from JJBA, he can make his blood boil. When the slayer manages to get a hit on him, his blood would splash on them and burn through anything it touched. The temperature of his blood is on par with lava
-Looks the most human out of pretty much all the demons, but something just seems very off about him
-When you're fighting him, he's stone faced until he gets bored of you. His smile just looks way too big for his face, and the amount of teeth in his mouth are far beyond what it should be
-Doesn't have eyelids so he literally never blinks
~Gyomei Himejima~
-Would be dressed as a traditional Buddhist priest/monk
-He kills demon slayers to "help them atone for their sins"
-Main method of killing would be using his rosary to choke them out, sometimes since he doesn't really know his own strength their heads pop off
-He cries blood instead of tears
-Blood Demon Art: Can make his blood as hard as diamond so the demon slayer would be unable to cut him on the first try, so he would be able to take advantage of their shock and kill them
~Tanjiro Kamado~
-Blood Demon Art: Just the same as Nezuko's, since they're siblings and all that
-He had come from a family of demon slayers, and after getting turned into one himself they all tried to kill him (except for Nezuko)
-Wears a muzzle only when Nezuko is around other demon slayers. They have to keep up a charade, but it's so hard to control himself sometimes and that's when the muzzle really helps
-His favorite part of the body is the heart. When he was human, everyone always saw him as kind and innocent but when he was turned he was seen as the complete opposite. He hopes that consuming the hearts of other people will return his old kind-hearted personality
~Nezuko Kamado~
-Nezuko followed in her parent's footsteps by joining the demon slayer corps, but instead of trying to find a cure for her brother she gets information and passes it to Tanjiro and the demon Hashiras.
-Nezuko ended up taking Tanjiro away from the bloody ruins of their home, and on their way down the mountain they ran into Giyuu who instructed them to go to Urokodaki so Tanjiro would be safe
-Has killed demon slayers who have seen her interacting with the demon Hashiras. She has to keep her record clean to climb the ranks and to help Tanjiro at the same time
~Zenitsu Agatsuma~
-Would lure people into a trap by guilt tripping them into being alone with him
-"Could you please help me? I lost my gramps, but I can't see him anywhere. Will you help me find him?" and then they'd get bodied
-Always avoids killing innocent people or new demon slayers. He feels so bad for taking their lives away from them, but sometimes he just can't help it
-He'll style the female demon slayers hair after he kills them so they can be just as pretty as they were in life when they get to Heaven
~Inosuke Hashibira~
-The boar mask would become his actual head
-Instead of duel wielding swords, they would be some big ass fangs that he swings around to impale demon slayers
-Inosuke fights dirty. He'll snap his jaws at you and laugh hysterically when he manages to take a chunk out of your arm
-Actively seeks out demon slayers to kill. He never kills regular people because they don't put up a good enough fight for him
-Eats every part of the body, including the bones
~Misc Characters~
-Kanae was a spider-esque demon and cocooned people in her webs to feed a young Shinobu and Kanao until she was killed
-Kanao was human-turned-demon by the sisters
-Urokodaki is an ex-kizuki member and all of his trainees are now the demons in the Final Selection
-the Fox Children, led by Urokodaki, are merciless to any wannabe slayer that comes into their forest looking to make it out alive. Most of the demon slayers that make it out are nearly dead or had ran straight through, not even trying to get a kill
-the Fox Children wear the masks because their faces are incredibly fox-like (think like, mid transition animorphs cover)
-Nobody knows what Urokodaki's face looks like, but based on his mask that's for the best
~General Stuff~
-In this au, the demons actually stick together and the demon slayers work alone which makes the Hashira Kizuki way fucking scarier than they already were
-And because these demons work together, they're all going to hold grudges against certain demon slayers
-When Kanae was killed, the demon Hashira went apeshit, especially Gyomei. Pairing his strength and horrible blinding rage at the fact his coven lost a very important member, every slayer he kills within the first year of Kanae's death die in horrible ways.
-Imagine following the directions your dove gave you to an old, overgrown sanctuary secluded in the mountains. The moonlight does little to illuminate your surroundings, but one thing you do see is the mangled body of your fellow demon slayer hanging from a tree. The only thing keeping them together is their spinal cord, and the impossibly large hand holding their head to a branch.
-The Hashiras are all extremely savage and violent, rarely ever sparing a human life. (sometimes Shinobu or Kanao might feel bad and spare a small child or elderly person, but other than that nobody is safe)
-Crows would service the demons, and doves would service the demon slayers. Everyone is always wary around crows because nobody knows whether that particular one belongs to a demon or not
#demon slayer#demon slayer headcanons#demon slayer au#demon slayer x reader#kny#kny headcanons#kny au#kny x reader#there are too many characters to tag them all#demon slayer hashiras#demon slayer main four#kny hashiras#kny main four#i might write for demon hashiras and demon main four who knows#i hope y'all liked these cause my friend and i had a lot of fun making this!!!
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-> Chuuya with a Black F!Reader who's a bit insecure because of her skin.
@furrypostsoul said: Hello admin, I hope you’re having a good day! So stoked to see a fellow bisexual bsd fan! I would politely like to request a chuuya Drabble with a black fem bisexual reader where she thought that chuuya wouldnt be interested in her romantically cause of y’know, her skin. If you could also add in scenarios where she was racially harassed in public (pls dont write this is ur not comfortable, I understand if you don’t! it’s something I want people to be aware about)
note: ahhh thank you so much for your request! i immediately had an idea as soon as I saw it and I believe I came up with a good one, especially after asking some of my pals for advice on how to tackle it! Hope you like it!
warnings: colorism, mentions of racial fetishization, microaggresion, and racism [not from Chuuya] insecure reader, angst to fluff i promise,
"I still don't understand why it takes so long to do your hair... aren't you just getting braids?" The confused look on Chuuya's face was honestly super cute and hilarious and you couldn't help but laugh behind your hand.
"That's just the way it is, man. That's why I said we can go out on Saturday. I can't on Friday since I'll be strapped to the chair."
"Man, whatever," Chuuya huffed and you rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Don't whatever me. Just suck it up!"
You shook your head, the hustle and bustle of the shopping district around you fading as you looked to your companion. Red hair, blue eyes, fancy clothes and a dumb hat; Chuuya was honestly too handsome, too damn fine. The scowl on his face was cute and you resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks. You knew he would literally kill you for that, and you valued your life.
You and Chuuya were in that talking stage and finally decided to go out on your first official date on Saturday. Besides his... occupation, you found yourself very much liking the man. Not just for his looks, but his fiery personality made him interesting, the way he carried himself. He was great and you were so into him.
You hoped he felt the same way. He had to, he agreed to the date in the first place! And how could he not? You were a sight, rich brown skin and he sorta, kinda, absolutely loved the cute afro puffs you had on your head. You were beautiful, a bright spirit with a bit of an edge that Chuuya definitely liked.
After talking some more, Chuuya had to go off to do his own thing, and after sharing a very tight hug, you waved him farewell, promising to see him on Saturday for your first date.
You couldn't help the huge, happy grin on your face, giddy as you made your way over to a nearby bench, sitting next to an older woman. You paid her no mind, grabbing your phone to text your friend as you giggled to yourself.
"Was that your boyfriend?" the woman suddenly inquired and you blinked at her in surprise. Then, your face started to heat up and you laughed lightly.
"Well, not yet. We're just dating."
"Ah..." the woman trailed off and you didn't like the tone of her voice. Suddenly feeling awkward, you turned back to your phone.
"I don't mean to be rude," the woman started and you couldn't help the sense of dread you felt. Here we go again. "But you should be careful, dear. You're a beautiful woman but... Japanese men don't really like dark skin. Not unless they are with you for... ulterior motives."
Even if you were already expecting some foolishness, the woman's words still stunned you, striking you to your core as you gave her a look that exceeded shock. You were appalled, your chest tightening in anger and hurt. You took in a slow deep breath, your fists clenching tightly. Your body had gone numb, and you tried your best to keep it cool. You couldn't make a scene.
"Wow," you laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood up. You didn't pay that stupid bitch any mind, storming away, your anger just boiling.
Not only did that woman ruin your entire day, she honestly ruined your entire week. The anger had soon subsided and you were left with the insecurities you tried to push down, especially when it came to Chuuya. Your mind ran at one hundred miles per hour, overthinking as the cruel words lingered in your mind.
Was Chuuya another one? Like your last relationship, were you just a sexual conquest for someone just wanting to try having sex with a Black girl? That was what your ex-girlfriend did to you, so was this just the same? Did he even like you?
No. Chuuya wouldn't do that.
Even so, you canceled your date with him as you sat in the stylist's chair on Friday, eyes burning with tears. You didn't want to experience that again, so you figured you give it all up before you get hurt again. Or even worse.
After spending day getting your hair done, you gotten a quick bite to eat before heading home, feeling completely dejected. Your hair looked amazing, long box braids swaying as you trudged along. But Chuuya didn't answer your text at all, and that honestly made you feel even more like shit. Did he not care at all?
You sighed deeply, coming up on your apartment, stopping when you saw a very familiar red motorcycle parked along the sidewalk. Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Chuuya leaning against his bike, and when he finally noticed you, your heart dropped when he yelled your name.
"Oi!" he hollered, stomping over to you angrily. "What the hell do you mean our date is canceled?!"
"I-" you were at a loss for words. "Why are you here?"
"I was waiting for you! I didn't know where you were getting your hair done so I just stood here."
"Th-the whole day?! Chuuya!"
"I mean, I went and got food and stuff but-"
"That's not the point!" you interrupted. "Why would you even bother?"
Chuuya scoffed. "Are you serious? You suddenly cancel our date and you expect me not to worry about you?" As he finished talking, Chuuya is shocked to find tears pooling in your eyes, your lips trembling as you hung your head. "H-hey, what the hell happened?"
"You don't just want to fuck me, right?"
Now Chuuya was at a loss for words, his jaw hanging open as he registered your ridiculous words. You spoke again, telling him about the things that woman said to you earlier that week, as well as the horrible experience you had with your ex-girlfriend.
"... I tried not to think too much about it but... I'm used to comments about my skin and race, I mean, hello! I'm Black, but... " you trailed off, lifting your hands up to wipe your tears away. Chuuya beat you to it, and you stared at him with teary eyes as he gently wiped your tears away.
"I'm not your ex-girlfriend." Chuuya was firm as he spoke. "And that old hag needs to mind her own fucking business. I fucking like you. Not because of some weird sexual thing, I actually fucking like you. The whole you. You're beautiful and smart, you keep me on my toes. And yes, your skin and hair are amazing, I love them, but those are only parts of you that I find amazing. I'm not giving you my love and attention because I want something from you, I'm giving it because you deserve it. And I want to be the one who gives it to you."
You didn't know what to say, what to do. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, your mouth going dry. Still, after a moment you just end up punching Chuuya lightly on his chest, choking out a laugh while you cried.
"Shut up... all that sappy shit..."
Chuuya scoffed, lowkey offended. "Excuse me? I basically just confessed to you."
"Yeah..." you sniffed, looking and giving the man a watery smile. "You did. I..." Lips trembling again, you took a step forward and Chuuya wasted no time in pulling you in for a hug.
"And you better accept me or else I will kick your ass," Chuuya said, pressing his face against your hair. "You smell nice..."
"Hm."
"And you're perfect. Worth more than an experimental fuck and the words of some old bitch." There was a bite to Chuuya's words, and that made you feel so much better.
"I'm sorry for doubting you..." you whispered and Chuuya shook his head, pulling away from the hug.
"Don't be. I understand, I promise."
You smiled widely, face getting hot as he gently cupped your cheek. "Are you sure?"
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Fine, you can make it up to me by un-cancelling our date. Let me show you off."
You giggled softly, hugging him again. "Okay. That's fair."
Send in your requests!
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JAY HALSTEAD IMAGINE
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Requested?: yes
Word count: 2794
Authors notes: I hope you enjoy it. If you would like a personalised one please do ask! have fun reading! I have also a promt list :)
Trigger warning(s): mention of death, swearing, violence
Summary: jay seems to always take Hailey's side one everything. Hailey always seems to come first. A trauma takes place and jay realises the reality.
Prompt: request.
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Since Hailey had received a job offer from the FBI Jay had become really close with her, so close then he was pushing away his own actual girlfriend. It wasn't just y/n who noticed this though Atwater asked y/n one evening at molly's if her and Jay had broken up.
Y/n loved Hailey and she thought she was so good to Jay. Maybe too good to him. When Jay got shot one time y/n was sat in the waiting room and Hailey and Vanessa were there and she heard a convocation she wish she could unhear.
'you love him' Vanessa said to Hailey.
'Of course I love him he's my partner' was the response.
This broke Y/n heart a little as she knew at that point that if she wasn't in the equation Jay would be in absolute awe of Hailey. Who was y/n anyways? Everyone would prefer a beautiful blonde greek badass cop.
Y/n worked with a law firm, in fact that's how she met Jay. She was a criminal defence attorney she met Jay in an interrogation room whilst defending her client. Jay later asked for her number and one thing led to another.
At some points she wishes she never picked up that phone call.
'Y/n if your gonna start then leave, Hailey would be so fine wi-' Jay yet again started comparing y/n to Hailey. Y/n was pissed off that Jay kept staying out late with Hailey.
Thats all it took. Y/n lost it. "GET THE FUCK OUT AND GO BE WITH HER THEN" Y/n was fuming she was so tired of being compared to Hailey. Her own boyfriend who was meant to love her and only her was clearly in love with another woman.
"y/n come on what's going on with you? Since I've been shot you've been so different around me. Talk to me baby" Jay was so soothing. He gently approached y/n and gently placed some hair behind her ear.
Y/n refused to even look at him. I guess you could say that she reached her breaking point. She had given up on him. Jay went to kiss her as a way of saying 'I love you' but she turned her head before he had the chance. As much as it hurt her, y/n had to leave. She made her way to the bedroom completely avoiding all eye contact with Jay. She grabbed a duffle and started showing clothes into it. Jay just stood there entirely confused on what to say or do.
"I'll come get the rest when you're out" a few tears were brimming in her eyes but she sure as hell wasn't going to let them fall.
Jay went to grab her hand y/n ignored him and walked out the door.
*BANG BANG BANG
"Derek what do you want" y/n was at her firm and her associate, Derek was wanting her.
"you need to go to the 21st district, Mr Maxwell got caught up again" y/n rolled her eyes. Mr Maxwell was a frequent flyer he was homeless, y/n always felt bad for him so she took his case pro-bono. However, Rossi Maxwell always seemed to find trouble.
"Tell him i'll be there in twenty" and with that y/n left to go to the district.
"Hey Trudy, looking as beautiful as ever" y/n cheekily said with a smirk.
Trudy rolled her eyes and responded with a blunt "upstairs"
Going up these stairs was a familiar feeling for y/n whether she was going to support a client or going to see her boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend. Y/n hadn't seen Jay in a week she still hasn't been by the house to collect her stuff. She loved Jay but just couldn't face him.
Ruzek greeted y/n with a hug as soon as he saw her "girl I thought you were dead where have you been?"
y/n just laughed and said "Maxwell? what's he been up to this time?"
Ruzek chuckled slightly 'what hasn't that man done? He got caught with some dope but if I tell you anymore I'm pretty sure you'll get him released and we will lose our best shot of catching our guy."
Y/n raised her brows at him. "Ruzek, you do realise i'm his lawyer and that's my job right?"
Ruzek clicked his finger and led her to the interrogation room.
"Adam who's in there with him?" y/n asked nervously.
"Jay and Hailey" Ruzek said barely above a whisper. It was clear that everyone seemed to know about this love triangle between y/n, jay and Hailey.
Y/n being the badass she is walked in with her head held up. "Rossi what have you gotten yourself into this time?"
Rossi gave her his compelling cheeky smirk "oh nothing new, I just wanted to see your pretty face"
Y/n smiled at him then looked towards Hailey who was sat next to jay directly in-front of Mr Maxwell. "My client has nothing further to say to you, we are leaving."
Mr Maxwell stood up. "no he's not, he's being charged with the handling of a class a drug as well as distribution, hell I could hold him as an accessory to murder" Hailey stated with a stern voice.
"accessory. Hailey come on he's a harmless old man who can hardly look after himself how the hell would he be able to help with murder?" y/n stated somewhat pissed off.
"y/n he's staying. End of." Hailey said slightly raising her tone. Jay sat there silently not knowing where to look. He saw that Hailey was getting annoyed and placed his hand on her lower back. Y/n saw this and it made her blood boil. How could he have moved on in a week? They had been together for 3 years and he goes to his partner in a week! It was really clear how much he cared for y/n.
