#which if i wasn't so dangerously burnt out and in pain and hadn't been on the way home from dropping the kitten at the vet

[lupismaris]

My local radio station's morning show really has it out for my mental health these days

#got absolutely blindsided by my mother's favorite yusuf/cat stevens album for today's 50th anniversary spotlight #which if i wasn't so dangerously burnt out and in pain and hadn't been on the way home from dropping the kitten at the vet #(shes fine its for her spay appointment) i would probably have handled it like a champ #instead i immediately started sobbing like a child having a nightmare. drove all the way home crying. walked inside crying. #turned on the radio to continue my suffering because they played the whole album. fed Marlowe while crying. #and sat on the kitchen floor to have the meltdown thats been building up for the last week and change and probably isnt over #so thanks alex c of the morning show i have to go to work now. its officially now a two smoke and maybe anxiety meds kind of day. #this will be fun to discuss at therapy. 'yeah cat stevens caused a break down. no. no I don't know how to expand on it either.'

[skylarstark4826]

A Distraction

It had never really made sense; that she knew, it had always been the thing she wanted, in the back of her mind, flitting in and out of consciousness, but she had never done anything about it.

Until now she'd never had the chance to. And she still wasn't sure it was a chance she wanted to take. She hated to think of what the consequences could be. It might be painful. And Pansy didn't like pain very much, particularly when it was of the emotional variety.

At least with physical pain it had an explanation, and one that wouldn't necessarily bring something to light that you'd be hoping to suppress; you could tell them "I fell off my broom" when one of your body parts was broken or strained, or "I accidentally let the flames get too high in potions" when you burnt the tips of your fingers.

It wasn't that way with emotional pain. Pansy found it often required lying, and was pretty sure she'd developed some good acting skills, because what would she say "I secretly wish Ron Weasley would snog me senseless, and it's driving me crazy", because although it sounds slightly comical in a completely serious way, she had a funny feeling that the rest of Hogwarts would find it incredibly interesting and would annoy her about it for the remainder of her 7th year.

And that wasn't something she really wanted to happen. The only person who had the slightest clue about the way she felt was Blaise; after all, he was her best friend.

She found herself wandering aimlessly around the halls, she didn't want to go back to the common room where she would find Draco and Astoria making out, because, as much as she loved them both, it really wasn't her favourite sight to behold. She wondered if it would give her nightmares; she needed a distraction.

Afterwards she would have written it off as being so cliché, but right now she was more concerned by the fact that she hadn't been watching where she was going as she rounded the corner, which caused her to bump into someone. Blaise. And he had a wide grin on his face, which obviously he had just come back from a rendezvous with Ginny.

'So how are things going with Ginny then?' she questioned him, a smirk upon her lips.

'Ah! Very well as you know! Don't think for one second I don't know that you two talk about during potions!' Blaise chuckled, 'but,' he continued, 'I think things are going rather well, I mean, I think we've managed to break a world record, to think, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could still be going out together after three months, it's a pretty bloody fantastic thing if you ask me. And you never know, one day you could be doing just the same thing…' he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, 'it must be something to do with that red hair, what do you reckon Pansy?

Her dark brown eyes narrowed dangerously, but she couldn't suppress a smile, before coyly replying with a nonchalant 'Maybe' as she walked ahead of him. Blaise shook his head as he walked at a leisurely pace a few metres behind her, and marvelled at how well she could brush things off, and appear generally at ease. 'So what are you going to do about it?' Blaise called after her.

She turned around to face him, walking backwards as she went, 'Me?' she called out back to him, 'I'm not going to do a thing...' she saw his eyes widen as she spoke 'why would I?' and as she spoke the last bit she found out why.

She had started to turn around, but it seemed like it was all happening in slow motion. It was so painfully unavoidable. She was about to crash into him. And she could do nothing about it.

As Ron rounded the corner of the hall with Harry and Hermione he could catch the drifts of conversation, something about a girl not doing something, it hadn't really attracted his attention. The girl however had caught his attention when she saw walking with her back towards him, she was so close that he could feel the whip of her below the shoulder length hair as it hit him directly in the face.

It had all happened incredibly slowly; she was moving at a high speed, he stuck out one foot in front and behind to try and stabilise himself, her dark, deep brown eyes widened as they looked into his. He felt her trip over his foot, her hands reached out to hold onto his neck and shoulders as one of his went to her arm as the other went to her waist, as they again attempted to stabilise one another, but he knew he couldn't do anything as he found himself fall backwards, and it seemed she was going with him.

Blaise couldn't help but let a smirk slid across his features when he saw Hermione trip jinx Pansy into falling into Ron, sure she had been pretty careful, used a nonverbal spell and all, but the subtle flick of her wand didn't get by him unnoticed.

He wondered why she would do it, after all it would physically hurt both Ron and Pansy, to some extent, so it wouldn't be much of a revenge gesture, especially when you also considered that the girls were reasonably amicable to each other, having been paired together for ancient runes since the beginning of the school year, and it was now February.

So that left Blaise with one logical conclusion. Hermione Granger, his partner in crime in lording over the school (she was Head Girl), close friend of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, was trying to get them together. He raised his eyebrows and smirked slightly at her, and she grinned back at him with satisfaction.

Pansy was quite glad she had landed on Ron; it made falling so much more comfortable. And then she started to wonder what she should do; she had noticed an aching of her wrists and she used them to brace her fall, and she didn't quite want to put pressure on them to get up, and she couldn't move her legs much without digging into him too much.

So she figured she might as well stay were she was for a bit. She found herself smiling into his chest, judging that by the fact that hand that was still on her waist, holding her in place, he didn't mind too much. In Pansy's mind this definitely classified as a distraction.

And the latter was very much confirmed when he started to snog her senseless, which confirmed, in Pansy's mind, that she did indeed plan to breaking world records with Ronald Weasley.

#ronsy #ron x pansy #ron weasley #pansy parkinson #Ronsy #Ransy #Ron and Pansy #Ron x Pansy #Ron Weasley #Pansy Parkinson #Werewolf!Ron #Vampire!Pansy #slytherin!ron #slytherin!pansy

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Saw that you were asking for angst?? :3c here’s a prompt if you’d like~

“No… I was… too late… please forgive me…”

Warming: Pain and suffering below. Main character death. Do not open if you are not interesting in crying tonight XD

Kakashi stood in hushed regular spot, the pounding of rain atop his head a mellow rhythm in his ears. Lightning flashed in the sky above, but while other’s rushed down the streets toward home he continued to stand.

“I’m sorry,” the words fell from his lips with a broken sob. “I’m so- so sorry….”

The image of a small red turtle floated in Kakashi’s mind, the letters S.O.S flashing brightly at him. One minute he’d been sitting down to enjoy a nice meal with his team, and the next he was speeding down the village roads toward the gate.

