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celenawrites · 1 year

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pretty when you cry

pairing - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

word count - 2.4k

warnings - Ghost is a bit of a dick but he gets better, Reader is a bit of a crybaby here but it's just cuz she's very in tune with her emotions, Simon is emotionally constipated and cannot handle feelings, some fluff, heavy-ish (?) angst, open ending, etc.

Note - Kinda got tired of writing fluffy stuff all the time and my mental health is fraying atm, so I decided to (hopefully) hurt some folks with this little piece. Enjoy!

AO3 Version

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

You cry easy.

That's what Ghost thought of you when you first joined Task Force-141.

While he has always been skeptical of any new additions (often temporary) to the team he has come to love and trust after going through hell and back, Price was convinced that your impeccable record on stealth ops, your physical agility, and your skills as a sniper were much needed.

Reluctantly, Ghost silently accepts his Captain’s decision.

However, time and time again, your sensitive nature had him worried that you might prove to be a heavy liability to the team.

When you stub your toe against the leg of the table, you let out a few tears of frustration and pain, cursing everyone and their mothers while you hold your injured foot in the air as you comically jump around the kitchen, even though your lack of spatial awareness was to be blamed here. It is almost always a comical sight, Gaz rubbing your back in comfort while you curse and cry, failing to hide his amusement. Soap is not afraid to laugh at your face for it, while Price has this twinkle in his eye as he asks you to sit and eat something for breakfast.

Simon ignores the flutter in his stomach when you take a seat next to him on the table, your wet hair letting out wafts of jasmine - all for him to smell and keep to himself.

You cry when you accidentally let the door close on your pinky, dramatic hiccups leaving you as Soap ties up your little finger with white bandages, stroking your hair as he consoles you, "That's a brave lassie, yeah? You got this". (Soap has always been good with people, Simon notes.) Sometimes, Soap will be ‘kind enough’ to offer you to kiss your injuries better and you’d shove him, your face giving away the embarrassment and the humorous jest you feel around the demolition expert.

You weep uncontrollably when you watch Marley and Me with Gaz in the rec room. Price and Ghost had been passing by, discussing the aftermath of a mission they had just returned from when they heard loud sobs coming from the usually empty room. They peer in to find both of you huddled close in soft blankets, a bowl of popcorn propped up in your lap and a box of tissues in Gaz’s lap, as you munch on the buttery snack and cry over the adorable dog finally being put to rest. You lean into Gaz for comfort and Ghost wonders if you still smell of mud and caked blood like you did on the field.

Price decides to break up the party as he enters the room, clearing up his throat to grab the attention of his Sergeants. Your lip wobbles as he lightly scolds you, his brow laden with concern as he looks at you and tells you both to go get some much-needed rest. You pass him by as you leave the room, your hand being a feather’s touch away from his and he almost holds onto you. (He still has no idea why he almost reacted like that to you)

One time, Price had been sent to help Laswell out on a crucial mission and all you had accomplished during those three and a half weeks was mope around and wish your Captain were here. You’d be lying on the sofa in the common room and you’d whine to your companions. “I’m so bored. I miss Captain. I wish he was here”, you’d pout and Soap and Gaz would gang up on you, teasing you as they asked you whether you had some unresolved feelings for dear Price. (The idea of you coveting Price like a lover seemed ridiculous to him, really. You and the Captain? Not a chance)

And then there was that one time when you had to go on a solo mission (the first of you being on your own since you joined the task force, really) and when you had come back to him them, battered and bloodied and disheveled but still safe and sound and Price lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as if all the weight of the world has disappeared now that you’re back home, back to your team (where you now rightfully belong). You rush to them, running as if you cannot close the distance between them fast enough, and Price hugs you with steady arms as he lets you cry into his shoulder, wetting his uniform as you all but sob in relief, leaning on your Captain for support as your legs turn like jelly, unable to support the weight of your weary body.

It must’ve been terrifying - being out there on the field, hostility and death surrounding you in all directions and the only person you could possibly rely on is yourself. Keeping yourself safe and sane as you navigate unknown terrain and fight off the monsters who wear the skins of humans and pollute the very Earth they have been raised on. Blood and gore and gunpowder clinging to you like a second skin as you pray to survive another night and make it back home safely. Back to your team.

Back to your kind captain, and sergeants you have befriended and a cold Lieutenant who sometimes fails to hide the care he carries for you in his brown eyes.

Price has a look of sympathy and understanding on his face as he drags you to the infirmary, even holding your trembling hand in his warm palm as you flinch at the sight of the large syringe needle and hiss in pain whenever the alcohol-soaked cotton is applied to your cuts. He soothes you with a gentle pat on your back, mindful of your treated injuries as he softly tells you to clean up and maybe get some much needed sleep, asking Gaz to supply you with something to eat before you doze off due to fatigue and the morphine still floating in your system.

Ghost found it annoying for the most part - sometimes snapping at you to "Shut up and focus" on bad days and while he’s still irked at the sentimentality you possess, something that he and his comrades have willingly allowed to wither and die in their souls, a small part of him - a part of him that still resembles who Simon was, a mimicry of the humanness he hasn’t felt in his dead soul for years, worried about you. Worried sick about you and your emotions and the lack of lid you have on it. Worried if he had been too harsh on you because he doesn’t do emotions, and clearly he is out of his depth when it comes to dealing with people, but especially when it comes to dealing with you.

He realizes he doesn’t mind you crying all that much.

You go out for drinks to celebrate your successful solo mission and you spend the time you had lost on the field with your teammates - you play billiards with Gaz against Soap and Ghost and lose sorely, and then you try out a peg of whiskey the Captain has ordered and Price laughs heartily as you sputter and whine as the drink burns your esophagus. You somehow convince Ghost to teach you how to throw darts and he tries to not lean into your warmth as he stands behind you, his gloved hand holding your wrist as he positions you and teaches you how to throw the wooden dart you hold between your smooth fingers, and tells you all he knows about making sure that the little thing hits the dartboard without fail.

Simon can smell your jasmine shampoo and your citrus perfume on you as he uses his hands to correct your posture. He can feel how soft and pliant you are under him, eager to obey and please him, and all he can think about is what it’d be like - being your confidante, being the voice of reason for you when you’re drowning in emotions, being a sturdy shoulder for you to cry on.

And he knows for a fact that you’d be all that and more in a heartbeat if he allowed you to.

You lean onto Simon for support, your head lolling onto his shoulder as he quietly guides you to your bedroom. You hum quietly as he carefully makes you lie down on your bed, removing your shoes for you and when you beg him to help you remove the little makeup you had applied for the night (Price blatantly ignoring the use of contraband because it’s you), he surprisingly complies. Years of applying camo paint on his face give him the needed experience around using micellar water and makeup wipes as he helps you prepare yourself for a night of mindless sleeping, which will be followed by a hangover in the morning plaguing almost all of them. (He swears he’ll force you to drink the ginger tea he’ll make, no matter how much you’d whine about it tasting ‘yucky’. He’d rather not have you hurling over everything like a cat with a persistent hairball stuck in its throat).

“I’m so happy”, you hum to yourself as Simon tilts your head up.

“Close your eyes, Sergeant”, he orders and you comply, feeling the soaked cotton pad rub against your eyelids as your Lieutenant removes your pink eye shadow. It’s a pretty color on you, Simon thinks but he never says it out loud.

You stay silent as he finishes up with your work, his calloused fingertips tilting and moving your head to look at any missed spots he might’ve overlooked in the dim bedroom light.

“All done”, he scruffs, getting up on his feet and he hears you call out to him as he leaves the room.

“What is it?” he asks, wishing to be in his warm bed on this cold night.

“Thank you, sir”, you say earnestly with your eyes shining with sincerity and an unrecognizable emotion.

Simon observes you - you lying on your bed in the clothes you wore to the bar, with most of your makeup removed and your eyes struggling to stay open as intoxication and tiredness tempt you to forget the world and sleep.

A moment too late, he asks you, “What are you thanking me for, rookie?”

Only to find you out cold.

He sighs, draping the thin blanket over your shivering body and leaving you alone in your room.

When you wake up the next day with a hangover headache, your makeup removed and your blanket draped over you tenderly, you make your way to the common kitchen and you ask your moody superior if he remembers anything from the night before - your hazy memory failing to cover the gaps in your memory.

He gruffly says out, “No” and then hands you a cup of ginger tea, looking at you intensely as he waits for you to whine about the bitter taste of the tea he’s made for you. Knowing it’s a lost fight, you let out an exasperated sigh and thank your Lieutenant for the hangover cure. He looks at you a beat too long before leaving you to your own devices, exiting the room, and going God knows where.

It takes him time, with all that he is and all that he has been through, to come to a new conclusion for his first impression of you. Steadily with time, Simon realizes that the reason you cry so easily is not because you're weak.

It’s because you’re brave.

Brave enough to express yourself and not fear rejection from others. Brave enough to show that you care, to show that you love life and people and everything life has to offer. Brave and kind and valiant in everything you do, Simon is almost jealous of your ability to be so open and free. He wonders what it would be like to let go and just allow himself to feel.

It’d probably drown him alive.

It might set him free.

He’d never get the chance to know though.

Now again, you sob as you put pressure on his abdomen wound as you talk to him with a wet, unstable voice, “Stay awake for me, Lt. We will all make it”. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. (You need that reassurance more than him anyway).

He’s sluggish, the blood loss and pain makes it hard for him to focus on your blurry face and the skull mask on his face doesn’t help him either. He’s immobile, despite trying his level best to raise his hand up so that he can wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks. He parts his lips to tell you to please stop crying, to tell you how he’s not worth the worry, he’s not worthy of your tears - not when he has vehemently admonished you for them all this time.

But all he can do is let out a low moan of pain, his eyes rolling back in his head. He can hear your voice, can hear the worry and fear and panic as you call out to him, but everything is hard and he can hear you but comprehending your words is near impossible with the ringing in his ears and the whirring of the helicopter that came in to rescue him and his team. He’s aware of his teammates sitting beside him - he can imagine their solemn faces as they cope with the possibility of him succumbing to his wounds before they make it back to safety. But he focuses on you instead - sweet, radiant you who worries about everyone and everything; who wears her heart on her sleeve and still holds onto the hope that he will make it out of this ordeal alive, even though he can feel his life slipping away from him like the sands of time.

Each breath of his is labored, and Simon wishes for nothing more than to wipe away your tears or to maybe hold your soft self against his injured body, cradling you close to his heart as he vows to survive this for you. Only for you.

Through black spots and dryness, he blinks up to look at you and he has this realization, a moment of pure ‘Eureka!’ as he observes your worsened state of being.

You have never been prettier than this instant, crying over him and praying to any kind of deity who’d grant him the boon of life.

Satisfied with his discovery and suddenly extremely tired, he allows himself to close his eyes, letting the fatigue win and the last thing he sees is you crying for him to stay alive and fight.

The last thing he hears is your sobs as you beg someone, anyone to save your Lieutenant.

Note -

Title is thanks to the song 'Pretty When You Cry' by Lana Del Rey, although I wasn't actually listening to the song while writing this.

#call of duty #cod #cod:mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty fluff #call of duty angst #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley fluff #call of duty headcanons #char.simon ghost riley

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months

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tales of the passerine - danny fenton being bruce wayne's first kid

okay okay. so this is like a continuation/elaboration of my oneshot/prompt i wrote about the idea that Danny was the first batkid. We have a lot of aus where he joins the family after the rest of the bats do, right? So hey! Lets shake things up a bit. Danny is the first to be adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Danny's parents and unfortunately Jazz die shortly after the events of TUE -- how so? I was gonna say an ecto-filter explosion, that would call back to the TUE explosion and trauma behind that. But lets do something new! Carbon-monoxide poisoning.

It's not too unexpected for something to break in the Fenton house, especially with the Fenton parents' questionable understanding of proper weapon handling and lab safety. The water heater broke from a stray shot by one of the weapons, and was promptly MacGyver'd incorrectly. Danny went to stay with Tucker for a guys' night, and came back to a dead silent house.