"My client has rights and IM NOT SEEING ANY PROOF OF THIS ACCESSORY TO MURDER. MY client denies all charged and without any admissible evidence we will be walking out of here now." y/n leaned over the table to she was in Hailey's face "end of" she whispered to her. Y/n was true to her word she told Mr Maxwell to leave the interrogation room and to go outside, where Derek, the associate, was waiting. Y/n wanted to speak to Voight about how the whole situation was handled.
"y/n can we-" jay began.
"no" y/n simply stated and carried on walking. However, she was stopped when Jay grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her into him.
"baby please. I love you" y/n could have sworn she saw tears threatening to spill form his eyes. This made her soften but she was still mad.
"I won't be second place" she stated and with that she walked off to Voight's office.
"you need to get your detectives in place before this unit has a pending court trial" y/n said entering Voight's office.
"y/n I know she was out of place bu-" Voight began.
"no Voight I'm tired of making excuses for this unit sort it out" as y/n was leaving she saw Hailey comforting Jay. Y/n chucked and murmured a "point proven, case closed" and made her way back outside to meet with her client and Derek.
Normally, Derek would be waiting outside the car but this time he wasn't. Y/n just predicted that he was in the car; the windows were tinted so she couldn't see. Y/n got in and saw Derek in the back seat, he was coated in blood. "oh my - DEREK WAKE UP" she started to shake him. Maxwell was sat next to Derek looking at his hand with a sore excuse of a smirk. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?" she screamed at him. This got his attention, he looked up at her and reached for a knife. Y/n knew what was about to come so she reached for the door handle of the car. Maxwell grabbed some rope and put it around y/n neck. She found it strange with how he didn't say a word, this wasn't him. She didn't know this person, she knew a sweet old man who just got caught up in the wrong crowd. Y/n fought hard trying not to be choked to death, tears were falling and fear was taking over her, she could barely breathe. "Rossi please" y/n said softly as she was somewhat loosing conciseness due to the lack of oxygen. This made him stop. He got out the car and left. y/n couldn't move, when she finally pulled herself together she went to check on Derek. "hey, hey" she said tears falling rapidly. She couldn't find a pulse and knew she needed help. She could barely catch her breathe so she had to leave the car. She got out and looked around, Maxwell was no where to be seen.
She started speed walking back towards the district. She was stopped by a sharp pain in her upper ribs. She turned around, it was Maxwell. She had been stabbed. He continued plunging the knife into her, she didn't have any energy to fight him off. "Rossi please stop" y/n managed to get out. She wasn't sure if he heard so she said it again with everything she had "Rossi stop p-please." This time he looked at her. He froze and dropped the knife. y/n kicked it out the way. Yn fell to her knees she was blacking out. Maxwell snapped out of his trance and saw her in front of him covered in blood.
"Y/L/N! HELPPPP" Maxwell picked her up and ran into the district with her in his arms.
Trudy saw them and instantly shouted "HELP CITIZEN DOWN" she froze, that's when she recognised her. "AVERY GET YOUR ASS UP TO INTELLIGENCE AND TELL THEM Y/N Y/L/N IS DOWN HERE AND IS IN BAD SHAPE" Trudy put pressure on her wounds "come on y/n stay with me".
JAYS POV.
One of the officers came running up the stairs, something had to be wrong.
"sergeant platt said you need to come down stairs she said something about a 'y/n y/l/n' she's in real bad shape" he started rambling. My heart dropped. There was no way it was her. How could it be her.
I ran downstairs in less than a second and I saw her. She looked completely lifeless.
"baby, come on oh my god, baby wake up" I cried. I couldn't hold myself together. I grabbed her hand whilst Trudy was doing CPR.
END OF POV.
Jay was frantically pacing around the hospital waiting room. How could he have let this happen? Who the hell would do this to her?
Dr Halstead entered the room.
"Will, tell me she's fine. Will please" Will placed a hand on his brothers shoulder and took a deep breath.
"Jay she lost a lot of blood. She's in the ICU at the moment its a hit and miss she's just gotta make it though the night" Jay fell to the floor sobbing loudly. Will comforted him. They were like this for a while until Jay finally spoke.
"Can I see her?" Will responded with a nod, not knowing what else to say.
Will walked Jay to y/n's room. Jay walked in and Will left them alone.
JAYS POV.
She looked ghost-like, yet perfect. Why didn't I go after her? why didn't I try to get her to stay? This is my fault.
I went and sat next to her. I grabbed her hand and placed a light kiss on it.
"Hey honey, its me." I was hoping she would wake up and answer me, she didn't.
I didn't know what to do. what could I do?
END OF POV
Y/n made it though the night but she still had no woken up. Two weeks had passed and nothing seemed to be improving.
"Jay go home, take a shower and get some sleep I will call you if anything changes I promise." Will told Jay sternly.
"promise" Jay said mid-yawn.
"yes let me drive you" and with that both the Halstead brothers drove back to Jay's apartment, previously his and y/n's.
Jay went straight to the bathroom when he remembered what was in the cabinet. He smiled at the thought of what he could have had. He never understood why y/n was always so mad at him he really never noticed how close he was getting with Hailey. He was furious at himself.
"Jay you good?" Will interrupted his thoughts. Jay opened the bathroom door and showed Will what was making him smile. "do you think this was her style?"
Will laughed. "brother, she's a lawyer. Believe me they make it clear what they want. That is perfect" Jay also laughed. It was a noise Will missed hearing.
Jay had a nap whilst Will went back to the ER.
*BEEP BEEP BEEP
*BEEP BEEP BEEP
Jay didn't hear.
*BEEP BEEP BEEP
He finally heard. Jay answered the phone as quick as he possibly could.
"what's happened?" jay asked frantically
"get here now" was all Will had to say.
Jay rushed out the door and sped to the ER with sirens on. He ran up to y/n's room. He went to the door and he rushed over to her.
"you're awake, Will had me thinking you were dead" Jay chucked
Y/n didn't say anything she still was somewhat mad at Jay.
"Y/n I didn't realise what I did when you left, I really confused me. I love you and I thought you loved me too. I have never missed someone so much, you make me the happiest man. These past 3 years have been the best. You put up with me through my sleepless nights, through the hospital visits and all the times I tried arguing with you in the interrogation rooms. y/n/n you are my everything. You are the reason why I smile in the morning and the reason why I can peacefully and happily close my eyes at night. Atwater made me realise about Hailey, I've only been with her so much lately because she's leaving y/n. She accepting the FBI offer and I wanted to give a good goodbye, spent time with her you know. She's one hell of a cop. She wanted me to go with her. I said no because everything I could ever want is right her. My life is perfect. Well, it was until you left and got yourself stabbed" Jay lightly chuckled. Y/n was tearing up and smiled. Until realisation hit her about being stabbed.
"Maxwell-"
"Is in a mental asylum. He has a 2 personality disorder, he will get better he just needs some support" Jay said softly going to kiss her forehead.
"Derek?" y/n asked not really wanting to know the answer.
Jay shook his head "i'm sorry"
Y/n moved over in the uncomfortable hospital bed. "whoa what are you doing, you'll hurt yourself?" jay said sternly.
"shut up and come cuddle me" y/n said back to him sternly. Jay did as he was told being careful not to hurt her.
"i'm an idiot" she said.
Jay laughed "my idiot"
Will came in and ruined the moment "hey lovers not naughty business in the room thank youuu" They all laughed as Jay smacked his brother lightly on the head. Will placed something in Jay's hands making sure y/n wouldn't see he winked at him then left.
"What was that" y/n asked as Jay got comfy next to her.
"Look at me" Jay said. She did as she was told. "I love you. I don't want to lose you or wake up without you for another day. You are the one I want and I've been planning this for a while"
Jay got down from the bed and got on one knee.
"y/n will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"
y/n didn't know what to say so she just nodded and let the tears flow from her eyes. Jay placed the ring on her finger.
"I love you Jay Halstead however I'm not letting that my idiot comment slide. I think your forgetting i'm the one with the law degree" y/n smirked.
Jay laughed.
"I love you too" and that's when Will came in.
"WELCOME TO THE SEXY FAMILY Y/N!"
The three of them laughed as Jay kissed y/n
#chicago pd#jay halstead x reader#fanfic#imagine#jay halstead x you#jay halstead x oc#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead#jay
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leave everything behind but me- part 4 (diane sherman x reader) (NSFW moment)
warnings: same as before, stalking (like full on irl stalking as well as online), drugging, some talk of emotional/physical abuse in this one, death mention. this whole fic is just kinda dark... sorry. Also brief nsfw moment.
summary: this part is from Diane’s perspective. as she looks for her neurotoxin ingredients in a panic, she reflects on how she came into contact with you in the first place, and all the highs and lows of your relationship up to this point.
where the hell are they? thought Diane, looking for the last, most important ingredient in her neurotoxin.
She couldn’t believe it had come to this again. Just like with Chloe.
Diane wondered where Chloe was, what she was doing. About five years ago, with an excellent defense lawyer, she managed to get out of jail for what she had done. She looked far and wide for her stolen daughter, who seemed to be nowhere to be found. She still worried about what became of Chloe, but knew she was probably doing alright. And one day, Diane found a new obsession by the name of (y/n).
It was nearly two years ago now. Diane was beginning to give up on finding Chloe, after three full years of searching anywhere and everywhere with no luck. But she did find something else.
She was staying at a hotel in California, near the hospital where she gave birth to Chloe, in the vain hope that maybe, just maybe, Chloe would be around.
Diane didn’t find Chloe, but she found something else from her past. Her college reunion was being held in the exact hotel she was staying at. She didn’t plan on attending, but then she came face-to-face with her college rival. This woman was the only person who did better in her classes than Diane. Not only that, but she had multitudes of friends, boyfriends, you name it, while Diane had no one. The woman never let Diane forget how much better she was either. It wasn’t the worst thing Diane had ever been through, not by a long shot, but it was a disappointment for sure. College was supposed to be the place where Diane could finally feel like she belonged, and she always resented this rival of hers.
“Diane! We didn’t think you were coming! Oh here, have a seat!” said the woman.
“I’m so sorry about Roger. It was such a shock to hear about.”, she continued, reminding Diane of her dead husband
“Yeah, I still can’t say I’m over it, all these years later.”
“Yeah when the love of your life just drops dead like that, you never get over it, do you?”, she said, far louder than Diane would have liked.
“Can we please talk about something else?”
“Of course, I’m so sorry, Diane, I know it must be so hard for you!”
“Yeah. Um... what’s your family like?”
“Well we have one daughter. Her name is (y/n), and she’s a senior in High School,” said the woman. She then leaned into Diane and said, “But can I be honest? I never exactly wanted kids. Never liked them. I thought it would change when I had her but it didn’t. She’s so... difficult.”
Diane’s blood absolutely boiled hearing this, but she managed to keep a polite face, “But that’s your child. Don’t you love her?”
“There are some good things about her, I guess. I do love her in my own way, but I can’t help but feel disappointed. She’s just not what I thought she’d be. I’m sorry, I thought you may understand. I never get to vent my frustrations about her.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t understand. But, do you, um, by any chance have a picture of her?”
“On my phone, somewhere. Let me look.”
After a while, she found a picture of (y/n). It was fairly recent photo of you at a restaurant, at what looked like a dinner with the whole family. You looked sad and lost, but Diane thought you looked sweet.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Thanks,” said the woman, almost stifling a laugh, as if there was no way Diane could have meant that.
“I’m sorry, I need to go to the bathroom.” said Diane, as she was starting to turn red in anger and the woman.
“I’ll join you, I need to freshen up a bit.”
“Fine.”
So Diane walked straight into a stall while the other woman followed. Diane started to cry, so angry at this awful woman. She had a child, a beautiful, sweet, girl who was alive, for God’s sake. Diane would kill for what she has, in fact she had killed for it before. But this woman didn’t care about her child, she didn’t appreciate you one bit.
She didn’t deserve you.
Then she heard the woman get into the stall next to her and she decided to leave. But the woman left her purse on the sink. Diane looked into her purse and found everything. All her information was in her wallet, and she took pictures of her address, phone number, and credit card numbers, as well as a couple of photos of you and your father. Diane quickly threw the last photo back into her purse as she heard her enemy get up, and she ran away, all the way back up to her room.
Diane looked at the photos, and started to look for your social media. You didn’t seem to post very often, or have many friends. Most of your photos were of you by yourself, or pretty things you took pictures of, and even a couple of sad poems you wrote. Poetry written by teenagers was usually laughably bad, but hers made Diane cry. She saw herself in you.
Poor little thing, Diane thought. She needs some love. But I can do that for her.
Diane spent about a month following you and your parents around, without any of you even noticing her presence. One day she snuck into their house and bugged it, so that there were feeds of different rooms streaming to her computer at all times.
Diane noticed you spent most of your time alone. You wrote in a journal a lot, and cried fairly often, hugging a teddy bear you had. You just seemed so burnt out from stress from school, stress from your job, pressure from your parents. You fought with both of her parents often. Well... fight wasn’t the right word. Usually, one parent would yell at you and insult you, and you would choose to either take it or not take it.
There was one particular instance where you snapped at your father, telling him how he abandoned you so many times. He didn’t take this well, screaming all kinds of insults. How Diane wished she could hold you, rock you, comfort you and tell you that aren’t any of the terrible things your father told you, and that she’s sorry that you never felt good enough.
Diane snuck into (y/n)’s graduation, too. She knew she couldn’t contact you yet, but she got so much happiness out of just seeing this milestone of your life. All you did was walk across the stage and take your diploma, but Diane beamed with pride for you as you did it.
After graduation, your parents were constantly threatening to kick you out, and the fights got worse, they crying got worse. Diane wished she was there, comforting you, holding you and giving you all the love that your parents didn’t. Diane looked for a window of opportunity into this girl’s life until she found the perfect one. You had put out an ad on facebook for anyone on the east coast looking for a roommate, and Diane put her plan into action. She made a fake account on facebook pretending to be a college girl named “Anna Johnson” and responded to the ad, starting to talk to and getting friendly with you. “Anna” suggested that you take a bus trip and offered to pay the fare, but you refused because you wanted to earn the money yourself. Diane’s heart warmed at your sweet messages, even though they were to “Anna” and not her. “I’ve never had as good a friend as you before”, “Who needs a mom when I have you giving me such great advice?”, “You’re the best!”, every little message that you sent to Diane made her fall more and more in love. Diane bought a little house on the East Coast with the money she got from selling her old house, and hoped everything will fall into place in her new life with (y/n).
Now during the bus trip, Diane needed to follow you closely in her silver minivan, and make sure not to lose track of you during layovers either. Her detour into the coffee shop scared her at first, but once Diane found you, it was the perfect opportunity to finally, after all these months of dreaming, meet you face-to-face. Her new little baby girl, finally. Diane slipped a powdered sleeping pill into her already tired girl’s coffee to make you even more sleepy and suggestible, getting you to come with her to her hotel room.
Back in the present, Diane found the rest of the powdered sleeping pills as she was searching through her medicine cabinet and closet. She got so distracted thinking about you, and all the horribly wrong things she had done to you.
It’s for her own good, all of it. She needs to be protected, she’s too pure for this world, to good, too sweet...
Diane searched through the drugs she had given you, thinking of all the best times the two of you have had.
The first day Diane had been with you in the little house was heaven on earth. Finally Diane had everything she’s been working for for almost a year now right there, in her arms. Diane wanted to give you everything you didn’t believe you deserved. The only catch was that you belonged to Diane, and Diane alone.
She got a job teaching Chemistry at the local High School fairly easily, as she had extensive knowledge (even more extensive than she may have let on in her interview), of the subject, and the school district was completely desperate for competent science teachers. Diane found faking the background check easy, she used her maiden name and an incorrect date of birth and they didn’t ask her about her arrest at all. And now she had her new life set up. A house that she owned, a job to put food on the table, and you.
The next best day for Diane was the day you finally kissed her. Diane was starting to fall in love with you in a more romantic, even a more sexual way, but didn’t know if you felt the same way about her. Then, during one of your movie nights, you kissed Diane, and she felt overjoyed. She kissed you back and finally led you to the bed and fucked you, like she had been thinking about doing every night at this point but was too scared to actually initiate until now. She was in love with the feeling she got from kissing you, from pleasing you. It had been so long since Diane had been this intimate with anyone, and she was your first. And it was a real awakening for the both of you.
It felt so good, you felt so good. This relationship you had was so incredibly wrong in so many ways, but it just felt so right.
Why did it have to change?
Of course, there were still some hard moments. Even Diane admitted that there were times when she could be irrationally possessive of you, getting angry when someone even looks at you the wrong way. She knew that her possessive, obsessive attitude could scare you, and you would even blame yourself for it, but she didn’t know how to stop. She knew that you were getting scared she would become more difficult to please, like all the other people that have been in your life.