As he ran, the S.o.S turtle sat in his front left pocket filling him in on the situation. Not much of what she’d said reached through the fog in Kakashi’s brain, but the important bits broke through and rang out like a thunderstorm.

Gai was in danger.

He was injured and surrounded by multiple enemy shinobi. Not just any enemy shinobi either, but dangerous ones.

People who might stand a chance at defeating Gai.

He had to make it. Even if he arrived just before they found his Rival it would be fine, because the two of them could take on anything together.

No enemy stood in their way if they were fighting back to back, but alone. That was a different issue. "Come on," he grumbled as he jumped toward the next tree. "I have to make i-" his eyes locked onto the space ahead, a small group of five shinobi laying on the ground unconcious. "No..." touching down on the branch, he shifted his foot forward and send himself falling toward the ground, his eyes glued on the scene in front of him. once he reached the ground he could see everyhting more clearly, unimpeded by the tree's leaves. there were more than five bodies. At least thirty with some of them having fallen on top of each other. The battle had started and he hadn't been there. Worst of all, it wasn't just enemy's bodies that had left their mark. "Gai..." his left foot moved first, dragging him toward the empty spot in the centre of all this carnage, with burnt grass formed into the shape of a man. A specific man. The man who'd always worn thr brightest smile, and who seemed to contain the warmth of the sun in his very spirit. Something, or someone, moved in his periferals, but Kakashi continued to move forward without hesitation. he didn't even bother to dodge when he saw a small attack headed his way, the sharp edge of a rock grazing against his nose. Without thought he waved his hands together and knelt down to slam his hands against the ground. A wall of mud grew on his right, towering as tall as the tree's with the hounds carved into the earth on the side facing the enemy shinobi. If the enemy continued to try attacking him, he couldn't tell. He didn't care either. his attention was focused soly on Gai as thoughts raced through his mind. How late was he? Could he have run faster? No, he should have run faster. was he too late? Coming to a stop at the edges of that burnt shape he stared down at the chared remains of his eternal rival. even without a face to confirm the identity, Kakashi knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the spot where the man who'd been kind enough to love him, Maito Gai, had parished in. Tears stung his eyes as he stared at the spot, committing it to memory. "I was too late..."

Thunder crashed through the sky, lighting up the night so that Kakashi could see the name etched into the memorial stone in front of him.

A stone he'd stood in front of for years trying to apologize for his mistakes, and which seemed to read out one final, unforgivable mistakes to him.

Maito Gai.

One of many precious people he'd buried over the years. The one who'd claimed his heart with such ease that Kakashi didn't even realize what was going on until it was too late.

The man who was supposed to celebrate his twentieth birthday in just a few short days.

"I'm sorry," he uttered once more, the rain splashing against his hair while tears ran down his face. "I was too late."

#Kakagai #Hatake Kakashi #Angst #Hurt NO COMFORT #Hurt no comfort #I am so so so sorry #It's probably not good #but like #it still hurt my heart to write it T.T

[bippiti]

solace; y.ov

summary yennefer gets injured and finds solace in y/n of narok, a healer in the mountains

pairing yen x healer! fem reader

cw and wc typical witcher gore, burns, injuries, nothing 2 bad// 987

an I hope you like it!! (not proofread)

Yennefer was hurt bad. She had been searching for a dragon's egg; an extremely dangerous task, but she had needed it for a spell. Which spell you might ask? She couldn't remember, not now with her body being in the mangled state it was.

On her tiny adventure, she had come across what she was looking for, an egg. She had nearly grabbed it, and then she felt herself burning, only for a moment. The pain subsided in moments, but she was still aflame. She heard a high-pitched noise, realizing only later it was her screaming. She had flung herself into the snow, dousing the flames that had snaked up her entire body, the stench of burning hair and flesh pierced her nostrils.

She had barely gotten away with her life, she was almost certain she1 would die in these remote parts, burned and mutilated. But she remembered some legends she'd heard on her travels. A healer who lived on the foothills of the mountains, the woods just North of Narok. It was a reach, with all the different stories about her it was hard to know if the woman really existed. There were people who'd swear her hair was as pale as the mountain snow, others claimed it was as dark as night. They would say her eyes were a piercing blue, others a muddy green. Some viewed her as a deity, the others a devil. But since she didn't have much of a choice, she set out, hoping her feet would lead her the right way.

When you had been out mushroom picking, you found her. She was frighteningly pale, but what caught your attention was her body. Her right side was discolored and blistered. Burned, and badly so by the likes of it. You dropped the basket, mushrooms forgotten as you bent down and picked her up. You looked to her face for any signs of discomfort, and upon seeing none you set off to your cottage.

Yenn awoke to her right side aching, but she wasn't dead which made her hopeful that someone came across her and pitied her. As she took in her surroundings she noted that she had been bandaged, and she was on a modest bed. She bought her left hand up to her face, and that was when she noticed that her head felt lighter. She touched her hair, it was no longer burnt off at the edges, instead, it was cut. She had also been changed, her dress had likely been too tattered to repair. Now she wore a plain chemise. She heard a door creak open and your eyes met.

"How're you feeling? You've been asleep nearly two days" you asked, setting down the veggies you'd collected for lunch.

"I'm feeling better, albeit sore, I can't thank you enough for caring for me, Miss..."

"y/n, y/n of Narok, and you are?"

"Yennefer of Vengerberg" she tried bowing the bandages stopped her, she opted to instead just smile at you.

"Well Yennefer I'm going to begin cooking, I'll change your bandages after", and with that, you two stepped into a comfortable silence.

As you began cooking Yennefer observed you, you truly were beautiful. There was something about the way you handled yourself, it was quite elegant if she was being truthful. Little did Yen know you were thinking the same thing, despite her being bruised, burned, and cut up in more ways than one she was, to put it mildly, ethereal. Her voice was soft, yet firm, and her eyes. The gods as your witness you were sure you hadn't seen anything as captivating as those in your life.

Afterward, when you had to change her bandages, her skin had gotten stuck to the wrapped cloth. You had to soak her arm in warm water to will them to separate. Despite Yen having a high pain tolerance, she cried, much to her dismay. What she didn't expect was your gentleness in response.

Once you saw the tears pricking at her eyes, you stopped. You brought a cloth up to her face and dabbed away the tears streaming down her face. You looked at her warmly and offered a few words of encouragement. After, you made her take a deep breath, and as she released it you finished separating the cloth.

-

For the next two weeks, this went on, glancing at each other and looking away almost immediately, hands brushing past, learning more and more about each other. Truly, yearning at its finest.

Today was the day Yen was to set off, her injuries, for the most part, healed, she had spent the day preparing, and you couldn't help but feel your heart in your stomach. You had grown to enjoy the company of the woman, and you didn't want to part ways with her. After all, this was likely the last time you'd see each other.