(Danny's neighbors got a very unfortunate shock when he ran to the next house over in hysterics.)

There was a lot of shuffling around with CPS, the police. People had to be called in to handle the equipment in the lab, and the GIW was rumoring to show up in aid to clearing the scene. When Danny heard of that, he immediately went and dismantled the ghost portal to the best of his abilities. He burned the physical blueprints of all his parents' inventions, their blueprints on the ghost portal, and their most dangerous weapons were destroyed beyond recognition. Anything to prevent the GIW from getting their hands on his parents' tech.

It opened up another investigation, but he was not under the list of suspects. He was placed in the care of Vlad Masters, where they then went back to the rebuilt castle mansion in Wisconsin. Danny, terrified of the future that has once passed and may do so again, shuts down in his grief. Inadvertently, he ends up somewhat repressing his ghost half. Something Vlad, who is grieving Madeline but relishing in Jack's demise and his custody of Daniel, is not very happy with.

Vlad's... gone into a bit of a mental health spiral. He's becoming increasingly possessive over Daniel, the final remnants of his friends and a liminal being like him. He doesn't like that Danny's repressing his ghost half -- both out of genuine concern as a ghost, but also because of his desire to control Danny and groom him into the perfect son. If you ever had a phase where you read Dark SBI found family fics, first off; me too bro, and second off; those are the vibes I'm thinking of.

Danny's mentally shut down from grief! And fear. He's dropped into a bad depressive state -- paralyzed with grief and the terror of the inevitable. Clockwork saved his parents because he believes in second chances, but what's the point of that when his family ended up dead anyways? Danny doesn't wanna believe that he's destined to become evil, and he's holding out onto that hope, but it's a thin line, and he feels utterly hopeless and trapped. He hasn't used his powers or ghost form since he trashed the lab, and Vlad has alarms set up to prevent him from trying to escape.

He's also unintentionally cut off Sam and Tucker -- both of whom are so scared and concerned for Danny too, and are trying their damndest to reach out to him. He keeps ignoring their texts. Danny basically haunts Vlad's manor. He goes out to eat if he has to, attends parties Vlad drags him to, and stays in his room all day if he can.

At parties, Vlad doesn't allow Danny to leave his side, or really talk to anyone -- not that Danny wants to. A product of Vlad's increasing possessiveness. Well, he almost doesn't let Danny leave his side. Danny has a habit of slipping off to hide somewhere for the parties whenever he can, and Vlad reluctantly allows it so long as he stays alone.

This becomes an advantage when eventually, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham after missing for years, and holds a bright charity ball to celebrate the return. Vlad has been chomping at the bits to get his hands on Wayne Industries, and with the return of its owner there is no better opportunity to wipe out his rival. He goes, and he as normal, brings Daniel with him.

Vlad thinks Wayne will bleed his little heart out for Daniel's poor orphan sob story -- he's a fellow orphan himself, after all. He's not wrong; Wayne's little heart will bleed, just not in the way that benefits him.

Bruce sees Vlad and Danny approaching before they're even close enough to introduce themselves - and like with many of the children he will soon come to care for, it's like someone set a mirror into the past right in front of him.

Danny Fenton's suit is tailor-made for him, and despite the fact that it's his perfect size, the sag in his shoulders, the ducked down head, and the way he hunches into himself all pictures the image of a child in shoes too big for him. There's a far away, glazed over look in his eyes and grief marble-cut into the lines of his face. There's not enough makeup in the world that will hide the dark circles under his eyes.

("My nephew, Daniel Fenton." Vlad's hands are possessive on Danny's shoulders. Bruce immediately notices the way the boy tenses under his touch. "His parents passed recently, and as his godfather I was designated his guardian.") ("I'm so sorry, the loss must've been terrible.") ("Yes, carbon-monoxide poisoning caused it. Daniel was out with friends, when he came home... they had already passed.") (Bruce immediately dislikes that Vlad shared the details of their death unprompted -- he likes it even less when Danny flinches at the reminder and hunches into himself.)

Danny runs off at some point earlier into the charity. At this point, parties are still being held at Wayne Manor (because iirc google search mentioned that was a thing at first before it was changed), so he disappears and hides in one of the empty rooms nearby. It just so happens to be the same room Bruce Wayne hides in when he needs a break from all of the socialization.

Thus begins a long, long process of trust. Bruce can't reveal his hand as being smarter than he looks, but he can be compassionate. Kindness needs no measure of intelligence. He keeps Danny company for as long as he can before he runs the risk of being found.

Rinse and repeat. Vlad insistently wants Wayne Industries, and he'll go to as many Wayne parties as he can to get his hooks into the man. The problem is that Bruce Wayne is never alone, and getting him alone is impossible. Finding him too. It's like the man never stops moving. Always talking to someone, always circling somewhere. He orbits around the room as if he isn't the sun of the Gotham Elite's solar system.

Danny's had such repetitive behavior that Vlad never thinks to believe that Bruce Wayne is disappearing to go talk to him. That "Vlad's" son is even interacting with him at all. Danny never gives him a reason to think so, and neither does Bruce.

Danny doesn't actually acknowledge Bruce until a handful of parties in, where he hands Bruce a small slip of paper he smuggled in that says; "don't trust Vlad". Danny's face stays carefully blank, but he's so tense that his hands are trembling, and he's purposely looking away from him. Bruce plasters a smile onto his face, slips the paper into his pocket, and tells him "okay".

(he's been busy with his own goals with the mafia, but he sets aside time to investigate Vlad Masters. He was holding off. Until now.)

Danny does eventually start speaking to Bruce, he's starting to really like the guy. He's starting to see a little hope, even as Vlad is starting to get more and more agitated with him the more he refuses to use his powers.

He reaches out to Sam and Tucker again, and starts trying to reconnect with them. Vlad has spyware on his phone, and he limits the amount of times he can talk to them. A weird parental control lock of some sort that leaves a time limit on how long he can talk to them for. 30 minutes. Danny doesn't tell them anything about Mr. Wayne.

Danny, slowly, wants out of here, and he's slowly gathering the motivation to do it. Vlad is genuinely scaring him -- and Danny wonders just how truthful the past-future Vlad was when he told him that Danny wanted his ghost half separate. He starts trying to come up with an escape plan.

Vlad has anti-ghost wards everywhere around the mansion, and while they're always on, they boost to full power at sunset. The doors and windows are always locked, all main exits have alarms set on them. The only reason it's not super extensive is because Danny hasn't tried leaving at all yet, so Vlad hasn't had to tighten anything.

At night, Vlad locks the door to his room and puts up an anti-ghost ward around the room. The mansion is on the outside westward side of Madison, more entrenched in rural Wisconsin. The closest town is a four-way stop sign with one house on three corners, and an open bar on the fourth. Not much to go.

He refuses to go to Sam and Tucker; Vlad would look there first. It's too dangerous. Vlad would sound alarm bells and have a manhunt looking for him, Danny can't risk going just anywhere. Too much risk of being found, sold out, or caught. There's really nowhere for him to hide.

Until there is. Bruce is telling Danny about the history of Wayne Manor, and says, as casually as saying the weather; "The manor has dozens of empty rooms, I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind filling another one if he could." And quietly, hesitantly, Bruce places a careful hand on Danny's shoulder, unrestrictive and gentle; "He wouldn't mind getting one ready for you if you need one."

And there it is. There's his out.

Danny, just as quietly, replies; "I'll keep that in mind."

The ball starts rolling.

Now I've been trying to summarize this au as much as possible for length convenience, but Vlad has been steadily growing more and more controlling. More emotionally manipulative. More agitated at Danny for not using his powers.

He wants Wayne Industries under his thumb but he's been steadily growing more and more concerned with Danny. He's started grabbing him, yanking him around, shaking him; trying to goad him into using his powers. He gets angry when Danny doesn't react, or tells him he doesn't want to use his powers. He hasn't outright attacked him, but he's getting there. This has been happening over the time it takes for Bruce to indirectly offer Danny sanctuary at his home.

It all comes to a head when Vlad stops going to parties at all -- something Danny has to pretend he isn't upset about -- because Vlad doesn't want him around other people anymore. Vlad rarely goes now without him, and only leaves to go to a Wayne function or to handle something at VladCo.

Danny can't wait for Vlad to leave long enough to escape. So he leaves during the night of a big storm. Vlad's locked him in his room, but Danny doesn't bother trying to go for it; he goes to the alarmed window instead. Danny's been repressing his ghost half so long that he can't access his powers immediately anymore -- he can feel it, he knows its there, but he can't quite reach it.

He breaks the lock by hand.

Immediately the alarm goes off through the entire castle, filling the room with red, and he scrambles for the rope the Wisconsin Ghost left for him a few months back. Danny's already out and climbing down the side of the castle before Vlad even reaches his door -- the only good thing about the entire room being ghost-proof is that Vlad can't get in that way.

The rope ends before it reaches the bottom, and he's still twenty feet in the air. It won't kill him if he lands it right. Danny takes his chances, and drops. He breaks his ankle, but he survives.

And he fucking books it to the back garden. He hears Vlad shrieking over the thunder and rain.

I'll save the full experience for a future oneshot, but Danny makes it out into the nearby woods and forcibly experiences what it's like to be in a horror game, trying to hide from the thing that's hunting you. There's only one thing going through his mind; "i'm going to die"

I have this mental image for this scene. Very stereotypical horror imo. Where Danny is hiding behind a tree, with a hand over his mouth, and Vlad is a few feet away from him, glowing ominously red through the trees, trying to search for him.

Danny doesn't get away from this unscathed, but he does get away alive. That's all he could ask for. He gets away by getting his ghost half awakened long enough to transform into Phantom and fly to Gotham.

But he gets to Wayne Manor, he gets to Bruce. Or, at least, Alfred answers the door from his insistent pounding. Danny's just in tears and Alfred gets him in the living room, wrapped in a towel, with ice on his swollen leg before he has to step out and alert Bruce.

Bruce already breaks multiple traffic laws on a nightly basis. And that's just with the sheer existence of the batmobile itself, not including the speeding and military artillery attached. He breaks double the amount trying to speed back to the cave and get out of the suit.

Right off the bat: Bruce will know, at least before Dick enters the picture, about danny's powers. He'll figure out something considering the fact that Danny traveled from Wisconsin to New York in a single night. That'll be a bit of complicated affair, but I've already got something in mind.

Actually it'll probably be very soon after Danny joins the family, because Bruce tries to offer to fight for custody for Danny - the state Danny was in at arrival is clear enough evidence for a trial. But Danny immediately shuts it down, says it's not going to work and then Vlad will know Danny's with him and he won't be safe. He tells him that Vlad cannot know Danny was with Bruce.

Danny's biggest regret was not telling his parents he was a halfa, and while he doesn't want to tell mister wayne (yet), he does tell him about Vlad being one. He needs to know why Danny can't be seen with Bruce. So he tells him, and Danny's current plan is to just hide out from Vlad until he turns 18. That way, he has no more legal jurisdiction over him. After that? He's not sure.