Or the times that you would cry, and it happened so often. You would get sad and Diane would hold you and tell you:
“It’s ok baby, you’re here now, you’re with me. I love you more than life itself. You’re gonna be okay, my little angel.”
One night Diane woke up to you crying into your pillow, and immediately grabbed you.
“What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”
“I- I was afraid that you might- that- one day- you might not want me anymore... what would happen if you d-don’t want me....”
“Listen, I will never not want you. You are all I have, remember? And you’re all I need. Come here, that’s right. You’re my baby, all mine.. shhh....”
Or, there was the time you asked about the scars on Diane’s back. She was mortified, but finally told you about her terrible childhood. The horrible abuse from her mother until her death, the foster home, everything. Her desperation to become the mother she never had. You hugged her tight.
“I’m so sorry, Diane, I had no idea... and to think I complained about-”
“Baby, don’t compare your life to mine. All that matters now is that it’s you and me, and I need to take care of you.”
“Sometimes I think I should be the one taking care of you, Diane.”
“Trust me baby, you do so much more for me than you think.”
Then Diane found it. The rest of the paint thinner. And she was ready to take away all your sadness once and for all, and make you hers forever.
#my fics#sarah paulson x reader#diane sherman x reader#diane sherman#sarah paulson#sarah paulson fics
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Tomato Apocalypse
A/N: Commission for @iminnerdvana who wanted a non-massacre story! She allowed me to share with everyone else, so I hope you all enjoy!
.
.
In all of his twenty-six years, Sasuke has never—even for a second—had any doubt that his family would be unfit to care for another living being. Never since he was a moody teenager, never since he left home, never since he started wanting a family with Sakura, or since their daughter was born.
That is, until tonight.
He and Sakura had only been gone for a little over twenty minutes, fetching soba noodles, brown rice, and a few other items Sarada had requested. They were only supposed to have been gone for ten minutes, what with how close the grocery store was to Mother and Father’s house, but Sasuke found that ever since he married Sakura, such was usually never the case; his wife was a window-shopper at heart, and liked to stroll down every grocery store alley regardless of what they came for.
Sasuke was sure that everything would be fine. His daughter was more behaved than he had ever been at that age, and his parents had still raised both him and Itachi into fine young men. There was no reason to worry.
Which is why it comes to him as such a shock when he and Sakura step back inside his parents’ home with two handfuls of grocery bags that night, greeted by none other than their precious daughter barreling into his waist with loud sobs. The sight alerts him instantly, and he starts sensing his surroundings for any danger, fearing that the worst has happened. He doesn’t feel anything out of sorts; Mother, Father and Itachi’s chakras are all calm and undisturbed.
“Sarada? What’s going on? Why are you so upset?” he asks, immediately kneeling down to pick his little peanut up and hug her safely. Sarada merely wraps her arms around him and cries harder, which worries even his wife judging by the look on her face.
They abandon their bags and decide to seek out answers first, heading to the kitchen towards Mother and Itachi. His shoulders relax as he finds them chatting and smiling, prepping vegetables together, but he also finds his anger rising even more. Why is no one attending to Sarada when she is obviously incredibly upset?
“Why is Sarada crying?” his wife asks them, before he can. It was probably for the best that she did. In the state that he’s in right now, Sasuke’s pretty sure he would have snapped at them—and Mother wouldn’t have liked that at all.
But he’s not quite sure he would have minded that, now, after seeing the way Mother smiles and shrugs like this is all no big deal. Sarada is crying and terribly upset. This is a big deal.
Itachi starts to crack up, and Sasuke scowls. Whatever he is finding funny in this situation, Sasuke isn’t seeing it at all.
There is nothing funny about Sarada being this upset, he thinks with gritted teeth, pulling his crying daughter closer and rubbing her back. He kisses the side of her head.
Mother sees the look on his face, and she sighs dramatically. “Oh, Sasuke, lighten up. She overreacted a little, that’s all. We were making dinner, and she was helping us—well, you know, ‘helping’ us,” —she uses quotation marks, here, to emphasize that his daughter had no doubt only hung around them and chatted her little heart out, because she was too young to truly do anything yet— “while we were prepping everything. But then when she noticed Itachi adding tomatoes in the frying pan, she got very upset.” She rolls her shoulders into one of her rare shrugs, going back to the chopping of her green onions. “She ran off before we could explain to her that this was only our dinner, and that she didn’t have to have any of it because we were making a special-no-tomato version just for her.”
“You are?” Sarada blubbers, wiping her very wet, very red eyes to look at her grandmother.
The latter grins at her in return, and abandons her work to lovingly pinch her cheek and pepper kisses all over her face. “Of course we are. We didn’t forget about you. In fact, we love you so much that you’re getting a special dinner all to yourself. And your uncle Itachi and I were just talking about making you your favorite dessert, too. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“Yes…” Sarada whimpers, rubbing her wet cheeks dry, though tears continue to roll.
But when Itachi holds his arms out, inviting her to go with him instead, Sarada turns her face away and into Sasuke’s neck once more.
“Ouch, that hurt my heart a little. Are you still upset at your favorite uncle, Sarada? I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you first about the tomatoes.”
“Want to stay with Papa…” she sniffles, hugging him tightly.
Rubbing her back still, Sasuke hugs her back, and murmurs soothing words.
“I don’t understand why she would be so upset about you adding tomatoes,” Sakura whispers, no doubt so their daughter wouldn’t overhear. “She never cries about it when we’re at home. Maybe she’s tired?”
“Well, honestly, she wasn’t crying when she ran off,” Mother admits, sighing. “She went to see Fugaku in the living room, and five minutes later, well…”
Sasuke stiffens, and he just about growls. “Father made her cry?” he snaps, quieting his voice as his rising anger seems to upset Sarada again. “Where is he?” he hisses.
Itachi takes his turn to sigh, now; Sasuke hates it, because it sounds downright patronizing. “Sasuke, she’s a child. Children get upset every now and then. I’m sure Father wasn’t being a monster.”
And it is downright patronizing. He grits his teeth. “Where. Is. He? I want to talk to him.”
Mother makes an exasperated noise, and she props a hand on her hip, her dark eyes narrowed admonishingly at him. It still builds a swirl of anxiety in Sasuke’s stomach even now, but this is his daughter who’s crying, and his daughter that no one is taking seriously, and he can’t let his mother step down from the importance of this matter.
“Sasuke, is that really necessary?” Mother asks, shaking her head. “Honestly, I’m sure this was all a big misunderstanding. You know how much your father loves Sarada.”
“Then he won’t mind clearing it all up to me, will he?” Sasuke snarls, because he is getting tired of Sarada’s feelings being trivialized, and being brushed off merely because she’s a child.
His father is not a cruel man, but he can be callous and cold without realizing, Sasuke remembers. And he won’t tolerate him playing the same mind tricks on his own granddaughter.
Mother and Itachi both protest when he starts trudging away, and even Sakura says something along the lines of, “Sasuke-kun, darling, wait just a minute—” but Sasuke doesn’t listen. He can’t. He stalks angrily around his old home with purpose instead, Sarada hiccuping in his neck still and holding onto him for dear life, which Sasuke isn’t surprised to find isn’t any better than her sobbing. It hurts just the same to listen to.
Father will pay for hurting her.
When he gets to the living room a minute later, Father is sitting on the couch, rubbing a tired hand over his face while he watches the news. Whether that’s because he is truly tired, or feels guilty for hurting Sarada’s feelings, Sasuke doesn’t know—but he does truly hope for the latter, for his father’s sake.
Father looks up, and genuine surprise crosses his features. This doesn’t catch Sasuke off guard; his father’s hearing hasn’t been great ever since a bomb accidentally went off at his police district after it had been presumed harmless due to malfunction.
(luckily, no one had been hurt.)
Father blinks. “Sasuke? When did you and Sakura get back? I didn’t hear the door—”
“What the hell did you do to Sarada?” Sasuke demands, his tone as icy and threatening as his dagger-glaring eyes. He knows he’s being rude and disrespectful, but he’s too pissed and worried about his daughter to care.
His father startles, but it isn’t long before his lips thin out and his gaze narrows with contained fury. His jaw cinches, and he grits out, “Mind your tone, boy. Your mother and I taught you better than that, and I’ll be damned if—”
“What the fuck did you do to her!” Sasuke yells, which triggers some outraged cries from the kitchen that he ignores, only listening to the way Sarada starts to cry again. He kisses her head and holds her tighter, unable to manage gentle soothing sounds. She only begins to calm when he rubs her back and bounces her a little, though Sasuke is far too focused on the way his father recoils and doubles down with twice the anger to think about doing anything else to pacify her.
But after a few silent seconds boiling with unspoken rage, Father does the unexpected, and forces his fists to unclench at his side. He sighs heavily as he does, as though he thinks that somehow, not fighting makes him the better man.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to upset Sarada any further, he realizes, as his father’s eyes flicker to his daughter, who is sniffing miserably in his arms.
Sasuke’s anger softens, but not much. He still glares angrily at the man before him, because even if he is right, and his father is sorry, he still shouldn’t have hurt Sarada in the first place.
Father shakes his head, and rubs the back of his neck. “Sasuke… I promise you, I didn’t do or say anything mean to her. I know I wasn’t always the warmest father to you, but I’m trying my hardest to never be anything but warm with Sarada. When she ran over to me, she was half-crying already. She tripped over the carpet and fell down—bumped her forehead in the process. When I came over to help, she started crying on the floor. I started soothing her—and it was working.” He pauses for a few breaths. His throat bobs with a swallow. “Until I forgot that she hated tomatoes, that is.”
A wave of confusion hits Sasuke, wariness replacing some of the fury on his features. A little voice in the back of his mind, which he half-thinks is Sakura’s fault that it’s there as it is often resonating her opinions, scolds him that he should have waited lest he just have overreacted and caused disrespect to his parents for no real reason.
He mulls his lips, and asks with some hesitation, “You… offered her a tomato?”
Father’s lip twitches at a corner, so briefly and faintly Sasuke might have missed it if he blinked. His face remains neutral, but Sasuke can see the glimmers of amusement swimming in his eyes. His father crosses his arms over his chest, huffing. “Close. She had a big red bump on her forehead. I teased that now she had a big tomato there. I thought it would make her smile.” He shakes his head like he’s silently scolding himself and wishing he could turn back time. “It wasn’t until she started bawling and ran off again that I realized I should have picked another red fruit to compare her forehead to.”
Just like that, Sasuke’s anger fades and bleeds into a whirlwind of guilt; it seeps into his stomach, and climbs all the way around his heart. Fuck. He had overreacted. Mother was not going to be happy with him. Or Sakura.
Though in his defense, he had been acting solely for the way he thought his daughter was being mistreated, so maybe that would soften their scowls a bit.
Hopefully.
The thoughts must show on his face, because Father’s features twist with even more amusement as he watches him, so Sasuke looks away and turns his attention towards his daughter instead. Sarada is sniffling into his neck, even now, but she doesn’t seem as sad as she has been since he’d arrived, so there’s some relief in that.
He kisses the top of her head to reassure her, then gently tugs her away and whispers inquisitively if he can take a look at her. Sarada doesn’t put up any complaints, so he takes that as a yes and brushes her damp bangs out of her red face. Her eyes are puffy, wet and glimmering still with tears, and even though she looks more tired now than she does sad, it still breaks his heart into a million pieces.
At least the presence of the big red bump on her forehead that indeed exists is distracting enough that he doesn’t have to think about that, much.
He can’t believe he hadn’t noticed it until now. But he supposes she was hiding her face in his neck for most of the time since he’d arrived from the grocery store, so maybe it isn’t so unbelievable that he didn’t.
His daughter rubs her forehead, eyes growing a little mistier, and she looks at him like it’s the end of the world and like nothing could ever be possibly worse. “Oji-chan said I have a tomato on my forehead…” she whimpers, scrubbing her eye as she often does when she’s exhausted. She sniffles, tears spilling over her cheeks again as she hiccups and fights back sobs. “And uncle ‘tachi and Baba were putting tomatoes in dinner… I hate tomatoes, Papa…” Her last words crack, and her breaths break into little gasps as she buries herself in his neck again and starts crying, which Sasuke doesn’t fight.
He shushes her sweetly and starts rubbing her back while murmuring reassuring words and loving encouragements, letting her snivel and weep against him freely. The more she does, the more she’ll tire herself out, and Sasuke believes a good long nap will do her some good.
When she quiets and is back to her miserable sniffles, Sarada asks him, “Do you think Mama can make the tomato go away, Papa?”
Sasuke’s lips twitch, but he somehow manages to hide his smile. Father struggles as well, it seems, and the guilt Sasuke has over disrespecting him grows twice-fold. Father loves Sarada more than anything in the world, just as he and Sakura do. He wants to be a better grandfather to her than he was a father to him.
Sasuke’s eyes lessen with apology, but he focuses on Sarada for now and pulls her back to give her one of his rare smiles—the ones he solely reserves for her. He brushes her cute bangs away from her soft, round face.
Instead of answering, Sasuke leans in and lays the fondest, lingering kiss on her forehead; not in the middle, but exactly over her big red bump that’s causing her so much distress.
Sarada winces.
“There,” he murmurs, kissing her nose. “No more tomato on your forehead. Papa ate it.”
His daughter gasps. “Really?” She tries to touch her bump to check it, but Sasuke grasps her hand, peppering sweet kisses all over her hand.
He smiles. “Really.”
She launches her arms around him and hugs him tight, muffling into his neck, “Thank you… I love you, Papa.”
“I love you too, Sarada.” He rubs her back and gives her a pat. “You understand now that sometimes if you see us adding tomatoes, it isn’t because we forgot you?” Sarada pulls away from him, and she nods. Sasuke nods back. “Baba and Itachi were hurt earlier when you ran off. But they’re even making your favorite dessert anyway, tonight. Go apologize to them.”
“Yes. Okay, Papa. I’m sorry,” she whispers, and he kisses her nose before he lets her down, satisfied.
Sarada wipes the tears from her face one last time, and she smiles up at him even in her tired state. The sight lifts Sasuke’s heart by miles.
But just as she looks like she’s about to run back off towards the kitchen, she hesitates. She turns around, and swiftly tackles her grandpa’s legs into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Oji-chan. I hope you weren’t sad. I love you.”
Father seems a little stunned, but it isn’t long until he picks her up to fully return her embrace, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He murmurs something in her ear, and Sarada pulls back with a wide smile and a giggle, nudging his nose with hers in an eskimo kiss. Father grins and peppers a few last kisses over her face, then let’s her down.
There is nothing but happiness and smiles on Sarada’s face as she pats hurriedly towards the kitchen, traces of her sorrow now all but nearly gone, save for her puffy, red eyes. Mother will likely have some kind of magic home remedy for them.
When they are left alone, Father crosses his arms over his chest, and his face slips back into his usual apathy. Sasuke knows he has to apologize, and that his father is expecting it, but the words won’t leave his throat when the prideful part of him screams that he was only defending his daughter.
He opens his mouth and tries, anyway, but nothing comes out. He tries once more, and then again a third time, all with the same results.
He expects his father to admonish him and his lack of respect, but instead, what he gets is totally unexpected. His father cracks up, and slips a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. A smile Sasuke doesn’t think he’s ever seen directed at him since he was a very young child.
His mouth hangs rudely, too stunned to remember his manners.
“You’ve really inherited the worst parts of me. I wish I could lecture you about your complete lack of respect and your damn stubborn pride that won’t even let you apologize, but I don’t know how to begin doing that without feeling like a complete hypocrite.” His father’s features soften back to something more neutral and unreadable, but he still shakes his head and huffs, amused. “I’m sorry I taught you pride came before humility, Sasuke. And I’m sorry I never apologized to you when I was wrong. I should have.”
“Yes. You should have,” Sasuke finds himself admitting, and his gaze drops in panic. He runs a hand through his hair and looks in the direction of the kitchen with a sense of dread, crossing his arms, too. “I’m not sorry for being angry with you when I thought you mistreated Sarada.” He pauses, just for a breath. “But I am sorry that I jumped to conclusions so fast.”
“Your mother will make sure you won’t be doing it again,” Father says, an odd tone to his voice.
Sasuke looks back to find him smirking. He can’t blame him.
Looking back to the hall leading to his next dreaded destination, Sasuke’s shoulders drop. “Yeah. Sakura will, too,” he mutters.
He’s not sure who will kill him first.
.
.
A/N: Commission slots are still open! More about my conditions and rates here.
