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rookthorne · 2 years

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May God have Mercy on You, Because I Won't | ꜱʜʀᴜɴᴋʏᴄʟᴜɴᴋꜱ

Pairings; Shrunkyclunks Word Count; 2.6k Warnings; hurt/comfort, hostage situation, swearing, torture, blasphemy, description of blood and injuries, pet names, DON'T FUCK WITH STEVE ROGERS AND HIS BOY A/N; CAN I JUST HAVE A SECOND TO GLOAT ABOUT THE TITLE AND HEADER, PLEASE? I am so proud of this one. Okay done, thanks.

WHUMPTOBER MASTERLIST

There was no greater danger than provoking a man by taking what was his, and flaunting it like a trophy. Devils had to have their fun, too.

It had only been ten minutes into Bucky’s work day when the alarm blared, its shrill tone grated against his eardrums like nails down a chalkboard. He flew to his feet and ran into the corridor when a throng of people ran past his office towards the stairs.

“What the fuck!” He yelled over the commotion of stampeding employees and the alarm. Other agents were storming through the corridors and shouted orders to evacuate, while others ran past him towards the small armoury down the way from Bucky’s ‘office’.

Bucky frantically thought back to how this morning had started; breakfast with Steve, talks of a mission abroad, and then he was swept up and taken to work in a love-drunk daze. Steve should still be in a briefing - he can’t have left yet.

God, he can’t have left yet, Bucky prayed. A monotone voice called CODE 1 through the speakers the longer he stood in the doorway, and it only meant one thing; SHIELD had been infiltrated.

Steve - where the fuck was Steve?

Bucky moved to follow one of the agents towards the armoury, and amongst the confusion and panic of the other employees, he didn’t notice the gunmen advancing from another corridor to his left. The shock of being suddenly surrounded disorientated him, and he watched as one of the gunmen dared get closer.

All of their faces were covered by ski masks - a piss poor attempt to hide their identities when their accents gave away their intentions as much as their spoken words. “This one, get him!” One of them barked, his thick German accent dripping from every word like poison. Bucky felt his stomach revolt and flip with a new found terror. No-

Agents rushed forward when they finally saw amongst the chaos what was happening, but they were beset by another wave of gunmen behind them. Bucky watched, horror struck, when they dropped like flies to the ground amongst puddles of blood.

He was alone, but not defenceless.

Steve had taught him how to defend himself in any situation, and how to watch an enemy for openings, or any weaknesses.

Like hell I’m going down without a fight, Bucky thought savagely. The gunmen continued to circle him and he watched one approach, a strange barbed weapon in his hand that could only mean an agonising amount of pain was sure to follow.

“No-” Bucky grunted, dodging a hand aimed to grab his bicep and swung out, landing a punch to the gunman’s exposed throat. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

A sharp jab to his neck from someone behind him made him stumble, his hand reached blindly for the thing protruding from his neck only to fall to his knees - they had tranquilised him.

The world went dark before he could even yell for help. Before he could yell for Steve.

Drip, drip, drip.

It was cold, and the air stunk of mould and staleness. His head throbbed and his mouth was dry, whatever they had tranqued him with- he didn’t want to think about it.

Carefully and ever so slowly, Bucky opened his eyes, no further than a squint. His hands were bound tightly with rope to the back of a chair, and his ankles were tied to the legs of it.

The blanket of his now matted hair hid his roving glances around the darkened surroundings; a warehouse, bare of any product, and gutted from shelves. The absence of any sounds gave away the fact that he was truly alone, and with that assurance, Bucky looked up slowly to take in his surroundings fully.

Support beams were erected in every corner of the cavernous room, and there was a set of doors directly across from him - chained and padlocked shut. Another door was on the wall to the left, its frosted glass window betraying no approaching figures.

Bucky’s gaze shifted down towards his chest. “Goddammit,” he muttered, the sight of rope wound around his diaphragm was a damning one. His left arm felt heavy and pulled on his shoulder, the plates of his prosthetic weren’t shifting, nor was he able to move his fingers. They had somehow disabled his arm, but with what, or how, he didn’t know.

There was a table far to his right, the contents strewn haphazardly within view - his knife amongst them.

There was no way he could slip free of his binds with all of his assets unusable or not within reach.

You fucking fool, you should have used the knife, Bucky thought bitterly.

He had never seen these assailants, their brand and technique weren’t unheard of, however, but that knowledge was of no help to him when he was unarmed and restrained on what felt like a chair seemed to be especially designed to hold him.

“We have to make sure they send him,” voices carried from behind the door with frosted glass, and blurred silhouettes danced within view.

Shit.

Bucky hastily dropped his head and became deathly still, careful to still move his shoulders as though he was still breathing and in a deep sleep.

The door swung open with a crash and Bucky could decipher three sets of footsteps, one lighter than the other two, and one had a slight limp. Their voices were thick with an accent, not unlike the one he heard from the gunman earlier.

“Look at this pathetic piece of shit,” one of them spat, his tone revealed just how thrilled he was to have his captive still tied to a chair. Bucky suspected they were hired mercenaries; they were much too blaise in standing so close, so they possibly hadn’t been briefed on who Bucky was.

That was an advantage; one he would use.

“Are you sure this one is the right one?” Another voice asked, his accent much thinner than the first captor. Right one?

“He can’t let his pet-”

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly and he opened his eyes behind the cover of his lank hair. His pet?

“He’s awake,” the third voice piped up and Bucky tensed. Fuck.

A hand gripped Bucky’s throat like a vice and forced his head upwards and into the light. The sudden brightness burned at his retinas, and he tried to focus on the face right in front of him.

Bucky could see the man’s eyes through the slits of his ski mask, and he could have sworn they were black with hatred.

“Your boyfriend,” the man spat the word out like it was toxic, “killed some of our boss’ men, not too long ago.”

Bucky glowered up into the man’s face and didn’t falter when the man’s fingertips squeezed the sides of his throat. Keep calm.

“You’re here,” another man continued, coming into Bucky’s line of sight. Another ski mask. “So we can make sure it never happens again.”

Bucky’s focus shifted between the two men in sight until the grip around his throat lessened. He swallowed thickly, and tried to speak. “You’re making a big mistake-”

SLAP

Bucky’s head flew to the side and he winced, the curtain of hair covering his pained expression. The bruise was already forming over his cheek from the force.

“SHUT UP!” The man yelled angrily. His voice echoed off the barren walls and through Bucky’s already pounding skull.

It was dangerously silent after that.

Bucky’s heavy breathing covered the roar of blood in his ears, and he turned his head further to the side so he could spit out the blood pooling in his mouth. The feel of grit in his teeth and the taste of iron on his tongue remained, unfortunately.

Bucky slowly turned his head back to face the mercenaries. “What do you want from me?”

“We want your boyfriend to rescue you - his damsel in distress,” one cooed, his sickly sweet and honeyed voice made Bucky feel nauseous. “And then, well, we’re gonna teach him a lesson.”

Bucky raised a brow in shock. “A lesson,” he parroted, his voice slow and deliberate, as though he was addressing a child.

The man glared down at him and pulled something from his pants pocket. Bucky watched apprehensively as a syringe came into view, the clear liquid in the barrel ominous. “He’ll be too late to save you, though. A shame.”

Bucky struggled against the binds of his chest and arms in an effort to get away, but it was in vain. The needle stabbed his neck and the mercenary pushed the plunger, the clear cocktail of whatever chemicals they had mixed burned through the muscle.

The spread of the concoction was unbearable and excruciating, and Bucky couldn’t scream.

He could not make a single sound.

“There we go,” one of them said, stepping forward to closely inspect whatever was happening to Bucky’s body. The muscles of his shoulders went lax, and his head lolled to the side - he had no control over the entirety of his body.

Fear began to settle heavily in Bucky’s stomach and he broke out into a cold sweat. The burn of the chemical cocktail was spreading through every fibre of his muscles down to his damn toes.

He still could not make a fucking sound.

“Too much,” another commented, observing Bucky with critical eyes while he slumped forward in the chair against the restraint binding his chest to the chair. “The dose, it was too much.”

Too much fucking what! Bucky wanted to demand, but his mouth would not move. Steve, please, he begged soundlessly, where are you!

A gloved hand flew into his field of vision and he made a strangled noise of pain when it connected with his nose. Another blow landed against his left shoulder and the chair tipped to the side beneath him, and he landed with a jolt onto his right shoulder.

“Look at how weak he is!” One of the men cheered, while the other two laughed and circled around to his back. The ropes around his chest fell away, followed by his ankles, then his arms. It was no relief to Bucky, however, whatever they had dosed him with rendered him immobile and defenceless.

The chair was removed from his back and Bucky rolled forward when a boot nudged his hip. Get up, get up, get up, he screamed in his mind. Panic had begun to course through his veins and sit heavily in his stomach - he didn’t want to die.

“Look at that,” one of them mused, “we could do whatever we wanted to him, for fucking free.”

Please, let this be over soon, Bucky prayed.

Time seemed to crawl while he lay sprawled on the concrete floor, helpless to stop the blows against his ribs, his stomach, his everything.

The hits suddenly stopped, only providing a second of relief until someone grabbed hold of his hair, and pulled. His head left the floor and tears welled in his eyes, the scream of pain lodging itself in his throat. He wanted to scream “Fuck you!” and spit into his captor’s face, but his body would not cooperate with the chemicals still making its home in every system of his weakened body.

“Where is your boyfriend?” Each word was punctuated with a harsh tug on Bucky’s hair, and he glared back through slightly swollen eyes into the black ski mask, unable to find the man’s eyes anymore.

A sudden static noise coming from his hip startled the man into letting Bucky go and Bucky’s head hit the concrete with a snap. Gloved hands flew to the radio on his belt and Bucky realised it was the first time it had even made any noise.

There was a crash in the distance and the other two men stiffened, while the third fumbled with the radio. “What was that?”

Another short burst of static came from the flimsy speaker, followed by a cut off shout.

“Come in!” The one with the radio said hastily. More static was the only answer he received. “What’s going on out there?”

Another crash sounded past the double doors, this time much closer, as though whoever it was, was just outside it. Two of the men hastened to pull their guns free and aimed them at the door, while the one with the radio aimed his gun at Bucky’s head.

Spots were dancing in Bucky’s vision and the clarity grew gradually worse, and he couldn’t help but twitch his lips upwards the best he could in the tiniest smile, draining the very last ounce of strength he had.

Steve must have found him.

BOOM

The door rattled on its hinges and swayed slightly, the clink of the chains against the steel of the doors a demented tune - one hell of a doorbell.

BOOM

The hinges on the door frame cracked and warped with the force of the hit. One more and surely it would fly off.

“Stop!”

Movement from behind the door ceased at the command and Bucky began to pant softly, panic was squeezing his chest like a vice and there wasn’t enough air in the room. The muzzle of the gun nudged at his temple and he whimpered through paralyzed vocal cords, it was so quiet that the man wouldn’t have heard him over his own racing heart.

Steve- help-

“We have a gun to your precious boy’s head!”

The pearly gates of heaven surely were nowhere near as welcoming as seeing the steel doors fly open, revealing Steve in the doorway - a reincarnate of the devil himself.

Bucky watched with watering eyes as Steve tilted his head slightly, observing the sight before him until his eyes locked on Bucky’s. He could have sworn Steve’s eyes turned black as he roved over Bucky’s still limp and beaten body.

Steve- please-

Bucky’s captors stood stock still around him, pure terror written across their faces like a verse from the bible. They had not planned for Steve to show up - not like this.

“Son,” Steve started, his gaze now directed towards the man with the radio. “I may not be a man of faith,” he sauntered forwards, his blackened stare pinning the man in place. “But I can only hope that God will take mercy on you, for taking what’s mine.”

Bucky watched Steve step into the man’s space, a snarl so vicious took over his features so he looked like a twisted devil - the real Mephistopheles warping through time and legend to stand right before his prey.

“Because I fucking won’t.”

All hell broke loose in less than the blink of an eye.

Steve lifted the man up from the floor by his throat and threw him against the wall, while the other two scrambled for the exit to flee.

Bucky closed his eyes against a throb of pain in his head, but he listened to the sound of scuffling feet as Steve launched forward onto the two retreating cowards. They landed with a loud thud onto the floor and the sound of two bodies being dragged filled the sudden silence.

Another set of footsteps sounded from the blown open doors and Bucky heard Steve grunt with effort. “We’ll bring these,” Steve stopped to kick one of them presumably in the ribs, “bastards back to base. I want to have the first crack at ‘em.” The third set of footsteps retreated back down the hallway hurriedly.

Steve’s footsteps came closer until Bucky heard him kneel at his side, and he opened his eyes slowly. “Oh, sweetheart,” his hand was gentle on Bucky’s shoulder, a stark contrast to the bruising touch of his captors. “Can you talk? Squeeze my hand,” Steve slipped his gloved and bloodied hand into Bucky’s, and Bucky faintly squeezed.