And to wrap this up, since this has already gotten very long and I can make more posts about this au later; I've thought about it, and I'm going to say that Danny does become a vigilante before Dick enters the scene. He goes by, as you probably guessed; Nightingale. "Gale" for short.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #tales of the passerine au #i dont want to overemphasize how much vlad sucks but also i dont want to downplay it. but also i didn't wanna make this post too long #i didn't emphasize enough on vlad's possessiveness but i wanted to make this post as general enough as possible for the au.#for some more wiggle room in the future if i make more posts about this au.#the consequences for Danny repressing himself was not a concern i was focused on for the post but i am thinking about it and mulling it ove #i'll be blunt my main specific reason for why this occurs shortly after tue is bc it means dani doesn't exist yet and it means i dont have #to include her in the continuation of this au. i love that girl but she's a dead weight. i dont wanna come up with an elaborate reason as #to why she's not in the picture when i can just say 'she never created in the first place' instead. i don't have anything for her to do #I don't want to risk giving her a poor plot line just so that she exists in au.#sometimes i really hate just how long my posts get. i feel like it kills my engagement. but i also don't want to make posts that have #a part 1 and part 2 just because I think it got too long.#i feel kinda bad for having Danny take the spot of 'first partner' from Dick. But that was part of the reason i was inspired to make this a #i've already got the skeleton of a reasoning for danny becoming a vigilante being made in my head.#He can't go by Phantom since that risks drawing Vlad's attention -- a new vigilante showing up in Gotham. a place the visited frequently #who goes by the name Phantom? He'd be on that faster than chickens on meat. and nightingale has familial meaning behind it due to being #part of an ancestral name. it follows robin's theme of using it to honor his parents while still having its own unique enough lore to stand #on its own without feeling like a cheap copy. plus the bonus meta reason that it follows the bird theme. which personally is vital to me #my other alternative to Nightingale is Sparrow. mostly because it has good phonetic structure for a hero name. not too many syllables #a good balance of consonants and vowels. dont want a hero name with too many syllables or unbalanced consonants. or worse; both.#my reasonings is that hero names should be easy for a civ or teammate to yell while still being understood. max amount of syllables before #it threatens to become too wordy is 3. If it goes over 3 it should have a balanced consonant-vowel ratio. Wonder Woman is a good example #some things got cut here that were in the initial oneshot. like danny giving bruce his physical ghost core and showing up bloody.#the first son au

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guilty-ff · 2 months

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𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐭.4

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Previously: Y/N, restrained and tortured, learns from Francis that her regeneration causes others to suffer in her place. As the pain intensifies, she weakly mutters his name before passing out.

This story takes place between the second and third movies (warning: not 100% movie/comic accurate)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Reader

Genre: Angst, revenge, Fanfiction, Marvel

Warnings: Movie Spoilers! Explicit content, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons

Word count: 3927

Wade was a broken man, trapped in a relentless cycle of despair and obsession. His life, once marked by chaos and humor, had become an endless string of sleepless nights and futile searches.

The warehouse, which had once been a safe place of his independence and creativity, was now a pitiful reflection of his deteriorating mental state. It was cluttered with stacks of documents, photographs pinned disorganised on the walls, and maps dotted with red circles and frantic scribbles. Every inch of the space was covered in evidence of his failed search for Y/n, and the air was stuffy with the odor of stale coffee and unwashed clothes.

Wade's physical appearance mirrored his mental decline. He had lost weight, his once muscular frame now gaunt and sickly. His suit, once his pride, was now old and stained. The red and black fabric was faded, a wretched testament to his endless struggles.

His face, usually masked by his signature humor, was now painted with deep lines of exhaustion and despair. His eyes, once sharp and full of mischief, were now hollow and bloodshot, reflecting the sleepless nights and relentless guilt that hunted him.

The daily routine was monotonous and the same.

Wade would spend hours looking over the maps and documents, his fingers stained with ink and coffee. He would pace the warehouse, muttering to himself as he memorised every detail of his search. The endless cycle of hope and disappointment had messed up his sanity. Every time a lead turned out to be a dead end, it felt like another nail in his coffin.

Weasel had tried everything to break through to him. He had been by Wade's side through every failed attempt, every new lead that went nowhere. But as the years wore on, his patience began to wear thin.

Dopinder, too, had grown weary. He had watched Wade's descent into obsession with a heavy heart, and the silence in Altheas apartment was often emphasised by the sound of Weasel's frustrated sighs.

One evening, after yet another dead-end search, Weasel finally exploded. His face was flushed with anger and exhaustion as he stormed into the room. The narrow space, filled with the waste of Wade's obsessive quest, seemed to close in around him.

He slammed a stack of papers onto the table, the documents scattering and fluttering across the floor. "Wade, this is fucking insane!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "We've been at this for years! We've gone through every fucking corner of this city and beyond, and there's nothing. She's gone. You need to accept that!"

Wade, hunched over the table, looked up with hollow eyes. His face was pale, his expression a mix of desperation and confrontation. "Don't you fucking tell me that! She's out there. I know it. I can feel it. I promised I'd protect her. I can't just fucking let go."

Dopinder, who had been standing quietly, finally spoke. His voice was steady but laced with frustration. "Sir, he's right. This obsession is making you lose your mind. As you know, I once felt similar to Gita because of my cousin. It's time to face reality. Kidnapping Bandhu and going after her as you told me was not the move. She's not coming back."

Wade's face twisted in torment. "I can't stop. I made a promise to her. I have to keep looking. If I stop, it means I failed her."

Weasel's anger softened into a weary sadness.

"Wade, look at yourself. You're barely holding it together. This obsession is destroying you. It's okay to accept that she's gone. You can't keep going like this."

The argument had reached a fever pitch when Althea, arrived unannounced. She entered the room with a smirk sensing a suffocating atmosphere.

"Well, well, well," Althea drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look at you, Wade. You're like a fucking stray dog, clawing at every lead and getting nowhere. Pathetic, really. You've been digging through garbage for years, and what do you have to show for it? Nothing but a dirty room and a broken spirit."

Wade's eyes flared with anger and pain. "Shut up, Althea. You have no idea what this is like."

"Oh, I have an idea. You're just like a cockroach, scuttling around in the dark, hoping for a crumb. And look at you now- your obsession has turned you into a fucking joke. A pitiful, little joke."

The cruel words cut deep. Wade's resolve finally began to crumble under the weight of his guilt and the relentless pressure from his friends. He slumped into a chair, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. Tears streamed down his face as he realized the immensity of his failure.

Weasel placed a hand on Wade's shoulder, his voice soft but firm. "You did everything you could. It's time to take care of yourself. You've been searching for years. It's okay to let go."

Wade's voice was a broken whisper. "Fine. Fine. She's dead. I get it. She's gone." The admission felt like a knife twisting in his gut. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

The room fell into a heavy silence. He sat alone in the dim light of the warehouse, feeling a hollow emptiness that no amount of searching could fill. The dream of finding Y/n and making things right had ended in crushing defeat.

Guilt catching up on him, eating away at whatever was left of his sanity. He should have been there for her, should have protected her. He would failed her, just like he had failed Vanessa.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

As Wade's search faded into a resigned acceptance of her death, Y/N's reality became one of unending horror.

Francis, the man responsible for her capture, took pleasure in her suffering, using her as a pawn in his twisted game of revenge against Wade.

The sterile, metallic walls of her prison reflected her pain back at her, a constant reminder of the nightmare she could not escape. And as the torture escalated, so too did her resolve- she would survive this, if only to make sure Francis paid for what he had done.

Each day, Francis would enter, his footsteps echoing down the corridor before the door creaked open. He was always methodical, almost clinical in his approach, but his eyes betrayed a sadistic pleasure in what he was about to do.

He would start with the physical pain.

The tools varied- sometimes it was the sharp blade of a scalpel, cutting into her flesh; other times, it was the searing burn of heated metal pressed against her skin, leaving behind the burned smell of charred flesh.

But no matter how much she bled or how deeply the burns seared, Francis always had more in store for her, never satisfied with just one form of torture.

As Francis stood over her, his expression cold and unfeeling, a stark contrast to the cruel image that flickered in his eyes. His hands moved quickly as he secured the straps around her wrists and ankles, ensuring she could not move even an inch. Y/n's breaths were shallow and weak, each one a reminder of the agony her body had endured.

"Comfortable?" Francis asked, his voice dripping with mockery. He leaned over her, his face close enough that she could see the sick pleasure in his eyes.

Y/n managed to muster a weak glare, her voice a raspy whisper, "Go to hell."

He smiled, a cold, predatory grin that made her stomach turn. "Oh, we're already there, sweetheart." He nodded to one of his servants, who stepped forward with a large, filthy rag and a bucket of water. The sight of the bucket made Y/n's heart race, a surge of primal fear washing over her.

"Let's see how long you can hold your breath," Francis said, his tone almost casual, like they were discussing the weather.

The servant threw the rag over Y/n's face, the old fabric scraping against her raw skin. Her world became dark, the air around her thick and suffocating. Panic set in immediately, her body instinctively struggling against the restraints, but it was useless. She was trapped, helpless beneath the weight of the rag and the knowledge of what was coming next.

Francis stepped back, savoring the moment before giving a slight nod. The servant tilted the bucket, and the water poured out in a steady stream, soaking the rag and filling her mouth and nose. It was cold, a shock to her already trembling body, but that was quickly replaced by a more immediate terror.

Y/n exhausted, her body screaming for air, but all she could do was choke on the water. It felt like she was drowning, like her lungs were filling with liquid fire. Her mind screamed at her to breathe, to cough, to do anything to expel the water, but it was impossible. The rag was an unforgiving barrier, the water relentless as it flooded her senses.

"Do you know what the worst part is, Y/n?" Francis's voice cut through the roaring in her ears, his tone conversational as if they were chatting over tea.

"Wade's not coming for you. He's probably already forgotten you, moved on to the next whore who'll get caught up in his mess. You're nothing to him now. Just another casualty of his fucked-up life."

His words were a blade, slicing through the last threads of her resolve. Y/n wanted to scream, to tell him he was wrong, but all she could do was gag on the water that filled her throat, her body arching off the table in a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating torture.

Francis watched her struggle with cold detachment, his hands clasped behind his back. "He's not worth this, you know," he continued, his voice low and insidious. "You're suffering for nothing. For a man who doesn't even have the decency to keep searching for you. How long do you think you've been here, Y/n? Days? Months? Years?"

Her mind spun, disoriented by the lack of oxygen and the overwhelming need to breathe. Time had lost all meaning in this place, each moment stretching into an eternity of pain and fear. She did not know how long she had been here, but it felt like forever. And the thought that Wade had given up on her, that he had moved on... it was a torture all its own.

Francis nodded again, and the water stopped. The rag was ripped away, and Y/n gasped, coughing violently as her lungs finally found air. Her body shaken violently, trying to dodge the water that had nearly drowned her, each breath a ragged, painful gasp.

But Francis was not done. He leaned down, his face close to hers, his voice a poisonous whisper. "He's not coming for you. No one is. You're all alone, Y/n. And this... this is your life now."

Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, her body trembling with exhaustion and fear. But somewhere deep inside, buried beneath the pain and terror, a spark of defiance still flickered. She would not let him break her. Not like this.

Y/n turned her head, her eyes meeting his with a fierce determination. "Fuck... you," she spat, her voice hoarse but filled with venom.

Francis straightened, a cold smile tugging at his lips. "We'll see how long that fire lasts," he said, stepping back as the servant prepared for the next round of water.

And as the rag was placed over her face once more, Y/n braced herself for the flood, for the darkness that threatened to consume her. But she would hold on to that little hope, no matter how small it was. Because it was all she had left.

Days turned into a blur of pain and despair. The cycle of waterboarding became just one of many methods Francis employed to break her spirit. The physical torment was relentless, but it was the psychological warfare that truly triggered her. He seemed to take a perverse pleasure in ensuring that she remained as mentally shattered as she was physically.

Francis knew how to break a person from the inside out. He was a master of manipulation, weaving a web of lies and half truths designed to trigger her spirit.

He would lean in close, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered cruel taunts. "You really thought Wade would come for you?". He would say, his voice dripping with malice.

His words were like poison, getting into her mind, making her question everything she had believed. She tried to resist, to cling to the hope that Wade was still out there, searching for her, but with each passing day, that hope vanished.

The isolation, the constant pain, and the relentless psychological assault began to wear her down. Francis took every opportunity to remind her of how alone she was, how forgotten she had become.

He had a way of getting inside her head, twisting her thoughts until she did not know what was real anymore. He played mind games with her, altering the timing of her torture sessions so she could never expect when the next wave of pain would come. Sometimes he would leave her in darkness for days, the silence broken only by the distant echoes of other prisoners' screams, a constant reminder of her own doom.

As the years dragged on, Y/n changed. She had lost track of how long she had been trapped in that hellhole. The days had bled together in a blur of agony and despair. The torture had done more than scar her body- it had twisted her mind, turning her into something she barely recognized.