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DISTRICT 8
series
warnings: suggestive, violent themes, blood
“no entry other than the person concerned, this is the back door”
-
CHAN
tier 1
leader, royalty born, one of the twins
district 6 calling...
“chan! the council is calling, it seems urgent”, changbin yells, pointing at the tv monitor.
chan rolls his eyes, not even glancing his way. “tell them i’m busy” he deadpans, shaking his head as he refocuses back on his game of 8ball with felix.
“you should probably talk to them, you know how mad that wonpil guy gets when you ignore his orders”, felix states as he takes his shot, missing completely.
chan chuckles.
he takes his cue and walks around the table, finding an angle. he leans down, focusing as he aims for the 8ball.
“..yes sir i understand, but he’s busy and-”
“seo, i see him right behind you”. changbin freezes, then sighs in defeat, moving out of the monitors frame to reveal a not-very-busy chan.
“MR BANG! WE NEED TO TALK! what you did last week was completely out of hand. the districts are a secrecy, it’s risky to act withou-”
clink!
the sound of the cue hitting the ball fills the room.
the 8ball goes in and chan smirks, finally looking up.
“you see. i completely understand that. but quite frankly.. i don’t care.”
-
FELIX
tier 2
the twins’ childhood family friend.
“what in the world happened here?” felix questions with disgust, walking around the half dozen people who are either unconscious or dead.
chan and ryujin laugh, both wiping the blood off of their favorite knives.
felix shivers at the sight. although he grew up with them, he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to the odd behavior of those two.
“what are you doing here lix”, ryujin smiles. “need something?”
“no,” felix says, still feeling disturbed. “i uh, brought cookies. i made them today because i had extra time and i-”
“chocolate chip?” chan interrupts.
“well duh what els-”
“YES!” chan exclaims, jumping up and walking right on the bodies as if they weren’t there.
felixs mouth drops. “oh my god dude.. really?!” he says in horror.
chan shrugs. “what?” he asks as felix shakes his head vigorously. chan reaches for the tin. “give me the cooki-”
“no!” felix says as he retracts it and holds it tightly to his chest. “you don’t deserve it, you.. you- ugh!”
ryujin bursts out laughing.
“what the fuck? you offered me cookies 10 seconds ago and now you’re not. i don’t get it” chan says, completely unaware of his actions.
felix stares at him with his lips parted, slowly shaking his head from side to side.
“i seriously don’t know how we’ve been friends for this long”.
-
CHANGBIN
tier 2
chans lead man, family friends with royal family.
“the all mighty bang chan. the one they all fear. the son of the failure of a mafia leader,” the man tsked, “-right here, in front of me, wincing in pain” he laughs, turning around as if he’s going to walk away, but instead returns and lands another blow on chans jawline.
“like cmon! what is everyone so afraid of with you?” the man raises his arms in exaggerated disbelief. “what? should i bow?..” he stops to get on one knee “oh king i bow bef-”.
the sound of screaming behind him cuts him off. he turns his head to be met with a leather boot, completely knocking him out.
“took you long enough” chan said, immediately untying himself from the chair. “you know if you weren’t so hard headed, i wouldn’t have to go this far to get you out of the mansion” he says, rubbing his wrists from how previously tight the rope was.
changbin rolls his eyes. “when are you going to stop bothering me on saturday nights? we do violence shit all week. the least you could do is give me ONE night to relax”.
-
MINHO
tier 2
recruited assassin.
“stay away from her, this is your final warning” chan says, poking minhos chest before walking away.
“no”
chan halts his movements, turning around slowly.
“what did you say?” he says through his teeth, cocking his head to the side in disbelief. no one says no to chan, let alone look in his eyes without shivering in fear.
“i said no,” minho shrugs, unfolding his crossed arms and walking over to where chan stood. “your sister is her own person, she decides who she wants to be with for herself,” he says, smirking before continuing, “and by the way, she told me to tell you something if you tried to pull something like this”.
chan furrows his eyebrows, feeling his blood boil.
“she said,” he chuckles. “either you fuck off, or i fuck him”
“who do you think you ar-”
“however!” he cuts in, grinning.
“it’s a little too late for that proposition though, ain’t it?”.
-
HYUNJIN
tier 2
goodfella
( n; a gangster, member of a Mafia family.)
“hyunjin, you have 4 dead bodies around you right now and what you’re concerned about is the blood stain on your coat?”
“its about to be 5 if you don’t shut up. now hand over the stain remover stick.”
-
SEUNGMIN
tier 3 (by choice)
royalty born, cousin to the twins.
“cmon seungmin. we need your help for this one”, changbin says as he stands in the doorway of seungmins room.
“im sure chan can handle it” he says, not looking up from his book.
changbin rolls his eyes, moving to sit on his bed. seungmin furrows his eyebrows at the action.
“your cousin is stubborn. he just wants to act on it but we don’t even know the exact location, how much men are gonna be there, if they’re armed-”
“ok? why are you telling me this. i don’t care. i already told everyone im not about this kind of life”. seungmin says, taking off his round glasses in frustration.
“i know you aren’t. but we really need you for this one. we’re bringing the rookies for this job and i wouldn’t want them to go in blind like this”, changbin sighs.
he hands an ipad over to seungmin. “heres all the info we have about this gang. help us out. please”.
seungmins face softens at the sound of his plead.
great. now he feels guilty.
“fuck”. he groans, taking the ipad from the mans hand as he reaches back for his glasses. he puts them on and quickly swipes through the leads and notes taken by watchmen.
after a minute, changbin slowly stands up.
“thank you. i appreciate this a lot, we all do, especially the twins.. even if they don’t show it”. he looks up to see seungmin not listening, eyes glued to the screen. he sighs with a nod at the sight. “ok, just call me when your done, i’ll be in the-”
“monday, bayside harbor. at exactly 9:34pm. when you get there, there will be 6 guards at the east gate and 4 men by the pier. a shipment is coming in. lethal weapons. make sure they don’t leave with them, it’s most likely going to be used against us”. seungmin says, handing the ipad back over. “now leave. close the door behind you”.
-
JEONGIN
tier 3
just discovered as part of the royal family. clueless to his importance.
*at shipment dock
“yeah. its settled, the tier 3′s and rookies are transferring the weapons to our carrier now”, changbin says to chan on the phone as he looks around the area.
jeongin sighs, turning to jisung. “i can’t wait till i tier up. im getting tired of just transferring heavy boxes from one truck to another” he huffs.
“dude id rather be here then out with 2′s killing people everyday” jisung says, scrunching up his face. “plus.. usually ryujin comes and brings the district 5 girls to transfer locations to overlook everything. thats a win-win to me” jisung grins.
“district 5 girls?” jeongin asks.
jisung mouth drops open. “you’ve never met the district 5 girls? they’re so hot bro”.
jeongin shakes his head, continuing doing his job. “no i haven’t. but i know it’s in the rules that we shouldn’t-”
“hey boys”, yuna interrupts, a smirk evident in her voice.
jeongin turns to where the sound came from, dropping his box at the sight.
-
JISUNG
rookie
unexperienced, mysteriously recruited by chan himself
“why the fuck are there so much rules anyway? fuck the rules! aren’t we like the rebellious criminals of society?? what kind of cool badass criminal follows rules. rules are stupid. rules are pointle-”
“you do understand the serious circumstances you’re under to be here? all these rules are here to protect our circle. if you don’t want to follow the rules then fine. but that’s your fate, not mine or my families.” chan says with all seriousness.
jisung sighs.
“can you stop speaking so medieval? this is a MAFIA not ancient rome”.
“
#stray kids#stray kids angst#mafia! skz#stray kids smut#skz#skz au#stray kids au#kpop au#stray kids scenarios#stray kids fluff#bangchan#yang jeongin#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#lee minho#lee know#lee felix#seo changbin#kim seungmin
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RWBY
The New War part 4
Jaune Arc's All Out Attack
Just outside of Shinrah district.
Jaune and Ren had to start traveling by rooftops because of the miasma that is covering most of the streets due to this though Jaune is getting exhausted from all the Aura Jumping. It wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't caring Ren doing so.
Jaune: Talking about me and junk food but your heavy asf.
Ren: Jaune! I don't want to here anything about you being tired from carrying me across rooftops.
Ren: You not only suggested this method, but aren't you the one that caught a speeding car with your body.
Ren: That Torchwick guy escaped but you did something unbelievable.
Jaune: I was in the hospital for a week for three cracked ribs. Not to mention it knocked me unconscious.
Ren: Even more of a reason for you to not be bitching rn.
Jaune: I think I like this Ren get used to me.
The two took cover at the top of they're current building then observed the captured cop and EMS workers. They could hear a man who was obviously a squad leader sporting heavy armor and two large saw swords.
Atlas Elite Oppressor: It's honorable seeing so many of you fighting to protect your kingdom. How come there are no soldier's only law enforcement?
Atlas Elite: I'll tell you why, it's because Ozpin didn't think they where worth sending into the city. That they needed to protect the academy.
Atlas Elite: So in other words your all expendable.
Police officer: Shut your mouth you fucking Terrorist.
Atlas Elite: Terrorist!? Lol where Atlas solider's.
Alvin Marcus: Listen son in all my years alive Atlas would never do something like this. My name is police chief Alvin Marcus.
Alvin: Ironwood would never order an attack against his home kingdom.
Atlas Elite: Well you know what Alvin thank you for having the balls to speak up... Now... Die for it.
And with a lift and a swing the man's head was taken off.
Jaune was finally at his boiling point as he was about to make a split second decision till he felt Rena hand grab his own. Jaune turned and looked Ren in the eyes who had a face seriousness. There was a mutual understanding between the two but Jaune knew if someone else died then he would step in. They both continue to watch on.
Atlas Elite: Well then... He's dead... So who's next?
Atlas Elite: Let's see they're are 40 of you we'll start executing you guys in groups of 10.
Atlas Elite: Okay men begin. Try not to have to much fun.
It was just like that the men and women where gonna be shot and killed. Police officer's and EMS workers who most had families. Jaune couldn't take it anymore so he jumped into action.
Ren: JAUNE!
Jaune: Bastards landed and swung his blade at one of the soldiers and as like nothing the man flew back with a huge slash in his chest and his eyes lifeless. Jaune didn't take it into consideration but the man he just killed didn't have an aura. Which means that most of these guys will go down easily.
(Jaune's mind)
" Is it really a good thing that it's that easy. "
"Ricky: Do what you have to Jaune, to protect the people around you and care about."
The Atlas Elite was surprised to see the young man cut down one of his men so easily. It turned out that's all it took for the police officer's to fight back as now a big battle of attrition had began. So the Elite did the only thing he thought was right and that was to take out this young man. He could already tell that his target was a killer at heart. That Mistress would love for someone like this to join her ranks. No hesitation just calculated swings and focused blocking. He is block bullets and using his aura to defend himself from and oppressor troopers. Now there's a green one huh interesting
Jaune had just took what felt like a hit from Cardin's mace to the side of the head but it was just a shotgun buckshot. He then stuck his blade into the guys knee rotating his wrist and and realizing something this felt odd killing these guys so easily. Whatever he needs to do he'll do it to protect these people. All of a sudden Jaune's senses struck him both physically and mentally as he was then sent five feet and bouncing off the side of a car.
Ren: JAUNE!
Jaune could hear Ren yelling out to him. He was fine he was able to lift his shield up to take the wide and aggressive swing he had very little time to react as he used his sword to slide and redirect a blade that was slashed vertically at him. Jaune then spun out of it and backhanded the attacker with his shield. The difference was that this tall bulky guy with duel wielding saw blades that are atleast half of Jaune's size. Jaune was at 6'3 so these swords where ridiculously big. Obviously this guy over compensating. Shit why did the commander have to be a tall and bulky hulk of a man, why couldn't he just of been cute like Ren.
Then it was a saving grace as A helicopter with Vale soldiers showed up and began to fire upon the enemy this made the guy end his attacks on Jaune and begin to fall back but Jaune wasn't having it as he chased him leaving Ren behind.
Jaune: Oh No You Don't Ass Hole Get Back Here!
One of the retreating soldiers was about to fire on Jaune till Ren pulled the trigger on one of his pistols and blew the guys brains out. Ren was not as shocked as he should of been. He wasn't about to let Jaune get killed so he chased after him as Vale military forces moved in.
Jaune had cornered the man. Then aimed his sword at the man.
Jaune: You'll pay for what you've done. Killing all of those innocent people.
Atlas Elite: Laughing... You got fight in ya kid.
The two stood there reading to see who would swing first. But neither one had to wait as the man rushed at Jaune only for Jaune to smirk as his chest glowed bright blue over his heart and without any warning Jaune sheathe his blade and went to punch the ground with his left hand all of the energy he had built up. This new attack Jaune was saving for whenever him and Yang spared again let alone it be Pyrrha.
Jaune: BAHAMET..FURY
With a mighty roar and loud kaboom that sent out a bright blue blaze that can be seen from Beacon Tower. This stunned Ozpin and Glynda who knew who that could of been. Especially since a news chopper caught the attack live. For the world too see, so teams RWBY, CFVY, Nora and Pyrrha saw it.
Ruby: Well guess we know who that would of been for if we had Combat class on yesterday.
All Jokes aside the chopper was waiting for the dust to clear. When it finally did Jaune was now Shirtless and sporting a big gash on his right arm it looks like the guy broke his Aura. Something that everyone at Beacon knew was next to impossible because Jaune is undefeated when it came to combat class. If one doesn't count the draw between him and Pyrrha. The two fought it out until they both fell from exhaustion. But what was about happen now was not a spar where it's fight till your at your max. No this fight was of a higher stake, Jaune's life was on the line.
The man got up and used his blade's to support himself.
The Butcher: Your... One pain in the ass you know that?
The Butcher: They call me The Butcher. That's my name now what's yours?
Jaune stayed quiet for a second because he was honestly still shocked that some one took the full brunt of his shock wave ground smash.
Jaune: Jaune Arc... No relation
The Butcher: A Arc huh? You truly are special.
Without a second passing The Butcher rushed in and Jaune eyes tightened as his vision focused and his mindset locked in. This battle will result in one of them dying. Jaune was able to deflect the The Butcher's swing but his wild style was new to Jaune so he wasn't expecting the second blade to come out of no where and slash his right arm and knocking his blade away leaving another gash if torn flesh and on the underside of Jaune's arm. This was bad he wouldn't be able to put a lot of power behind any punches on this arm. But that was okay Jaune knew what he would have to resort to Jaune then burst forward. Eyes lacking fear but a resolve he slide in grabbing The Butcher by his waist and just like that Ursa in class Jaune German suplexed him, again rolling into it and lifting the man again but this time keeping a two arm bear hug and slammed the guy on his shoulders sideways. Again Jaune rolled into it and lifted the man up and with his feet planted and with raw strength and pure adrenaline running through him Jaune threw the disarmed Butcher into the side of a building where he collided and bounced off of. Jaune was gassed after that display by no means was Butcher a light weight at 8feet tall and weight what felt like a ton it was hard to do what Jaune did. He may have caught a car at top speed but he hadn't been through hell before it. It just happened when he was at full strength.
Jaune felt the hands of someone familiar to him grab him. Ren had grab Jaune and gave him a shot of Adrenaline Ren looked like shit like he had got caught in Jaune's explosion.
Jaune: Dame Ren I'm sorry-
Ren had shut him up with a painful shot of adrenaline to the to the leg.
Jaune: Ow... Sorry .
Ren: You will be if we make it out of this.
Ren: I don't have any aura and my weapons are destroyed thanks to you. But that guy needs to go down.
Jaune: You thinking what I'm thinking then😁.
Ren blushing of embarrassment: Shut up
Jaune: Aww yeah Martial Arc's time.
Ren: ugh
The two ran in at the butcher who had recovered and was not ready to fight a juiced up Jaune and what looks like the ninja from earlier. But what surprised The Butcher more was the Ninja had just vanished and Jaune Arc looked to be throwing something invisible. It didn't click until he felt what was a foot to his jaw and a right hook to his rib cage one so powerful he felt his ribs crunch and shatter with it this dropped him to one knew then a barrage of calculated punches from the ninja and bone breaking bashes from Jaune. When the barrage ceased The Butcher was dumb founded the one eye he could see out off. He saw that Jaune was now casting a bright blue flaming aura and with one touch he turned the emerald ninja next to him glowing a bright green flaming aura as well.
The two locked eyes with The Butcher who was now expressing great fear.
Ren: When did you learn how to do this?
Jaune: I'll tell you later.