Whatever was in that syringe still hadn’t left his muscles.

“I’m gonna lift you up, okay?” Steve said. His hands slowly pushed at Bucky’s shoulder until he was up and on his side. Bucky’s hair covered his face and Steve moved it carefully, smiling softly down at him once Bucky managed to move his eyes to the side. Steve’s eyes were no longer black with vengeance. “Hey, you.”

Bucky managed a small smile in return, relieved more than anything at the fact that his angel had arrived, just in time to save him.

Graphics & Header made by yours truly.

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jasmines-library · 6 months

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Lazarus Rising

WHUMPTOBER DAY 27: Prompt ‘scars’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: after an accident takes your life, your brothers manage to find a way to bring you back. But it leaves you with a set of prominent scars that you struggle to come to terms with. But your brothers are there to help you realise that you are beautiful just the way you are.

Warnings: Death, description of wounds and scars, self hate.

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

It was a nasty accident.

An accident that had cost you your life. Your brothers had raced towards you, trying to haul the debris from the exploded building off of your body, but they were too late. You were dead. Still chest, blank stare, stone cold dead.

For a while, no one dared to move as Bruce cradled your bloody body. Not one of the boys attempted to hide the tears that rolled down their cheeks as you lay there devoid life in a pool of your own blood. The shrapnel had embedded itself if your back, and had sliced into other parts of your skin. You could see from the gash on your hand and on your cheek where you had tried to protect your face in vain.

The sight made Damian queasy and so he was the first to turn away, trying to burry the thought that he would never see the way you smiled with your eyes or simply hear your voice again.

Jason was the last to move. Long After Bruce had hauled your body away and his older brother had tried to pull him away gently by wrapping a strong arm around him. But all he could do was stare blankly at the crimson that stained the ground. It should have been him. He was the one who was supposed to be on patrol that night. But he bunked off and you took his place instead. His stomach knotted, tightening around him like a noose. He promised himself that he was going to find a way to bring you back.

And he did.

He didn’t want to tell his brothers what he was trying to do at first. But they caught on quickly after Jason was unable to hide the dark bags under his eyes any longer and they threatened to tell Bruce if he didn’t let up.

They were hesitant at first, but soon the four of them spent their free time delving into books and research. For a short while, their efforts seemed in vain and there were more frustrated sighs drifting across the room than words. But in one glorious moment, the words finally floated into Jason’s ears.

“The Lazarus pit.” He read from the screen what illuminated his small face in the dark. He had managed to find it after getting in contact with his mother and wracking his brain for something she had accidentally mentioned in passing. Talia was reluctant at first, but with Damian’s charm she was quick to give in. “My mother knows where it is. We can bring y/n back but…”

Tim, who had crowded round his little brother squinted. “But what?”

“She’s not going to be the same. The pit it-

It messes with your mind. And it might not work at all… there’s a time frame.”

Jason shook his head and pulled on his coat. “It’s better than nothing.”

The four of them carried your body gently towards the swirling green liquid. The pit was hidden in some sort of cave that had been dug out into some sort of lab.

“So this is it, huh?” Dick asked as they lay you down gently next to the pit. He could hardly bring himself to look at you. Your beauty was still obscured by the nasty gash that still hadn’t closed. He was so gentle as he manoeuvred your fragile body, as though just his fingers grazing along your cold skin would hurt you.

“Yeah.” Tim sighed.

“Keep your guard up. We don’t know how she’s going to react when she wakes up. She might be scared and confused.” Headed Damian who had practically recited his mother's words after committing them to memory.

There was little else said as they eased your body into the green liquid, watching as you floated just below the surface. It didn’t take long for the chemicals to take effect, stitching your skin back together and bringing more structure back to your bones and more life back to your skin.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, flailing and splashing the substance of the edge of the pool as you dragged yourself out of it. Your clothes clung sticky to your skin. Your eyes were wide and didn’t settle on anything long before they were darting to the next thing and the next after that.

When Tim reached out to you your instincts kicked in, and you gripped his hand to flung him over your shoulder which caused him to let out a grunt as he collided with the stone.

Your mind was racing at a million miles an hour. You were scared. You didn’t know where you were or why every inch of your body was drenched in a dull but persistent ache.

“Y/n?”

You froze calming down for just one brief moment. You knew that voice and its gentle lilt. It was a voice you could picture a face with. Dark haired with stern eyes, but behind the facade was really a gentle boy with a soft spot for his little sister. You turned, tilting your head at the boy.

“Jason?”

You couldn’t bear to glance in the mirror anymore because they were all your gaze could settle on. Pale and spidering the scars crawled up your back and along your neck to your cheek. The pit had worked to some extent and although your mind was seemingly recovering and readjusting, the pit had failed to completely heal your skin, leaving a scar in its wake. Damian said it was something to do with the time scale. Something to do with the fact that the Lazarus put worked better on the dead the shorter they had passed.

You still couldn’t quite come to terms with that word. Dead. It sat in your mind like a weed. No matter how many times you plucked it, it always wormed its way back through the cracks.

For the first few weeks of being back at the manor, you spent a lot of your time trying to cover up the angry lines. The ones on your back were easy enough. You had just resorted to wearing a hoodie. Usually one of the boys’. They gave you a sense of comfort. But after a while, you began to miss wearing your own clothes. You missed being able to express yourself without it feeling wrong. So, there you were, standing in front of your full length mirror in your favorite top, staring at the scar.

There was a soft knock on the door before it peeled open, whining on its hinges and Jason saw you standing there. He couldn’t help the small grin that ebbed onto his lips.

You immediately tried to cover yourself. “Get out.”

“I-“ Jason didn’t want to move. He often feared that it he took his eyes off of you for too long then you would vanish again. Which meant that he was checking in on you much to your dismay. He was so proud of how far you had come in just a few short weeks. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

You recoiled. What? “Jason. Don’t look at them.”

You were about to pull on a hoodie when Damian’s voice peeped round the corner. He had grown impatient and set off with Tim to drag you to movie night. Dick went with them too, unable to shake his worry. Since you came back the four of them were constantly on edge, even if they didn’t care to admit it. “Is she coming or- whoa.”

Tim nearly squealed at the sight of you. “I thought I’d never see that top again.”

Your skin flushed as you sank down onto you bed.

“All of you. Out.”

“Why?” Damian implored.

“Because…I don’t like people looking at them. They’re disgusting.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” Jason was practically outraged at your words.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes brimmed with tears and your voice wavered. “Look at them, Jay!”

“I don’t see anything wrong with them.” Dick shrugged coming to sit next to you. “Do you?”

The rest of your brothers shook their heads.

You gave him a look.

Dick rolled up his top to reveal a long scar along his solar plexus. “Do you see anything wrong with this one?” He asked. Jason then pulled up the hem of his red top and shifted round on the mattress to show you the ones that littered his back. They were pinkish and resembled various different shapes. Or those?”

You shook your head. “No…it’s just. They’re everywhere.”

“So? They’re beautiful y/n. You’re beautiful. Does having a scar make Jason any less of a person that he was before?” Tim asked. You shook your head meekly. “Your scars don’t define you. No matter how much you think they do. You’re still the same gentle girl you were before.”

“Besides,” Damian chimed, “I think they’re really cool. Like lightning.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. Your brothers always had a way of bringing light to a dark situation. It was just something that they did; they helped without thinking no matter the cost. You were glad to have them by your side, even if they did get a little annoying at times.

Although it took a little while, and a bucket-load of tears, your slowly began to embrace the scars. You began to express yourself in new ways that you hadn’t done before. In ways that brought a beaming grin to your face. And to your brothers. They were unbelievably proud and their hearts swelled. But it was one thing that you had learnt that really stuck out to you. That they loved you, just the way you were.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 26 ⛤ DAY 28 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

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sporeclan · 6 months

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[Next >]

Here's a little prologue! Hope you enjoy the backstory of this clan! I'm pretty proud of it, honestly.

Because there's a pretty low contrast on the text in some of these panels, I've written them down under the cut for anyone who's struggling to read it! I've also added some image descriptions to the images themselves :]

Moon ??

A new fungus starts growing in the clan's territories.

Soon, the Star-reach Tree succumbs to the fungus.

It spreads fast and eats most things.

Within moons, trees start falling.

The clans' connection to StarClan has been severed

Desperate for resources and lost without guidance, the clans are driven to war.

The loss of trees means loss of food and shelter for prey...

As a result, most prey evacuate the area, leaving the clans to starve.

...

War ravages the already weakened clans.

Only few cats remain when the dust settles...

And fewer stay for long.

The clans are no more.

A single cat rallies a small group of former enemies together.

Crowwhistle

has a vivid dream

SporeClan has been founded!

Moon 0

First moon of New-Leaf

#clangen #clan generator #warriors #warrior cats #sporeclan #ive put descriptions and text in the image ids for this one because admittedly some of the panels are low contrast #but i unfortunately cant guarantee ill be able to do that for all the moons :( ill try my best tho #sc moons #sc lore #tw war mention #tw blood #tw injury #tw death #lmk if im missing something!#sc:crowstar

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factual-fantasy · 3 months

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26 ASKS!! :DD THANK YALL!! 🎉🎂🎉

@ardent-38 @lime-ether @piperjistic @elegysonnet @storylover2 @forestrests

AAAAAA THANK YALL SO MUCH!! :DDD YALL ARE THE BEST!! :}} 💖💖💖

(Sorry I'm a bit late!)

:DD Thank you!! My favorite might be plain vanilla 😋💖

@unpopularartist14

I have definitely heard of it and seen it around. :0 And I got a good taste of it from SMG4s video on it XDD I've thought about watching it in the past. Though hearing about that widely accepted ship.. Ehhh,, I'm not so sure now.. <XD

@sunshine-vr6

@wdillustration

:DD THANK YOU!! :}}}

@badlyblurry (Post in question)

XDD It really has. The poor guy is so conflicted. This really seems like a romantic moment. But surly she's just excited about her new form and doesn't understand the typical boundaries friends have.

Surly someone as beautiful and desirable as Blue.. wouldn't be interested in a old cookie like him.

..Right??

@jesterpiecethejester

They're still on my blog, I never deleted them or anything. You just gotta go to my #undertale tag and scroll down a bit-

@minnesotamedic186 (Post in question)

AWW!! Its might be a bit out of character for Blue, but its still a cute scene!! :DD

@keakruiser (Sorry for replying a bit late!)

:DDD THANK YOU!! I had some giant cookies and cream cupcakes! 😋😋

Huh, suprising!

....now what does Urchin taste like.. 🍴🍪

@edgywithaheart

Ooooo interesting!! :DD Though I wonder if this would change Barnaby and Howdy at all <XDD

GASP!! Nooo not my boy! He would never do a crime. XD

@jenny-the-fox

XD I think I have a couple of OCs that belong there--

(Post in question)

Oh! Thank you for the info! :DD

@candyglumboy (Post in question)

That could be an interpretation of it yeah :00 but to be totally honest, I haven't thought it all through yet..

The intention behind that comic is its showing that Eddie used to be a human. And now he's.. well. He's Eddie.

The comic was trying to show that there was someone he used to know when he was human. His sister? His mother? Someone.. He knew someone. And now that he's in the neighborhood.. she's gone. What happened to her? Who was she? Why do I miss her so much?.. Why.. am I crying? Why am I shaking?

"..What was I talking about.?"

@astaherussy

EATING THIS SCENARIO LIKE GARLIC BREAD FR!!! AAAAA JUST IMAGINE EVERYONE'S REACTIONS!!

I think the 3 of them are no strangers to bloody scenes, but that wouldn't make seeing their Octokids so hurt any easier.. <:(( Now I'm not much of a writer, and idk if this is the kind of response you were expecting.. but none the less you have inspired me! :}}

I can see them offering their services if needed, but mostly just staying out of Peso's way and letting him do his thing. when everything winds down and they're able to see each other.. it would be tough. :((

Kwazii would be in high spirits as always despite the injuries. He would proudly tell Calico Jack about how he was bravely able to fend off multiple sharks! He expected a lot of enthusiasm from his Grandad.. "..Y-Ye did great Kwazii, ye protected yer crew well. I'm real proud of ya for that.." Instead he got a more.. somber response.

With the time Kwazii has spent with the Octonauts, he's gotten a lot better at reading people. Its not hard to tell when someone is shaken. His ears are pinned back, his tail is puffed up and flicking back and fourth.. its clear that Jack isn't taking this sight well.

Kwazii would probably sit up straighter. "Hey,, Grandad I'm.. I'm alright, ye don't need to worry." He'd gently grab Jacks arm, getting his attention. "I'll be alright, this isn't a big deal! Really, I'm ok! It looks a lot worse than it actually is."