The physical pain was constant, but it was the psychological torment that truly broke her. The things Francis had done to her, the things he had made her believe about Wade, had planted a seed of hatred in her heart, one that grew with every day of her captivity.

The isolation was suffocating. Y/n found herself questioning her own memories, her own worth. The lines between reality and the lies Francis fed her began to blur. She started to believe that Wade had forgotten her, that she was not worth saving. The thought of him moving on, living a life without her, filled her with a rage she had never known before- a rage that Francis eagerly thrilled.

Six years had passed in a relentless blur of pain and suffering since the accident, leaving Y/n in the dark, cramped cell. Her bruised body and broken spirit showed the unending cruelty she had endured.

The cell was a dark, oppressive space, highlighted only by a sliver of moonlight that struggled through a foggy window. Y/n laid crumpled on the cold concrete floor, her body twisted in exhaustion.

The air was heavy, the stench of old blood and sweat mingling with the scent of despair. Her clothes, once white, were now an old and torn mess, barely clinging to her damaged frame. Her skin was marked with bruises and burns, each one a testament to the relentless cruelty she had faced.

Breathing was a struggle, each inhale short and shallow, as if her lungs were weighed down by the enormity of her torture. Her eyes, hollow and unfocused, drifted across the cracked walls. She mumbled to herself, her voice barely more than a whisper, choked by the weight of her guilt and despair.

"They're... they're suffering because of me," she murmured, her voice breaking with the weight of her own realization. "They're dying... and I'm... I'm still here..."

Her thoughts were a mess, separated by the horror she had endured and witnessed. The echoes of distant screams and cries seemed to mess with her mind, though she knew they were not her own. Each cry, each plea for help, was a stark reminder of the suffering she had become intertwined in.

She tried to push away the images and sounds of others' suffering, but they seemed to get into her consciousness, an unending reminder of the pain she had without intention caused.

"Why... why can't I stop this?" she mumbled, her voice stammering. "Why am I the one who's still alive, when they... they're not?"

She felt a intense sense of disconnection from reality, as if the walls of her cell were closing in on her, pressing her down with the weight of her guilt. The thought that her continued survival meant the maintenance of others' suffering was unbearable. She was a vessel of pain, a curse that dragged others into hell with her.

In the silence of her cell, the only sound was her quiet mumbling and the occasional shudder of her body. Her thoughts swirled in a chaotic blur, a never- ending loop of self-blame and guilt. Despite the crushing weight of her situation, a small, flickering hope remained. It was this tiny spark, barely noticeable that drove her to plan her escape.

The day of Y/n's escape had finally arrived, though its outcome remained uncertain. Her heart pounded in her chest as the guards dragged her into a dark metal room, the weight of her chains clinking with every step.

As she was forced to lay on the cold metal table, her body trembling from the effects of the latest torture, a spark of resistance still burned within her.

They had locked her in a small, dark box this time, the temperature slowly dropping until she could see her breath in the air, until her fingers went numb and her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

The cold seeped into her bones, turning her blood to ice. She could feel the frost forming on her skin, tiny crystals of ice biting into her flesh. It hurt- God, it hurt- but she refused to scream. Screaming would only give them the satisfaction of knowing they had won.

The box was so small that she could not move, could not even shift her position to relieve the pressure on her aching joints. The darkness was suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides. She could not see anything, could not hear anything but the faint sound of her own breathing, growing shallower as the cold tightened its grip on her lungs. She focused on that sound, using it to ground herself, to keep from slipping into the abyss of madness that threatened to consume her.

When they finally pulled her out, her body was shaking so badly that she could barely stand. They threw her back onto the table, chaining her wrists and ankles so tightly that the metal bit into her skin. She could feel the blood trickling down her arms, warm against the chill that still clung to her. Francis stood over her, a smug smile on his face as he looked down at her shivering form.

"You're stronger than I expected," he said, his voice cold and clinical. "But everyone breaks eventually. It's just a matter of time."

Y/n did not respond. She did not have the strength to. She lay there, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths, her eyes half-closed. To Francis, she looked like she was on the brink of passing out, just another victim of his sadistic games. But Y/n was far from unconscious. She was waiting.

Francis turned away, motioning for the guards to prepare her for the next round of torture. They moved around her, their footsteps heavy on the concrete floor. Y/n waited until one of them leaned in close, unlocking the chain around her wrist. In that split second, she struck.

With a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, she grabbed the guard's arm and yanked it toward her, using his own momentum to pull him off balance. Her hand found the sharp shard of ice she had hidden, formed from the frost that had coated her body during the freezing torture.

She drove it into his throat with all the force she could muster. The man gurgled, blood spurting from the wound as he collapsed to the ground, the life draining from his eyes.

"Fuck, she broke ou-"

The second guard barely had time to react before she was on him, the makeshift weapon flashing in the dim light as she drove it into his chest. He staggered back, clutching at the wound as blood poured from between his fingers. Y/n did not stop to watch him fall. She was already moving, her body fueled by a desperate, animalistic need to survive.

Francis turned, his eyes widening in shock as he saw her standing over the bodies of his guards, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "You-" he started, but she did not give him a chance to finish. She lunged at him, the ice shard slicing through the air, aiming for his throat. But Francis was quicker than she had anticipated. He dodged to the side, catching her wrist in a vice-like grip.

She struggled, but he was stronger, his hand tightening around her wrist until she could feel the bones grinding together. Pain shot up her arm, but she refused to let go of the shard. She twisted, bringing her knee up into his gut. He grunted, loosening his grip just enough for her to pull free.

Y/n did not waste any time. She turned and ran, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor as she sprinted down the hallway. She could hear Francis shouting behind her, calling for more guards, but she did not stop. She did not look back. All she could think about was getting out, getting away from this place and the horrors it held.

The facility was a labyrinth of sterile hallways and locked doors, but she knew it well. She had been dragged through these corridors enough times to memorize every turn, every exit. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, her lungs burning with the effort, but she pushed herself harder, refusing to let the exhaustion slow her down.

Finally, she burst through a door and into the open air. The night was cold, the sky a dark, starless void above her. But the chill was a welcome relief after the suffocating confines of the facility. She did not stop running, her feet pounding against the ground as she made her way toward the fence that surrounded the compound.

She could hear the guards behind her, their shouts growing louder as they closed in. But she did not care. She was almost there, almost free. With a final burst of strength, she launched herself at the fence, scrambling up the chain-link like a wild animal. Her hands were slick with blood and sweat, making it hard to keep her grip, but she refused to let go. She hauled herself over the top, her body crashing to the ground on the other side with a painful thud.

She did not stop. She could not. Ignoring the pain that shot through her limbs, she pushed herself to her feet and started running again, disappearing into the night, leaving the facility and Francis behind.

But the damage had been done.

As she ran through the darkened forest, the memories of the past years haunted her, flashing before her eyes like a twisted film reel. The torture, the pain, the manipulation- they had all left their mark on her. She was no longer the woman she had been when she first entered that facility. That woman was dead, buried beneath the layers of trauma and hatred that now consumed her.

And as she ran, one thought burned brighter than all the others: Wade Wilson had abandoned her. He had left her to suffer, to be broken by Francis and him.

#fanfic #deadpool #deadpool 2 #deadpool 3 #deadpool x reader #fiction #marvel fanfiction #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #marvel angst #marvel #marvel fic #deadpool x you #deadpool x y/n #deadpool 1 #angst #x men

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 10 months

Text

The Danger Zone (Part 11) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 4.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Background Relationships; Medical Appointments; Suggestive Comments; Discussion of Mental Health (Depression, Anxiety, Post-Partum); Discussions of Goose and Carole; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake move in together and attend your twenty-week appointment.

Series Master List

Master List

A week and a half later, you were moving into Jake’s apartment officially. The two of you, with some help from Phoenix and Coyote, had already moved all of the smaller items out of your apartment. Bradley and Mav also stopped by—when Jake wasn’t there—to take some of the more sentimental items to hold onto for you in their bigger homes.

So, all that was left were a few pieces of furniture. You sold some of your furniture but decided to either keep or store or give away the other pieces. And that meant that someone had to drag it down the stairs and shove it into the back of Jake’s truck or the trailer that Maverick brought.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake stated, watching as you rearranged the chairs around the table.

“What?”

“You’re not carrying anything. It’s all heavy and we’re not risking you hurting yourself,” Jake insisted, walking over to you. “Just relax.”

“I think I can drag a chair a few inches,” you stated, shooting Jake a playful look. “But I won’t carry anything heavy. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Jake replied softly. “How’re they today?”

“I think I’m feeling flutters, but I don’t really know. I only seem to feel them when I’m trying to sleep, so I don’t know if I’m imaging them.”

Your twenty-week appointment was about a week away and both of you were a bit anxious about it. Of course, every first-time parent worried about the worst case-scenario at that appointment. That they were going to get some kind of news that would change the little fairytale that they built up in their mind.

“Only when you’re trying to sleep?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“It’s like they’re teasing you. Or trying to stress you out more.”

“They’re stubborn, that’s all.”

“They get it from both sides,” Jake replied, brushing his fingers down your bump.

“Hopefully, they’re not too stubborn coming out,” you stated, glancing down at your bump as Jake took a step closer to you. Smiling up at him, you let out a chuckle. “What?”

“I’m just thinking about all the gas I’ll save when I don’t have to drive over here anymore," he explained, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“The gas, of course,” you hummed.

You let out a louder giggle as Jake leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek and then down your neck. The two of you, since your kiss in the kitchen, had gotten a lot more comfortable and handsy with each other over the next few days. You hadn’t taken it all the way yet, both of you were still cautious about pushing too hard too fast, but you seemed to be moving in that direction. It was starting to remind you of how the two of you were before you found out that you were pregnant.

Jake pressed a lingering kiss to your lips as his strong arms pulled you closer. And as you tangled your hand in his hair, returning the kiss, you heard the door to your apartment open. You turned your head and reflexively pushed Jake off of you when you saw Maverick standing there.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Though you looked as if you weren’t expecting company,” Maverick quipped, working on his key ring.

“I can explain,” Jake stated, causing Maverick to shake his head.

“You already got her pregnant, Jake. There’s not much left to explain beyond that.”

“Mav,” you sighed, feeling like a teenager again.

“Trailer’s parked out front. I didn’t know how you wanted to divide things up. Penny said that she would bring lunch over to your new apartment. And Bradley told me that he was leaving a couple minutes ago.”

“Great,” Jake replied dryly.

“There's not too much left at least,” you stated, trying to perk Jake up. “But I have to give the key back to my landlord, Mav.”

Maverick pulled your spare key off of his chain and handed it over to you before turning to Jake. The two of them started to carry stuff downstairs to the trailer or Jake’s truck while you started to sweep up and do your final round of cleaning so that your landlord didn’t charge you extra.

Jake and Maverick were out by the trailer, sliding your dresser into the back when Rooster walked over with his keys in hand. Leaning on the trailer wall, Rooster and Jake shared a glare before Bradley turned to Maverick.

“Emma’s going to meet us there with Penny. I’ll text her when we’re finished up here.”

“We’ve still got a few trips left before that,” Maverick reported, walking over to Bradley. “We’re going to do the couch next.”

Bradley nodded and turned to head inside with Mav, leaving Jake to walk by himself. Jake wasn’t too perturbed. He was expecting the treatment from Bradley and the fact that Maverick hadn’t pushed him down the stairs after seeing the two of you together felt like a small victory.

You were wiping down the counters when they returned to your apartment. You moved to greet your brother before the three of them walked over to your couch. You stood a bit nervously by the door, holding it open for them.

“Please don’t hurt yourselves,” you told them as they started to carry it out.

“We’ll be fine,” Jake assured you as he passed by.

You watched them go before shutting the door. Moving over to the window, you sat down and watched for them. It was only three floors, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to focus until the three of them emerged together. You weren’t so worried that the couch would be too heavy or anything like that. You were more concerned that they would use it to hurt each other.