The two then lead in like a dance of blue and green as they both went in for punches kicks and one of Jaune's kicked sending The Butcher skyward. Ren Jumped into Jaune's hands and launched forward to meet The Butcher he super kicked him and without any warning Ren felt a burst of power as he flew forward looking back in slow motion to see Jaune winking at him and his chest burning bright blue. That's when Ren realized that Jaune had found a way not only to convert kinetic energy into aura, but he can transfer it to other's. Ren flew forward grabbing The Butcher and throwing him down towards Jaune who had jumped towards The Butcher who was beaten and bloody.
Ren: Jaune please don't kill him.
(Jaune's Mind)
No worries Ren I refused to be the monster that this man is. I will put him in his fucking place though.
Jaune: HAA!
With a discharge of all the energy Jaune knocked The lights out of The Butcher. His head snapping back from the impact but not killing him but mainly knocking him out.
Jaune landed and caught the Butcher to keep him from receiving anymore damage.
Five minutes later
Jaune came back sword in his sheathe, even though it took him a minute to find it. Ren was just standing there back towards Jaune. Jaune walked up and lightly pushed Ren's shoulder.
Jaune: From what I see the military is rounding up the last remaining terrorist and Atlas only General Ironwood is talking with Ozpin that's why there are war ships up above.
Ren: He shows up only now?
Jaune: Yeah but atleast it's over right.
Ren: Hey did you ever actually turn your scrolls distress signal?
Jaune: Yeah about that... Hehe I dropped my scroll when I rushed in to stop those guys earlier. Hehe
Ren: I want to punch you right now but I'm to weak to put any force behind it.
Then something grabbed the two's attention
Nora: Ren! Jaune!
They both turned to see they're teams and Professor Ozpin and Glynda.
But Jaune knew he was in trouble when he saw Yang and Ruby rushed him. Jaune knew he was about to receive the world's strongest hug and beating courtesy of Yang he has ever taken.
(Jaune's mind)
"I die today, this is how I die."
End of part 4
Character analysis
The Butcher: age late thirties maybe early twenties.
Classification: Classified
Huntsman classification: Unknown possibly Vanguard giving his size, weapons, and fighting style
Military experience: Ex Sargent first class.
Semblance: None
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Just Us (Chapter Thirteen: Feel)
←Chapter Twelve
The two of them stood next to the Garrison Captain’s feet, one on each side. The other was being held up by his neck, struggling to break free. Once I opened the door to the café, he was thrown in, face hitting the wooden floor.
“You offered to take the brats a while ago, well here they fucking are. This one caused a huge fight and spilled over all our grain stores for the week.” He pointed at Eren on the ground, both of them glaring at each other. Eren’s gaze made me shiver much more than the wind coming in did. It was the middle of a snow storm and I had no idea how mad Eren made the Captain who was willing to pull them through the wind and the flurries. However, I didn’t question it, seeing how cold the blue-eyed boy was. His nose and cheeks were red and I could hear his teeth chattering. The only thing protecting the girl was a red scarf.
“Yes, I’ll take them.” He then proceeded to shove the others into the café and turn back around, pulling the hood of his thick jacket up. I quickly closed the door, frowning as the snow flurried in, and turned to the three of them. The girl was at Eren’s side, helping him up while the blonde boy was talking to him about how much trouble they’d gotten in. I just looked down at them, trying to hide the pity in my face. The grandfather the boy had, was he one of them? I sighed and took one step towards them so they looked up at me.
“Do you three want anything to drink? Tea? Hot chocolate? Go sit by the fire and take your shoes and socks off before your feet get too wet.” They seemed to be taken aback by my accepting tone. It probably seemed a lot more empty though than when I’d given the bread to the blonde boy, but for the past month, I had no energy to give emotion to society anymore. Every time I tried, it would end in a fury where I had to defend the Scouts. I was tired. That’s why I closed the shop this week, not thinking anyone would come knocking at my door in such a harsh winter.
I looked out at the window again, thinking about how cold they all must be. I was so selfish too, thinking about Levi’s wellbeing in the snow storm. He had a winter coat, but did the Wall Maria refugees all have one? They left on such a nice, warm day in late January, everyone was so surprised that the weather had turned out this way. Maybe it was a sign that what the Scouts were doing was blessed by some higher power. Sometimes we have warm winters, and other times we get no snow at all. We thought this winter was going to be the latter and how wrong we were. A month later, when we were almost to spring, the blizzards hit.
I yawned before putting the chocolate flakes into the milk I’d found. Adding to my tiredness was the amount of nightmares I had while he was gone. I was starting to realize why Levi drank so much tea. I had one with me now as I didn’t sleep at all last night.
“Here you go. Just wait a bit for the chocolate to dissolve.” I handed the three their own mugs and I could instantly tell how they were feeling by the gaze at the milk. Eren was snarling at his milk, his hands shaking. The blonde haired boy seemed to be close to tears, taking his spoon and swirling it around. The girl showed no emotion, just staring at Eren. I assumed it was their personalities. While they sat on the raised brick hearth of the fireplace, I sat on the floor in front of them. It was probably a really pitiful sight, a thin coat over an even thinner, weak looking girl.
“What are your names?” They all looked up at me as I started talking to them, but I was now mimicking the blonde boy, staring at my tea and swirling in some of the last honey stores I had. I couldn’t go a minute without thinking about him it was pitiful. I’d picked at my thumb too and a tiny speck of blood came out.
“Mikasa.”
“Eren.”
“Armin Arlet, Ma’am.” A tiny smile traced your lips, but it dropped easily after a second. The blonde boy was cute.
“Just called me, Eva. Titles don’t matter in a time like this.” I took a sip of the burning liquid, letting my body feel something. It tasted like him. I set it down next to me, not wanting to taste it anymore.
“Miss. Eva, why did Captain Tresus take us to you?” Just like I observed before, Armin was the mouthpiece of the three. His question made me think back to the days I gave them bread. How long ago was that? I’d lost track of time completely while I waited. Back then, you were so naive thinking that Wall Maria falling was the worst thing that could happen to society. It was up there, but this, now, was so depressing. At least after Maria fell, you had Levi with you. So selfish.
“They threatened to kick you out in front of me a long time ago, and I said that they could just send you to me.” Armin and Eren’s eyes both widened, one in fear and the other in anger. Hopefully it wasn’t directed at me.
“We aren’t allowed back?!” Eren gripped is mug harder, some of the liquid splashing over the edge on his hand. When he felt the hot milk tough his hand, he winced, but seemed not to care enough. He just had that rage in his eyes. If he didn’t get that under control, he’d be in much more trouble. I knew first hand.
“They never said that. I’m pretty sure they aren’t allowed to kick minors out, even if you ruined their grain supply,” you directed at Eren. That made whatever he was holding in burst.
“It wasn’t theirs! They were taking the grain from us to eat for themselves all while making fun of the people they sent out to die!” His voice echoed through the empty café and I saw Armin’s eyes fill with silent tears as his friend said that. He didn’t think his grandfather was going to die, but it was a suicide mission they were sent on. I wanted to reach over and pat him on the head or something. Something to tell him that it was going to be alright. Armin and I were in the same boat, stuck waiting for someone to return from the most horrifying thing that has the pleasure of gracing our ears. However, Armin’s grandfather had a much smaller chance of returning. Armin must have known that, seeing his reaction to Eren’s harsh words. I’d heard those types of words too much over the last month and a half that I was numb to them. My calmness probably scared them.
“Would you three like something to eat? I can’t offer much in terms of meat, but I can make some porridge and bread. I suppose my offer to the Captain was for you three to come here and help me make bread for the other refugees, but that’s not an option anymore. Would you like a blanket Armin? You look very cold.”
“U-uh, I…” I smiled down at him, standing up, taking my teacup with you to go make them some porridge. All fake smiles.
“I’ll get you one anyways.” I could tell they were trying to figure out who I was and why I was doing these things for them by the whispers that I heard. I just turned my back to them and let them talk while I started to make porridge on the stove. I gave Armin one of the blankets I’d brought down from my apartment, planning to sleep near the fireplace tonight because my apartment was too cold to bear. He refused it first, but when I went back to put the porridge into bowls, he’d wrapped it around himself, engulfing everything but his face. Eren seemed to be warm enough by the anger boiling inside of his stomach, but soon he settled down and got under the blanket with Armin. Mikasa just held the scarf closer to her, looking at Eren or my back. Her gaze was scarily familiar and you realized it was probably because she shared similar features to Levi, however she seemed to be oriental like the extinct people Mr. Flynn had once talked about.
“Why are you giving us food? Don’t the people here hate us? That’s why they sent them away to fight the Titans.” I spooned some porridge in my mouth, again not caring that I was burning my throat while doing it, and shook my head at Eren.
“Someone I care about left with them too. I don’t hate you, I understand you.” That seemed to set him off again. Something about me, a person who’s in a house and has food, understanding him didn’t sit right in his heart. How could I understand his situation if it looked like I had everything he didn’t? In retrospect, it wasn’t the best thing to say. I understood only a little what he was going through, the orphan and fighting for yourself part, but not the trauma of watching your district be eaten by titans.
“You can never understand us,” he growled, gripping the spoon hard. Okay, this was getting to be over-the-top. I understood why the Garrison might think he was too much. The anger in his eyes only let you see a little bit of what he had inside, and I’m sure that part was terrifying. If this boy got somewhere where he could display this anger, it wouldn’t be a good scene. Was I going to try and be his therapist? Well, I shouldn’t be. Not in the state that I’m in, but of course I was. That’s what the Flynn clan does.
“Well, I’m an orphan, too. I grew up in the Underground. Someone I care for is out there right now with the refugee’s fighting to retake Wall Maria. I’d say we’re pretty similar, minus the titans.” I’d peaked Armin’s interest and his blue eyes shined up at me. He was the type to want to gain information. I could tell he was smart and well-read by the way he talked. Maybe I’d give him a book or two.
“You grew up in the Underground? I’ve never met someone from there. What is it like? If you don’t mind answering…” I almost laughed at his sensitive nature. Normally, I wouldn’t be willing to indulge someone in my past, but today I was feeling open. It was because all four of us were now at a certain lowest point and he looked like he really wanted to know.
“Awful. Damp. Smelly. I lived in an orphanage almost my whole time there. You’d get beat up all the time by people looking for food or money, none of which I had. The man who owned this bakery found me and took me home with other kids in my same situation. I guess I’m giving you food because it’s a habit I’ve developed. Take kids off the street and try to help them see the light. That’s what I thought I was going to do when I saw the Garrison Chief kick you, Eren. Sorry I can’t offer you more.” Eren’s face then morphed into one of guilt. It made me smile lightly, not a real smile, but one that knew what he was thinking. Too quick to judge. I used to be like that too. This therapist thing was really about to happen.
“You know someone in the Scouts?” His tone had changed from before, and now it was the same as Armin’s inquiring one. Was he also a little boy infatuated with Humanity’s suicidal heroes?
“Yes, I do. Haven’t seen or heard from him since they left.” I had to fight down some tears in front of the kids. Every time I thought about it, it made me cry. I didn’t know where Levi was, and there was no possible way he could send a letter with some sign or location. All I knew is that he probably wasn’t dead. I didn’t feel anything but loneliness in my heart, and that was the only indication he was alive. It was ironic that all these negative emotions made me feel comfort and safety.
“I’m joining the Scouts. Next year. I want to kill all of them. All of the titans.” The look was back again, the one that gave you chills. This type of thinking was dangerous, because once he started his plan, he wasn’t going to stop. The anger, if no one quenched it, would continue on. I knew this anger all too well. Was he angry at the titans? Angry at the world? Which was it?
“What are you going to do when all the titans are gone?” I took another drink of tea, regretting feeling the taste when talking about things like this. It just made it harder and harder to focus on the situation at hand.
Eren paused, probably not ever having thought about that possibility. In all honesty, it probably wasn’t a possibility.
‘“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Well, you have three years to figure it out before you join the Scouts. I’ve heard the man who trains you is brutal.” Levi had mentioned his name in passing. Keith. He was loud and wasn’t afraid to deal out punishments for the littlest thing. It was a point to break someone so the military could rebuild them in it’s image, and he seemed to be the perfect person for the job. He was also one of the only people who survived long enough in the Survey Corps to be retired to another position.
“Fighting titans isn’t as heroic as you’re making it sound, Eren. While the Scouts… while they really are the ones who will save us, if anyone, they’re also the first to die. They’re the first to see their friends get eaten. The first to… I don’t mean to scare you, sorry,” I said that in response to Armin’s horrified face, “but it’s a big decision to make so young. I’ve seen someone go to the Scouts and never come back, but I know people who’ve been there for years and are still alive. If you have any doubts, then I’d advise you to not go.” Eren was determined, I knew that. There was no way my words were going to change his mind on this. However, I could see the fear behind Armin’s eyes. I wondered if he was being dragged into this by Eren, or if he really wanted to fight back. Maybe it was his grandfather’s possible death that motivated him, but you still felt his fear from across the room. Mikasa looked determined to follow any and everywhere Eren went, so she was gone too. But Armin. Something made me want to save him. Not from the winter cold, but from the fate he was creating for himself by joining the Scouts. Maybe I’d ask Levi to watch over them if he comes back.
No. When he comes back. When. When. When.
“Miss Eva?” I snapped back to the conversation we were having, noticing I’d dropped your spoon on the ground. Hopefully, they didn’t ask me anything.
“I’m sorry, did you ask something?” Armin seemed hesitant to ask again, and it was almost hurting me how timid he was. He shouldn’t be fighting titans.
“We just wanted to know if you knew about the mission to reclaim Wall Maria before…” I sighed, remembering the day Levi left. I thought about it over and over, the way he acted so differently. He was receptive to every touch, even initiating it while I made him some food to take along the way. To me, there was something wrong when I heard that the Scouts would be leaving at night and close to the outer edge of Trost. While he was holding me from behind, his face in my neck, I asked if I could send him off since it was the first expedition of the year. He gripped me harder, almost making me drop the rice from the stove, and rejected it. Even though he seemed to never leave my side in the house, when it was time for him to leave, he promptly let me go on my doorstep and only kissed my forehead. There was no goodbye, no smile, no annoying remark, no last kiss; it almost upset me, the quick change once he made his exodus.
I realized a day later, after finally knowing what he was leaving to do, that he had to act like that to be able to leave. He probably thought that if he kissed me, he would be pulled back in too tight. I blamed myself too, for giving him weeks of regular, domestic bliss, that probably tortured him with every fleeting moment. If only I knew, I would have made it easier for him to leave. I wouldn’t have been so bold with my affections. His apprehension to sleep in my bed made sense now. It wasn’t just because of the connotation, but also because if he woke up on January First, entwined in my warmth, would he be able to throw the covers off and leave me?
“No, I didn’t. I had no idea what I was sending him off to.” This time, I couldn’t hold back the tears that fell into my porridge. The only good thing in this situation was that fact that I gave him all the emotion that I could have. I’d sit in my bed for the first month, listing off the reasons that he didn’t tell me. The obvious, logical one was that I was a security threat. How far back did he know about this plan? That night on the couch, I was delivering bread to the refugees every other day. Did he not tell me because he didn’t want me to feel his hurt? He didn’t want me to tell them? The other one was a reason that had come from my mouth originally.
I’m not going to hold myself back because I’m afraid of what could happen.
If he told me about the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria, would I have acted differently? Would I have been more reserved or would I have intensified my affections because I only had a few weeks left with him? It seemed that he didn’t want to entertain that idea, and left me in some form of naïve domestic bliss.
“You three are much braver than I’ll ever be. I could never hold the responsibility the Scouts have.” I could never keep an operation like that under wraps. I could never listen to a government who sacrifices their people. I wasn’t strong like Levi.
They left a few hours after that, and at some point I turned my attitude around, making them help me with some pastry orders. Eren was hopeless, so I made him run the mixer while Mikasa and Armin helped me assemble and decorate. Mikasa was amazing it at from the start, and I let her dollop on icing without supervision. It seemed like we all accepted that we didn’t want to talk about what was happening outside the bakery, so I asked them about their hobbies and interests. Anything to get our mind off the expedition. Armin liked to read, and I offered him a few books to take with him. Eren didn’t really do anything other than get into fights with some local boys and Mikasa was always the one who saved them. It was fitting for Eren, but I secretly hoped he had some other interest than fighting. Maybe cooking or something. I couldn’t criticize him though, because at that age I was exactly the same.
I was able to find some heavier sweaters for then, stealing some of Ben’s and my older clothes to give to them. The snow had stopped, but it wasn’t going to stop being cold and I didn’t want to see Armin shiver like I had before. Something about how delicate he was made my heart try to warm as I put the coat and blanket around his shoulders. He was already starting to develop a cold and his nose was running.
“Stop giving the kids handouts. Pretty soon you’ll have all the little brats at your door wanting food and clothing.” I glared at the Captain who was sitting warm in his military issued coat. Just like Levi would be.