Jack might take a deep breath and nod "..I know. I know you'll be alright, lad.." His ears were still pinned back. Kwazii frowns. "..I'm alright now Grandad. This is small, trust me.." Jack would pause.. but then nod. Seeing Kwazii so beaten is hard for Jack to stomach. But Kwazii is one tough cookie.. Just like him. He knows that things will be ok. Kwazii will be ok.. They're both ok..

~~~

When Marsh came in to see Tweak, he almost lost his composure. He knows Tweak is tough. And she's gotten hurt a lot growin up, this ain't nothin she cant handle. But gosh, this hurts. That's his little girl. It hurts so much to see her like this. She's collapsed in medbay, and has her leg all bound up in a cast.

"Pa! Heh, uh- sorry about all this. You an I were supposed to go out swimmin after that mission. I guess uh.. it'll have to wait.. heh.."

A deep breath, "Now don't chu worry bout none of that," He sat down beside her bed and pat her on the shoulder. "You just put all yer energy into gettin better. Ok? We can always go see the reef another time." His droopy ears and shaky voice wasn't helping his tough façade..

Tweaks pauses for a moment. But then offers her hand to Marsh. He takes it, confused at first.

"..I'm sorry I scared you pa.. I'll be ok.."

...Unable to reply, Marsh just nods. He sighs and wipes his tears away. Gripping Tweaks hand tighter. He sniffles, and just nods..

~~~

Natquik's meeting with Barnacles went a little smoother than the others. He is no stranger to the sight of blood. And knowing that Barnacles is tough as nails, he wasn't too worried about him.. but still. Seeing Barnacles in such a state.. it wasn't easy.

When Natquik came in, he placed a gentle paw on the bears shoulder. "Barnacles, how do you feel? Are your wounds bad..?" Barnacles' voice was gravelly and slow. He had a nasty headache after that facial injury.. "..Oh.. I'll be alright.. its nothing I.. cant recover from.."

Natquik pulls up a stool and sits beside him. "You gave me a big scare, you know. You must not do that to me! No more dangerous missions for you!" He said wagging his finger.

Barnacles chuckled. "That wasn't meant to.. be a dangerous mission. Things just.. got out of hand." Natquik nods. "Yes yes, I can see.." His tone seemed off at the end there..