As she was about to step out you stopped her, not wanting her to leave with words unsaid,

"Look Yen, I know I've likely just been seen as a healer in your eyes, but over these weeks I've come to enjoy being around you, and I hope that if you have the chance, even if it isn't in the near future, could you please maybe visit?" the words flew out of your mouth, sped up due to your nerves. You looked into her eyes, searching for a reaction. She simply smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

"Of course I'll come and see you again, you've been more than a healer to me y/n you've become a dear friend to me, if not more," she said pulling away from you.

"What do you mean if not more?"

"May I demonstrate?" she asked stepping closer

You nodded and looked at her expectantly.

"Close your eyes then"

You did what she asked, and you felt her lips on yours. You froze for a moment, and in less than a heartbeat you brought your hands to her neck, looping them around her. As you pulled away you stared at each other fondly.

She stepped out the door and turned around,

"Until next time then love"

#yennefer x reader #the witcher #witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #witcher yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #yennefer imagine #yennefer of vengerberg x reader #witcher x reader #the witcher x reader #reader #reader fic

[smileyoongle]

Falling for a lounge singer (Yandere!Mafia! BTS)// Kim Taehyung

Requested anonymously.

Summary: Working as a part time singer, you never thought you'd find yourself becoming the centre of attention of a man's life, especially one who you can't run from.

Word Count: 2.5K

The city was laid out brightly before you, cool wind making your hair stick to your glossy lips as you rested your elbows on the railing of the rooftop. Working for hours amidst people who were rich and liked to show off was stressful, especially when you knew you didn't fit in between them. If it wasn't for your voice, no one would even give you a second glance but there you were, attracting loud applauds every time you held the mic. It made you feel almost cocky but your conscience didn't allow it, reminding you of your place in this world time and time again.

With a soft sigh, you stared at the pretty sky, the stars scattered across it twinkling to grab your attention yet failing to do so. Because even though you loved the peace and quiet, your mind was restlessly loud tonight. Loud with thoughts about a man you had seen too many times, but never had the pleasure of meeting. A man who had sent you a single white freesia every night before disappearing without a word.

But tonight was different. Because he wasn't here. In fact, he hadn't been here for the last three days and if you were being honest, you missed him.

You missed his dark eyes that gazed at you with so much fervour that it made you dizzy. You missed how his attention made you feel like it was just the two of you in the room. You missed how he was so mysterious that you had convinced yourself to approach him. Yet, he managed to really slip away this time.

Glancing at the dried freesia in your hand, you traced it's dead petals, barely hanging on as the rest of it began to fall apart. This was the last one you had found near your vanity, not having seen another since he disappeared.

"Where did you go?" You mumbled, twirling the stem between your fingers, being as gentle as you could. There was no way for you to know if you'd ever see him again because every time you asked the staff about him, they just brushed you off by saying how some things were better left unknown. It made you wonder what was so bad about him that no one was willing to say a word.

"I'm right here, petal."

A deep voice stated from behind you, your heels quickly making you turn around to see who it was but the darkness and the distance between you two made it hard for you to tell. You frowned, watching the man's silhouette move closer to you, your fingers tightly holding onto your flower. And as soon as your eyes took in his face, your lips fell apart in a silent gasp.

There he was, looking at you with the same passion that his eyes held every time you saw him. You could feel your heart lose its rhythm, pounding erratically in your chest making you almost breathless. He was a lot more beautiful up close, your mind not having prepared you for seeing him here at all. Upon seeing you so speechless, he let out a low chuckle, one of his hands curled behind his back as his fitted black shirt hugged his biceps perfectly.

"Is this my punishment for having left you alone? You refuse to talk to me?" He asked, tilting his head to study your expression better. You remained silent, still processing the fact that the man you were so desperately looking for, was now standing so close to you. A part of you wanted to tell him that you could never be mad at him when he looked like an angel but your tongue stayed tied.

He hummed at your silence, taking another step towards, his eyes glancing at the dead flower that stayed intact between your fingers. Slowly, you felt his hand hold your wrist, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. Bringing it up, he took away the flower, throwing it somewhere to the side only to present another freesia before you, this one a striking red that made your heart skip a beat. You held onto its stalk as your mystery man placed it between your fingers, your cheeks growing warm at the way his eyes stayed fixated on your face.

“Red?” You asked, returning his gaze with an equally feverish one, his lips morphing into a smile upon hearing your voice.

“And she speaks.” He laughed lowly, his deep melody echoing in the silence of the night. Taking yet another step towards you, he placed his hands on the railing behind you, trapping you in close proximity. Your back rested firmly against the bars, your chest almost touching his.

“Yes, petal. Red. Do you know what it means?” He murmured, only loud enough for you to hear. Lost in his eyes, you didn’t notice the hand that was now tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips being the sole focus of the man’s attention. Resting his palm against your cheek, you found yourself leaning into his warmth, sighing at the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

“No,” you answered, closing your eyes when you saw him lean down until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. His long fingers brushed your hair away from your neck, your own hand clutching the flower tightly to calm your heart that was about to jump out of your chest.

“It symbolizes passion,” he whispered, his hands moving down to hold your waist and pull you flush against him. Speechless, you rested your hands on his chest, biting your lip as your forehead fell against his shoulder.

“Who are you?” You inquired, finally asking the question that had been gnawing at you ever since you saw him. A dead silence fell over the both of you all of a sudden, a frown etching onto your forehead as you were made to pull away from him a little. You found yourself missing his embrace, feeling as though you had known him for a long long time.

“You don’t know me,” he said, more like telling himself again rather than asking you. Gently shaking your head, you placed your gaze on his chest, a peek of white bandages catching your eye from beneath the few buttons that were left open at the top of his shirt. Without a thought, you moved it a little to the side, your eyes widening at the small red patch that stained the centre of the dressing, your lips parting in shock at the realisation that it was, indeed, blood.

“What happened?” You asked, worry and concern lacing your voice. He pursed his lips, his jaw clenching ever so lightly along with his hold on your waist which grew tighter. Wincing in pain, you looked at him in confusion, wondering if you had said something to upset him. And before you could ask him, he said something that perished all the warm feelings that had been brewing in your chest lately.

“My name is Kim Taehyung, Y/N. And I’ll be really mad if you decide to run away now.”

With eyes as wide as they could be, you stood frozen in his arms, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Fear consumed your entire being, your throat running dry at the very thought of being here with Kim Taehyung, the man who was responsible for the rise of one of the biggest cartels in the world. His hands were stained with the blood of god knows how many people, the wound on his chest suddenly making a lot of sense. Losing your grip on his shirt, you let your arms fall to your sides, unmoving and unable to process the situation anymore.

Suddenly, you were aware of his burning touch all over you, your mind screaming at you to get away from him. Yet you didn’t make a move, because you knew very well that you were almost nothing in front of a trained killer who could snap your neck in the blink of an eye. Parting your lips, you willed yourself to scream as loud as you could, failing yet again with his icy glare staring you down.