“You’ve told me that before and nothing happened. I’ll give them what I want.” I could see Eren smirk up at the Captain who was finally getting back what he gave to others. I stood up and put my hands on my hips, ready to chew him out if he said something out of line next.
“It seems helping raggedy kids off the street runs in the family,” he sneered and my hands went into fists.
“It seems that the Garrison picks their officers the same way, Captain.” He didn’t like that I got in the last word, so he wasn’t going to stop his insult.
“How does it feel to support a group who lead thousands of people to their deaths, Eva? If you supported the Garrison half as much as you did the Scouts, maybe your café would still be open.”
“At least I support a group who does something. All I see the Garrison doing is drinking themselves to death on the street. Do you really think you can fight against the titans when they show up?” The kids were just looking back and forth between the two of us as we spouted out insults. My anger was steadily growing as he kept going on about how the Scouts were going to all die outside the walls and how stupid they had become as an organization once Erwin took control.
“That is, if they come back, Eva. Your little love affair might be coming to a close soon.” My eyes widened at his statement, knowing exactly what he was talking about. He, along with others in Trost, had noticed Levi’s presence at the café, and tried to connect the dots themselves. Levi made sure he always walked in the front door during lunch rush, wearing the uniform that I washed the night previous. Still, it made people talk, like they enjoy doing.
“He’s going to die, Eva. You have to know that!” The Captain stuck his face out near mine, a sly smirk on his face.
One day he’s going to die, Eva. If he doesn’t leave you before that.
Scouts die everyday. There’s no guarantee that I’ll come back.
I sent him to the white ground, the blood from his nose painting it red. My knuckles burned, knowing that I hit him incorrectly; not the way Levi taught me. However, the anger I had built up over these past months had given me enough power to send him sprawling. Armin had let out a little shout, but the way that Eren reacted to it made me pause and collect my labored breathing. He was looking at the Captain, a look I’ve never seen before. A look others had probably seen on my face. He was smiling down at the Captain who was struggling to get up, holding a broken nose. My actions fueled the ones I wanted Eren to let go of because I was no different than him. I saw myself in Eren, that’s why I wanted to talk to him, and now here we were displaying the same behaviors I wanted him to stop.
“If you kids need anything else, just come here.” I slammed the door behind me and locked it, knowing the Garrison Captain would want to get inside and give me a piece of his mind.
I went to sit down on the hearth, not tending to the slowly dying fire. I just held my head in my hands and cried, not caring about the blood I could feel popping up around my knuckles. It was better to feel something other than sadness. That was the only good side of this situation.
Three Months After the Start of the Mission to Reclaim Wall Maria
“I talked to Duran recently…” Ben trailed off, de-pitting the other cherries as I was heating up the sugar.
“I think you’re the only one who talks to him still.” A Garrison member held up their coffee cup for a refill and I smiled at him to let him know I was on my way. The Captain hadn’t shown up here since that day.
“Well, I’m the only one who thinks he’s a semi-decent person. He said he’s gotten some free time and might come down to visit. Maybe we could send a note to Catrin, too and get together like we used to.” I laughed at that, more of a scoff, and went to fill the member’s cup up, obliging in their second long conversation before I reverted my face back to its neutral position.
“I didn’t think Duran liked us that much to want to come back. He didn’t leave on a good note.” Ben put the cherries into the pot and I stirred, mashing them to make the filling for tonight’s cherry turnovers.
“You two didn’t leave on a good note, but he said that he’s going to do some intense training soon, so he wants to come visit before he can’t. Since I’m this family’s head, I’m going to invite him. You know he’s going to want to see the apartment and the café.” I gave him a confused look, knowing the Duran that got into a screaming match with me before he stormed off without a goodbye. He hated the café and the apartment. In fact, he screamed that he wasn’t going to come back either, but now he’s asking to visit? He must’ve hit his head.
“I don’t think Duran’s presence will be the best for my mood.” Ben took a deep sigh, not knowing how to help me at this point. Being a good brother, he was trying any and every way to keep me happy and occupied. He also said that Jonas had heard people talking about me on the street, specifically how I seemed depressed, and so Ben had to come and see me because Jonas was still too stubborn. Ben said that to make me laugh, but somehow it made me feel worse.
Even if we fought, if Jonas was hurting as much as I was, I would have visited him. Apparently, a whole childhood of friendship didn’t mean the same thing to him.
“Duran told me something about that too, but I don’t think it would be the best for your mood to tell you.” I took the cherries off the heat and turned to take someone’s order, the fake smile plastered back on my face. Whatever Duran had to say, I was interested in hearing it. It was the most comfortable to live in naivety for the past three months, knowing in my heart that Levi wasn’t dead. It was also easier to be selfish that way. I didn’t want to worry about millions of people, I just wanted to worry about one. It made me feel like a horrible person every night when I wrote in my personal log, but at this point I couldn’t pull self-hate out of the vat of emotion I had inside. The only ones that came out regularly were self-pity, anger, sadness, and maybe the occasional sadistic humor. Everything else was fake. I was putting on a show to the people around me so they would stop asking if I was okay. I wasn’t, but I didn’t want them hearing it from my own mouth.
“I don’t care what he says.” It was short and curt, enough to cut Ben off for a few minutes, frustrated with how I was acting. He was going to end up giving me some sort of lecture on why I should be happy, only for me to blow him off to go shut myself in my apartment before he could drag me to some family dinner. Those were the only times I saw Jonas, and even then we didn’t talk or look at each other.
“Do you not talk to people because you feel they won’t understand you or…?” There it was. I rolled my eyes.
“I just don’t want to talk about my feelings right now.” He put one hand on his hip.
“So when and with who? Everyone here can see you’re dying inside.” Ouch. I went back to making the turnovers.
“I don’t know, Ben. Not now and not with you.” That’s how I knew something was wrong deep down. Ben had to have known too. I told him everything, easily. If it wasn’t Jonas who knew, you could count on Ben. It ranges from my favorite color as a child to the worst thing I’ve ever done to someone. Yet, these feelings seem too scary to tell him. Too raw. They also were quite immoral to say out loud, and I felt that Ben, someone who worked closely with the people the government sent out to kill, would see me differently after I told him. I know he wouldn’t judge me, but there was just something there that didn’t let me, no matter how much he pressed. This may be the only thing I haven’t let Ben in on, and he was probably hurt too… and very concerned.
At night, I’d try to write it out like Levi said, this feeling of needed to keep self-secrecy, but I just didn’t have the words to explain it. I didn’t have the words to explain a lot of things in my log, and most of the entries were not even half a page long. I would detail what happened during the day, which was the same thing over and over, and then I’d write a sentence on how I was feeling. When he came back, I knew he’d be disappointed at how little I’d shown him.
Levi had left a letter the night he left, which I didn’t find till morning. This letter detailed everything that he didn’t tell me about the expedition, and also reassurances of his safety. He also instructed me to write out what happens while he’s gone so I wouldn’t forget him. Everyday I wrote, and everyday I’d read over it and hate the words on the page. I’d imagine him reading it and feeling burdened by what his absence made me feel. That was probably another reason I couldn’t write down what I was truly feeling.
So there it always was, like a rain cloud over my head for three months straight.
Tonight’s entry actually went over a half of a page because I had to elaborate on how Duran and I left each other after Mr. Flynn’s funeral.
Today was the same as yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. Ben came again, trying to get me to talk to him and helping at the café. Mr. Shwiner ordered a latte instead of black coffee, but I didn’t ask why. Ben told me he talked to Duran, remember, my brother. He’s joining some new MP branch and so he has mandatory training, and somehow that willed him to want to come to the place he hates before being locked up in wonderful Mitras. The last time Duran was here was after Mr. Flynn’s funeral and we got into a screaming match in the café. He said he never wanted to see this stupid place again and I slapped him across the face. It doesn’t make sense to me why he wants to come back. I don’t want him to come back. I want you to come back. Yes, that’s it for the day. Hopefully, this will be the last day I write this to you. If you come back tomorrow, I’ll tell you my real name.
Knock. Knock.
I put the pencil and notebook down on my bed, groaning when I heard the knock. I shoved on my slippers walking to the door. Probably some nightwatch or Reeve’s company trying to get me to order more with all the money I don’t have. Either way, they’d end up with my door thrown in their face.
“What do you need this late after dinner?”
He just stood there, staring at me. His hands were in his pockets too, but I could see them twitching, not knowing what to say. I took one good look at his figure, up and down, and then went to slam the door.
“Wait!” His hand caught it, pushing the door back a little bit so I could see his face still.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want anything else. I already put in my order for this month.” My tone was harsher than I expected it to be.
“Eva-” I raised my voice.
“I said I already ordered!” Still, he wouldn’t let me close the door, and I turned my face away from him. Did I feel abandoned? Yes. Was it partly my own fault? Also, yes. This is why I turned away from him, because I didn’t want to face those emotions when all these other ones are building up.
“Eva, I need to come in.” His hand was still flat on the door, making it impossible for me to close it on him. Even if I didn’t want him to come inside, he was going to push his way in. I just walked away from the open door, leaving him to close it as he came in. Still, I had my back turned towards him as I stood in the center of the living room between the two couches.
“Eva, we need to talk.” I crossed my arms, looking over my shoulder slightly to see his face. It shouldn’t look so out of place to have him stand here.
“Say what you need to say then get out.” I cursed myself for letting him hear how shaking my voice was. He knew I was holding in tears.
“Eva, just stop thi-”
“Stop what?” He sighed, just like Ben did this morning, but it was deeper. He was getting ready to yell. I flinched on impact.
“Stop acting like you’re fine!” The silence hung after he yelled. That’s when he knew I was gone. Just like how I have an instinct around Ben, I have one around Jonas as well. When he fights, I fight back. That’s how it’s always been. Now, I was just standing there letting him do this. That’s how drained I was. Yet, I wasn’t drained enough to not try and hurt him back. To expel my emotions in some other way than crying.
“Stop acting like you care.” He laughed after that. Three times.
“Oh, Eva, you know I’m the person who cares the most.” His tone was calm, not sarcastic or dripping with anger like mine was. It made me feel worse.
“It only took you four months.”
“Well, you waited six months for him so I though-” I turned around sharply, my eyes probably wild as I started over at him.
“Leave.” He held up his hands in defense.
“Okay, I’m sorry, that one just slipped out.” My glare was serious. If he was here to talk about Levi, he was going to exit.
“I’m not here to talk to you about your relationship and I know you don’t want my apology. I’m here because I promised you something a long time ago.” That made me intrigued. I don’t remember promising him anything.
“Which is?” He smiled lightly, finally having my attention. I wouldn’t have kicked him out. I would have let him talk either way.
“When we first went to secondary school, that first day, do you remember what happened?”
“I kicked the boy in the side and got reprimanded, yes.”
“And you saved me from getting beat up by the older kids.” Jonas had always gotten into fights from primary to the beginning of secondary. I don’t know if it was because his face looked punchable, but he would always attract upperclassmen boys who wanted to kick him off some sort of high horse they thought he was on. I always felt like I had to help him too, no matter the situation, even if we were probably the smallest kids and would end up in the headmasters office. Still, I didn’t see the relevance of him bringing this up and he could tell he was ringing no bells.
“That day, do you remember what happened that made you kick the boy’s head?” My eyes widened. Oh. We were thinking of two different days. The day he was referring too was…
“I remember yes,” my voice had gotten softer and all the anger had left it. That day had been shoved into the back of my memory for years. This also let Jonas know he was getting to his point.
“You told me that you never wanted to be that person again. The person who said that you wanted to kick the boy’s head until his blood painted your shoes.” You shivered when he repeated your words. You did say that, but after as you were standing outside the headmaster’s office while Ben played your caretaker.
Mr. Flynn said it happened to all of his kids. Once they reach puberty, something in them snaps and the trauma comes flooding back through. He hoped that with the right care, it would never happen to me, and he thought it didn’t, because that was the day I started confining in Ben. At first, I would steal things from the booths or even money from the register, but I would horde them in a box under my bed. I wanted control over the things I had. Ben said he started that way too. Next, I would hurt things smaller than me, giving back the world the pain I suffered. It was a power dynamic. I finally had power over something. It made me understand why older girls would kick my ribs in the Underground alleyways. Finally, months of these behaviors culminated into that day.
He was kicking Jonas on the ground, like the people in the Underground, and the two other boys on his side watched. I ran over, yelling at them with my fists as tight as they would go. I was still small from malnourishment, but I knew how to fight from years of doing it. It was all fine and normal, only throwing insults back and forth, until he called me an Underground rat. They knew where I lived and who my caretaker was. That’s when it all came flooding back. I didn’t want to hurt small things anymore, I wanted to kill that boy who was hurting Jonas and making me feel the way he did. Ben said that it was a form of atonement for the times I was beat up in the Underground and couldn’t do anything. My body atoned for those periods of weakness by taking it all out on this one boy a grade above me.
I can remember the words I spat at him and his friends. I’ll kick you till your blood paints my shoes. I’ll show you who you call an Underground rat. This is the Underground! Are you happy now? Isn’t this what you wanted?! Stop yelling for help, it isn’t coming! It took Jonas and the two other friends to hold me back, as well as a teacher seeing from outside his window. The only saving grace was that no student saw it happen as they had caught Jonas in a corner. Therefore, when those three boys went to their class and said something, no one believed him. I was too small and never spoke. Ben came, took one look at my dilated eyes, and knew right away what happened. The instant he looked at me, the guilt came flooding through. I realized what I did to that boy. I realized what was happening in these past few months. While the headmaster was threatening to throw me out, I cried probably for the first time in front of Jonas.
I made him promise.
“You made me promise that if you were ever starting to go back to how you were in the Underground, that I’d have to stop you before it was too late, and here I am.” I deflated when he said that, because I knew it was completely true. Recollecting the feelings I felt back then, way back then, it felt exactly like now. I felt hopeless, alone, lost. The only difference was that I was waiting for someone to come back and take those emotions away.
“Jonas,” maybe it was a plea for him to stop talking. If he kept going, I’d break.
“You’re going back, Eva. I heard what happened with the Garrison Captain. Even if he deserved it, it’s not like you to break someone’s nose. That coupled with the fact that everyone in Trost is coming up to ask me why you look like you’re always in pain… Eva, I’m still not over what we talked about before, but that doesn’t matter when you’re spiraling back into the girl from the Underground who lets no one care for her. Who only lets one person care for her and when they’re gone she shuts down completely.” I clenched my fists again, feeling exactly like the girl in the school corner that day, but now instead of anger, I was about to collapse.
“What’s wrong? Why do you feel like this? Is it all because of him?” His voice was soft, like it used to be. Those nights when he would comfort me from a nightmare came back into my mind. He would always know the right things to say to make me feel better. He would say the things that didn’t make me feel like I was that helpless girl back in the Underground who had to kill to stay alive. Would that make me feel better now?
“I…” I took a deep breath, trying to give myself a chance. A chance to speak. A chance to feel something other than sadness.
“I…” I looked up at him again, his eyes pleading for me to continue. This was exactly like before. I was afraid to share what I was thinking, knowing how awful it was, just for it to culminate and me trying to kill a boy. I was afraid. I wanted Levi to come back. If he was back, I wouldn’t be afraid of what might happen if he doesn’t come back.
“It’s because of him.” I felt weak when I said that, and it didn’t help that my legs felt like they were about to collapse. Jonas saw this. He saw how I was about to fall over from something and he came over quickly, sitting me down on the couch while he sat on top of the coffee table. His hand was on top of my knee. For once, I wasn’t shying away from human contact. The human contact that I needed because I was reverting back. Yes, I needed Jonas right now. I regretted letting him stay away for so long. Again, I was being selfish. So selfish. What did he think about this contact?
“It’s fine to feel like this about someone you love, Eva.” I was hurting Jonas now, not just me. This is why I didn’t want to share my emotions in the first place. I was burdening him because he had to comfort me about someone he didn’t like. About someone he wanted to be. The fight we had was coming back in my head too. I put my head in my hands, trying to push it back. I was on overdrive.
“Eva, what’s wrong?” His voice stayed soft, regardless of how I was acting. Yet, his eyes were gaining intensity as I seemed to be getting worse.
“Jonas, I’m hurting you.” His grip tightened on my knee just a little bit.
“No you aren’t, Eva. Right now, I’m trying to make sure my best friend is okay. You’re hurting.” With that, I took my hands off of my head and looked up at the ceiling. He called me his best friend. Like before. Best friend. How had I gone months without having Jonas to rely on like I used to? Maybe that was the difference this time. Before when Levi was gone, I confided in Jonas. I told him if I was sad. He knew when I woke up in tears to some nightmare. Now, I had forcibly removed myself from him and from everyone else. I had no one to turn to. Is that why this time hurt so much more?