"..Are you alright, Professor?" It takes Natquik a second to respond.. Seeming to think over his words. "Don't worry for me, Barnacles. I am better now that I have seen you. And you will heal fine, yes? So all is ok." His hesitation wasn't reassuring.. But he knows how Natquik is. So doesn't push it further. "Yes, despite the scene we caused.. most of these injuries are minor. We'll be.. alright." Natquik puts on a smile that cant truly be read. "That is all that matters, my friend."

~~~

ALSO WAAHAGA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD I'm so glad to hear you like my stuff!! And you're interested even when you don't know thE CANON? BESTIE I AM HONORED!! 😭😭💖💖😭💖💖

And of course I would respond! :DD I LOVE receiving comments/interaction with my work. Its the #1 thing I hope my posts receive! Now I cant respond to every single one unfortunately, but I do read them all and respond to as many as I possibly can!! :D I'll take this moment to give a big thank you to all that leave me messages/comments/asks! They're my favorite thing!! 💖💖🥰💖

@couchwow

Thank you! :D Also OOOO CREATRURES! :DDD

@peaspods

I don't have a master post for those, no.. it would take a ton of effort for me to comb through my entire blog to compile it all so I haven't done it..

You can find all/most of that stuff under my #octonauts tag and my #deltarune tag. I hope this helps!

I did have a blue blanket for a time.. though that blanket doesn't actually exist irl-

Also man, that would take me forever to make. Bibi and the other's quilts were really small and easy to work with. I cant imagine all the time it would take for me in this state to make a full human sized quilt-

Plus I would have to draw the quilt with me whenever I draw my sona. Which would suck because then it would take longer for me to draw myself <XDD

XD Thank you!! :D I'm so glad you like them! :}}

WAAAAA THATS SO GOOODD!! 😭😭😭😭

#my response #tw descriptions of blood #tw descriptions of injury #octonauts #welcome home #eddie dear #factual fam #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs

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blackrosesandwhump · 7 months

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Words to Describe Blood

For all your whumping and writing needs.

Bead

Congeal

Drench

Drip

Drop

Fleck

Flow

Gush

Leach

Leak

Ooze

Pool

Puddle

Rivulet

Saturate

Seep

Smear

Soak

Speck

Spill

Spatter

Splash

Splatter

Spray

Sprinkle

Spurt

Stain

Stream

Surge

Tinge

Trickle

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kodieshmodie · 2 months

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POV: you’re caught in a cave-in but some blonde guy promises to get you out in one piece.

I did the Evil Artstyle challenge on Twitter (asked my followers what my art style traits are and tried to draw without them), and this is my attempt! No hair shines or blush, and I had to use thicker more textured lines. Definitely not the best attempt, but it was still very fun to try! 🤩💖

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 1 year

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Ever in our favour... Masterlist

PEETA MELLARK X GN!READER

You wake up with a migraine, surrounded by forests and kids that are more than willing to kill you. What have you fallen into the middle of? And why can't you remember getting here?

Arena fanfiction, cannon-typical violence, descriptions of blood injuries and death, descriptions of a panic attack, temporary memory loss, mentions of familial abuse, depictions of mutated creatures, established relationship, romance, kissing, fluff and angst, minor character deaths, action/adventure

Table of Contents:

Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT (FINALE)

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nadiawritessomething · 29 days

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𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒚 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅 ⁽ᵒʳ ᴵ ʷʳᵒᵗᵉ ᵃ ᶠⁱᶜ⁾

Rating: T (PG-13)

Pairings: Hobie Brown/Miles G Morales | The Prowler

Word count: 4k (first chapter)

Tags: Hurt/comfort, agnst, family dynamics, soulamtes, romantic soulamtes, first aid, mental health problems

Description:

Screw it. The shadows slowly dissipate around Miles, his sneakers making a couple of soft traces on the remaining gravel without making a sound. He stands a few steps away from the table, gives it a quick, scanning glance, and crosses his arms over his chest. The key is still clutched tightly between his fingers, like some invisible weapon. Miles remains unnoticed for a couple more seconds before gritting his teeth:

"You're doing it wrong."

The world with soulmates can't be easy, especially when one is a regular teen, who gets the power of regeneration and the other one is the superhero who needs it desperately.

Tagging people who wanted to read: @jennsterjay @theyluvbix

#tw: minor description of medical care #tw: blood and injuries #across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #miles 42 #prowler miles #miles g morales #earth 42 miles #spiderverse #aaron davis #jefferson morales #miles g being an awkward teen #also has like a tons of character study

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byierficrecs · 11 months

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❝ wrathful wishing star and poisoned apple tree ❞ author: DaineYui

link: archiveofourown.org/works/38993034

personal blog || submit a story || support me on ko-fi 🌈

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spinchip · 1 year

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Turn You to a Colder Summer

(a/n: I wrote and edited this during my breaks at work, don't judge my grammar mistakes too harshly hehe)

(Warnings: frostbite (descriptions of numbness), violence, blood, injury, torture, mentions of past self harm, mouth trauma, threat of potential death. Kai does not have a good time, but he lives. The Ice Emperor is a Bad Guy)

(Wordcount: 2600)

Cold fingers drag along Kai's cheek in painful friction, ice crystals cracking and cutting into his skin like nettles as the hand arcs up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. The Ice Emperor's eyes are uncanny where they piece Kais gaze- black sclera where there should be white, burning electric blue where there should be warm sky, little flecks of gold that shift in and out of existence in the glow of the ice spires around them. No love. His expression is blank but not in the way Zanes usually is. It's cruel, clinical, and coldly detached.

Kai is bound in the floor, laid sideways to avoid the throbbing agony of brushing his frostbitten shoulder along the too-cold stone beneath him. That mark is hand-shaped, pressed brutally into his skin with a purposeful touch because Zane's ice couldn't get past the fire in his blood normally, not without excessive force or access to unlimited power. The ice blocks binding his arms behind his back and his ankles together don't sink frost as deep as when the Ice Emperor had torn him from his friends with an iron grip around his bicep. Their ambush failed. They were trying to escape, back through the tunnels Krag had shown them but he hesitated to follow, a part of him wanting to try and succeed where Lloyd had failed and draw Zane from the tyrant wearing his face. Kai knew better, he knew he couldn't get caught.

But he did, and now the Emperor is crouched over him with strange eyes and snowflakes trickling from his palm.

"He's not himself." Lloyd had said after stumbling back into the village- he’d left to look for the land bounty and had stayed gone three days, "If he catches you, he'll kill you." He promised, the sash from his ninja suit rewrapped tight over his belly and stained with his blood. The Staff of forbidden spinjitzu had a blade, after all. The Emperor was not afraid to use it. It was pure luck Lloyd had avoided the thick of the blade and hadn’t dropped his guts on the throne room floor.

To further prove his point and to save a life, he'd been dragging behind him a girl with each of her limbs encased in ice and delirious from blood loss, her mouth smeared with red where she'd coughed up bits of her lungs. He’d tapped her- just a tap against her sternum, the barest of hits that she’d nearly dodged, and he’d pushed ice into the delicate capillaries lining her lungs and frozen her blood half solid. The first breath she’d taken after had been agony, the second had torn. Akita. Lloyd had to tell them her name because she had passed out not long after arriving in the village- and when she tries to speak she was too out of it to form the right words. The blood flooding in her mouth wasn’t any help, either. Her body gave out once they began to chip her limbs free of ice, exhaustion claiming her. She was holding on to her life by a thread. Zane had done that.

No, the Ice Emperor had done that. It was an important distinction.

Kai, who'd just gotten his power back- the weak flicker that it was- had gone and gotten himself caught by the man.

The Ice Emperors eyes cut paths along his face, searching for something he knows is there but can't quite place. He'd been pacing around Kai for a long while, agitated and upset as he stared daggers at his prisoner. The frost on the edge of Kais cold and chapped lips reminds him not to speak. The Emperor has no qualms about forcing his silence. At first he’d thought the man was guarding him, too worried about the threat his powers might impose to regulate him to a typical cell under the palace. He was wrong. The Ice Emperor has no fear of him at all. Now he's so close Kai can smell oil, tracing burning cold lines into his skin as if finding the right path across his face will reveal what he's looking for.

Kai prepares for the eventual question. He also prepares for the scenario where the Emperor asks no questions and freezes his heart in his chest, but he hopes it doesn't come to that. He imagines what the Ice Emperor might ask- what the part of Zane still alive in him might push him to ask. There's no doubt that Zane still lives, because if he didn't the Emperor would have no reason to take any interest I'm him at all. He'd have been dead ten times over. Maybe he'll ask who are you? Or how do I know you? Or how do you know me? And Kai can explain to him that he loves him, he loves him, he loves him and that will make everything okay. It will. It has to.

Another long moment passes where the Emperor is crouched over him searching. Kai searches him too. Looks at everything in hope of finding the piece of the puzzle he can use to slot everything back into place. He's wearing completely different robes than he was before he was struck by the staff, white and gray and hand embroidered with diamonds made to glitter everytime he moved. His armor is growing fractals of ice in a messy, unkempt way. There's a patch where the icicles have been meticulously chipped away, but that chore was dropped and now they've been left to grow rampant. His face is dented and there's a patch of ice that's holding his jaw in place- an ugly crack from the corner of his mouth, a gap, and Kai can see where the connection between his mandible and skull has been snapped. The lopsided frown makes the break even more apparent.

The hand on his face is covered by a pure white glove. The hand on the staff is bare other than a thick case of ice, and Kai can see clear through it to the mess underneath. The titanium casing on his hand has been split apart to reveal his skeletal structure below. Kai has spent enough time in Jay and Nyas' mechanic lair under the monastery to have at least somewhat of a grasp on the basics of Zanes parts, so he knows what he's looking at. More specifically, he knows what he's not looking at. Wire- important wires, the ones Nya complains about because they have to special order them and they take ages to come- are missing. Not torn out, but neatly trimmed down near his wrist. The structure boning for his pinkie is gone, removed in the same clean fashion. There's more- Kai only knows so much, but he can tell the machinery underneath looks far more barren than a few wires and bone. Lloyd told them about the message in that cave, where he'd tried to fix the mech.

Kai can see it clearly in his mind. Zane, desperate and alone, taking the edge of a ninja star and sliding it along the near Invisible seam holding the casing of his hand together and shoving, cracking the connection points until it pops clean off. He and the mechs used the same type of wiring, after all.

The Emperor's voice is quiet when he speaks, the unfamiliar deep grit softening in the question meant just for the space between them, "Why do I hate you so much?"

Kais heartbreak over what might have happened in the cave stalls, every part of his mind thrown off rhythm with a question he never would have guessed he'd be asked. He can't articulate a response because he can't understand why Zane would hate him, and why that emotion would be leaking out into the Ice Emperor now.

"Zane-" He starts before his mouth is sealed shut with a layer of ice. Brain freeze hits first, sharp and cruel and like an icepick up through the roof of his mouth. Frost invades his mouth and glues his teeth together, crawling halfway down his throat. It hurts all the way to the roots of his teeth and he thrashes on instinct, bouncing his head off hard stone before he can control his reaction. Every part of his face hurts. There's a terrifying moment where the ice spreads over the back of his throat and seals off his sinuses and he's certain the Emperor has finally decided to kill him by suffocating him to death.

But the ice recedes almost as quickly as it came, though the Emperor keeps his hand over Kais mouth as a reminder not to slip up again. That was worse than the first time he'd done it, Kai doesn't want to know how bad it might be next.

The Ice Emperor's face is terrifyingly blank, a mask that gives absolutely nothing to Kai, so empty it scares him more than anything he's done so far. The interest in his eyes has fractured, and underneath is a hatred that makes the black of his pupils seem darker.

"You and your friends," his voice is still gentle, chillingly calm, "I hate all of you so much. I do not know why, but I do. I want to punish you."

Kai’s heart is jack rabbiting in his chest, beating at his ribs as adrenaline floods his system with nowhere to go. Fight or flight and he can't do either.

He takes his hand off Kai's mouth, "Speak." He orders.

Kai is woefully unprepared, stumbling over himself to try and come up with some way to remind Zane who he is. Lloyd told him that Zane said he loved them in his goodbye video. Why did that change? Was it the staff corrupting his mind? But the staff can only feed feelings that were already there. Did some part of Zane, some small part, really hate him?

"You're sick," he tries, his tongue darting out to try and wet chapped lips but its been hours since he's had a drink and his mouth is dry, "The staff is altering your mind, Zane. This isn't you. We're all friends! We love you!" He isn't above pleading and he pours desperation into each word, "You have to remember! I love you!"

The Emperor tilts his head inquisitively to the side as his expression flickers along the edges. Kai still knows Zane well enough to pick up on the minute changes- not a hint of it is kind. Whatever Kai said picked something loose, but not enough. Not enough. The light In his eyes changes but not in any way Kai can understand. He presses his finger to Kais mouth and seals it with another layer of ice, stopping his words. The air is thick, fraught with a tension so strong Kai can barely breathe through it. The Emperor looks at him. His eyes are so dark. He can still see Zane in everything the man does.

"I waited for you," the Ice Emperor speaks slowly, sounding out the sentence as if reaffirming its truth. A piece of Zane, just a sliver- a curiosity for the man crouched before him. It's a feeling, a certainty of a grievous crime, "And you never came."

It's bone chilling hatred.

It's betrayal.

Kais heart drops through his stomach and cracks to pieces on the icy floor. No no no-! He can't wrench his jaw free of his muzzle but he tries desperately to. He tries to scream, to howl and pour heat into his mouth- fire reacts to his devotion to his family, rushing through his body but again Kai is not enough.

We didn't know! We couldn't have known! We came as soon as we could! He thrashes on the floor, tries to bash his jaw down to shatter ice. He wants to grab the Emperor by the shoulders and shake shake shake him until his head pops off. I would have torn apart the sixteen realms to get to you! He's crying and the tears sting where they drip down his face. I would do anything!

He slumps, boneless and sore where his skin bruises on stone. He's thirsty, he's starving, and he's so so cold. The fire flickers out of him back down to an ember, faint and comforting if not much else. He blinks the wet from his eyes and sees the Emperors white white robes are stained with blood at the bottom. Above him, the tyrant moves.

Kai pushes himself back, the reality really sinking in. He was going to die here. No! he couldn't! He couldn't let Zane do this because when they got him back- and they would get him back, Kai has to believe that- he would never forgive himself. His back hits a pillar of ice and he looks around wildly, trying to figure out some way to get out of this, a smoking gun, a dues ex machina- anything! To stop what's coming.

He can do nothing. He squeezes his eyes shut as the Ice Emperor cups his cheek gently- but there's no ice stabbing into his brain, no agony of a literal ice pick lobotomy. The Emperors thumb wipes away an errant tear. A heartbeat passes before Kai hesitantly looks up at him.