Gone were all the emotions you had witnessed in his eyes a few minutes ago, making you feel as if this was a whole new man that you had never met before. A tear ran down your cheek, your brain slowly hitting you with the mixed amount of emotions that were driving you insane. You were hurt, scared, disappointed in yourself and a lot more you couldn’t yet place a finger on.

“Y/N,” his voice brought you back to him, wary of the hand that was now wiping away your tears. Eyeing him cautiously, you tried to think fast, escaping him being the only agenda on your mind right now.

Taehyung knew what you were thinking, it didn't take a genius to know that all you wanted was to run away from him before things became a mess. But it was too late now, your innocence having left Taehyung mesmerized a long time ago. And now that you were so close to him, he was ready to do anything to make you stay.

"I don't wanna die," you said, your voice wavering with the dying confidence that burnt in you like a flickering flame. Being in his arms felt good, but knowing that those hands could also push you off the roof without anyone finding out was a thought that overcame everything else.

"And you won't, petal. Just because I'm a dangerous man, doesn't mean I would lay a finger on you," he answered, quickly catching onto the fact that you thought of him as a killer. It hurt him to know that you so easily forgot every other feeling you had been sheltering all this time, his identity crumbling down to nothing in your mind. But he would fix it.

He would fix you.

His words were enough to let you know that he wasn't planning on letting you leave, convincing you seemingly the only thing on his mind. At this point, violence seemed your only answer, your eyes once more taking in the sight of the bandaging on his chest.

"I'm sorry," you apologized beforehand, inhaling nervously at his confused expression before digging your nails into his chest. A growl left his mouth immediately, his hands letting go of your waist as you pushed him to the side with all your strength and bolted towards the door.

Taehyung fell to the floor behind you, his hand covering his shirt right where the wound was, the wetness of the blood seeping through his bandages. He hissed in pain, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the wall. The sound of your cries felt like music to his ears, your small fists banging on the door which had been locked the second Taehyung stepped onto the rooftop. It was funny of you to think that you could overpower Kim Taehyung so easily, your obliviousness once again showing through your stupid attempt to escape him.

Tears ran down your cheeks upon the realisation that you were stuck here with him, your heart pounding in your chest just like your hands against the door. You were a fool to think Taehyung wasn't fully prepared. Of course he had expected this from you. Of course he was one step ahead of you.

"Please, someone open the door!" You begged, sobbing with your forehead against the cold metal, slowly sinking to your knees. Just then, you heard his laugh, deeply resonating around you as you frowned in silence. It was endless, not the kind of laughter you'd hear after a joke but the kind you'd hear only with the intention of being mocked. He was laughing at you and your silly attempt of running away from him, knowing very well that Kim Taehyung did not let go of things that he so desperately craved. You being one of them.

"Did you think it was that easy, Y/N?" He asked, his voice dripping with amusement. Turning around to face him, you stared at him with teary eyes, watching his painful state with a heart full of regret. You weren't one to hurt people at all, let alone intentionally and yet you had taken such a drastic leap tonight. To save yourself. That was truly justified, wasn't it?

"Petal, even if you had managed to leave this place, I'll have you know that I'll always find you." He grinned maliciously, making you truly scared of him. Gritting his teeth, he stood up, your back pressing against the door as he slowly proceeded to stalk towards you, his gaze pinning you down and rendering you unable to move. You felt like a prey before him, his angry eyes telling you just how much you had pissed him off.

"I just wanna go home," you stated, frowning at him with wet cheeks and quivering lips. Halting right before you, Taehyung kneeled down, his hand coming to rest against your cheek.

"And we'll go, Y/N. We'll go to our home," he mumbled almost lovingly, his eyes glistening with so much affection that if you didn't know any better, you'd think he loved you. The truth of the situation though, was that Kim Taehyung was obsessed with you and there was no way you were going to let him take you.

"N-no, I wanna go to my home," you dared, Taehyung's jaw clenching upon hearing your words. Within a second, his fingers dug into both your cheeks, your lips pouting at the force with which he was holding your jaw in place. Leaning closer to you, Taehyung's nose brushed against yours, your own hand taking hold of his wrist to make him let go.

"What a shame it'd be to know that your little sister had to die because you couldn't make the right decisions."

Eyes widening, you let out a whimper at his threat, your breath having been knocked out for a second. It was as if the world had stopped around you, your heart wishing that this was all just a bad dream. The thought of anything happening to your sister was enough to break your will, especially since you were the only one she had. If she were to get hurt because of the one person who was supposed to protect her, then you couldn't even begin to imagine how meaningless your own life would become.

Taehyung loosened his grip on your jaw, watching you cry harder because of what he had said. It hurt him to know that you were crying because of him but he had to say it. Sure, you were hurt right now, maybe you even hated him but he knew that once you became his, you'd never have to see a bad day in your life. He would love you so hard that you'd never think about anyone else ever again. It was going to be just you and him. Forever.

"I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt her." You cried, sealing your fate with the devil with no chance of going back. Smiling fondly at you, Taehyung wiped your tears, the stench of blood hitting your nose only for you to see his crimson tainted hand grazing your cheek.

"I'll take very good care of you, petal. Don't you worry your little head," he cooed, your eyes staring at him with horror. You could feel the blood now staining your cheek, Taehyung's eyes adoring it with a hint of madness. His blood on your skin was like his name on a trophy, a sign of who it belonged to. And it gave Taehyung an immense amount of pleasure to see your innocence tainted with his filthy gore. The colour red was yours and Taehyung couldn't wait to paint you in it.

"We'll be drowning in love soon, just wait and watch."

A/N: Hiiii, see I am back again! I don't have much to say today cause I am really sad for some reason. You know, the kind of sad that makes you wanna just sit and cry all night? Yeah, it's THAT!

Anywayyyy! I'll probably be posting each member in a break of 4-5 days because I want each member to get their fill. Soooo, the next one comes in a while! Till then, have fun, guys. Ily<3

#bts #bts imagines #bts reactions #smileyoongle #mafia bts imagines #bts yandere #yandere bts imagines #bts taehyung #yandere taehyung #mafia taehyung #mafia boss taehyung #yandere mafia taehyung #mafia taehyung reaction #mafia bts reactions #yandere bts reactions

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x male reader

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

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

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

Part six: You're here, dumb!

Part seven: Finally here!