“I miss him, Jonas, and I want him back. I’m frustrated that the government made him do this, but on the other hand I don’t care about the refugees. I want him to come back. I’m a horrible person. I made bread for them. I handed them soup and talked to them like they were friends. Now here I am, not caring about them, not even one bit. I felt sad when I read what was happening, but was I sad for them, or was I sad that we as a society have gotten to the point that we have to sacrifice thousands of people to survive?” He didn’t move from his seat on the table like he normally would, but as soon as I got that out, it felt a little better. I didn’t mind the small tears that fell on my face, and he just nodded in agreement with what I said. It was just like before.
“I think that’s normal to do when you love someone. You don’t care about the others around them, you care just about them. It’s also good that you recognize your thinking is bad. It would be worse if you felt like that and had no remorse.”
“I think about it sometimes. What you said. I sit up at night and stare at the wall, thinking about in five years, will I be in the exact same spot? Can I wait that long for him? That makes me feel awful too. All he does is fight to protect us, and I’m being selfish. I’m so selfish.” He shook his head and I lowered my head to look at him.
“Eva, you know what you’re feeling is all normal, right? You love him, but can you keep hurting yourself like this for the sake of love? Sorry, I know I told you I wasn’t going to talk about your relationship.” I just shrugged at him and leaned forward to rest my head in my hands again. I wiped off some tears too. It was a miracle I wasn’t sobbing at this point, but maybe before I was sobbing because I had no one to say all of this to.
“Are you saying that still hoping I’ll break up with him and come to you?” I wanted him to say it. Just because he was coming to talk to me as my friend doesn’t mean he was thinking that when standing outside of my door, gaining the courage to knock.
“Right now, I’m thinking about what will make you not feel horrible. Am I considering the possibility of what you said? Yes, but I’ve had four-ish months to work through my feelings.” I nodded, not wanting to push him further.
“Is that all you’ve been feeling this whole time?”
“I have nightmares of him dying. I wake up and my heart is racing, I’m crying, but I know he isn’t dead. Still, it’s scary to see that in front of me every night. I don’t think I’ve slept more than three hours in a night since he left. Then, I tell myself throughout the day to not think about it and serve the customers, but I can’t help it. I’ve started picking at my hands again, even with the lotion. It’s anxiety, I know it is. I’m anxious about his condition, and then I get anxious when I think I’m starting to think about him again because it makes me anxious. It’s a vicious cycle. I only allow myself to think about it completely at night before I go to bed. That’s probably why I have such horrible nightmares about it too.”
“And I wasn’t here, too.” I just nodded, knowing that I’d have to draw that boundary with him once I asked him to stay tonight. He probably came here hoping for it too. I’d have him sleep on the couch like he always does, but I won’t allow him to come in my room.
“I couldn’t tell Ben because… I don’t know, I just felt if I told him things about the refugee’s he’d judge me. I care about them and how many of them make it back, but I care more about Levi and his well being. If only Levi came back, just one person, I’d be happy. It’d be such a smack in the face to the refugee kids and families, but I’d walk around Trost happy. I can’t believe I can say that, especially when I just fed and gave clothing to three refugee kids whose families probably went to fight the titans.” I groaned and lifted my legs up on the couch so I could put my head in between my knees.
“He’s just worried about you, Eva. That’s all. He tells me everyday too, but when he came back today and told me what you said to him, that’s when I knew I had to come here and keep my promise. You told him that you weren’t going to tell him. Not now and not with you. He was just afraid that something awful happened like before.”
“Something awful did happen.” Jonas just nodded, agreeing again with me. He probably thought Levi was the awful thing.
“Thank you for telling me. Thank you for letting me in. Like before. We’re going to go back to before. If not for myself, for you. You need people around you, Eva. It hurts me seeing you walk around Trost with absolutely no life in your eyes. I couldn’t look at you at dinner because I couldn’t face the fact that… It took me four months to realize that my feelings don’t matter when you’re dying inside. If anyone was being selfish, it was me. It took this much for me to realize that, and I apologize.” That made me feel some form of warmth in my heart. For the first time in months. His apology, gaining my friend back, it made me feel something other than sadness. That’s what made the tears flow even heavier, but my head was between my knees so he couldn’t see it. I’d finally started to feel again. It was an indication that I wasn’t reverting back to my inhuman ways. I just nodded and accepted his apology.
“C-can you stay? Tonight?” This made his smile grow even wider. It was just like before. Of course, there would be rules and lines that weren’t able to be crossed now, but I knew he deemed it worth it. I did too.
“Yeah, just give me a better blanket than last time.” His lighthearted voice made me feel a little better. Maybe tonight, I would cry only a little bit for Levi.
“If… I-If I have nightmares, I’ll just - yeah, I’ll just come out here?” It shouldn’t have been a suggestion, but even so he agreed to it, knowing why I said that. I also remembered Levi’s reaction to when I told him what Jonas did to comfort me. It did cross a line from friend to something else in Levi and Jonas’ eyes. It made sense too. We weren’t twelve and the room in my bed that was once there for Jonas had been taken up, or well, will be taken up soon by Levi. I couldn’t let someone else take his spot that easily.
I stood up to go to sleep, knowing that’s what my body wanted. My body also wanted to leave Jonas before I started really crying. It was only a few minutes until the emotion of all the words I said came too. It was always delayed. I’d write my log entry and it would be five minutes until I’d cry. I’d read Levi’s letters over and over again and then a few minutes later, the tears would fall and dampen the paper. I knew the same would happen here, too.
“Goodnight, Jonas.” He smiled up at me again from the couch, having the heavier blanket this time.
“Night, Ev. This feels right, like it should be. Just don’t snore, yeah?” I wasn’t ready to smile at people yet, so I just nodded. That made his smile drop too. It was going to take more than a vague heart-to-heart for me to feel okay again.
“Eva, I know I wasn’t going to say stuff like this bu-” I closed my eyes and cut him off.
“Just say it. Don’t hide things anymore, that’s what got us in this mess.”
“Is it worth being with him if every time he’s away, you fall into a hole so deep you can’t pull yourself out? Is the love worth the pain?” That one hurt and the delayed tears were making their way up. I felt ashamed to close the door without giving him some type of reassuring answer. He knew I was going to cry. The walls were thin and he heard it. He would always hear it. That made me feel worse. I took one step forward and then took that same one back.
Jonas came tonight. Just now. I felt like I had to add that in for you so you didn’t find it annoying when he was back when you come back. I realized that this time was worse because I shut myself out from everyone else. Before, those six months, he was there. No matter how much you might hate it, he’s someone I can talk to. I can freely share my emotions when you’re not there. Do you have someone like that too? Hange? Erwin? I hope you do, because I’ve realized I can’t do this alone. Don’t worry, he’s on the couch and I told him not to come in here either. I have to keep this spot warm for you. If you come back tomorrow, you have to hold me to sleep. No exceptions.
Chapter Fourteen →
Chapter Masterlist
#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x oc#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman scenario#levi ackerman x you#levi attack on titan#levi aot#attack on titan#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan x oc#aot x reader#Captain Levi#Levi Heichou#levi headcanons#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyoujin levi#snk levi
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Alone at Midnight, Inside My Mind
@badthingshappenbingo
Ao3 Link
Bingo Card
using the prompt in a metaphorical sense, as opposed to the medical aid sense
Prompt: Crutches
Fandom: Yakuza/Ryu Ga Gotoku
Warnings: a lot of alcohol related issues, including addiction and withdrawal, some suicidal thoughts and body image issues, hurt/no comfort. set pre-Yakuza 2.
Wordcount: 5511
2pm. He could tell it was because his downstairs neighbour was home, attending to the array of plant pots she kept littered outside her door, and playing music on the radio that bled through the crack of the open window.
Daigo squinted in the afternoon light that managed to make its way through the blinds, groaning loudly.
“Fucking hell…”
Suppose now was as good a time as any to start the day. Especially when he felt his stomach rumble.
It took some effort to get to his feet, but soon he was dragging himself into the kitchen, yawning loudly. He needed something quick and tasty, now.
The fridge had nothing but convenience store sushi and days old leftover curry. The cupboards were also pretty bare, half a bag of rice and a ramen cup.
Daigo sighed heavily, setting his kettle to boil before grabbing the sushi. He stuffed a piece into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste of stale rice but ate another without any complaint.
Head to the store. Get some more food, he thought, holding the ramen cup in place as he lifted up the kettle.
The water splashed on the counter a little, narrowly missing burning his fingers, making him forcefully slam the kettle back down once the cup was filled.
Daigo gripped the sides of the counter, closing his eyes as he felt a pulse of nausea rush through his body. If he forced the tension against the surface hard enough, he could stop his hands shaking for just a moment.
Eat noodles. Have a shower. Go to the store.
Opening his eyes again, he ate another piece of sushi, absolutely no taste on his tongue as he chewed it into mush, before taking his ramen into the living room.
He slumped down on the couch, turning the TV on and forced the food down him. He still felt nauseous, but he knew he wouldn’t actually vomit. He already had last night. Doubled over in a bush outside the train station and puked his guts out, despite not having much solids in him. Even now his throat felt sore from it. Classy.
He wasn’t even hungry, really. He was eating out of obligation, feeling his stomach gurgle happily at finally being filled with some kind of food.
As he ate, he noticed his cell phone on the table in front of him, discarded amongst the empty bottles and candy wrappers. It was flashing.
Daigo frowned, reaching over and flipping it open.
Three new answer machine messages.
Who the hell had tried calling him?
Message one - 9:25am
“Daigo, it’s your mother. Pick up.”
Message two - 9:43am
“Me again. Please answer your phone.”
Message three - 10:08am
“Daigo...it’s Mom-“
Daigo groaned, snapping his phone shut to end the messages. Nope! He was not dealing with this today.
He discarded the empty ramen cup and chopsticks with the rest of the trash on the table, storming towards the bathroom.
Shower on, clothes off. He used the toilet as the water heated up, catching the reflection of his upper half in the mirror as he finished.
“Hrmph.”
He ran a hand down his front, resting it on the middle of his stomach and huffed again.
His weight had been up and down the last ten years, though it had obviously settled during his stint in prison, with its shit food and no alcohol. Now that he was out, with all the freedom to indulge in every last inch of hedonism he could find though, he had developed a bit of a gut. Just a bump, but it was…noticeable, it was there. It stuck out.
No surprise really. How much did he drink last night again?
Enough I puked in a bush.
Daigo shifted on his feet, standing up a bit straighter and sucking his stomach in. It didn’t make much difference. He suddenly wondered how visible it was under his t-shirt, glad he usually wore a thick coat to hide himself in.
“Great,” he growled, stepping into the shower. Another thing to feel insecure about.
He stood there, forehead pressed against the wall as he let the water run down the Fudo Myoo on his back.
His hand started shaking again.
“Give me a break,” he said, clasping it to his chest, “A few hours, a day.”
He dried himself off, going back to his bedroom for a clean shirt and pair of jeans – both black, of course.
He also grabbed a heavy hoodie to wear to the store, a way to feel a little more comfortable in himself in a public place.
Wallet, keys, phone. Go to store. Buy supplies.
Daigo pulled his hood up as he jogged down the stairs, immediately blocked from leaving by the downstairs neighbour still gardening.
“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it Dojima-san?” Ito cried, beaming at him. She was older, always so chipper. How did she manage?
As much as he wanted to ignore her, Daigo had been raised with far too proper manners. He still remained casual, grunting a little and rubbing the back of his head.
“Yeah, suppose.”
“You came back late again last night,” she added, hands lifting a plant to move to another pot, “Ouma-san went off about it before going to work this morning.”
“Oh, did he now?”
Ouma was the guy around his age in the apartment next door. Always miserable, always bringing a new girl home every weekend that Daigo had to endure hearing fake horribly through his thin bedroom walls.
“I’ll try to be a bit quieter next time, Ito-san,” he mumbled. For her sake, not for that asshole Ouma.
“Or maybe you should stay in once in a while, hm?”
Daigo scowled, jerking his head and storming off toward the store. With any luck the old bag would have gone inside by the time he was back.
As he made his way down the street, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He went to answer but paused, clenching his fingers tight into his palm. Nope. He knew who it was, and what she wanted, and he didn’t care.
His supply run was basic. More noodles, packs of chips and cookies, some onigiri and bentos that could last a few days.
Whilst picking up a few bottles of Staminan and Tauriner, he stared blankly at the alcohol.
His hands still shook. There was such a quick fix to settle that.
He grabbed a six pack of beer and a bottle of scotch and vodka, unable to help a crooked little grin.
The cashier looked at him a little oddly as he set his basket down on the counter. And yeah, he’d admit he looked strange. Sweating and shaky from withdrawal, under his eyes dark and his brow pulled into a near permanent scowl, face otherwise obscured by the shadow of the hood.
“Get me some cigarettes too, huh?” he mumbled, taking out his wallet and avoiding eye contact.
He was a mess.
He stared at the glass case of baked goods, unable to resist the pull from his sweet tooth, and asked for two donuts as well.
He arrived back home rather pleased with his haul. He had enough in him to pack away most of it, before he stared down the booze he bought.
He could...not do this, actually. He could not drink. It was easy, in theory.
He wiped his damp brow, licked his dry lips. His head hurt, despite the slight gloom of the kitchen.
They could sit there as an ultimate temptation. He could ignore them. He could do all manner of things.
But he wanted to drink, that was the issue. That was the whole point. Drinking was the only thing he had that stayed consistent.
He grabbed the scotch and slugged back a long mouthful, feeling everything just melt away. He let out a relieved gasp, the taste strong on his tongue and warming his throat. Felt like a part of him was back. His mind became a little clearer, his mood a little more elevated. He took a shorter swig for luck, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Much better…”
He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the sofa, playing video games. There wasn’t much else for him to do during the day.
Evening was his time.
When seven rolled around, Daigo got ready. His jeans and t-shirt were fine already, so all he had to do was put on his usual cross necklace to complete the outfit. He spent a while staring down himself in the mirror as he applied a shaky dash of eyeliner around his lid.
Once upon a time he shied away from doing this publicly, but since leaving jail he stopped caring. Wore eyeliner and straightened his hair. Painted his nails black and picked at the polish when he was anxious. Who gave a shit? Anyone dumb enough to say anything soon regretted it.
Keys, wallet, phone. Same routine. He chose his white puffer jacket to wear instead of his hoodie, enjoying the barrier it gave him from the rest of the world.
One quick metro ride later, he was in Kamurocho, just as the town was coming alive in a burst of neon. Daigo lost himself in the crowds, thinking of which bar to hit up first.
He paused for a moment down Tenkaichi Street, staring at the sign for Serena. Place was closed, and had been for a little under a year now.
He knew what happened last year, of course. Heard about Rina through another barkeep. Not that he’d known her well, or spent much time at Serena, but something in his chest ached hearing she was gone in such circumstances.
He soon forgot about it with another glass.
With a weary huff, he decided the Champion District on the other side of town was the best place to start. The bar he chose was quiet, no other customers, and a barman who knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Perfect.
Instead of conversation, Daigo focused on the soft jazz music playing as he nursed his whiskey. He was into heavier tunes, but he needed a bit more of a buzz before going to his favourite rock bar.
He tapped his nails against the glass, tilting his head. Good idea, actually. They did cheap shots and a big array of imports.
He slammed some cash down on the counter before stumbling into the street, glad to feel the slight evening chill on his cheeks.
Down to Pink Street, and into the rock bar he enjoyed. Already feeling at home with the heavy guitar music blasting over the speakers, most of the other patrons dressed in a similar style to him. He’d missed out on a lot of stuff whilst locked away, the slight sways in fashion that happened in such a short amount of time, but he liked knowing he was still on trend within his scene, mostly.
He sat at the counter, giving a half-grin to the girl working there, and ordered himself five shots of vodka.
His earlier drinks had been a warmup, these were the first leg of the race. The second came in the form of a large scotch, some new brand they’d started selling.
Honestly, the start to a perfect night for him, until he heard a small gasp from behind him.
“Hey! Aniki!”
Daigo’s heart sank at the voice, glancing over his shoulder. Five of the guys he usually hung around with were there – or more accurately, they hung around him.
He rolled his eyes and groaned, turning in his seat and glaring them down. He should never had shown them this place.
“What do you want?” he muttered, already knowing the answer.
“We didn’t know you were out today!” Arita cried, leaning up next to him, with that sycophantic look he always had in his eyes. As if Daigo wasn’t out every night.
“Why don’t you join us aniki?” Kubo asked, which actually translated to wanna pay for all our drinks because we’re cheap scrounging bastards?