Jake and Bradley carried the ends of the couch while Maverick stood in the middle. Bradley stood on the lower set of stairs, simply because Jake wasn’t stupid and refused to step down first. Otherwise, he wasn’t confident that he would make it down to the bottom of the stairs. Not without a crack in the back of his head. Again, he wasn’t stupid.

“Lift it up more,” Bradley grunted as they tried to turn one of the last corners.

“I am,” Jake huffed back at him.

“I wouldn’t have asked if you just did it,” Bradley snapped at Jake.

“Just lift, both of you,” Maverick stated firmly, shooting them both a look.

They managed to walk around the corner with the couch and down the last set of stairs before setting the couch down on the floor to catch their breath and relieve their muscles. Bradley leaned on the couch, glaring over at Jake as Jake stretched his arms casually. Maverick was silent, but he was clearly watching them.

“So, why are we moving my sister into your tiny apartment again, Hangman?”

“Her lease is up and we’re having a baby together,” Hangman stated, like Rooster was as dumb as a brick.

“And you couldn’t even get an apartment with enough room for a crib in it?”

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, shooting him a look.

“There’s enough room for a crib,” Jake snapped back at Bradley. “We already mapped it out. We wrote down the exact dimensions that we need. And even if we didn’t, it’s none of your fucking business, Rooster.”

“Jake,” Maverick sighed, turning to the annoyed aviator.

“It is my business when it involves my sister and my niece or nephew.” Bradley straightened up, staring Jake down. “She told me that you were looking at houses, but yet she said that she hasn’t been to any house showings. Why is that?”

“None of your fucking business, Rooster.”

“It’s not? Because it sounds like you’re selling a fantasy to my sister that you’re never actually going to deliver.”

“That’s enough,” Maverick replied to both of them.

“You would want your sister to just move into the first house that we found and could close on?” Jake stated, staring Bradley down. “We’re looking. But there’s other things that are more pressing that we have to deal with. But again, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“And does she know that? Have you told her that?”

“Alright, pick up your ends, let’s get it put into the trailer,” Maverick snapped, effectively ending the argument.

You watched from above as Jake, Bradley, and Maverick walked out to the trailer with the couch. Letting out a breath of relief, you got up and turned to clean once again. There was just the tables, chairs, and another small dresser left, which Jake, Bradley, and Maverick carried down in three more trips.

When it was all cleaned up, you took a moment to walk through the empty rooms, reminiscing about the memories that the place brought you. It was a sanctuary for you for a time. An escape, really. But it was an apartment for a version of you that was quickly disappearing and in a few short months would be gone completely.

You had grown out of it. And it was time to move on.

“You alright?” Jake asked softly, standing at the threshold of the apartment.

“Yeah,” you replied, turning to him with a small smile. “I’m okay.”

Picking up the keys, you walked over to Jake, pressed a kiss to his lips, and headed out. And into the new phase of your life.

~~~~~

You and Jake arrived at your shared apartment first, since Maverick and Bradley were dropping off some stuff at their respective houses first. Penny was waiting for you in the parking lot and Jake assured you that he would be fine carrying everything himself.

“So, how’d moving out go?” Penny asked you as you walked up the stairs. Your now shared apartment was on the third floor, so it was one less set of stairs than your previous apartment. “Pete gave me a brief overview.”

“He probably knows better than me. He was the one who was dealing with them,” you sighed, pulling out your new set of keys. “I just want them to be able to coexist. They don’t have to like each other. Hell, they don’t even need to speak to each other. I just need them to be able to sit in the same room and not try to kill each other.”

“They’re both stubborn and set in their ways,” Penny replied, shaking her head. “Have you talked to Emma about Bradley?”

“Yeah, but there’s only so much she can do. Ever since Mom died, he’s always felt the need to be so protective over me. And I appreciated it sometimes but now I don’t need it now. I just want him to be happy for me. For us, me and Jake.”

“He will. Maybe he just needs to see Jake supporting you—not that he isn’t already—for that to start to happen.”

“He better get over it by the time I have this baby or I swear,” you muttered, moving to unlock your front door. You turned to Penny with less annoyance in your features. “You know, I really want to make Bradley and Emma the baby’s godparents. And the baby’s guardians if something were to happen to the both of us and—”

“—Don’t talk like that,” Penny interrupted you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Penny,” you sighed as the door shut behind her, “I’m not living in some delusion where I don’t think that bad things can happen. And I want it all written down and signed and everything before I give birth or just in case Jake gets dragged away.” Placing a hand on your bump, you looked down. “I want to be prepared.”

“Hey, today is a happy occasion. You can focus on that stuff at another time. Right now, just enjoy the fact that everyone is healthy and that you’re moving forward in your relationship with Jake, okay?” You nodded slowly and Penny pulled you in for a tight motherly hug. “And that’s why I got you a gift.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Penny.”

“I know, but I saw it and just thought of you,” Penny replied, pulling away and reaching into the bag that she brought.

“And you definitely didn’t need to wrap it,” you mused, taking the box from her hand.

Gently tearing at the wrapping paper, you glanced up when the door opened and Jake walked in, carrying your nightstand and dragging a suitcase behind him. You shot him a smile as he glanced curiously down at the gift in your hands.

“What’s that?”

“Just a small gift,” Penny insisted, smiling kindly.

You tore away the rest of the wrapping paper and pulled out a rectangular plaque. You were a bit confused when you noted the three raised squares, but when you read the painted letters above them, it all clicked.

The message of ‘Daddy’ + ‘Mommy’ = ‘Baby’ was so simple, yet so emotionally overwhelming.

“You’re supposed to put your handprints here,” Penny explained, pointing at the squares. “Jake can put his handprint here and then you can put yours there and then when your baby comes, you can put their handprint there. They recommended red and white for your hands if it’s a girl, so that her handprint is pink. Or white and a darker blue if it’s a boy, so that his handprint would be a baby blue. And you can paint the baby’s name below the square too, right there.”

“I love it,” you croaked out, emotions quickly bursting to the surface. “Thank you, Penny. I love it, I love it so much.”

You pulled Penny back in for a tight hug, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. Jake looked on, concerned, but Penny gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed that it was alright. And when Jake continued to look concerned, Penny whispered ‘hormones’ to him. Jake nodded slowly and gently took the plaque from your hands.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you breathed out, wiping them away hastily. “It just hit me all of a sudden.”

“It’s been a long day. You’re making big steps. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, trying to get a reign on your emotions again. Turning back to Jake, who was still staring at you with a measure of concern. “Where do you think we should put it up, once it’s complete?”

“Somewhere everyone can see it,” Jake suggested, causing you to smile and nod in agreement.

~~~~~

Since most of your stuff was already at Jake’s apartment, it didn’t take too much longer to fully make it your shared space. And you already made space in the living room for baby stuff. It was still early, you knew, but the alternative was researching about what horrible things you could find out at your twenty-week appointment, so you kept on decorating.

But today was the day, so you supposed that you couldn’t push it off anymore.

Waiting a bit anxiously in your car, you let out a breath when you spotted Jake’s truck pull into the lot. You grabbed your purse and slipped out of your car, walking over to where Jake parked. He got out of his truck, dressed in his day uniform, and quickly moved to your side. Pulling you in for a gentle hug, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, causing you to nod against his chest. “Everything’s going to be fine. Whatever we find out, it’s going to be fine, okay?”

Jake locked up his truck before the two of you headed inside the office. You checked in and sat down, filling out some paperwork while Jake rested his arm behind your back. And when your name was called, the two of you silently walked back to the exam room. Laying back on the exam table, you stared at the ceiling as Jake rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

A knock at the door made you sit up and move to the edge of the examination table. Your obstetrician walked inside the room with a kind smile. It started off as any regular doctor’s appointment would. You went over your symptoms, your pains, your bloodwork, and everything else before moving onto the ultrasound.

You immediately reached for Jake as the wand touched your belly and he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. She moved it around, typing away at her computer, taking a few images and measurements, before turning to you with a reassuring smile.

“Your baby’s growing normally and as they should. Everything is measuring normal. They’re a little smaller than average, but nothing to be concerned about. They’re still a perfectly healthy and normal size.” She typed something else before turning back to you and Jake. “Do you still want to wait to know the baby’s sex?”

“Yes, please,” you answered quickly.

“Alright, well, I’m just going to turn the screen briefly,” your obstetrician replied, hiding the information from you and Jake.

“You can tell?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, but all the files are marked to keep that information completely private. Unless you change your mind, of course.”

You nodded and shared a look with Jake, who pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Your obstetrician typed away again before moving the screen back to your view. And as she continued to tell you that everything was normal and healthy, you sunk in and started to relax and enjoy the moment.

“Your baby seems to be a bit stubborn,” your obstetrician noted, trying to move the wand around your belly again to take some more measurements. “They start to cooperate and then seem to decide not to about three seconds later.”

“That’s not shocking,” you mused, watching the movement of your child on the screen. “Stubbornness is probably genetic for them.”

After a few more pictures, your belly was wiped off and you sat up once again. Your obstetrician smiled kindly as she sat down on her stool in front of you. Jake sat beside you, more relaxed than when he walked in, but still alert, as your obstetrician turned to you.

“Alright, there’s just a few more screening questions and then we’re all set.”

“Of course,” you agreed, nodding slowly.

“Mr. Seresin,” your obstetrician stated, causing Jake to turn to her. “Did you want to go and grab the ultrasound photos? A tech can bring you back there. And you can ask them any questions of your own about the process.”

Jake hesitated for a moment but agreed and got up from his seat. You squeezed his hand in goodbye before he exited the room with one of the techs. Your obstetrician waited until he was gone before turning to you.

“At the twenty week appointment, we usually perform a screening of your mental health.” After you nodded, she began. “Have you ever had a history of mental illness? Anxiety? Depression? Eating disorders? Anything like that?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. “Depression and anxiety.”

“When?” she asked, poised to type down the information.

“My mother passed away when I was twelve. And after that, I was diagnosed with depression and put in talk therapy for a time. But I stopped that when I was eighteen. And they put me on anti-anxiety medication when I was sixteen.”

“Are you still on that medication?”

“No, I stopped it about a year afterwards. I was just going through a lot at the time and talk therapy wasn’t working completely. It was just to get me through that time and then I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Have you had any flare ups since then?”

“A few times,” you answered honestly.

“You didn’t go back to talk therapy or medication or anything?”

“No, I just . . . waited for it to get better, I suppose. Probably wasn't the best decision, but I survived.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t return to therapy or medication?”

“Honestly, the only reason I went to therapy or went on medication when I was a teenager was because I had people in my family push me in that direction. But when I was an adult, I just . . . I wanted to just handle it quietly.”

“Well, please document if you feel any depression or anxiety during your pregnancy and your postpartum period. It’s an overwhelming time for anyone and there’s no shame in asking for help of any kind.” Your obstetrician paused before asking softly, “Do you trust your partner to help you if you feel depressed or anxious?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly, nodding along.

“And are you two living together?”

“Yes, we are.”

“And you feel safe in that living situation? Do you feel safe and confident about bringing your baby into that environment?”

“Yes, completely.”

“Alright, well, please just document if you feel anxious or depressed.” She stood up and grabbed a pamphlet and handed it to you. “You can always call our office or there’s a helpline that you can call at any time. And there’s no shame in any of it.”