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh, I forgot that he was there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that terrified me.

word count: 2.8k

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

tags;

@nin3s

#hunger games x reader #hunger games #hunger games x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #x male reader #peetamellark #gale #male x male reader #male reader series #gay #mlm #mlm fanfic

[pretty-little-pink]

<!! Oh, that is wonderful. I love how you used the fact that Dark is restraining him and scratching through his hair and twisted it, turning it into something so much worse. Even his words are twisted, which makes for some amazing miscommunication. His charge was upset, and the Doctor was causing it. Perhaps not this Doctor, but the matter was that his boy was crying and begging, and perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but he could swear that his chest was bleeding more than it should have been. He didn't 'lift' his shadows, but he did move to bring Host into a 'sitting up' position, with his head tucked into his shoulder. His hand gently rested on the other's back as he supported him. "Is he healed enough that I can take him somewhere different? Being here is obviously distressing him, and your presence is not helping matters." While Dark's voice was curt, and calm, the heavy glare he laid on the Doctor betrayed his restrained anger. He was so far past upset at this point that it had circled back to calm, and that was always so much more dangerous than if he was in a rare rage. "I- no, but if you stay with him, and calm him down, it will help. He's suffering some sort of hallucination and it might help if he's in a less clinical setting." The doctor nearly felt sick as he listened to Host beg and sob, sob for him to stop hurting him. He hadn't even cried when he burnt the wound closed, whatever must be happening inside his head must be a thousand times worse. "Just- hold him still so I can wrap his side, then you can go." "Make it quick."

// the funnest way to make things worse: have real actions happen in a twisted way during these times <3

It was always so conflicting, the pain the doctor caused him, but also being the only nice person around him. Host had long since given up on understanding, had succumbed to this "relationship" he had been forced into. He wouldn't be here if not for the doctor, after all. He was held until the doctor grew bored of it, letting go of Host to skip away. Host was left on his lonesome, covered in blood and desperate to just sleep and forget about all this once more.

He couldn't find clean bandages, so he used whatever clean material he found to wrap himself up, grabbing his coat that he found laying on the floor. It was stained with blood, but that was nothing new. Every movement hurt, making Host sniffle as he mumbled through his narrations, finding his way out of the "clinic" and into the halls.

He could hear Wilford somewhere, laughing about something or other, making him shudder. Was it time again? Should he stay in the clinic for a bit longer? "Come on come on!", Wilford's voice carried through the hall, Host's mumbles breaking off into another whimper, freezing where he was. Wilford was dragging him along with him, as he did nearly every day at least once. It never stopped to terrify Host, however.

"O-ho! Hosty boy, what a pleasure! Isn't it, Darkidoo?", Wilford grinned brightly, as he always did, when he came close to Host. "Dark" was nothing but an endlessly black mass, something no one could look at and identify as humanoid. This wasn't Dark, but it also was. "T-the Host's delighted...", Host stuttered, hugging himself despite the pain. It had been the entity that had made him into the Host, after all. "Of course of course! I'm sure Darki is just as happy!", Wilford giggled, swinging the arm that "held" Dark, black shadows wrapped like tendrils around Wilford's hand and arm.

"Th-the Host- Host's not- going to bother- the two of them.", Host just wanted to go hide, to be away from everyone and everything and hide in the pillows he had gathered. "Of course! Have fun Hosty-O!", Wilford laughed, continuing to drag Dark with him. Host wasn't sure if he understood the entity better than Wilford did or not, but he doubted it. Wilford may be insane, but he had a connection with the entity no one else had.

Finally Host could flee the halls and escape to his room, burying himself in the pillows and blankets only he cared about to have, trying to block out the pain and memories. He'd likely be here until the doctor wanted him again anyways....

It was near coincidental how Host's "dream" lined up with his actual body's circumstances. Host wasn't aware of any of it, his body merely reacting the same way his mind was, mumbling broken narrations of what he spoke and narrated. At least his mind was finally able to escape to another reality, and hopefully it'd grant him some rest before he woke.

#ebouc anon #blind bab

[kunoichigo]

•Donatello's Everything• - Part 3

Sydney's eyes opened slowly, and everything was fuzzy. It took a moment for the world to become clear, and when it did, she didn't know where she was.

Concrete walls surrounded her on three sides, and bars blocked her in on the fourth.

Her stomach hurt, and when she tried to lift her sweater to figure out why, she realized that her wrists and ankles were tied in a thick, frayed rope.

Panic coursed through her as she blinked rapidly, trying to figure out where she was. She knew she was in a cell, but where? Someone had captured her, but who?

She squeezed her eyes shut, sifting through her memory, trying to remember what had happened before the world had turned inky black and she had slipped into unconsciousness.

She remembered her parent's fighting, and going to the lair. Oh, god, her parents. They must be worried sick about her. That is, if they had noticed she was gone.

She kept trying to remember. She had gone to the lair, and the turtles had been asleep. Her stomach swooped and she turned pink remembering how she had fallen asleep with Donatello, and how they had fallen to the floor together.

"Stop thinking about him," she muttered. "I've got to get out of here."

Finally, the final puzzle pieces clicked together, and she remembered Tigerclaw's massive paw covering her mouth, forcing her to slip into a world of nothing.

Rage bubbled inside her. If April hadn't shoved her, she wouldn't be here. If she could put her selfishness aside, this entire situation could've been avoided. But of course, Sydney's safety had been jeopardized for April to get a bit of attention. The situation was made even worse as Sydney noted that this kind of behavior wasn't uncommon from the red-headed teen.

For the next fifteen minutes, Sydney worked diligently to try and break the bonds that bound her together. She tried desperately to not think about who had taken her here and what would happen to her. Instead she focused all of her attention on getting free, which proved to be very difficult.

Soon she heard footsteps stomping down the hall, and in blind terror she scooted towards the dark, damp corner of the cell.

Yellow eyes at least 7 feet in the air met hers. They glowed a burning amber, and Sydney felt sick to her stomach just feeling them upon her. Dark shadows were cast upon the figure, whom she recognized as Tigerclaw. No other being was as ominous and threatening as he was, aside from Shredder himself. This creature, this monster, had grabbed her and held his paw over her mouth until she was unconscious. She was a child. And this beast had kidnapped her.

She was an innocent human child with a life and family of her own, and he had snatched her without hesitation, taken away her breath, and tossed her in a cell. She hated him with every nerve and cell in her entire body. It was a blind rage that swirled in her stomach and made her ears burn. A jagged rock lodged in her throat and stayed there. Her nose flared as she drew in broken breaths and tried not to let the boiling tears in her eyes spill.

Tigerclaw's eyes, which she could only describe as a burning xanthous, turned away from her azure irises, and he spoke in a gruff voice to one of the Foot Clan members that stood at attention behind him.

So she was in Shredder's lair. She blinked rapidly. This couldn't be real. There was no way she had been captured by the Shredder. This was a nightmare.

She was snapped back to reality when the cell slid open with a groan. Two Foot bots grabbed her arms, digging their robotic digits into her arms. She gritted her teeth and sucked air in through her nose, struggling to hold in the tears. Her boots scraped against the ground, collecting dirt and grime, and she could feel cold mud on her cheek where her face had been pressed into the ground.

She felt disgusting and open. She felt like these villains were seeing into her life. They hadn't even spoken to her and yet Sydney felt as though they already knew so much about the life she had fought to keep secret.