The Emperor's face is still and serene, "I am not going to kill you, Kai." There is a moment of relief, even an inkling of hope before the chill comes.

It seeps into his skin from the Emperor's hand, down down through his face- It pours like slush through fat and muscle, cutting through his cheek to burn his gums and freeze the nerves in his teeth. It gets colder. Kai tries to dislodge his hand but the Emperor jerks forward and slams him down, holding his head against the stone floor as he pours ice into his blood faster, more brutal. Kai can't scream, his jaw locking against the bite of frost. It gets colder. It burns like the road rash he’d gotten the first time he’d wrecked his motorcycle, but a million times worse. Pain overwhelms all of his senses until he forgets how to breathe, hyperventilating and trying miserably to suck in enough air through his nose. His mouth is still sealed shut, he can't get enough air- he can't- His vision flickers with black spots.

It gets colder.

Feeling stops, numbness spreading like a balm over dying nerves. He stops struggling, taking advantage of the respite to catch his breath. His chest hurts with how hard his heart beats. His head is spinning. He looks up at the Ice Emperor with exhausted eyes and finds no pity, and especially no mercy. As Kai had struggled and sobbed in agony, he’d watched it all happen. He’d just watched. Kai is aware of the hand in his face by pressure alone, feeling blissfully gone.

The Ice Emperor takes his hand away.

He lays there and breathes, a tingling feeling spreading over his cheek. Pins and needles that turn sharper and sharper. With the loss of cold, feeling creeps back in and Kai is slowly aware of every inch of dying skin the frostbite has decimated. It hurts- it hurts like nothing he's ever experienced. He can't comprehend the pain, his mind blanking out as the blood roars in his ear. His vision goes gray at the edges as he struggles to stay awake. He can't pass out- he has to bring Zane back. He has to. He can't let him hurt the others. He can’t fail him like he did with the fight against Aspheera. Kai has to be enough. Please let him be enough.

The Emperor cards a hand through Kai's bangs, deceptively gentle as he wipes sweat slick hair off his forehead.

"I want you to suffer."

#ninjago #kai ninjago #zane ninjago #ice emperor #ice emperor ninjago #ns11 #blood #gore #frostbite #violence #graphic descriptions #injuries #serious injuries #torture #mentions of past self harm #mouth trauma #threat of death #ask to tag #spinchip fic

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jasmines-library · 6 months

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Unbroken Valour

WHUMPTOBER DAY 28: Prompt ‘Sacrifice’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: Ignoring his orders, Tim leaves to face the Joker after he escapes Arkham. Fearing for his safety, you chase after him and when he is put in a life threatening position, you don't think. You just do.

Warnings: Major character Death, description of wounds, impalement. It's just angsty. Im sorry.

Word count: 1.5k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Sometimes there is no rational reason for things happening. Sometimes things just happen whether we want them to or not. And sometimes there is no way to stop the inevitable from happening. Like there is no way to stop the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, there was no way from stopping you.

You ran. Fast. Feet pounding against the concrete. Your breath quickened, heart pounding against your ribcage. Tim was mere feet away from you now, scuffling with the Joker. He was good, but the Joker was bigger and better. Tim looked measly next to him. He wasn’t supposed to be out here alone.The Joker had just escaped from Arkham and was as gloriously out of his mind as ever. Tim was under strict orders and you had pleaded at him not to go, but your words fell on deaf ears. So, as soon as he left you were pulling on your suit and dashing through the streets of Gotham to reach him.

Tim ducked as the Joker swung an arc that missed his head by mere millimetres, jostling his hair. Tim slid, trying to knock the Joker’s feet from under him but missed as he stepped away. And then the haunting sound of his laughter filled the alleyway, echoing down the stone walls like a song. The villain, noticing your presence, turned to face you with a shit eating grin.

“Aw” He pouted, “Did the little birdy have to call his big sister for backup?”

Tims head snapped up as he stared you briefly in the eye. Brief, because he used the Joker’s moment of weakness to tackle him to the ground. As the pair scuffled on the ground, delivering blows and rough punches, you slid across the ground to grab Tim’s bo staff that had been discarded on the ground at some point during the struggle. When the vigilante finally managed to free himself, you tossed the staff toward him and reddied yourself, planting your feet firmly into the ground and squeezing your brass knuckles tightly to your palm by clenching your hand into a fist. They were cold against your clammy skin. You also patted the side of your suit to ensure your batarangs were secure within the folds of the fabric.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tim whispered at you through his clenched jaw as the Joker weighed up his options.

The villain surged forwards trying to tackle Tim once again, but you raised your fist back and slammed it into the side of his cheek.

“Saving your life.” You grunted as he recoiled, bringing a calloused hand to his reddening cheek and frowning. It was an odd contrast to the lengthy scars that gave him his permanent smile.

“Ouch.” The joker straightened, making a beeline for you.

Dropping, you allowed your brother to make a move this time. It caught him off guard, causing him to waver unsteadily on his feet, but he didn’t fall to the ground as you hoped. Instead he reached into his pocket and brandished a slender, silver pistol.

You and Tim shared a look. Batman had two rules. Number one, No guns. Number two, No killing. The joker was about to break both and the pair of you were helpless to stop it. There was no hesitation in the villain's face as he pressed his finger to the trigger, arm jerking with the recoil of the gun. You flinched at the noise, anticipating a scream that never came. When you opened your eyes again. A single fraying flag hung from the tip of the barrel, printed across it in bold letters it read ‘Bang! You’re dead.’.

The Joker cackled maniacally to himself. “You should have seen your faces!”

Tim allowed his body to relax slightly, releasing the tension from his shoulders when he realised that there was no bullet lodged in either of you. You however were still on high alert. Your eyes widened as the realisation dawned on you.

“Red… Get behind me.”

The Joker pouted. "oh, Y/N? Why so serious?"

“What?” Confusion crinkled across his face as he scrunched his nose together.

“Red!”

You didn’t allow Tim any more time to move as the Joker pressed his finger down onto the trigger again, sending the flag harpooning towards him. You didn’t think, just jumped in front of him, knocking him to the side.

You gasped as it pierced through your suit, and then layers of your skin and muscle until the spear scraped across bone. You stared at the offending weapon, lodged deep within your chest gawping at the flag flapped in the breeze. Hands reaching up, you pressed your hand to the spear, feeling the warm blood pool around your fingers and soak into the front of your suit. You swayed on your feet.

As Tim recovered from your shove, reality hit him like a brick wall.

“What the hell did you do!?” He screamed at the suited man, chasing after him when he tried to flee, but alone and distracted, Tim stood no chance. He released a batarang which soared through the air, skimming his sleeve. Though it has found its target, the tear in his arm was nowhere near enough to stop the Joker as he vanished into the streets.

“Y/N…” Tim hushed under his breath as he raced towards you. You swayed before collapsing to your knees with a cry of excruciating pain. He caught you as he skidded to your side and lay you gently in his arms.

“Oh God…” He choked at the sight of the river of red flowing from your body. He didn’t know what to do. His hands shook.

You took one in yours, not caring for the fact that you would get them all covered in blood. Although you were older than Tim, your hand was considerably smaller than his and it fit snugly laced between his fingers. Somehow, amid the panic, Tim had managed to press the emergency button on his suit.

You smiled up at him sadly. His attention was on you and only you as you forced out a word through blood stained teeth. “Tim?”

“No.” He shook his head, not even bothering to try and hide the swell of emotions that bubbled to the surface of his voice. “No. You don’t get to do this to me. To us.”

His other hand pressed down firmly against the wound around the spear. He knew to keep it in, but he sight of it made him want to hurl, so instead he focused on your face and the way your eyebrows twitched each time there was a new jolt of pain spreading across chest.

“You can’t stop it, Tim.” You said sadly. “There is nothing that you can do…”

“No. I can- I” He pressed harder on the wound, fumbling over his words. A rouge tear slipped down his face. “You’re not dying. You’re not. Help is coming, just don't close your eyes, Okay? You keep them open, you hear?”

“Tim…” You reached out your other hand to cup his cheek and wipe away the fresh bout of tears.

“You promised me!” he cried. “You promised me that you would always be there for me!”

That cut deeper than the spear. Hearing your little brother say those words, you felt like someone had grabbed your heart and squeezed, ripping up your heartstrings as they went. It was a promise you had made all those years ago when he was brought in by Bruce, scared of being alone. That night you had wrapped him up closely and promised that you weren’t leaving him any time soon.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” Concentrating was getting harder now as Tim swam before you. White dots began to form in your vision and you squeezed your little brother’s hand as hard as you could with what little of your depleting strength you had left, begging him to listen this time. “Take care of Damian for me and-” You took a wheezy breath “And be good for Dick and Jason.”

“Stop it. You don’t get to do this to me now y/n-”

“Tell the boys that I love them.” You whispered. Your body began to go numb but you gave him a gentle smile anyway. “And I love you, Tim Drake. Remember that.”

“Y/N?!”

Your gaze drifted from Tim as you felt your life slipping away.

“I’ll see you around, little brother.”

Your hand went slack in his and your body slumped against his chest. He cried your name, letting the tears flow freely as you took your last breath.

It was then that the wretched footsteps came rushing towards them, and Dick faltered at the sight of Tim covered in your blood as he clung to you tighter, pressing down harshly on the gaping hole. The spear still sat there, cruel and relentlessly. Dick stepped forwards, but it was no use. You were already gone.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 27 𖤐 DAY 29->

taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 1 (Aaron Hotchner and male reader)

No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

Word Count: 2443

WARNINGS: Bear traps as restraints, barbed wire as restraints, blood, description of injury, gore (not too bad but just in case), injured reader, injured hotch, creepy unsub, creepy whumper, a lot of hurt

I’m lowkey amazed I managed to write this all in one day?

@whumptober-archive

You groaned as you woke, head pounding painfully. What on Earth happened? You remember walking with Hotch back to the hotel - it was only a block away - talking over details of the case and then a yell and then nothing. Hotch, where was Hotch? Despite the sharp pain behind your eyes, you forced them open, you couldn't see much. It was dark, annoyingly dark. You weren’t quite sure where you were, there was nothing that you could see that you immediately recognised.

Your eyes drifted to a figure laid on the floor. Hotch! You moved to stand up, to help him, pain flooded through your foot. Curiosity getting the best of you, you looked down. Your heart dropped to your stomach. A bear trap, your foot was trapped in a bear trap.

“Oh god,” You whimpered, “Oh god, Hotch? Hotch! You need to wake up! Hotch?! God, Hotch, wake up! Please!” You gave a loud sob, not caring that you were supposed to be a hard-ass FBI agent. No, right now you were twenty three year old (Y/N) who was scared out of his mind because he was trapped in a fucking bear trap.

“God, will you just shut up?” You froze at the voice. Someone else was there too? “Thank you, about time too. Now, make another sound and I’ll give you something to cry about, okay?” You nodded quickly. “Good. And, stop worrying about Mr Boss over there, he’s fine - well, all things considered.”

“Is- Is he-” You paused, not sure how to continue.

“Stuck in a bear trap?” When you nodded the unsub laughed, shaking his head, “No, that’s just for you. I was only expecting one of you, so I had to improvise with him,”

"What did you do to him? When's he going to wake up?"

"You know, I'd be more worried about myself, if I were you. Hotch isn't the one stuck in a bear trap," You gulped at the reminder before mentally shaking yourself out of it. You needed to focus on something else (Hotch) to take your mind off it.

"When is he going to wake up?"

The unsub scoffed, "Do I look like a doctor to you?"

"I can't actually see you," You snapped back, causing him to chuckle.

"You're funny," He replied dryly. "We'll see how long that lasts,"

A moment of silence passed, you focusing on a way to get you and Hotch out of this situation as quickly as humanly possible.

“I’ll be back later, when he’s awake and the fun can really begin,” You strained your eyes, trying to track the Unsub’s movements despite the darkness. You heard footsteps and the door open (which annoyingly didn’t let any light in), more footsteps, the door close, and then nothing. You breathed a sigh of release. He was gone. Good, now you could figure out how the fuck to get out of this situation. Okay, bear trap first, then wake Hotch up, Hotch could take over from there.

Your hands hovered over the trap, trying to gain the courage to pull your foot out. You drew in a deep breath, settling your hands on the cold metal of the frame. Drawing in another deep breath, you shut your eyes, preparing to pull when your hands were yanked away from you.

You gave an expected cry as your hands were forced behind your back, you pulled against the hands as hard as you could, not knowing what was going to happen. The unsub growled, backhanding you across the face, taking the time it took you to recover as an opportunity to grip both of your wrists in his hand, you didn’t have much time to ponder why the unsub was wearing gloves before you heard fumbling behind you.

You wiggled feebly in his grip, which simply tightened as a warning and you stopped. Even if you did get out of his grasp, then what? Hotch was still unconscious and your leg was injured, you wouldn’t be able to leave him and you couldn’t carry him in your condition.

You shut your eyes, hoping to pretend that instead you were simply having a nightmare and would wake up any moment. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. You shivered, feeling cold metal being wrapped around your wrists. Metal? The confusion was short lived, when the unsub wrapped the wire around your wrist a second time, you felt multiple spikes prick into your skin and you gave a yelp. Barbed wire? This prick was using barbed wire!

“Make another sound,” The voice growled into your ears, you shut your eyes tightly, “And I’ll shove it down your throat,”

Before you knew it, your wrists were tightly tied together with a long piece of barbed wire. You felt sick. Apparently the bear trap on your foot wasn't enough. Oh god, what if that's what he used with Hotch? You flicked your eyes over the body, trying to see if you could make anything out, huffing when you couldn't. How the fuck were you going to get out of this?

“Perfect!” The unsub chimed, crouching down in front of you, he gently wiped away a tear from your cheek, “Don’t cry, (Y/N), we’re going to have so much fun,” He gently kissed your forehead before standing. “Now, no trying to run away while I’m gone,” He chuckled, “I’ll see you soon,”

You shut your eyes until you knew for sure he had left, breathing deeply, trying your best to think of anything else but the pain. Hotch, think about Hotch. You strained your ears, managing to pick up on the older man’s breathing, your eyes snapped open when you heard a quiet groan. “Hotch?” You whispered, scared that the unsub was still in the room.

There was another groan, this one louder than the last, “(Y/N)?”

Relief flooded your veins, “Hotch?” You asked timidly, “You awake?”

You heard him huff a small laugh, “Yes, I’m awake,”

“Okay, good, that’s good,” You said with a nod. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Hotch said, “He used barbed wire to restrain me though. What about you?”

Hotch had become a surrogate father to you since you joined the team six months ago. You were the youngest member of the team, Reid included (who was twenty eight), and so everyone had quickly become protective of you - which you secretly loved (not that you’d tell them that). Pretty much all of them had all become like your siblings. But Hotch, Hotch had mentored you, checked up on you, protected you, he had become everything a father is.

“(Y/N)?” He asked, “Are you injured?”