“Thank you,” you replied, thumbing through the pamphlet.

~~~~~

That night, you and Jake laid in bed, looking at the photos from your ultrasound together. You were curled up on his chest, resting most of your weight on him as Jake wrapped his arm around your waist, cupping your continuously growing bump with his hand.

“Were you a small baby?” you asked Jake softly, staring at the ultrasound picture of your baby.

“What?” he questioned, turning to you with some confusion.

“Were you a small baby when you were born?” you repeated for him. “She said that the baby was smaller than average.”

“I never asked,” Jake replied, a bit elusively.

“I was normal weight, according to my mom,” you stated, still staring at the photo. “Bradley was a large baby with a big fat head, but I was normal weight and size. Mav said that after I was born, my mom told my dad that she wished that I was born first. It would have been an easier delivery, she told him.”

“You think that they’ll stay smaller?”

“I hope so,” you mused with a smile. “I’d prefer a six pound baby to a ten pound baby, thank you very much.” You turned to Jake with a soft look in your eye, resting your head on his shoulder. “Your mom never complained to you about how big your head was or how you were overactive in her belly or anything like that?”

“No,” Jake replied shortly.

Your smile slipped a bit and you turned back to the ultrasound photo. Jake rubbed his hand slowly up and down your bump, soothing you in one way but making another part of you wander from his side.

“Can I take this one?” Jake asked, causing you to turn back to him.

“What?”

“Can I take this one with me?” Jake asked you again, pointing at one photo from the roll. “I was thinking about putting a photo from the ultrasound in my cockpit. If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, nodding to him and offering him a smile. “I think that’s sweet.”

Jake nodded in return and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The two of you turned in for the night shortly afterwards. Rolling onto your side, you rested your head on your hand, staring out at the window. Jake gave your bump one last loving squeeze before moving away to fall asleep. And although you were exhausted and needed sleep, your mind kept you awake.

Staring at the window again, you paused when you felt that little flutter again. You smiled to yourself and glanced down at your bump.

“Right as I’m trying to go to sleep? Again?” you teased quietly.

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elitadream · 7 days

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Hi guys~! ⛅👋

Long time no see! Much longer than I ever intended, in fact. Truth be told, I wanted to make a public post sooner, but I've had a lot to catch up on in terms of notifications and messages since logging back in a few days ago. I've also made some changes that I will address shortly, but first of all I wanted to thank those of you who have reached out with so much care and understanding during my absence. Adjusting has been a slow and fragile process for me -still is-, and I sadly haven't responded directly to everyone yet because of it, but I wanted to say how much I appreciate your patience and support nonetheless. 🥹 🙏

Long story short, I was gone for five months due to a huge burnout, then progressively found my spark again somewhere along the way and have since mostly recovered. It was my wonderful friend @drones-of-innocence who reached out to me outside of Tumblr, and her sense of initiative is largely the reason why I managed to make this post in a somewhat reasonable delay. 😅💖 With that said however, I must also mention that I've deleted a lot of stuff from my page and have removed most of my work from the public eye as well. This may seem quite drastic and frankly a little unsettling, but I assure you that it was a thoroughly considered and reasoned decision! The thing is that I was still getting lots of notes on these drawings everyday and… To put it simply, I didn't want that anymore. 🙇‍♀️ Experiencing popularity was very detrimental to me in the long run and I needed to put an end to it for the sake of my own wellbeing; at least for now.

Which brings me to my next point.

After mulling it over for a while, I've decided that I would not be returning as an active creator in the Mario community this time around. 👐 Making fanart for this franchise (with such a high and continuously maintained degree of involvement) had a lot to do with my health's decline and I've come to realize that I wanted to direct my focus elsewhere going forward. For that reason, there are things which I know will never be repeated again in the future, both in regards to my art and online presence in general, but that's alright. Things change, as they do and should. I'm looking forward to reuniting with folks and would be very happy to stay in touch with those of you who wish to message me privately. Like my lovely pal @istadris said, what matters most about any fandom are the friends you make in it. ☺️

And speaking of which-

@ody-and-fanatu That's so sweet of you, thank you! 💗 I'm glad you've enjoyed my contribution to the fandom. It was fun while it lasted! 💫 My visual ideas may be gone from my page, but most of my written posts and replies are still there for anyone who wants to revisit those at least, so there's that! And I'd also like to answer some of the asks I still have in my inbox at some point. Knowing that you hold my art in such high regard makes really happy! 🥰 Unfortunately, the other account that I have is reserved for my professional work and I prefer to keep them separate from one other, but the good thing is that I intend to go back to this blog occasionally. Hoping to see you around! Cheers! 🥂

@heiressofdoodles Thanks, I appreciate that! ✨ I'm honestly doing much better than I was earlier this Spring. Back then, I was running on empty and on the verge of crashing without even knowing it. Being in constant physical pain was one thing, but feeling mentally and emotionally drained on a daily basis was another entirely, and something had to be done. It took me a moment to really figure out what was wrong, but thankfully I realized very quickly what was causing it and applied the breaks with all my might. One of my main priorities now is to be more alert and respect my own boundaries to make sure that this never happens again. 🥲

@keakruiser Thank you. 🙏💐 I'm just glad to have found my footing again. Feels good to be able to create freely.^^ Hope you're doing well too!

Special thanks also to @pianokantzart, @jelly-fish-wishes, @katlyntheartist, @triniji and @wahooitsamee for their kind words. 🫂 Your graciousness and consideration means a lot to me. 💝

As for all the nice people who sent me anon comments and well wishes, I tried to summarize my thoughts as best I could in this update, but if there's anything else you'd like to say or know, don't hesitate to ask me anytime! Now that I feel like myself again, I think I'm gonna hang out on Tumblr for a little bit. I'll be excited to see what you guys have been up to in the meantime! 🤗 Wishing you all a very good day and pleasant Fall. 🍂

-elita 🌸

#elitadream #update #personal message #community

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alvojake · 4 months

Text

The Murder House | Pt. Three

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 | 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

「synopsis」 : everything seems to be going downhill at a rapid pace and nothing is going right and you've already suffered the loss of two friends, but the mastermind behind this doesn't seem to be satisfied just yet. another test is throw your way but things are starting to become more clear and you're realizing that the culprit has been with you the whole time... but will you be able to stop him and escape this hell house with your lives intact?

「word count」 : 10.5k

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, even more 'games', blood, violence, gore, gun goes pew pew, poisoning, betrayal, gaslighting, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), knife goes stabby, threats, death, obsessive/stalker-ish behavior, mental health disorders, even more betrayal, traumatic events, police, pls lmk if I missed any!

“Riki, seriously, now is not the time for pranks; where are you?” You called out, eyes searching every inch of the room, but there was no sign of the boy anywhere. “Riki!” Your voice cracked as you tried to keep the tears in your eyes at bay.

Jay released his hold on your arm before walking over to the door to check and see if, by some miracle, it was unlocked. Though just as he had thought, it was locked tight, not a chance that it would open unless unlocked. Sighing, he backed away from it before looking around the room.

A soft click caught the silver-haired male's attention. However, you were too busy calling out for your brother in hopes that he was just playing some kind of prank on you. Jay watched as a door off to the side started to open, the sight making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own as he started to make his way to the door.

“Y/n.” He called out to you, causing your head to whip over in his direction, hoping that he had found some clue as to where your brother had been taken. Then you realize that that wasn’t the reason that he had called out to you.

“Jay, I swear to god, if you tell me to calm down, I will lose my shit.” You hissed, heart hammering in your chest. The last thing you needed was for him to dismiss your panic, much like Jake had done.

“No, no, I’m not going to.” He looked over at you, shocked that you would even think he would tell you that. “That door…” He pointed in the direction of the ajar door, “it just opened.”

Your eyes moved in the direction that he was pointing, seeing that a door was, in fact, opened. Without much of another thought, you made your way towards it, ignoring Jay’s calls for you to be careful. Pulling the door open, you walked inside but were met with more darkness. The only light was what the other room had to offer. Even in the darkness of the room, you could see what looked to be a table with chairs in the center.

“Y/n, jeez, you can’t just rush into random rooms when the door magically opens!” Jay exclaimed as he followed in behind you. However, the moment that he fully stepped into the room the door swung shut, the sound causing the both of you to jump. The older male mumbled a few curses before turning to check it, but of course, it was locked while your eyes stayed on his figure, and you could barely see in the dark.

Groaning, he drops his hand from the door and turns back towards you, telling you that it was locked, causing your heart to drop. Something about this situation seems a little too familiar to you. Before you could voice any of your thoughts, a spotlight turned on right over the table that you had seen earlier.

“Well, if it isn’t the love birds…” A voice cut through the air, causing a wave of dread to wash over both you and Jay, eyes on each other. “I must say, congratulations for making it this far would have been a bummer if you lost too soon.” The distortion of the voice only added to your unease, “Now, welcome to your final game!” Jay walked over to your side and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as the both of you listened, “this time though…” the voice trailed on, causing the hairs on your arms to stand, “one of you will die, but there’s a catch.” Your ears started to ring at the sudden revelation while Jay’s blood ran cold, his grip on your hand growing tighter, “the fate of your lives falls into your hands, y/n, so make sure you choose wisely.” The voice said with a cheery tone, causing your body to go rigid, your head to reel, and your palms to grow sweaty. What did they mean that the fate of their lives fell into your hands? Before you could get too lost in your thoughts, the voice spoke once more, “Now take a seat, won’t you?”

For a moment, neither of you moved, feet rooted to the ground, but with some hesitancy, Jay moved forward, pulling you after him. Stepping up to the table, you could have sworn you felt every nerve ending in your body catch on fire.

There, lying in the center of the table, was a sleek black handgun.

Your mind started to spiral as you connected the dots on what lay ahead of both you and Jay. Your heart squeezed so hard that you were sure it just might pop, followed by the insistent ringing that dulled your sense of hearing. This is what they meant by the fate of your life sitting in your hands: You were going to have to make a choice. No, you weren’t going to; there was no way that you could.

“No. I’m not doing that, you can’t-”

“Y/n?” Your blood ran frigid in your veins as that sound of your brother's voice flowed through the speakers, “Help me, please. I don’t know where I am.” There was so much fear in his shaky tone, and it brought tears to your eyes. He must be horrified right now, along with whoever it was that was doing all of this to you. Your heart started to hurt when you heard what sounded like small cries and sniffles through the speaker.

“Now sit,” The voice cut back, causing your head to snap up as the first few tears dripped from your eyelashes, “or your sweet little brother here dies; you wouldn’t want that now, would you y/n? To have another death on your hands?”

Anger bubbled in your chest, hand balling into a fist, “fuck you asshole.” You seethed before releasing Jay’s hand to take a seat. Your heart continued to hammer underneath your ribs as you met Jay's eyes from the other side of the table. Jay’s face showcased all of his unease as he looked down at the gun before looking back at you. He wasn’t sure what to make of this situation, but he did know that this was going to be his final stop in this lifetime.

Merely seconds after your arms or sat on the armrest, straps come around one of your wrists while the other is left free. Jay, however, was rendered completely motionless, seeing as straps bound both of his wrists to the armrests.

“Ahhh, now that you’ve been seated, the game can begin.” The voice once again spoke, causing your body to jolt slightly; it was then followed by a laugh that struck fear into the depths of your soul. “One of you will live to see another light of day, and the other? Well, this is your final stop.” You could feel your body begin to shake as the words sunk in; Jay opened his mouth to try and say anything that might calm your nerves just a bit but was cut off, “Though y/n, I am quite curious, which is it going to be? Are you going to sacrifice your lover for yourself or yourself for your lover?”

You start shaking your head violently, refusing to touch the weapon that is laid before you, “No, I won’t be sacrificing anyone for anything, dammit! Just let us out.”

“Y/n, stop-” “No, Jay, I refuse to kill anyone, let alone myself!” You exclaim, staring at him with wide, teary eyes. There was an insufferable pain blooming in your chest as you looked at the man who sat across from you, a small, sad smile on his lips as if he had already accepted the fact that he could be the one dying here. “Jay, I don't want to do this. I can’t do this!”