Her mind was a blur, so she barely noticed the sharp concrete scraping up her knees and the metallic fingers digging into her skin as she was escorted deeper into Shredder's lair.

She kept her head down, embarrassed at the tears that had escaped the confines of her tear ducts and were now tumbling down her pink cheeks. She was ashamed with herself. Expressing emotions was her weak point. She hadn't been able to do it with Donatello, and breaking down here, in front of all these enemies who probably wanted her dead was humiliating.

She reeled forward as she was tossed down onto her knees onto damp, smoother ground.

A low, rumbling voice shook her to her very core, and she felt her blood turn to ice.

"So... this is one of their team members?" Shredder scoffed, and Sydney tried to stop herself from trembling, but it was useless. Shredder scoffed. "Pathetic. Enlisting the help of hopeless little girls. Yoshi has always been weak and powerless; it only makes sense for a coward like himself to drag little girls into his fight."

Sydney was furious. She was anything but a weak little girl. And the way he spoke of his old friend... How dare he spit on the name of Hamato Yoshi, known as Master Splinter to her, when he was as revolting and foul as they come?

Sydney sucked in a breath, and in a shaky exhale said, "Don't you ever insult Hamato Yoshi in front of me."

The Shredder laughed an awful, cold laugh that sounded like sharp slabs of metal grating together. Sydney winced.

"So you think you're a threat to me? I'm sure my old enemy has taught you something, but you're no match for me. A weak, helpless girl is what you are, and it's all you'll ever be."

"I AM NOT WEAK!" Sydney yelled, looking up, and her stomach dropped. The Shredder was terrifying.

He wore a full suit of shining armor, and large deadly spikes topped each of his arm guards, glinting dangerously in the dim light emanating from windows 30 feet up. Three metal tips protruded from the top of his helmet, which obscured most of his face. The only part of his real skin visible were his eyes, cold and gray, piercing and murderous. The left side of his face was horribly burnt, with peeling red flesh and the charred remnants of his old skin still visible. Sydney felt sick.

"Not weak?" he chuckled, and his laugh resonated throughout the lair, which was dark and cold. Metal clanked as he stood, and Sydney shook as he approached her. She ducked her head once more, hair falling into her face. She couldn't bear to look at someone this horrible.

She let out a pained yelp as Shredder's boot kicked her in the gut, hitting the spot where she had been feeling pain. More tears spilled, and she was barely breathing as she tried to hold in the noises of crying that would surely ensue soon.

"'Not weak', she says," the Shredder repeated, and Sydney despised that she was trembling under his gaze. When he had kicked her, she had bitten her lip, and the irony taste of blood was fresh in her mouth. "You wouldn't last in a fight, but I suppose you could endure what I'm about to put you through."

Sydney's breathing came quicker as fear coursed through her. What he meant, she didn't dare ask.

"Bring her back to the cell. If those retched turtles aren't here by midnight, you know what to do." Fear swirled through her as the Foot bots dragged her away once more. She had no idea what Shredder was talking about, and she most certainly didn't want to find out.

Her stomach felt even worse after Shredder had kicked it, and her bones ached when Tigerclaw tossed her back into her cell. "Don't think for a second that in this cage those ropes will be off for a second," he snarled, slamming the door in her face.

Enraged, Sydney spit through the bars, and a bloody puddle of saliva landed on Tigerclaw's toe. Sydney smirked, then remembered her situation. Maybe that hadn't been the smartest idea, but she wouldn't let Tigerclaw believe that she was hopeless and pathetic, like Shredder had said.

Tigerclaw's burning yellow eyes narrowed as he swiped a paw, claws unsheathed, through the bars towards her.

Sydney tried to dodge the attack, but with her arms and legs tied up uncomfortably she wasn't able to, and Tigerclaw's razor-like claws tore through her skin. A scream sounded from deep in her throat, and her flesh burned painfully. Hot tears trickled down her face and burned her wound even more, which was bleeding. The blood was mingling with the tears that were trickling into her mouth, so her tongue was flooded by the taste of iron.

Even though it was May, Sydney wished she had more layers on; Donnie's lab wasn't nearly as cold as this cell. She was alright in her sweater, but her jean shorts enabled goosebumps to appear up and down her legs. Mustering her strength, she scooted into the farthest corner. Once crouched there, she rested her back against the wall and rubbed her cheek against her sweater, cleaning the blood from her face.

She was a mess. Her boots were dingy and dirty, and her sweater was filthy and ripped, now with a sickening amount of blood on the left shoulder. Her shorts were fraying in some places, and her hair was snarled and damp. She didn't care if her outfit didn't look good; she felt even worse on the inside. Shame at being captured, anger at April and Tigerclaw, and hatred at Shredder all swirled around inside her until she could no longer feel the tears stinging on her cheeks.

Sydney pushed herself farther into the corner and tried to sleep, only able to hope that her turtle companions were on their way.

It felt like days when Sydney woke up again, her head throbbing with pain. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, and she thought longingly of the pizza Leo had promised. She wished she knew what time it was. She knew it had to be after 10, but not midnight, or else the horrible thing that Shredder had been talking about would commence soon. And to think, at midnight, her birthday would only be one day away.

She was so confident that it wasn’t time for whatever Shredder was talking about that when two Footbots approached her she gasped in shock.

Once more she was dragged off. She wanted to struggle, to scream, to do

something, but she didn’t have the strength or energy.

Sydney was swept into a large open room. It was a bit warmer in here, but still had the damp, musty scent that seemed to fill the air throughout the dungeons.

Tigerclaw, who was standing in the corner, smirked. “It’s almost midnight, and your little amphibian friends aren’t here,” he said with a snarl.

Sydney didn’t bother to tell him that turtles were reptiles, not amphibians.

“Xever!” Tigerclaw yelled. “Show our guest what awaits her.”

Sydney wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but when Xever approached a large shape covered in a tarp and revealed a huge vat of mutagen, she nearly passed out again.

***

Notes:

Sorry about this taking literal months. I feel really bad about it taking so long but I haven’t had the motivation to do so. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

[schnuuwrites]

Everything's gonna be alright

Request:i ADORE your sylvain writing omg. would it be too much to ask for sylvain angst with his SO getting hurt in battle for him?

Summary: Sylvain's S/O dies on the battlefield

Tw: hm, angst, ofc. Maybe a bit gory and detailed

Laughter filled the hall and bounced off the walls, blending in with the mindless chatter around you. The redhead infront of you smiled dashingly and took hold of your hand, which was placed on the table, and entwined your fingers. His hand was so much bigger than yours was, his calloused fingers being a nice contrast to your soft skin. He was so warm.

You smiled with a warm face, gazing at him lovingly. Goddess, how you loved these moments of happiness. How you loved him.

Sylvain talked about something enthusiastically, letting his eyes drift to your lips occasionally, and squeezed your hand gently to focus your attention back on the conversation you had held.