“Um…” Your voice was higher than you cared to admit - a telltale sign you were lying. You heard Hotch shift, probably turning towards you.

“(Y/N)? Are you hurt?”

“Er, sort of,”

“‘Sort of’? What do you mean ‘sort of’?” Just as he had asked the question, the lights flickered on, causing the pair of you to squint your eyes shut. You forced your eyes open, trying your best to fight against them trying to flutter closed. No. You needed to see where you were.

Hotch pried his eyes open, stomach sinking when he saw the small puddle of blood that had been collecting under foot. Then his eyes focused on the bear trap and he felt nausea flood through him. Oh God. This was not good. He flicked his eyes to yours, trying his best to seem unworried. You were staring at your leg, face pale, chin quivering from the adrenaline, “(Y/N)?” When you turned to him, your eyes watered further, something about seeing the man who had become your source of comfort (not that you were going to say that out loud either), a few spilling down your cheek. “Hey, listen to me, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get out of this and we are going to be okay,”

“Now, now, Aaron,” A voice from the corner of the room made you jump, it was the man from before. You couldn’t see his face, just a white mask, he was leaning against the wall, looking bored. “Don’t lie to the kid,” He turned to you, “You’re both going to die here,”

You shook your head. No, no you weren’t. You weren’t going to believe some idiot over Hotch. Not after the month you had known each other - he had never lied to you and you trusted him completely, and that wasn’t going to stop now. “No, Hotch doesn’t lie,” You insisted, Hotch found the corner of his mouth turning upwards, glad that you still trusted him after he led you into this situation.

The man in the mask laughed, “It’s sweet that you think that, really it is,” He snorted, “But you’ll see the truth soon enough,”

You didn’t answer, focusing all your rage into a glare aimed at that stupid mask. He kicked himself off the wall as he walked closer, “It’s alright, soon you’ll realise that I’m the only one you can trust,”

You huffed a laugh, despite your pain. “You’re funny, really, you’re funny,” The eyes behind the mask flashed with fury, storming up to you, he grabbed you by the collar, lifting you up, and slamming you against the wall, causing you to cry out in pain - both from the barbed wire, and the jolt on your foot it caused. Aaron gave an enraged yell as he struggled against his restraints, not caring as they dug further into his skin, as his blood slowly cascaded down his hands.

“Well? What do you say after you hurt someone’s feelings?” When you don’t answer, the unsub rolls his eyes, slamming you into the wall again. “Well?!”

“S-sorry!”

“Good, just don’t let it happen again,” He said, letting you drop to the floor in a heap, “I wouldn’t want to hurt you. Understood?” You nod. He bent down, leaning close to you, “Just to make sure you do…” He stood, walking over to Hotch, he kicked him to the ground, you watched with wide eyes as the steel toe of the unsub’s shoe repeatedly landed itself into Hotch’s side.

“Stop!” The word was so rushed it felt like you weren’t the one saying it, “Stop! Get off him! Stop! Leave him alone!” You fought against the wire sat on your wrists, ignore the warm blood that dripped down your wrists to your hands, you pulled against the trap on instinct, not caring for the pain it caused. You needed to stop him. You needed to help Hotch.

The unsub turned on his heels and left, shutting the door behind him. He took most of the light with him too, dialling down the setting to it’s lowest possible whilst still producing light.

"Well," You mumbled, face pale and clammy, "I think it’s safe to say that this wasn't supposed to happen," Hotch huffed a laugh, wincing at the pain it caused in his chest. You frowned, eyes focused on the floor in front of you, "I'm sorry,"

"This isn't your fault, (Y/N)." His voice was stern, you looked down at the floor. "I promise you, this isn't your fault."

“I should have been more aware of my surroundings,” You slurred, “‘ll be more aware n’xt time sir,”

“(Y/N),” Aaron responded sternly, “This isn’t your fault, neither of us knew this was going to happen. The team will find us, and we will both be okay,”

Unsure of what to say, you gave a short nod. It must have been hours. Your leg throbbed dully to the rhythm of your heartbeat and it was slowly driving you crazy. You just wanted to sleep, but Hotch wouldn’t let you. Everytime he noticed your eyes beginning to droop, he’d ask you a question about a previous case, or your opinion on a technique, or your favourite thing. Just anything to keep you awake.

“(Y/N)?” Hotch said, “What’s the best interview technique to use?”

“Depends,” You hummed.

“Yeah? What’s it depend on?”

“Factors based on the witness,”

“What’s Morgan’s favourite type of interview?”

“Cognitive,” You said with a small chuckle.

The door swung open, your head snapped towards it. The blood loss might be getting to you, you blinked slowly, hoping that your double vision would go (although, it was more like triple vision).

One of the figures went to Hotch, you followed the figure, you had to make sure Hotch was okay. Two of the figures approached you. God, you hoped this was just a bad dream. One crouched by your leg and you instinctively tried to pull it closer to you, whimpering when it caused a wave of pain to ripple through your body. The other figure crouched in front of you.

“Hey, kid, you’re okay,” His voice was soft. You knew that voice from somewhere. Where did you know that voice? You blinked sluggishly before it clicked.

“Morgan?” You asked, blinking up at the figure in front of you, trying your best to stop it from blurring. You had to see who it was. You had to make sure Hotch was okay. He was the team leader, he was needed. You blinked again, the face of Derek Morgan coming into view. “You here?”

“Yeah, I’m here kid,” He answered, “We got the bastard, we’re just going to get you and Hotch to the hospital, okay?” You hummed, fighting back sleep. “Hey, hey, I need you to stay awake, okay?”

You nodded. Stay awake. You could do that. “Okay,” You replied.

“Good, that’s good, kid,” He answered, “I’m just getting this wire off you’re wrists, okay? Then we’re getting your leg out of that trap okay?”

“‘T’s still there?”

“Yeah, kid, it’s still there,”

“Huh,” Morgan’s eyes flicked up, sharing a concerned look with Rossi, who was currently cutting the wire that bound Hotch. Hotch was oddly quiet, eyes trained on (Y/N) with worry, watching his every move. “This whole day’s been wild man,”

Clipping the wires, he managed to pry them from your wrists as gently as possible before he sat behind you to ensure you wouldn’t fall back. He nodded at Spencer, who inched closer to the contraption on your leg. You gave another whimper, trying to edge away. “I know, kid, I know, it’s going to be okay, you’re gonna be fine,”

“We’re here now, (Y/N), you’re going to be okay,” You turned your head, meeting eyes with Hotch, who gave a soft nod and a small, comforting smile. You relaxed in Morgan’s arms, finally allowing your body to rest. You were safe, your team was here. You were going to be okay.

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topios · 6 months

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It's my birthday, so have one of the few existing attempts to draw my fave OC Noir in his original shape*

*Look, I have about 6 AU versions each of which has several variations I can fit this lil jerk into basically any setting if you give me a day and some basic lore. I love him. He's annoying and snarky and deep down a good but very troubled kid.

#digital art #ocs #oc artwork #original character #blood #minor injury #he absolutely got that by getting punched in the face #yes I will take questions about him #the only reason I haven't posted a billion arts of him is I don't enjoy drawing humans #why I haven't drawn a million arts of his space moth version is uhh #a mystery #my art #fun fact the freckles are never mentioned in any descriptions and I only added them after a while #fun fact 2 I rarely ever actually describe him visually so basically I had details and “has to look punchable” to work with #I do like the design but humans are haaaard

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 1 month

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Ever in our favour

CHAPTER EIGHT - FINALE

[Table Of Contents]

Summary: The final fight... Who survives this deadly ordeal? Warnings: canon-typical violence, descriptions of mutated creatures, descriptions of blood and injuries, minor character deaths, brief mention of familial abuse Author's Note: Well, this is it! The last update of this series, I can officially mark this one as completed! It's been a long time coming, and I took a long hiatus halfway through, but I'm so incredibly proud of myself for finishing this story, and how well it turned out! Let me know what you think, comments are my life's blood!

You were so excited! It must’ve been silly, or would’ve been if anyone else had known about it. But you didn’t mind being a little silly, a little love-struck, since you wouldn’t be feeling much of anything but fear here soon. So you welcomed it, and rubbed the little scrap of paper between your finger and thumb once again, feeling the easy glide of the shiny material. You weren’t sure how he managed to sneak a scrap, or even how he managed to write the words on there, but you weren’t complaining.

“Stairwell D has roof access…

Midnight?”

You had also noticed a small smudge at the end of the words like Peeta had written something before trying to erase it. Something small, almost like a drawing. When you stared at it before, in your room, you had imagined and hoped it was a tiny heart. You can understand wanting to wipe that away, just in case. In case someone found the paper, or perhaps he thought you didn’t return his feelings? Well, in your fantasy, he had feelings for you. In reality, it was a bit harder to tell.

You felt like you had eyes on you constantly. In the training areas, obviously, but also in the hallways and living areas, even your bedroom. It felt… invasive. Though you supposed, your death will be recorded as live entertainment soon. You would wonder where the line was, but you didn’t think there was one. Or, perhaps, it was on the roof access? You’d hoped, at least, that there’d be no cameras. That you could finally talk to each other, alone, unafraid of your words.

You were currently making your way there. Supposedly, you were sleeping back on floor 9, in your extravagant and unnecessarily wide bed. Instead, you had slipped out, quiet as a mouse as you stuck to the walls, searching for the correct stairwell. This probably would’ve gone better if you’d scouted it out, but the moment you had read the note you’d began to make your way out. You hadn’t felt safe taking it out any sooner, until after you’d retired to your room. It might still be an hour early, but you wouldn’t mind the wait.

You’d already checked the stairwell on the eastern side of the building, but it hadn’t been the right letter. You hoped you’d find it soon, as you really didn’t want to be caught out here. Luckily, as you turned the next corner, the large D sat above a door, the stairwell symbol next to the handle. You rushed quickly, hand skirting over the cold medal as you pushed your way in.

The stairwell was quiet. You’d thought the hallway was too, but there had been this slight buzzing sound before. Now it’s like everything in the world was still. You hesitated on your floor a moment longer, closing your eyes and basking in the stillness of it. This was what you missed from District Nine. The peace and quiet, the serenity of the waves of grain and- the loneliness of it all. You opened your eyes and could feel a smile playing on your lips. You were ready to see him.

You began to rush up the steps, around and around, counting the floors. Ten, Eleven, Twelve. You leaned over the railing and peaked upward, one more stairwell to go. You could see the moonlight shining through the windows above. You held back a giggle by biting your lip, readying yourself to run up those last few steps. The door opened behind you.

You gasped and spun around, picking your hands up in a defensive stance. Just as you turned around, you noticed her turning back around as well, as if she was looking behind her to make sure she wasn’t being watched as she pushed through the door. You lock eyes with one of the most popular tributes in this season. Katniss Everdeen.

You both startle, and hesitate. The door closes behind her and you’re once again shunted into that noiseless space, the sound of both of your breaths mixing in the air. You made to take a step back but almost tripped on the stair upward, grabbing the railing to keep yourself standing. You huff an awkward laugh, glancing up, then back to her. “Did he invite you too?”

She looks confused at first, her eyebrows pinching together and down. You hesitate for a moment, glancing up once more before back to her, then behind her. She shakes her head slowly, lowering her arms. “No,” She whispers, “No, what do you mean? Who invited…?” She trails off, unsure of her own words. You try a small smile, but it feels forced.

“Peeta. He invited me to the roof,” You point up toward the stairwell, toward where you were itching to go. He still might not be there, but the idea that he was or would be? “I thought for a second that he invited you too.”

“Peeta,” She begins, tilting her head, then looking up. “I saw him going this way, I just thought…” She trails off again as if all of the dots are finally connecting in her head. She meets your gaze, her piercing stare directly into you. “What is your deal anyway?”

“What?” You ask on instinct, flinching very slightly. You shake your head and attempt to force a smile once more. “What do you mean?”

“You keep hanging around Peeta,” She lifts a finger, pointing it loosely in your direction. “In- In the training rooms. After Caesar’s shows. Anytime I look for Peeta, you’re there too.” She takes a step forward toward you, “What do you want with Peeta?”

“What do I want-” You repeat her slowly as if trying to comprehend the question. Did she suspect you of playing him? Why did she even care, Peeta had said Katniss never pays him any mind? “I don’t want anything with him. I-” You stutter slowly, shrugging, “I mean, besides his time. If he was willing to spare any.”

“You’re trying to gain his trust, why? Are you going to betray him in the arena? Or use him until it’s time to cut him off?” She takes another step forward, dropping her arm and glaring at you. “Or did you plan to string him along to the final two, just to off him then?”

“No,” You try to argue, shaking your head quickly. “No, of course not.”

“There’s nothing else this could be,” Katniss argues, shaking her head as well, albeit slower. “You know what this is just as well as I do. We’re not just going in there to die. We’re going in there to kill each other.” She said those words harshly, each word enunciated with intent. You could feel them shake your core. “We’re not just sacrificing ourselves, we’re-” She huffs a laugh, though you doubt it was one of humour. “We’re being forced into submission by a Capitol that doesn’t care about family, or hope, or love.”

You flinched on the last word. You tried not to, but you flinched, and you knew Katniss had seen it. She widened her eyes, falling back a step. Your head shakes quickly, taking a step forward. “No, please, Katniss. You have to believe me. I know all of that. I know what we’re being thrown into, how hostile this entire thing is. But I-” Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears springing to your eyes. “I don’t care how this game plays out, I could never hurt Peeta. So, you don’t need to worry about me.” You shrugged your shoulders, the disparity weighing on them. “If you’re worried about Peeta, just know I’ll give my life to make sure he wins.”

She breathes heavier, and emotions- fear, disbelief, anger- flicker through her eyes in rapid succession. You’re surprised she’s so easy to read, how was she surviving here in the Capitol? She raises her finger again, taking a hard step forward to poke you in the chest. “Leave Peeta alone. Run from him in the arena. Stay. Away. From him.” She backs up until her back hits the door.

“I won’t hurt him,” You whisper, tears coming to your eyes. Nothing she could say would deter you, of course. You were still going up those stairs, still going to see him, still going to meet up with him in the arena and protect him with everything you had.

“Don’t you see?” Katniss whispers, snarling at you, her own tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. “This. Doing this, giving him this hope. That is what will hurt him. Seeing you die. Don’t you get it?” She’s shaking her head as she pushes open the door, wandering back to her own floor and leaving you with the buzzing and the silence and the tears, slowly dripping down your face.

The talking ends as Marvel hoists his spear above his head, horizontally. He was rearing back, ready to throw, as Katniss let loose her arrow. It hits his elbow, causing him to drop his spear and rear back in pain. All three of you began running, Peeta just ahead of you to your left and Katniss off to the right side. Glimmer was rushing toward Katniss, Marvel nearby but distracted. You and Peeta sprinted toward Cato and Clove, both of whom had a manic but pleased smirk on their face. Peeta was rushing to drop a backpack strap, trying to hoist it around himself, and just managed to raise it in front of his head as Clove threw the first of her daggers. Cato swings his sword in a circle, then arcs it down right as he expects Peeta to be in range.