Daigo groaned again, knocking back his glass and waving the bartender over again.
“If you quit calling me aniki.”
They didn’t, of course. They gleefully accepted the drinks he bought them with more coos of thank you Dojima-aniki. Daigo rubbed the bridge of his nose and ordered himself two double scotches, slugging them back like they were water.
“I was thinkin’ we could go to Dazzle after this,” Arita said, having not left Daigo’s side. He always babbled and talked too much, like he felt he had to fill every silence with his own voice save people be left alone with their own thoughts.
“Why there?” Daigo asked, thinking of all the things he’d rather do more than go to a hostess club, including and not limited to slamming his face into a lit stovetop and drowning in a hot tub.
“I just think the girls there are really underrated, y’know? I like that they have some slightly older gals, I love a mature lady. How about you?”
Daigo shoved a shard of ice from his glass into his mouth and let it melt on his tongue. “Come on then.”
He was paying for two hours and that was that. At least he could get a bottle for himself and work through that, sitting at the edge whilst the others enjoyed the girls’ company.
Dazzle might have specialised in more mature women, but the decor was a nightmare like every other hostess club. Why’d they always insist on so many sparkles, it gave him a headache.
“Um...are you enjoying yourself?”
Daigo lowered his gaze to look at the girl. ‘Mature’ really meant ‘late twenties’, and she was running on the younger side of that.
“What do you think?” he said coldly, swirling his drink in its glass.
She seemed a little dazed at this, glancing back at her fellow hostesses, but kept going.
“M-my name is Nashi. Yours?”
“Daigo Dojima.”
He clicked his tongue, emptied his glass and went to refill it, his shoulders slouching slightly. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so short, you’re only doing your job.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve had far worse responses.”
Daigo just gritted his teeth. Another reason he hated hostess clubs was he knew how other men treated these girls, saw it himself the times his father brought him along as a teen.
The least he could do was give this lady a nice conversation.
“Well, I’ll try to be a bit better than them,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the others, so loud and obnoxious.
Nashi smiled a little. “They’re not so bad. Your friends are just a bit...out there.”
He scoffed. “They’re not my friends. I don’t really...do friendship anymore.”
“Oh? How come?”
Shit. Of course, when you say something like that, people have questions. Daigo licked his lips in thought, considering how he should phrase this.
“You...don’t recognise my name, do you?”
Nashi blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, well, you do have a bit of notoriety around town, Dojima-san. I know girls in other clubs, and they always talk about you.”
Daigo did a slight double take at this. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yeah. You’re a rather…” She gestured at his coat and skinny jeans. “A striking figure, you know. A lot of girls like the edgy emo bad boy look. It’s popular right now.”
“Hm, figures.” A lot of men are also fans…
Daigo sat up a little straighter, gazing Nashi down. “Do you?”
“H-huh?”
“Find me attractive?”
It was a joke, said with a dry smirk, but she flustered, clearly uneasy. Daigo grimaced, sliding up a little closer and putting a hand to her knee.
“Hey, hey. I’m kidding.” He made his smirk a soft smile, broke down the facade for just a moment to put her at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”
Nashi’s eyes went wide, but nodded, brushing down the edges of her dress.
“A-anyway, I...I’ve heard you...were involved with the Tojo Clan. Is that why you don’t ‘do’ friends?”
“Mm. Essentially.”
Daigo gave up on the glass, swigging back from the bottle which got him a funny look from one of the other patrons across the way.
“My only friend murdered my father,” he said, so matter of fact. He hesitated a moment, letting out a short huff. “Well. He went to jail for the crime, at least. He was actually covering for someone else. Either way, I was left without his guidance for ten years, thinking he had betrayed me like that.”
He paused a second, swilling whiskey around his mouth, before continuing.
“I came back to town a few months ago and...he hasn’t bothered trying to find me. Which shows how little he cares.”
“Oh. That sounds...awful, Dojima-san.”
“It sure does, doesn’t it?”
Daigo shrugged, tilting the empty bottle back so he could savour just a few more drops as best he could. “That’s just how my life is now.”
He grumbled a little as he set the bottle down, belching into his cupped hand before draping himself back against the seat.
“Sometimes you gotta deal with the hand you're given,” he added, scratching lazily at his middle, “And unfortunately, I’ve had a poor deck from the start.”
He shut his eyes before letting out a laugh, forced and hollow. “Sorry. I’m not the best at keeping things light.”
How many hostesses had he paid to listen to him whine? Then he thought how they were probably all used to it, which made it even worse.
“Well, given your circumstances…”
Nashi glanced back at her co-workers, the barely hidden looks of disdain towards the rest of the crew and their boorish behaviour.
“I’d much rather talk to you though,” she said, reaching over to grab another one of the bottles along the table, gesturing toward his glass, “You’re nice.”
Daigo swallowed, nodding in approval as she filled it to the brim. His head pounded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the cravings.
“If you say so.”
The glass was empty in a flash, and filled just as quick.
“You’re good at this,” he purred.
The bottle was empty by the time the waiter came by. Daigo had just enough mental capacity to dig through his pockets and pay, giving Nashi a shaky smile and a pat on the knee.
“Thank you for tonight. You’re great.”
His friends, on the other hand, all started to whine as the waiter began to urge them into finishing their drinks.
“Aw, c’mon aniki, let’s hang around a bit longer!”
“If you want that, pay yourself, ya cheap fucks.”
Daigo stood up, a bit too quickly as he felt the room spin. He stumbled to the side slightly, wincing as he contained a belch that very much tasted of vomit. Nope! No puking tonight. Keep it all inside.
“I’m outta here,” he mumbled, resting a hand on any available solid surface to keep himself steady as he left.
He blanked out the cries of the others as he did. He’d wasted enough time with them tonight, and he was craving something else.
“Burger,” he mumbled, squinting as he glanced up and down the street, “Pffft...that way.”
This was always the worst part of the night. Trying to sober up enough so he could keep going, or at the very least get home in one piece. Stumbling through the streets and trying not to crack his skull open.
It wasn’t just food he craved though. He felt...itchy. That was the only way to really explain it. The desire to go wild, start a scuffle. Really earn that reputation he supposedly had.
To hell with staying in one piece.
But first, Smile Burger.
The fact that the poor worker even understood what he said through his slurred words was impressive and soon he was curled up against the window, feet pulled up on the chair beside him as he made his way through a burger that tasted like the finest wagyu steak right now.
All the while, he kept his eye out.
Yeah, it felt shitty to target people for a fight like this, but he made sure it was a fair fight. Usually a few guys, who looked like they could take a hit as well as throw one, maybe even have a chance if they weren’t facing someone running on adrenaline and too much booze.
He cocked his head as he focused on a table nearby. Four men, mid-twenties, definitely young yakuza from some family. He couldn’t see any lapel pin from where he was sat, but they were perfect.
Childishly, he picked up one of his fries and threw it in their direction. It hit the back of one guy’s head, and he looked around puzzled. Daigo just threw another, chuckling as it hit him again. A bit too obvious, as he was spotted this time.
“What the hell’s wrong with you dude?” one of the four cried.
“I dunno,” Daigo said, stuffing a bunch of fries in his mouth before flinging another their way, “Target practise.”
This one hit a guy in a striking red sports jacket right between the eyes, and Daigo could barely contain the full-on cackle he let out at the expression he pulled. It was almost too easy.
He grinned when one came over and jabbed him in the chest.
“Outside. Now.”
“My pleasure.”
He followed them into a nearby side street, hands in his pockets and head held high. He liked an audience sometimes, but a private fight was fine enough.
The biggest one of them threw the first punch. He was expecting it, crossing his arms over in front of his face to block it, before kicking out at the guy’s ankles.
The whole fight was messy. The little gang clearly had never been in a proper fight, had no form. They kept punching poorly, wincing with any that managed to hit as they stung their knuckles.
Not that Daigo was any better. He was still far too drunk, but that was half the fun. Stumbling about and getting in a rough hit that frightened these kids who’d never experienced this before. He just wanted the thrill, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Anything to feel something.
Daigo landed a punch on that guy in the sports jacket, right in the middle of his face. It sent him flat on his ass, skidding down the street slightly.
“Come on!” he groaned, “Grab him, idiots! We outnumber him!”
A moment of pause. Daigo tried to catch his breath, but ol’ sports jacket was right. He was outnumbered.
Two of them grabbed his coat and pushed him back against the wall, holding him there. The third punched at his gut, over and over. Daigo gritted his teeth, tensed his stomach for every punch.
He knew he could get out of this, easily. The guys holding him were hardly doing much, weren’t even gripping his actual arms, just the sleeves of his jacket. It wouldn’t take much to duck and slip down, then send them crying home to their mommies.
“Come on!” he hissed, baring his teeth.
But he wanted them to hit him.
“That all you got?”
He wanted them to hurt him.
Sports jacket guy had gotten back on his feet now, face already starting to bruise. His fist met the middle of Daigo’s face hard, harder than they’d been hitting before. It stung, a lot, which is exactly what he wanted.
Not that it solved anything.
It never did.
“Oi!”
They all froze, turning toward the entrance of the street. Daigo, semi-dazed, managed to look too, and felt his stomach drop.
Kashiwagi's expression, initially a scowl, changed the moment he saw him, shaking his head and blinking a little.
“Daigo?”
He sighed heavily, storming over and waving his hand at the little gang. “Shoo. Don’t let me catch you boys doing shit like this again, you hear?”
“Y-yes Patriarch Kashiwagi.”
They scurried off further down the street, leaving Daigo to stand up straighter, rubbing his nose. He groaned a little as he saw the streaks of rusty red on the back of his hand, sniffling heavily. “Great.”
“Daigo…”
Kashiwagi sighed again, rubbing at his temple. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just...I’m just out.” Daigo sniffed again, scrunching his nose. “Just finished dinner.”
“You know what I mean…”
Kashiwagi looked around, then grabbed Daigo by the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s talk in the office.”
Daigo went to argue, but it only took one stern glare, the kind the older man had given him his whole life, for him to clench his jaw and follow.
Kashiwagi led the way toward the Millennium Tower, hand on Daigo’s shoulder the whole way. It felt so patronising, like that time he accidentally broke a window at the Dojima Family offices when he was ten, and Kashiwagi had done the exact same gesture, marching him to his mother.
“Nice upgrade,” he still said, gazing out the wide window of Kashiwagi’s office once they arrived, “From that little place on Tenkaichi.”
“Well, we make do. I’m second in command now.” Kashiwagi set down the plastic convenience store bag he’d been carrying on his desk, letting out a small, bemused exhale of air. “It’s not all bad. Now come on. Why were you fighting?”
Daigo clicked his tongue and shrugged, staring at the blinking lights below them.
“Daigo…”
“I just was, okay?”
He gave a dismissive shrug, walking across the floor toward a cabinet, throwing the doors open. Kashiwagi watched him with tired eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”
“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”
“Your breath reeks of it, kid. Your whole body does.” He took out a bento and can of coffee from the plastic bag, raising a brow. “And I know what you’re like, especially lately. How’s being a free man by the way? Haven’t seen you since you were released.”
“It sucks ass.”
Daigo slammed the cabinet door shut, opening another and grinning as he saw half a bottle of whiskey there, as well as some crystal glasses. He heard Kashiwagi tut loudly as he slammed both down on top of the cabinet.
“What did you expect?” he scoffed, pouring a very large measure, “Mom told me the news the moment I got out. What Nishikiyama did. That it wasn’t Kiryu. He hasn’t even come to see me, to apologise for it.”
He knocked the glass back, the sensation warm and familiar down his throat. “Hardly feel free. Just not in jail anymore.”
“What happened to the boy I knew?” Kashiwagi asked, walking over and placing a hand on Daigo’s shoulder once more. This time it was gentle, kind, attempting to be comforting. Not Kashiwagi-san, one of his father’s men, but Uncle Osamu, his mother’s best friend.
Daigo scrunched his nose up, taking another slug of whiskey. “You say that like I’ve ever been cheery.”
“Well, okay, you’ve always been a serious young man, but…”
He just shook his head, moving his hand away. He grabbed the whiskey bottle in the process, making Daigo let out a pathetic little whine.
“I’m not going to enable you any more than I have,” he said firmly, before adding, “I mean it though. You don’t need to throw your life away like this.”
Daigo didn’t reply, because he didn’t like the real answer. There wasn’t much of a life to throw away. He was doing everyone a favour with this.
“You bring me up here just to lecture me old man?” he growled, narrowing his eyes.
Still looking for someone to fight. Kashiwagi would wipe the floor with him, he knew that, but he didn’t care. He also knew he wouldn’t get that kind of satisfaction.
Didn’t mean Kashiwagi wasn’t frustrated with his attitude. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists and let out a deep exhale from his nose. “I saw your mother today. She’s been trying to call you all morning.”
“I know.” The empty glass was set down heavily, with a grunt. Daigo dug around for his phone, holding it out so Kashiwagi could see the countless missed calls and texts from her on the home screen. “I know what today is.”
“...and is that why you’re-”
“You know I’m like this anyway.” He stared at the texts, all similar in tone - Daigo, please call me. Daigo, it’s important. Are you okay? He got them most days from his mother. She was trying so hard. He didn’t want her to. He would rather she forget about him. She deserved that much.
Kashiwagi wasn’t looking at him, staring up at the ceiling as he thought of what to say next.
“I understand that...none of us could have predicted the extent of what your father was like.”
Daigo did a double take, noticing Kashiwagi immediately cringe. At least he knew what he said was stupid.
“Sorry, that was-”
“Yeah. It was.” Daigo looked up, head cocked to his shoulder. “Anyone could have guessed, really. We just pretended otherwise, because somehow he seemed to be the only thing keeping the Tojo Clan from completely falling apart.”
He was up in Kashiwagi’s face now, feeling his chest clench tight. He was working himself up over nothing, over that bastard. He hated it, but thinking of what his father did to get himself killed, the kind of man he was, it made his skin crawl.
“He deserves to spend every birthday after what he did having the most miserable time in hell,” he said with a hiss, noticing his voice wobbling, “I know it. You know it. But Mom refuses to let go-”
The slap felt cathartic, for both of them. Daigo shut his eyes and nodded as his cheek stung. He deserved that. He was trying to provoke that kind of reaction and got exactly that.
“I take back what I said. That boy you were is still there. An insolent brat,” Kashiwagi said, walking back to his desk, “Daigo, one day, you’re going to have to grow up. You can’t keep doing this until you die.”
He threw a semi-sympathetic look over his shoulder, but Daigo mostly felt it was piteous. That’s what he was. A pitiful, useless mess.
“Go home, Daigo. Call your mother. And for everyone’s sake, don’t have anything else to drink tonight.”
Daigo sucked in through his teeth and nodded again as he walked toward the door.
“...good night, Kashiwagi-san.”
No response. Yup. I deserve this.
He made his way home in a daze, everything working in automatic. Kashiwagi’s words kept echoing in his head, over and over.
You can’t keep doing this until you die.
Because that’s what he was trying to do, wasn’t it? Die. Suicide by hedonism. He was born already holding the worst hand life could deal, and he was never going to get anything better. After his father was killed, the one tiny scrap of potential good he could have in his life was gone, even if that prospect was a life of crime.
So why not? Why should he grow up when there was nothing to grow up for?
The moment he was inside his apartment, he slid down the door, staring blankly ahead. He’d needed that talking to, he needed a few really, from people who were currently pretending like he didn’t exist. That’s what he really needed. For Kiryu to talk to him, apologise for ruining his life, try and talk some sense into him. He always knew what to do.
But it was like he didn’t exist. Kiryu didn’t care. Kashiwagi tried to care, but knew he was a lost cause. Who did care?
Daigo opened up his phone again, staring at the missed calls and sighed. That’s who cared. Mom.
He should talk to her. He knew he should. He was an awful son who loved his mother very much, which is why he knew she deserved better. She was trying despite knowing she’d made mistakes, but he just couldn’t let that go.
He hovered on her number, ready to press the button to call...but instead he tossed his phone to land on the couch, walked to the kitchen and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle still on the counter.
He licked his lips, swallowed heavily...but let go, pushing it away.
“You win this time old man,” he grumbled, picking up an energy drink and the donuts he’d bought earlier in the day instead. Kashiwagi could never be allowed to know that though.
He knew this self-control wouldn’t last long. Come morning, he’d be shaking again, a hangover banging in his skull, and he’d be dragging himself towards that bottle like it was the source of life.
The same thing every day.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
He couldn’t have it any other way.
#dojima daigo#ryu ga gotoku#trope: crutches#badthingshappenbingo#undeadbthb#highly recommend reading the end notes on ao3 for the buckwild place the inspiration for this came from
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