"Pardon me?" Sylvain chuckled and shook his head, red locks falling in his eyes. You bit your lip lightly and grinned. With a swift motion you reached over the table to tucked away his soft hair. He watched you with amusement and let you do as you wished, not minding you were in public right now. After all, you two were caught doing much more inappropriate things by teachers, guards and classmates alike.

Brown eyes gazed into your own ones affectionally when you pulled away and let your fingers brush along his jaw line softly. Just a fleeting touch, but it was enough. Sylvain grasped your hand into his before you could sit back down and brought your small hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. Butterlies erupted in your stomach and your heart fluttered at the sweet gesture.

You freed your hand and positioned it on the table to support your weight when you reached over to pull at Sylvains shirt. He let you do as you pleased and invited you by tangling his hand in your hair and pulling you down. Your lips met in a sweet and swift embrace before seperating again. Neither of you wanted to end it here, but you also didn't want to attract more attention to you two than you already did.

Over time you got used to the judging stares by teachers and jealous stares by Sylvain's fangirls. But never once did he ignore you to give another female more attention when he was with you. He had always been faithful. And you were convinced he would be for the rest of his lifetime. The lifetime, which would be spent with you by his side.

Hushed whispers pulled you from your trance. Heavy steps could be heard coming from behind you. You turned around and saw the man from Duscur coming towards your direction. He looked a bit tense.

"Hello, Dedue. How can we help, my friend?" Sylvain greeted and you nodded in aggreement. The white haired man gave a nod as a greeting of his own.

"I am here to inform you both Byleth has decided to chase off a few bandits, that have been reported to have caused much trouble, thus resulting in the need of our aid. Please, get ready as soon as possible. We will be on our way in one hour."

As much as you wished you could spend your last hours of the day fooling around with Sylvain and enjoying your time together, the people of Fodlan neaded you.

The air outside was chilly, but nothing you couldn't handle. After all, the days in Fearghus were almost always chilly and cold. In front of you layed a big, eery forest, sorrounded with a thick layer of fog. You gnawed at your lip nervously. It was impossible to estimate how many enemies where hiding in there. But Byleth surely had to know the risk of sending you in there, with you being a mage. Of course, your magic and resistance were high, but your physical defense was incredible weak compared to Dedue or Dimitri.

The leaves of the trees rustled ominously, telling you to step in and meet your possible death. You didn't like this at all. A cold iron fist clenched your heart and your mind screamed at you: DANGER.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump and yelp. You turned around, ready to attack the person behind you, but relaxed when you saw Sylvain. Behind him was his horse, which neighed and nuzzled your face. You smiled and patted it's head.

Sylvain grasped your chin gently and lifted your head, planting a loving and strong kiss onto your mouth before switching to your forhead. The second kiss was much more gentle, but both made you smile. If he tried to reassure you everything would be alright, he definetely succeded.

"Everything's gonna be alright. You and I are a team. We can do it. I will protect you from those bad guys." He teased. You grinned and kissed his cheek. "And I will rescue you from those big bad mages, my little damsel in distress." A second kiss on his nose made him laugh softly. "Whatever you say, little mage."

You were glad that you weren't alone in the forest. You trusted Byleth as your tactician with your whole heart. Annette was assigned to you and Sylvain as well, supporting you both with her reason and faith magic- that girl possesed immense skill- which made you feel slightly better.

In the distance, you were able to hear war cries and clashing of swords and axes. Somewhere on your right side fire cackled, indicating one of your friends used it to attack someone, but on your side of the forest it was quiet. Too quiet for your liking in fact. The fog however was too heavy to see anything beyond a few feet and that made you uneasy. An enemy could be behind the next trunk for all you could know.

Cautiously you three advanced forward, while looking around a few times and checking either of you were unharmed, but your eyes lingered on Sylvain the most. You were incredible worried about him, even though you knew he could stand his own ground. You have seen him train so many times, working his muscles and letting his beautiful brain figure out ways to tiptoe around dying and losing. He was incredible. And what were you compared to that? You were a healer, of course, and saved some of your friends from the brink of death. You also were able to take out armored knights your friends had trouble even scratching. But despite that? You felt like a burden. You were never allowed to act alone. Someone was always assigned to your side to protect you from bows and swords, axes and gauntlets. This time it wasn't any different. Sylvain was tasked with protecting you from physical damage while you and Annette had to watch out for mages.

A crie of pain infront of you made you all jump and take fighting stances. A groan was heard again. You narrowed your eyes and tried to figure out who was groaning and moaning. You were sure you had heard that voice before. Your eyes widened in horror. It wa- "INGRID" Sylvain yelled. A gasp was heard from her and her voice echoed from everywhere when she responded: "Snipers! Everywhere!"

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Ingrid was seated on her pegasus if you recalled correctly. And her being sorrounded by bows could only mean- "Wait there! I am coming!" You tried to stop Sylvain from rushing to his childhoodfriend's aid, trying to tell him it might be a trap, but you weren't fast enough. He was gone before you could even utter a single word.

"We need to help them!" You shouted over your shoulder and trailed after Sylvain. "(Name), WAI-" But Annette couldn't finish her sentence. Out of nowhere, a swordman appeared, his eyes widening and his face twisting into a disgusting snarl, and he creeped toward you both. Your heart picked up and you broke out into a cold sweat.

This was bad. Very bad.

"Stay back!" You ordered and raised your hand as a warning. Flames sparked around your head, telling your enemy to step back, but he didn't seem to mind. Instead he- "DOWN" Annette screeched and you did as you were told. Hastily you jumped out of the way, letting your friend attack him and killing him.

The burnt body collapsed, poisening the air with it's faul smell. You tried not to gag.

Thankful you turned your body to face your readheaded friend and thanked her for saving you. She smiled proudly.

"It's ok. No need to than-"

You were confused why she stopped her sentence so suddenly. You opened your mouth to ask, but a piercing pain in your abdomen made you scream in agony. Your whole body felt like it was burned alive, every nerve tingling and adrenaline shooting through your body. You looked down and stared at the foreign piece of metal, which poked out of your stomach. Shaking hands tried to touch it, but you screamed when the blade was twisted, before it was pulled out forcefully.

You dropped to your knees, toppling over and holding your stomach with your arms. Hot blood poured out of your wound. You gasped for air and dared to look at the wound. Your clothes were stained with your black blood, your arms full of it as well. Wait- black?

Oh no.

Poison.

Frantically you tried to scramble away. Get way from the enemy, from the danger. Once more you pressed your arms against your wound.

You didn't know how you got away with a hole in your abdomen, but you managed to put quite a distance between you and your attacker.