Clove grabs another dagger, her eyes on Peeta. He was dodging around Cato’s sword swings, trying to somehow be more agile than he normally was. You’d already seen a slice bleeding on his arm, the backpack sliced open and dropping its contents. An arrow whizzes by, and you draw in a deep breath, watching Clove raise another hand. You raise your own- this knife was useless, too flimsy, too close range- and throw it with all of your might. The knife spins in the air and the aim is off and wobbly. It won’t hit her, but it doesn’t need to. She doesn’t throw the knife she had aimed, jumping back away from your throw uselessly.

She looks up to you, growling into the air. She begins to charge, tackling you to the ground. You both struggle, but she has knives hooked in her hands, short and hardly painful cuts appearing on your skin everywhere you look. You heave, then heave again and you flash back to pushing Thresh’s body off of you before he died fully, and Clove was suddenly thrown from atop you, onto her side and crying out. You stumbled, throwing yourself on top of her and grabbing one of her hands with both of your own, shaking and yanking downward. She drops one knife as she stabs you in the back with another, and you cry out but reach forward, finally grasping hold of a capable weapon just before being slung off of the teen girl.

You roll, then look directly up to Cato, dodging your head to the side just as a sword buries into the ground above your shoulder. Cato’s body is tackled away, the blurry form of Peeta wrestling him to the ground as Clove stands behind where they just were, readying to tackle you. You throw your boots out, kicking her in the stomach during her dive and redirecting her to the side. You scramble quickly after that, trying to get your own feet under you. You tuck the dagger into a pocket and take hold of the sword’s hilt, yanking it out and feeling the heft. It was heavy, and you had to wield it with two hands just to swing it properly. Clove, standing, cackles at you.

“You really think you could wield that? You?” She rushes and you swing wildly. Despite Clove’s taunting, a sword is still a sword. Your swing is wobbly, but the sword is faced in the right direction, and it cleaves into Clove’s arm without issue. You wince from pain as your back pulls, the fresh wound made apparent, watching Clove stumble back in shock. She presses a hand to her arm, pulling it back to widen her eyes at the sight of her blood. She looks up at you, startled, then throws a dagger. It hits your shoulder- she must’ve thrown in a panic- and you gasp in pain, dropping the sword to the ground.

You reach a hand up to your shoulder, grasping the knife as you watch Clove turn tail and begin running. Glimmer was on the ground, motionless, with Katniss kneeling in the dirt and aiming an arrow at Marvel. He was favouring his injured arm, but he still swung his spear around in arcs, trying to hit Katniss. She rolled back once, then twice, and you see Clove still running, and getting away, and Peeta is calling out in pain and there’s no time.

“Katniss!” You yell for her, and she turns to look at you just as Marvel stumbles and falls to the ground, an arrow sticking out from his thigh. You point, yelling, “Clove!” You both turn at the same time as the dark-haired, pinched-faced teen girl grabs ahold of- of Rue! She spins her around and holds a knife to her throat and-

Katniss looses her arrow, straight through the middle of Clove’s chest. She falls backwards, and Rue immediately takes off running once she feels the girl’s grip fall from her. Rue is crying, it seems, tears streaming down her face. Katniss is held down by Marvel, struggling, and Peeta- ‘Where’s Peeta?’

You’re tackled to the ground, a familiar sword gleaming brightly right against your throat. “I know I said I’d save you for last,” Cato grabs your head with his other hand, lifting and smacking it down quickly. Your vision turns blurry as you try to orient yourself. “But I always relished the idea of your death. I told them you were mine, you know?”

You haven’t stopped struggling once, but you were no match in strength. You threw your head, regardless of the threat above you, rapidly side to side. You couldn’t see him, you couldn’t see Peeta. Cato sat up straight, taking the sword vertically, placing the very tip against your throat. You swallow and feel the blade cut just lightly with how close it is to you. You finally look up once more, raising your hands to try to push Cato’s hands back but it’s useless, and you’re stuck once again and how do these people keep pinning you down?

As Peeta- because of course it is, who else would it be?- tackles Cato off of your chest, you flash back to every single time he’s done that already. In the very beginning, when you woke up. At the river, after you saved his life. His attempt with Thresh.

You shoot up and scramble to your feet, watching as Peeta ruthlessly picks up the discarded sword, lifts it above his head, and brings it down. You watch as it slices clean across his throat- Cato, killed by his own weapon. Rue tackles into you, and it forces you a step back, but barely. You hold her to yourself, looking around quickly. Peeta, standing and dropping a bloodied sword. Rue, panting with fear and exhaustion against you.

Katniss, heaving with breath and with blood pouring from her nose, raises her bow and notches her final arrow, immediately turning to set it on you. Marvel was lying to her side, likely dead as well now. You feel a flashback from earlier in the day quickly cross your mind, though the rest of your thoughts pool to, ‘This is it, finally. I guess that’s okay. At least I know Peeta is safe…’

You’ve never seen him move so fast in your life. He dives in front of you, stumbling in his effort to stop his forward momentum. He turns to face her directly, falling backwards into you. You catch him, of course you catch him, and hold onto his back as he reaches back to hold onto you as well, one of his hands pressing against Rue’s fluff of hair. His voice is rough with exertion as he yells out, “No!”

“You-” She lowers her bow slightly, the arrow still pulled taut. “They betrayed us!”

“No, they didn’t!” He yells back, shaking his head furiously.

“You heard what Cato said!”

“He’s lying!”

“Well, we can’t ask them, can we? They’d just lie.” She raises her bow again, placing the string against her mouth.

“They don’t remember!” He calls out, his voice wrecked. You tighten your hold on Peeta, ready to shove him to the side at a moment’s notice.

“They-” Katniss lowers her bow again, looking at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief. “So what? You’re running on blind faith? On hope?”

“What else is there?” Peeta screams, taking a step forward and breaking the hold between the two of you. “If we don’t have hope, then what do we have? Nothing!”

The barking gets louder suddenly, out of nowhere, and all three of you turn to see the mutated mutts. Where once they clawed at an invisible barrier- that barrier seems to have disappeared. They were running, fast and agile and straight for all of you. The four of you turn immediately, beginning an all-out sprint, similar to earlier. You knew you could outrun them, you just had to use all of your stamina to do so. Rue begins to fall behind, limping pitifully, and you watch as Peeta takes in a deep breath and runs back, reaching down and scooping up one arm of Rue, hoisting her up. You manage to steel yourself in place until they can catch up, scooping up her other arm and resuming your sprint with them in tow.

You didn’t realise where you were running at first, just following along. But the cornucopia shines brightly in the sun, glimmering and almost blinding you as you run directly for it. You all practically slam against it, and you and Peeta work at throwing Rue as far up as you can, holding her feet as she scrambles to the top. Peeta, once no longer able to reach her, turns quickly to look behind you with panic. He laces his hands and yells, “Jump!” You have no time to react, just using his hands as a step, he hoists you up as well. You scramble, slip, and as much as Rue tries to help she really has no strength behind it.

The moment you’re secure in the fact that you won’t fall, you immediately spin around and reach a hand down. Peeta takes a running leap and takes hold of you, and you try to pull him as his feet catch on the slippery gold- streaked with blood. You grunt, watching the dogs race up and begin lunging, clawing, trying with all of their mutated power to reach him. He cries out as a few claws catch his shins, then throws his other hand out. Katniss is next to you, you don’t know when she got there but she did, and she took hold of his other hand with both of hers. With your combined power, you managed to pull him up.

You breathe.

You finally breathe, and the mutts are scrambling at the bottom of the cornucopia but there’s nothing they can do, they can’t get up here. Rue is panting and crying and burying her face into Peeta’s jacket. He pets her hair as he stares directly at you, and you let your eyes roam to the last person. Katniss, now standing, stares down at the mutts. She still has one arrow left, the one that had just been aimed at you. You all left the weapons behind, just a dagger in your pocket- one buried in your shoulder, still- that would be no help against these dog-like mutations. Katniss seems to come to the same conclusion, her eyes roaming the writhing mass of bodies beneath you.

You push yourself up enough to lean on your elbows, watching Rue finally stop crying and take deep breaths, peaking her head out to look between everyone. Even Peeta finally tears his gaze from you, raising it to the standing Katniss. She looks to the sky, her face void of emotion, then raises three fingers to her lips. She kisses them, then raises the salute into the air. You didn’t know what it was, or what it meant, but it seemed symbolic.

The next thing you know, she’s notching her final arrow once more- your own hand shoots to the dagger in your pocket. It may not be of any aid against those mutations, but you’d fight her to the death. You would kill her if it came to it. However, she doesn’t aim it toward you. She lifts the bow, aiming the bolt directly for the sun. She looses the arrow and you all watch as it soars through the air, upward. More, and more, until it’s just a blur, until it's a speck and you can’t see it anymore. And then the world pulses.

Not exactly the world, mind, but the sky definitely. From wherever that arrow was, you assume, it’s like a pulse-wave shoots outward. Once, but then again. As it pulses a third time, there are more waves, and once more before it stops looking like waves altogether. The sun blinks and flickers, and the middle of the sky seems to be caving in. The sky was falling, down around the four of you, large metal pieces and chunks that could kill you if it landed atop you. But they fall and fall and suddenly a different sort of light is pouring in through the holes. You weren’t sure how you believed the faulty imitation to be the real sun before when you see it now.

A shadow falls across your group as everyone begins to stand, and you feel a large hand slot into yours as Peeta takes hold of you with a firm grip. You look at him, unsure what is happening. This was the end, for sure. If this was the Capitol, you were all dead. But who else would it be? Some mystical saviour here to stop the Hunger Games once and for all? You remember joking about that with Peeta before, but the possibility was close to zero.

You hear the beats of what could only be helicopter blades, right as you hear harsh metal screeching fill the air. The mutts were being scared off, running and yipping back into the forest. But their absence reveals the source of the screeching; large metal pipes rising into the arena, evenly placed through the entire grounds as far as the eye could see. You watch as they begin to release a green-coloured gas into the air.

You turn quickly toward Peeta, the hand holding Peeta’s hand lifts and rests atop Rue’s head, your other hand reaching out for his cheek. This was it, whatever happens. You duck forward and kiss Peeta as if it’s your last. He pulls you in by the waist with his spare hand, and the last thing you feel before the blackness takes over is Peeta’s lips on yours.

You wipe the tears away as you take the final steps up the stairs, looking out of the small window on the door. You could see him. Peeta was sitting on the edge of the roof, looking over the side with a small smile on his face. Was Katniss right? Were you just hurting Peeta by loving him?

You pull the door open and step outside, the crunch of your feet on the gravel underfoot drawing Peeta’s attention to you. He sits up straight, smiling brightly over. “It’s early. I guess we both had the same idea?”

“I couldn’t wait,” You admit quietly, smiling shyly. You continue your approach, moving to sit across from him on the wall. “Although, I did run into somebody in the halls.” The shock and worry on Peeta’s face were reassuring as he sat forward quickly, easily taking your hands into his own. You weren’t expecting such quick affection, after trying to keep yourselves distant in the training halls.

“What happened? Did you get in trouble?”

“Oh, no,” You tried to reassure, forcing a smile and idly rubbing his hands with your thumbs. “Nothing like that. I saw Katniss.” His face fell from worry to confusion, tilting his head slightly to the side like a puppy. He really was adorable. The lights from the Capitol lit up his hair in an array of colours, and his eyes were just that right shade of blue that reminded you of home. You didn’t stand a chance when it came to him.

“Katniss? What was she doing?”

“Following you, I think,” You whisper, biting your lip hesitantly. You look away, out toward the cityscape around you. You hadn’t taken in the sight since you arrived on the roof, too taken with the image of Peeta. The city was colourful and grand, and you could see yourself thinking it was beautiful if it didn’t run on the lives of children. “She threatened me though.” You felt his hands tighten around yours, tugging gently. You assumed he was trying to get you to look at him, but you kept your head turned.

“What?”

“She told me to stay away from you.” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes, and you sniff as you turn back to face him finally. From the look on his face, he could see the wetness reflected in your eyes. “At first she thought I was out to get you. And then, she said that just being with you like this, or meeting up in the arena, was just going to end up bad for you. That it’ll hurt you more than just me avoiding you.”

“That’s not true,” Peeta is quick to reassure, scooting closer and raising a hand to place on your cheek. “I know we haven’t had the proper time to talk yet, without everyone listening and watching. That’s why I asked you here, anyway. But I don’t think I could go into that arena without you. I don’t know if I could’ve made it this far without your humour and encouragement.”

“You don’t mean that Peeta,” You sigh out, letting the self-doubt take control. “We hardly know each other, and like you said, we’ve barely been able to actually speak our minds.”

“Well here’s my mind then,” Peeta whispers, leaning closer. “I didn’t know someone like you existed. Someone so sweet and hilarious, that you’d practice setting traps and accidentally spring one and still apologize. We laughed and you apologized still- even though we’re supposed to be doing this for real here soon. Even though he had been screaming and threatening you the entire time.” You chuckled lightly at the memory of Marvel being hoisted into the air, his face red with anger and blood. “You saw me picking the wrong herbs and berries, and instead of letting me off and rightly assuming I’d die in the arena to poison, you came over and taught me instead. I was enamoured with you from that point on.”

“I was sooner than that,” You admit quietly, a small smile playing on your lips. “You weren’t dressed as coal miners before the chariots went off. We locked eyes-”

“I remember that,” Peeta whispers quickly, his smile widening as he scoots even closer. Your knees were touching and his hand that had been resting on your cheek was now set on your hip. “I’d say I noticed you then, but all I really noticed was a long stalk of grain.” You bark out a surprised laugh, nodding.

“Our costumes are never very good.”

“I liked the wheat crown though.” He leans forward, and you see the sky in his eyes once more. “I liked yours better though. The one you wore when they called your name.” Your mind immediately flashes back to that day, wearing that itchy outfit and bashfully pulling the dead crown of stalks off of your head. Everyone keeps mentioning it like it’s so important.

“I learned to weave them from old friends back in Nine.”

“All I learned back in Twelve was how to bake bread and how to take a beating.” You look up quickly, eyes filled with worry and affection. You open your mouth to speak, but he shakes his head. “No, don’t. It’s fine. It only happened when I did something that we couldn’t afford, like give out bread to the hungry and dying.” You blow out the air from your mouth, pursing your lips.

“Things really are pretty tough in District Twelve, aren’t they?” Peeta only nods blandly, staring into your eyes. You continue, lowering your voice further. “But I guess it doesn’t matter then, does it?”

“Not for me anymore,” Peeta agrees, his head just barely nodding that you don’t think he even noticed. He sighs, a pained expression crossing his face. “Y/N… I don’t think we’re going to survive the games.”

“I don’t think so either,” You begin, but leave out the part that you’d sacrifice yourself for him in a heartbeat if it meant he survived. You had a feeling he felt the same.