“It would seem you have no other choice, y/n,” the voice spoke again, and you shouted no, fighting against your restraints. “You have ten minutes to decide, and if you don’t make a choice, well…” it was faint, but it rang in your ears, the sound of a gun clicking followed by a cry that sounded just like Riki, “or your brother dies.”

It was like time had slowed around you, the sounds becoming deafening as the weight of the reality you were living in started to drop on your shoulders. One of you was going to die here, and it was going to be your fault. Tears had long since started streaming down your cheeks, dripping down onto your lap as you looked at the metal death harbinger in front of you. The sound of your name being called causes you to lift your head, meeting Jay’s solemn gaze.

“Listen to me, it’s going to be okay.” He offered a small smile, but you couldn’t return it.

How could he say that everything was going to be okay? How was any of this okay? Why isn’t he freaking out, begging you not to shoot him?

“Y/n, you’re going to have to shoot me.” Jay felt a punch to his gut when your face morphed into a look of horror. The last thing he ever wanted was to cause you any distress, to cause you to cry like you were before him without a way to comfort you. You then start shaking your head, refusing the idea. Even if you knew that the clock was ticking, you just couldn’t bring yourself to point that weapon at Jay. There was no way you were going to be able to end his life, not when he still had so much to look forward to. He was still in school, working his ass off to further his degree so he could do what he loved. You couldn’t sever that; you just couldn’t.

“Jay, I can’t.” You cried vision blurred due to the tears that built up on your waterline.

“You have to, please y/n.” Jay’s voice cracked slightly as he tried to hold back the sobs that were building up in his lungs. “You have to get out so you can’t take care of your brother, to go and explore the world like you wanted, to finally be free from your parents. Y/n, you have to get out so you can move forward with your life; there’s so much you have to live for.” His words only brought more tears to your eyes, your heart lurching into your throat, “I don’t have that. All I have is you and the boys, and if I have to live a day without you, y/n… I don’t think I would be able to cope.”

His words felt like you had just been stabbed relentlessly in the heart; how could he say that? As if you would be able to cope? What about you? Does he truly think that you could just walk out of here and just move on with your life after killing him? Does he actually believe that you could move on with your life with that guilt in the back of your mind?

“And you think I could?” Your voice was feeble, barely above a whisper.

Jay just shook his head, the tears finally breaking free from their hold, “you have to think about Riki, y/n. He wouldn’t be ab-”

“What about me, Jay?” Your voice raised in pitch as you tried to keep from completely breaking down, bringing your hand up to point to your chest, “how could you sit there and think that I would be okay if you died? And because I killed you, for fuck sake!”

Jay flinched slightly at your tone, but he wasn’t going to budge. There was no way he could; you needed to get out. Needed to live the life you were never given the chance to.

“Time is running out, y/n; just shoot me, please.” Jay sat up straight as he watched you look at him in complete disbelief. It felt as if millions of tiny little needles were puncturing his heart as he watched you break down completely.

“Jay-” “Just shoot me y/n!” Jay’s tone was as sharp as a freshly sharpened knife that had just sliced into your entire being.

Everything started to feel numb as you stared at the gun, tears still falling from your lashes. Was this how it was going to end? With you getting your friend's blood on your hands? Is this really what your life has come to?

Your ears began to ring as you reached forward to grab the weapon, the metal cool under your fingertips. All of the air left your lungs as you picked it up, the weight of it in your palm unsettling. The hairs on your arm were standing straight as you looked at the gun closer; there was no doubt in your mind that it had been loaded. Ready for you to use it to end a life.

“I really wished that I could have done this when we got out, but I won’t be able to.” Jay started, causing you to tear your gaze away from the gun, “But I love you, god, I love you, y/n, and I am so sorry that we can’t spend the rest of our lives together.”

It was those words that left your world crumbling. The man before you, the very man that you had fallen so deeply in love with, had just told you that he loved you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to be happy. Your heart was shattering; piece by piece, it was starting to crumble viciously, being stabbed. Your throat felt so tight that it was like your body was trying to deprive itself of the oxygen that you needed. Pain washed over your still body like a rock stuck on a seashore, waves washing over it without a hint of remorse.

There was no way that you were going to be able to aim this gun and pull the trigger. You couldn’t end a man's life, let alone the love of your life.

Noticing your hesitation, Jay calls out to you, barely gaining your attention. You are then reminded of the time that had been ticking down—minute by minute, second by second.

You had a choice to make.

“I’m sorry, Jay.” Your voice cracked as you lifted the heavy metal, aiming at the man in front of you, tears silently falling from your eyes. Jay just looked at you with nothing but adoration, love gleaming in his deep brown iris. “I love you too, I have always loved you…”

Closing your eyes, your mind starts to wander off to the memories that the two of you had created together, to the memories that you have made with all of your friends, and how they have brought so much joy into your life after you and Riki escaped your parents' house. Then you remembered the day that your dad had called only to berate you, leaving you in shambles, but then Jay was there.

“Hey, y/n, Riki was looking for – hey! Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He had come into the kitchen to ask you for something that your brother had been looking for but dropped everything when he found you curled up against the cabinets, tears streaming down your face.

You remember so vividly how he managed to stop your panic attack so quickly, and all it took was for him to distract you. Something that no one other than Riki had been able to do. It was then that your crush started to develop.

At first, you thought it would just be one of those fleeting emotions that would go away within a week, but it never did. From that day, it only grew until nothing, but Jay occupied your mind most days.

Then, the memory faded until it was black. It was gone from your mind, only to be replaced with another memory from the day you knew that you would be okay, the day you told yourself that you had finally found your home.

It was early summer so the weather was almost perfect to just sit outside and enjoy the cool breeze with the fire burning in the pit. Jay had brought his guitar ready to show everyone a new song that he had learned. Jake brought Layla with him because he knew that she loved being with everyone just as much as he did. Jungwon and Sunoo were bickering over how to roast a marshmallow completely, while Riki watched in amusement, a marshmallow of his own sitting over the flame until it completely melted off of the stick, causing everyone to burst out laughing. Sunghoon had been talking to Heeseung about the skating competition that he had just gotten back from the previous week. Heeseung didn’t know a thing about ice skating, but he was more than willing to just listen to the boy.

Then there was you.

You sat between your brother and Heeseung, listening to all of the laughter and soft voices that surrounded you. It brought tears to your eyes because you had never been sure that this was something that you could have, not with everything that had happened with your parents. You were so sure that you would still be stuck under their thumb, bending to their every whim, even if that meant you would lose yourself in the process.

You had pinched yourself so many times that night, hardly believing that any of it was real. However, a peaceful night and a few bruises later, you knew that this was real. All of it was, and you finally felt at home. Safe and loved.

Opening your eyes once more, you looked at Jay; the gaze in your eyes was enough to tell him just how grateful you were. Your finger then wrapped around the trigger, and Jay closed his eyes, accepting the fate that had been bestowed upon him.

However, you refused to let it be the end for him. Your grip tightened on the handle of the weapon before letting out a shaky breath.

“Take care of Riki for me.” Your words caused the male’s eyes to shoot up, “I’m sorry.”

Ignoring the cries of protest that fell from the male’s lips, you turned the weapon around. The barrel pressed against your temple as you closed your eyes, accepting your fate.

Jungwon made it his goal to keep his distance from the other two, well more like Jake. Something about his behavior was rubbing the boy wrong. Noticing how far back he was, Jake turned with a small twitch in his lip.

“Everything okay back there, Won?” There was a tone of worry in his voice, but Jungwon found it hard to believe, and he met the daring gaze of the older male. His stomach churned, and his mouth went dry, too terrified to say anything. What if the moment he said something, he attacked either of them?

Sunghoon also looks back at Jungwon, worried that something might be wrong. However, Jungwon just swallowed thickly as the two of them stared at him.

“Oh, you know, doing just fine for being stuck in a psycho’s house.” Jungwon’s eyes shift over to Jake causing the older male’s jaw to clench, his eye twitching slightly. Sunghoon, however, didn't catch it and rolled his eyes.

“Is now really the time to be sarcastic?”

“Look, sarcasm is my only defense, alright? I have nothing else to offer.” Jungwon sassed back, causing Sunghoon to roll his eyes once more before they started moving once more.

After walking a few more feet, they came across a room that was wide open, and the light was already on. A sense of dread fell over Jungwon as he noticed this small detail. However, neither of the other two seemed to care as they walked right into the room. He slowly followed behind them, trying to ignore the ever-growing gut feeling that something bad was about to happen.

Not even seconds after they are all in the room, the door slams shut, and the lock clicks, causing Jungwon and Sunghoon to jump.

With wide, fear-stricken eyes, Sunghoon rushed over to the door, nearly knocking into Jungwon on the way over. His hand wrapped around the handle and jostled it, but it was no use; it was locked tight. Turning, he looked between Jake and Jungwon, telling them that it was locked, and before either of them could speak, a voice crackled through the speakers.

“Well, well, well, would you look at that…” The almost robotic voice sent a chill down Jungwon’s spine as he looked around the room, “we’ve caught three little mice in our trap; what fun!” Whoever it was chuckled, causing Sunghoon’s hands to clench by his sides, a glare adorning his features. Jungwon tried his best to see if he could decipher the voice and figure out who it was, but whoever it was made damn sure that they wouldn’t be able to tell. “Now, now, little mice, why don’t we play another game, hm?” Sunghoon moved to stand beside Jungwon, who glanced over at him, “You managed to make it this far, but I’m afraid for one of you, this will be the end of the line.” The voice then chuckled again, causing a wave of dread to wash over both Sunghoon and Jungwon. “The best part of all of this? It’s all up to chance.” Just then, a spotlight clicked on, showcasing the desk and the three cups of red liquid that sat on top of it, “you’ll have ten minutes to pick your poison, and if you don’t, well, none of you will live to see the light of day again.” And with that, the voice stopped, and the speaker turned off, leaving the three boys to stand in complete silence.

Jake was the first to move towards the desk, causing Sunghoon to follow after him and Jungwon shortly after. The unease never lifted. How could he be sure that Jake wouldn’t make sure that one of them took the poison? Or was he just crazy, and Jake really wasn’t behind everything? There were so many questions that floated around the male brain; however, Jake reaching towards the cup caught his attention.

“I’ll take the one on the right,” Jake voiced as he grabbed the clear glass. Jungwon looked at him with a suspicious gaze. Jake then caught the younger boy’s eye and raised an eyebrow. " We only have ten minutes, so it’s best if we don’t waste time,” he told him as he brought the glass to his lip, downing the liquid in one fell swoop. Jungwon could not help but squint at him, his suspicions rising even further.

“He’s right,” Sunghoon nodded his head before grabbing the glass on the left, “and I’ll be damned if I’m the reason none of us make it out alive.” Then, before Jungwon could even protest, Sunghoon downed every last drop of the crimson liquid.

Jungwon’s heart was beating a million miles an hour as he watched Sunghoon set the cup back down. Nothing seemed to be wrong. Had he grabbed the safe glass along with Jake? Does that mean the last glass was the poison? Looking over at the last cup, Jungwon could have sworn he was going to be sick to his stomach.

Sweat started to accumulate on the boy’s forehead as he reluctantly grabbed the cup, looking down at the liquid inside. Was this really going to be the end of his life? A stupid idea of wiggling his way into going with everyone. He should have just stuck to his original plan of staying home and playing video games, yet here he was, on the brink of death.

Although this might be his last ten minutes on earth, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the life that he had lived. He hadn’t truly thought that he would make it out of his teen years if it wasn’t for meeting Sunoo in his junior year of high school after he transferred yet again. The blonde, who had been brunette back then, was the first person who offered the younger boy any kind of kindness. Sunoo had made it his goal to make sure the Jungwon was always included, even if it was someone as small as walking down the hall or sharing the snacks that he had bought. Then, just as things seemed to have started to flow smoothly, Jungwon met you at the grocery store. You had your headphones in and weren’t paying very good attention to those around you. You almost tripped over Jungwon, who had been crouched down to grab something on the shelf. If it wasn’t for his cat-like reflexes, you probably would have left with a nosebleed on top of the embarrassment you were already feeling.