Even the noise of the fight faded rapidly. You felt lightheaded. Blood loss? Probably. There. A tree. Safety. For a bit. You pulled yourself up and rested your back against it. Your breaths came in short and hastily. Somehow you had trouble breathing. You practically felt the blood leaving your body and it felt disgusting. You squirmed and pressed harder against the wound, the bark scraped against your back, but you didn't care. It had gotten quite dark, hadn't it? Everything was much more darker than before. Where you deeper in the forest? Only a restricted cough came out when you tried to wheeze for help, to get help. To survive. You didn't want to die on the battlefield. You didn't want to leave your friends yet, didnt want to leave Sylvain.

Sylvain. Where was he? Did he forget about you? Why hasn't he come yet?

"Everything's gonna be alright." Yes, he was right. He was always right. He had to be. He would come to help you. Kill that bastard and let him burn in hell. He would scoop you up, kiss you, whisper in your ear everything was gonna be alright. He would tell you he loved you forever. You would be happy. He would keep you save.

You... you were just going to wait here. Sylvain would find you, just like he always had. Just like he always had. Yes, you would just... be resting a bit until he came back.

It was getting harder to keep your eyes open, a sudden tiredness overcame you, that grasped you with it's long, dark, inviting arms and pulled you into the numbing nothingness. You sighed.

Everyone was frantic. Annette had tears streaming down her cheeks, Felix an irritaded scowl on his face, Mercedes yelled your name over and over again, Ingrid bit her nail nervously, Dedue, glued to Dimitri's side, looked around and watched over everyone, Dimitri talked with Byleth for ideas where you could be. Ashe tried to calm Annette down, to no avail, and Sylvain... Sylvain was running around. Screaming for you. His hands were clammy and tears blurred his vision. Annette had informed everyone of what happened.

It was HIS fault, he told himself. He shouldn't have run off like that. You could be right by his side right now, happily smiling at him, holding his hand...

His heart broke. The blood in his veins froze and it felt like a lightnening bolt went up his spine.

He'd found you. He'd found YOU.

You were hunched over and rested against a tree, a pool of blood sorrounded you. Your hand rested beside you.

He didn't even feel himself running towards your body. His everything was numb. The voices of his friends vanished and were nothing more than a dull sound in the back of his head.

Sylvain dropped to his knees infront of your dead body, grasping your body and pulling it against his chest. His chest vibrated and his throat burned, but he didn't hear himself screaming in agony. With a shaking hand he turned your head around and looked at your peaceful face. You were unmoving and cold. So cold. Tears of his gathered on your cheeks, running down. It looked like you were crying as well.

He buried his face in your hair, tucking your head safely under his chin. Safely. Yes. You were safe. You were alright. He was with you now, you didn't need to be afraid. He would protect you.

Hands of his friends tried to pry him away from you corpse, but he resisted with all his might. He screamed, cursed, tears and snot ran down his face and he didn't care. He wanted to be with you. He needed to. He promised.

Only when he was pressed to the ground did he realise he had kicked around and probably hurt one of his friends. His face was in your blood. The blood you had lost. The blood you died of. The blood that should be in your body.

That was the last straw and his stomach emptied itself. He puked on the ground wheezing for air when he was finished and nothing but stomach acid came out. He felt dead inside.

Byleth said something about burrying you in the monastery, but he didn't listen. He looked down at himself, at his clothes that were soaked with your blood and he didn't want nothing more but to rip off his clothes and burn them.

He had lost you

Oh dear. That was a ride. I cried myself a bit along the way. I hope you liked it! The request asked for getting hurt and not for death, but yea. Oopsies

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fire emblem #fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #sylvain gautier #sylvain jose gautier #fe sylvain #sylvain x reader #fe sylvain x reader #angst

[livesoffcoco]

When I'm Gone

Pairing: Dazai&Ango, Odazai

Warning: Torture scene, severe mental illness, drug use.

Notes: so Gone by Red inspired this a little, and my meta I wrote a few days ago explaining why Dazai will probably never forgive Ango. Have a pic of Dazai because he is pretty much yandere for Odasaku in canon already. Like me to Dazai 👏.

Ango awoke slowly but he already knew he was in deep shit. He distinctly remembered his bed not being an old chair. Plus he never tied himself to it. He slowly started to squirm before realizing there was a bright light shining on him. He blinked through the haze and froze.

Dazai sat not three feet away, a sickly smile on his face. Ango had seen that look before,  and seen Dazai right before he got into intense torture and Ango knew what was happening.

"Dazai let me go." The brunette had been kind enough to leave Ango's glasses on. Dazai smirked before shrugging his coat off. It hung on the back of his chair as he grabbed a brown paper bag sitting by his feet. Ango's stomach twisted violently as a variety of drugs spilled into Dazai's lap. The detective say for a moment before picking up the equipment to administer the heroin Dazai had purchased somewhere. All Ango could do was watch. Dazai still had that sweet smile on his face, even as he took the heroin.

It didn't take long for Ango to see the effects. Dazai's usually unnaturally steady hands shook like an old man's. His eyes went glossy and he stood. He turned and walked to a table where he stood and looked at the items on the surface.

Ango knew he was in trouble. Being tied to an old chair in a warehouse by the Port was never a good thing. Being tied to a chair by Dazai who was under the influence of drugs had to be the absolute worst thing that could happen. But all he could do was watch as Dazai twitched, looking over the spread of devices.

The younger male picked up a inconspicuous knife before turning back towards Ango. The wild look in his eyes would be there even with out the drugs, he knew that. This was personal, enough so that Dazai called in a favor from either Mori or Chuuya, two people he hated more than Ango.

Dazai sat in the chair in front of Ango. If it were anyone but Dazai he would be worried with how foggy his eyes were and how much he was shaking. But that just made Dazai more dangerous. A wicked grin formed on Dazai's face and without any fan fair, the knife was slammed into Ango's leg. He let out a low groan considering Dazai had aimed for his knee cap. The brunette twisted the knife which had Ango throwing his head back and sweating. Though that didn't last long. Dazai slapped his face.

"He went through pain infinitely worse than this. You stay awake. I can't have you passing out."

And Dazai made sure Ango wouldn't pass out. He broke fingers, stabbed muscles, burnt bits of Ango's skin, dumped ice water onto him. After Dazai shot up some more, he dragged Ango over to a tub and the older man wasn't stupid.

He thankfully got a lungful of air before Dazai pushed Ango's head beneath the surface. He had to stay calm. If he freaked out then he would lose air faster. When Dazai pulled Ango's head back up, he heard something he hadn't expected. For a moment he thought he himself was loudly crying.

But no, it was Dazai. And it wasn't just crying. Dazai was wailing, sobbing and screaming for Odasaku. It lit a hideously guilty flame within Ango that didn't settle, even as Dazai let go of him. Ango's bloody and bruised body slipped to the floor and he watched Dazai stumble away, falling to his knees as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

#dazai osamu #odazai #ango sakaguchi #tw torture #tw drug use #tw mental health #writing fic #writing