“I don’t want them to change me.” You pull on Peeta’s hands as he whispers this, watching tears begin to fill his eyes. “I don’t want them to make me into something I’m not.”

“They won’t,” You try to reassure, adamant about it.

“You don’t know that-”

“I know that we can watch each other. Make sure neither of us changes.” You watch Peeta bite his lip, and you raise one of your hands to wipe the tears that begin to spill from his eyes. “We can die together, with love and hope in our hearts.” Peeta nods slightly, then coughs out a laugh. You tilt your head, wondering why.

“What if we survive, though? What if we’re the final two?” You blink a few times, watching the trepidation in his eyes.

“I think we both know-”

“You aren’t dying.”

“Neither are you.” You sigh, smiling softly. “As I was saying, I think we both know that neither of us are willing to kill each other. So I guess, whatever the game makers have in store.” You shrug, taking both of his hands in a firm grasp. “If we refuse to kill, they’ll send something out to kill us anyway.” Peeta looks shocked momentarily, as if this thought had never occurred to him. He thinks it over, then steels his expression with a smirk.

“We don’t need to go in there and just lay over and die, though.” You watch his resolution, his absolute faith in you. It fills you with inspiration. “We go in there and we try our damndest. If we watch each other’s back- actually, legitimately watch over each other and not just turn on each other later like the Careers or any other alliance- then I think we have a chance.” Your smile grows, and you can’t help yourself.

“Who knows? If we play up the romance enough, maybe they’ll let us both win.”

You were being pushed and prodded, forced toward the halls and through the doors that’ll eventually lead to you in the arena. You weren’t ready- of course, you didn’t think anyone was, but you haven’t seen Peeta since the training area. You hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye, to say you’ll meet up, to say-

You shook your head, dispelling the thought that he’d die immediately from your head. You’ll meet up. You’ll be on those platforms, and look around for him, and you’ll run together. You have to trust it, believe in it. You have to hope.

“Y/N!” You turn quickly, still being pushed toward a door opposite the sound of the voice. You were in a rather large room with a multitude of doors, about a quarter of the tributes being transferred to their positions. Peeta was being pushed toward his own door at the end of the hall, and he pulled his shoulder free from the soldier. They grab him again, but he yanks harder and begins to run toward you. You suck in a breath, not having to pull anyone’s hands off of you as you’d been listening before now, and take off running to meet him.

You crash together in the middle, Peeta wrapping his arms around your torso and holding you close. You could see his soldiers coming for him over his shoulder and were sure he was seeing the same of your own.

“What did Cato say?” Peeta’s voice was low and fast, and he raised one hand to place it on your cheek. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in close for a hug so you can whisper into his ear.

“He wants Katniss. He hoped my alliance with you would extend to her, said to bring her to the cornucopia and he wouldn’t hurt me. I told him I’d do nothing without-” The soldiers were pulling, tugging on you both, but you held fast. “Without you too. He doesn’t believe that I care about you, just laughed.”

You both are pulled back enough that you can look into each other’s eyes, Peeta’s own calculating. You don’t hear him say anything in response to it, but you were sure you’d hear of it in the arena. You knew he wasn’t mad, but you could also tell he didn’t trust Cato. You didn’t either. There was an understanding between you, on this at least.

“I’ll see you in there-” He begins, before being cut off by the soldier’s shouts.

“Let’s go! Move it!”

“Meet me-!” You begin before you’re yanked roughly. You cry out as your shoulder flares in an abrupt but quick pain, and you watch Peeta’s eyes flash in anger. He gets away from his soldier just enough to push yours away from you, yelling out in anger. Two sets of hands find themselves on Peeta now, pulling his arms back and restraining him. You rush forward.

You didn’t know what you were doing until it happened. You placed both hands on his cheeks and leaned in, pressing your lips to his. They were soft and lovely and he moved his head as far forward as he could to kiss you back. Your first kiss- ever, not just with Peeta- and it was mind-blowing, amazing in a way you couldn’t describe. You tried to inch closer, push into the kiss more, before you were forcibly yanked back away from him.

“Peeta!” You call out, watching him kick and struggle as he’s dragged away by three soldiers, out through his door. The moment it closed behind him, you’d stopped struggling. The soldiers dragged you toward your own door, then through it to your own demise.

You gasp awake, the sterile smell of alcohol and disinfectants assaulting your senses. You’re surrounded by white- white bedsheets, white curtains surrounding your bed, white walls, white curved ceiling. Beeps and jingles fill the room at various points- one harsh beeping right next to your ear- but you can hear no voices or sounds of danger. Obviously, this looked like some kind of med bay. But why would you be in a med bay? Was this some new sick twist to the games?

One of your curtains is pulled open harshly, and a tall lady with her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun gasps loudly in surprise. Her eyes widen as she looks you in the eyes before quickly swiping the curtain back closed with a loud metal ‘zing!’ You open your mouth to call out to her, to ask where you are, but you can’t get your voice to work.

You begin to panic, pushing harder and it hurts, until finally you hear a raspy breath and the slight sound of your voice through your panic. Memories flash backwards through time until you can clearly see Thresh atop you, holding you down by the neck. Your neck must’ve gotten worse after you fell unconscious. You try your best to sit up, pain shooting through your shoulder and up your back. As the bedsheet falls, you see your chest wrapped up in those very spots- no blood showing, but as tight as can be. You feel something crinkle on your neck and reach up, gently feeling some soft cloth laid across your neck. You could tell there was ointment there, the cloth just there to keep it covered.

You gently lean back against your pillows, looking down at the tubes running into your arm and electrodes placed in various places of your body. You glance at the machine next to you, the loud beeping one, and try to study the different graphs, lines, and bars. You couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Zing, the curtain slides again, and you look up quickly. There’s another man there, one you don’t recognize with blond hair that falls to his shoulders, and an older complexion with grey, unsettling eyes. He wore rugged clothes, with a beanie pulled over his hair, that gave him an air of unprofessionalism- he couldn’t be the doctor here. He stares at you hard for a moment before stepping in, closing the curtain behind him and finally taking an unsolicited seat on your bed beside your legs.

You open your mouth to speak again but think better of it and close it once more. You hear the man chuckle, crossing his arms. You begin to look around frantically, looking for anything that might indicate what you’re wanting to say. You pat the bed, reach to the bedside and slide open all of the drawers, and just as you’re beginning to check under the pillows, the man reaches a hand out and tries to calm you down.

“Okay, okay. Okay!” He takes both hands and forcefully sets them down in your lap. He gives you a hard look, patting your hands before leaning back again. He’s quiet for another moment, and it is getting to the point that you’re about to start looking for a pen and paper once more when he finally speaks up again. “I assume you want to ask after Peeta.”

Your eyes widen, nodding quickly and without thinking, wincing from the pain in your neck. You lean forward, eager to hear. “He’s fine. He’s asleep- well, unconscious right now.” You tilt your head and can feel your face expressing your worry. “That green gas that was emitted at the end of the games was a knock-out gas, the Capitol was trying to keep us from saving you. Honestly, it just helped our escape, we were able to scoop all of you up without a fight.

“Peeta was the first to wake up from the gas, while we were getting everyone situated in their beds at the medbay. He was struggling like no other, trying to find his way to you. Shouting your name over and over, calling us all Capitol pigs- he wouldn’t listen, no matter what they said.” He hesitates, looking you over before adding on, “We’re not the Capitol by the way.” You furrow your brow, wanting to ask what this was- what they were- but he continues on anyway. “They had to pull me from the war council to come in and calm him down.” Your face furrows even more, falling backwards against your pillow with another wince. ‘Why would this man calm Peeta down…?’

“He saw me-” His eyes had been roaming, as well as his hands, while he spoke, but he gives you a side-eye now. “Oh, right. Haymitch, by the way. The only District Twelve victor.” He holds his hand out to shake, but you take too long as he withdraws it back anyway. “Peeta saw me and calmed down enough for me to tell him that you’re all safe. You all are, by the way. We made it in time to save all four of you. Katniss was our main target, but we’d been watching the games. She wouldn’t leave without Peeta, and Peeta wouldn’t leave without you.” He shrugs, and you take a deep breath. ‘Of course, this is about Katniss. Who else would this be about.’ “Rue is also safe. Everyone was glad of that, of course. We had a chance to save one of the youngest kids to go into the arena, and we took it.” He blows out a breath, and you begin to wonder if this strength was a facade, as you see a small crack in it when he speaks of Rue.

“Anyway, he kept struggling, even against me. ‘Kept saying he needed to see you, to see you were safe and unharmed and make sure-” He stops, sighing heavily. “They injected him with something to knock him out while they dressed his wounds, but he’s fine.” He studies your tense posture, coming to some kind of conclusion in his head. “I’ll let you see him. Here-” He reaches forward, ready to begin pulling the tube from your arm as the curtain swings open once more.

“Haymitch-” The voice is startled, but falls quickly to stern, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Someone had to reassure this one. You saw how Peeta got.” You make a noise, mostly like a whine, but both sets of eyes turn toward you. The new person was wearing a long white coat like a doctor- you assumed that’s what they were. You nod quickly, turning back to Haymitch with wide eyes. He turns to the doctor with a smirk. “They want to see him.”

“Well, they can’t get out of bed. They’re injured, they need-”

“What they need,” Haymitch growls out, pulling the tube from your arm as you wince, and you watch his face as he begins to pull the electrodes from the different places on your body, “Is to see the man they spent close to a week protecting and healing and defending.” Haymitch glares over his shoulder, but his face falls to a kindness you hadn’t thought you’d see from him when he looks back at you. “You’ve already wrapped them up, and the rest are superficial injuries. Let them go see their friends.”

The moment all the wires were taken off, you swung your feet to the side and began to stand. You feel slightly wobbly, so you go slow, not wanting to give the doctor any other reason to argue. You can already hear whispered complaints from the doctor to Haymitch, but you ignore them both in favour of pushing the curtains aside. The room was small, filled with similar cubicles of white. You limp over to the closest, gently pulling the curtain back to peak inside. You recognize her instantly from the bushy hair lying across the pillows- a sleeping and peaceful-looking Rue lays in this bed. She was so small that the bed dwarfed her in comparison, but seeing her alive and well was enough to make your knees weak. You walk inside just enough to press a kiss to her forehead before backing out once more.

You glance over, seeing Haymitch’s stare on you as you move across the room slowly. You glance between the left and right cubicles, turning to glance at Haymitch once more. He says something to the doctor without looking at them but nods his head to the left subtly. You take this and run with it, approaching the curtains on the left. Gently, you pull back to peek.

You couldn’t explain the feeling of relief that hit you when you saw Peeta’s face lying gently on the bed. His hair just slightly fanned out around him like a blond halo, his eyes peacefully pressed closed without pressure. He looked soft, approachable- he looked like you needed to defend him, in all honesty, but you were just hoping that Haymitch’s presence meant you wouldn’t have the need to. You walk in, pulling the curtain closed behind you as quietly as you can. Similar to Haymitch earlier, you walk forward and take a seat by his legs.

You’re hesitant at first, but slowly you build up the courage to reach forward and slot one hand in Peeta’s closest one. He doesn’t flinch, but you feel the pressure of his hand grow tighter on yours, like unconsciously he wanted to hold your hand back. You realize you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself not to. You survived, you both did, after being so sure that neither of you would. It’s a miracle, honestly, and you didn’t want to risk taking your eyes off of him for even a moment.

You’re unsure how much time has passed before Peeta’s face begins to scrunch up. You tilt your head, leaning closer and reaching slowly out to place your hand on his cheek. Before you make it, his head begins to toss and turn back and forth, and little grumbles fall from his mouth. He slowly gets more and more violent with his tossing, and you finally realize he’s having a nightmare. You reach forward, placing your hand on his cheek to stabilise him and open your mouth to speak kind words when nothing would come out. Frustrated, you take your other hand from his and place it on his other cheek, holding him still.

His eyes burst open and his hands reach up, scrambling to pull you off of him before finally meeting your eyes and slowly relaxing. “Y/N?” He asks gently, eyes wide with fear and hope. You nod, smiling, and lean forward to place a gentle peck against his lips. As you pull away he chases, and you giggle softly before wincing from the pain of it. His eyes flicker down to the wrapping on your neck, then back up to your face. He’s holding both of your wrists with his hands, holding them against his cheeks. He leans into one of your hands, gently rubbing his cheek against it. “Don’t try to talk, I don’t want you to hurt on my account.”

You just shake your head fondly in response, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. His smile grows, and he begins to match your look of disbelief. “We made it, Y/N.” You nod, leaning forward, and he laughs out in relief. “Holy shit, Y/N, we made it. We’re both alive. We’re out!” He finally releases his hold on you to grab your face, dragging you closer. Your foreheads press together, matching smiles of relief and contentment between the two of you. “We made it out together.”

This was it. The hope you’d held wasn’t all for nothing. You were finally here, in each other’s hands, alive and breathing and- well, injured, but alive. You were saved from the Capitol by someone, or something. You wouldn’t be forced back into the arena, you wouldn’t be paraded in front of the Capitol and Districts as ‘Victors,’ you wouldn’t have to face the inevitability of your death at the hands of the one you loved.

Of course, the world wasn’t perfect. You were sure the Capitol would never stop hunting you down. You were sure you’d never see your family again if they even survived after your escape. You’d never be able to go back home, show Peeta the rich blue of the skies that mirrors his eyes, or visit his District. And- your mind hesitates and repeats the arena, over and over, like a flipbook. You still made a promise to yourself that you’d kill Katniss. Would you still have to, now that you’re out of the arena? If they had only wanted Katniss, but Katniss wanted Peeta- obviously she didn’t want you to come along. Would these people relent and get rid of you if she said so?

Peeta rubbed your cheeks, and your eyes reopened- you couldn’t remember when they had fallen shut. His smile is gentle as he whispers, “You back with me?” You nod gently, not wanting to displace his hands. He sighs in relief, reaching forward to gently peck your lips. “There’s nothing and no one that’ll keep us apart, now.” He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, and you let yourself fall into it. You climb fully on the bed, unwilling to part from him and wanting the comfort that only he could provide.

He was right, of course. But hearing his voice, so soft and gentle and sure, made that tingling and anxious feeling in your chest finally settle. His voice is as soft as you’d ever heard it as he whispers, “We’re finally safe now.”

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark #gender neutral reader #tribute reader #the hunger games #fanfiction #also posted on archive of our own #ever in our favour #in the arena #fighting scene #finale #violence #descriptions of blood #descriptions of injuries

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