“I am so so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!” The amount of apologies that had fallen from your lips was almost too cute to Jungwon, causing the boy to laugh slightly. The sound, however, only caused your face to flush even more.

“It’s okay,” He smiled softly at you, and you couldn’t help but admire the dimples that adorned his cheeks, making a comment on them without realizing it, which only made your embarrassment grow tenfold. Laughing once more, the younger boy pointed over his shoulder, “Did you wanna walk together? Maybe I can help make sure you don’t trip over any more innocent bystanders.” He teased you relentlessly about that day but you had still chosen to walk with him, exchanging numbers after you grabbed everything you had needed. He had found another friendship that he cherished more than his own life, but now he had lost one of his friends, and he wasn’t even sure if he would have the other one by the time this hellhole ended.

Swallowing thickly, he brought the cup to his lips and started to pour the liquid into his mouth, the bitter taste causing him to winch. He had to keep himself from gagging as he swallowed. Once it was all gone, he looked down into the empty cup, waiting for the inevitable to come.

Coughing then started to fill the room, but it wasn’t coming from Jungwon. Both Jake and Jungwon’s heads snapped over to Sunghoon, who was doubled over, hand covering his mouth as he nearly coughed a lung up. His eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to get his breathing under control, but it became nearly impossible in a matter of seconds, and his throat started to swell up. Pulling his hand away from his mouth, he was petrified as blood pooled in the palm of his hand.

He was dying.

The poison was in the cup he had chosen, the very cup that was bringing him to his end. Jungwon panicked, dropping his glass to rush over to Sunghoon.

“Shit! Sunghoon, make yourself throw up! You can get the poison out of your stomach!” Jungwon exclaimed, trying to get the older male to look at him, but Sunghoon’s ears were ringing far too loud to hear anything. Jake just sat his glass down leisurely before crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the desk.

“That’s not going to help him, not now.” Jake shrugged his shoulders as he met Jungwon’s shocked gaze. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I could tell that you knew.”

“You’re insane.” Jungwon seethed as he laid Sunghoon down when he stopped coughing, only to start wheezing. Jake’s smirk disappeared, only to be replaced by a glare, his upper lip pulling back a bit.

“I’m insane?” He stepped closer to Jungwon, who stood back on his feet, meeting Jake’s glare with his own. “You haven’t seen insane yet, but again, you won’t live to see it anyway.” Jake pointed right at the center of Jungwon’s chest, pushing him back slightly.

Sunghoon reached over to grab Jake’s leg, confused. Had his closest friend really been behind all of this? Jake’s glare shifted from Jungwon to the dying male on the ground, kicking his hand away with a sneer.

“And you, maybe I should have planted something of Jay’s on that damned hacker,” Jake growled as he crouched down, eyes trained on Sunghoon’s pained face. “I really thought I had everyone against you, but you just had to go and prove yourself.” The older male then reached out, moving a strand of Sunghoon’s hair, a sinister smirk on his lips, “No matter, y/n doesn’t trust you, and oh, that poor heartbroken face she’ll have after finding out you died.” A rush of excitement ran down Jake’s spine as he thought about the tear-streaked expression you would give him as he got to be the one to comfort you after this was said and done.

Sunghoon couldn’t believe what was happening. Had Jake really been behind all of this? Was he the one who killed the guy who was in your and Heeseung’s room? More and more questions started to cloud his fleeting mind.

Mustering up all of his courage, Sunghoon wheezed, “Why?”

“Why?” Jake chuckled, patting the younger’s cheek as he tilted his head, “I don’t really think that’s any of your concern.” He shrugged before moving away from Sunghoon, leaving him to lay there.

His vision was starting to flash in and out as he slowly started losing his ability to breathe. His lungs felt as if they had been set ablaze; every nerve ending felt like they were being pinched harshly. He was in extreme pain, but his body also felt numb. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t move at all, he was stuck. Paralyzed.

This wasn’t how he wanted things to end, not even close. He wanted to get out so he could apologize to you, to go and see Heeseung’s mother so he could comfort her after delivering the news of her son, to make things right. He wanted to do so much.

He wanted to grow old, meet his so-called soulmate, get married, and have all of his friends there with him. He wanted to make Heeseung his best man while having the rest of the guys as his groomsmen. Now? Even if he did somehow make it out alive, his best friend would be gone, and so would his other friends.

The air was starting to become thinner as Sunghoon continued to fight to breathe; his eyes stung with tears, the salty liquid spilling from the corner of his eyes. He could see the faint outline of Jungwon, who was hovering over him, begging him to stay awake. Sunghoon tried to speak, but there was no way any words would make it out of his mouth, so he mustered all of his will and moved his hand. Jungwon quickly grabbed his hand, biting his tongue at how cold his skin felt already.

“I’m so sorry, Hoon,” Jungwon choked back sobs, squeezing the older male’s hand, and Sunghoon just shook his head. Well, tried to shake his head.

Sunghoon could feel the life draining from his body, his organs slowly shutting down, his heart slowing to a deathly low pace. Moments of his life flashed behind his eyelids, all of the happy, sad, angry, lonely moments replaying like a home film on VHS.

All of the time that he spent trying to get away from Heeseung in middle school was only for him to stick to him like glue, refusing to leave the younger boy alone. As much as he despised it at the time if you were to ask him now, he would say that he was forever grateful for Heeseung’s annoying persistence. Thanks to that, he found his best friend, a lifelong friend, and now they would be together again in the afterlife.

He almost wanted to laugh when you flashed across his mind. Your first meeting, actually. The both of you had actually started off on the wrong foot. He was having a bad day; nothing seemed to be going his way, so he wanted to hang out with Heeseung. When he got there, you were just walking out of the older male’s apartment, not having seen Sunghoon, who, on the other hand, hadn’t seen you either because he was too busy looking at his phone. So when the two of you collided, it only added to his frustration, and he didn’t necessarily mean to snap at you. But he had cut you off mid-apology, his tone causing you to flinch slightly, a sight now that he regrets.

“Good god, would it be so hard to watch where the fuck you’re going.” He seethed, hand gripping his phone tightly. You looked up at him with wide eyes, completely taken aback by his reaction. However, your shock quickly morphed into anger.

“That’s rich coming from you, maybe you could have avoided me if your nose wasn’t stuck in your damn phone.” You had snapped back at him, causing him to recoil slightly, but Sunghoon was quick to brush it off and roll his eyes.

He muttered a quick ‘whatever’ before walking around you to Heeseung’s door knocking. You were still grumbling to yourself as you made it to your door across the hall. Though the call of your name caused you to turn to meet Heeseung’s eyes.

“This is Sunghoon, my best friend that I was telling you about.” Heeseung had introduced the two of you that day but quickly took note of the tension between the two of you. However, being the persistent one that he was, Heeseung made sure that the two of you apologized to each other, and before too long, it was just water under the bridge, and you became really good friends.

Sunghoon wondered if this is what they mean when they say your life flashes before your life. Was he going to see the light at the end of the tunnel next? That would be pretty cliche, huh? He wanted to laugh, but he felt completely detached from his body as his chest rose before falling for one last time before darkness consumed him completely.

Tears were streaming down Jungwon’s face when he felt Sunghoon’s hand go limp. He dropped the older male’s hand before reaching for his shoulders to shake him violently, hoping that he would open his eyes once more.

“Sunghoon! Wake up, please wake up!” He cried out, fingers digging into Sunghoon’s shirt. Jake just rolled his eyes before stepping over to the two, pushing Jungwon back with his foot.

“He’s dead, there’s nothing you can do.” Jake chuckled as he shoved his hands into his pockets, stepping over Sunghoon’s lifeless body. His head tilted slightly as a sinister smirk pulled on the corner of his lips. “It’s a shame I couldn’t pick something stronger. I really wanted one of you to suffer.” He let out a little sigh, taking another step closer to Jungwon, who quickly scooted back before scrambling to his feet. “No matter though, everything is almost done.”

Jungwon looked at the older male with wide, horrified eyes, “what?” He didn’t understand what was happening, let alone why it was happening.

“Well, you see, Jungwon, this little ‘game’ was merely a front to get rid of all of you.” Jake felt excitement bubble in his chest as he watched the younger boy stumble back as he tried to get away from Jake. “Once you’re all gone, y/n will finally be mine.”

Jungwon felt his stomach drop. It was no wonder he was reacting that way towards you and Jay or why he got so mad when you rejected his advances. He never took Jake to be the kind to become obsessive with a person; he was always laid back and never had a mean bone in his body. So, was all of that a lie? Was it just a front he put on to fool everyone?

Fear had completely engulfed the boy's mind as he looked around the room, trying to find any way out. Noticing this, Jake chuckled, shaking his head and causing Jungwon’s head to snap back towards him.

“Oh Jungwon, Jungwon, Jungwon…” Jake then pulled his hand out of his pocket with a flourish, and the knife he had sitting inside let the light gleam off of it. Jungwon’s heart lurched into his throat as he looked at the weapon before meeting Jake’s psychotic gaze. Moving quickly Jungwon put distance between himself and Jake by moving behind the desk.

“You're insane!” Jungwon seethed, shifting from foot to foot, trying to think if he’d make it to the door before Jake could grab him.

Jake’s face shifted into an evil snarl, fingers tightening around the hilt of the knife. His eyes twitched slightly, but it soon faded once he realized what Jungwon was planning on doing. He was going to make a break for the door, but he wouldn’t make it, even if he did.

It was still locked.

Then, just like he thought, the younger boy made a run for the door; however, Jake was one step ahead. Jake grabbed his arm, pulling Jungwon towards him. Jungwon let out a loud gasp when a searing pain spread through his abdomen. Eyes wide, he looks up at Jake, meeting his smut gaze.

“Poor little Wonnie…” Jake’s voice came out in a sing-song tone, twisting the knife he had plunged into the boy’s stomach, causing Jungwon’s mouth to fall agape, “no one is coming to save you.”

Jungwon’s ears started ringing loudly as he grabbed Jake’s arm, nails digging into his sleeve. He wanted to say something, anything. However, all of the words that were sitting on his tongue fizzled away. He knew Jake had hit a vital spot. He knew that his chances of making it out of this room alive were slim to none. He knew he would bleed out on this floor without a chance to do anything to help.

Jake twisted the knife once more, eliciting a pained cry from Jungwon’s parted lips. He then ripped the knife out, allowing Jungwon to drop to the ground. Jake then wiped the blood from the knife onto his pants before crouching down to look at Jungwon, who was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Such a shame, really,” Jake propped his arm up on his leg, chin sitting in his palm next to the knife hilt. Jungwon winched as he tried to move, but the pain was far too much; his breathing became labored. “Should have just stayed home.”

With that, Jake stood back to his feet and stepped over the boy’s bleeding body. Jungwon’s eyes stayed glued to Jake’s back as he tried to fight off the darkness that was clouding his vision. He hoped that you could figure something out before Jake made it back to you, Jay, and Riki.

Then, for the first time in a very long time, he prayed. He prayed that the rest of his friends would make it out alive, that they would be safe, and that Jake would face the consequences of his actions.

He took one last deep breath before his eyes fluttered closed, the darkness consuming him whole.

Your finger wrapped around the trigger, moments away from pulling it and ending your life. Your eyes squeezed shut tightly, causing more tears to spill from the corners. Jay thrashed about on the opposite side, screaming at you to pull the gun away.

Then, right before you pulled the trigger, you heard rushed footsteps and a hand wrapped around your wrist, harshly pulling the weapon away from your head.

“What the fuck is wrong with you y/n?” At the sound of your brother’s voice, your eyes snapped open, widely looking over at the younger boy who was still holding your wrist. You flinched when Riki ripped the gun out of your hand, “would you really rather sacrifice yourself for your damn friends than choose to save your own fucking brother?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together; what did he mean? Had he really expected you to shoot one of your friends? And Jay, of all of them? Then it dawned on you… why was he here if the psycho behind all of this had him captive?

“What are you talking about, Riki? Why are yo-” You were cut off by the stomach churning laugh that fell from the younger boy’s lips, your heart started racing as a bad feeling settled in your gut.

Riki tossed your hand from his grip before pointing the gun at you with a crazed look in his eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked at the barrel of the weapon in front of you before letting your gaze travel up to meet your brothers.

“What am I talking about?” He laughed again, moving his index finger from the trigger to point at you, “I’m talking about how you would be so willing to leave me alone rather than sacrifice one damn friend.” Your heart was beating in your ears as you watched the insane gleam overtake Riki’s eyes, a sight you had never seen a day in your life.

You swallowed thickly trying to make sense of everything as well as come up with some kind of answer to give the boy, but your brain was coming up blank. Noticing that you weren’t going to say anything, Riki scoffed, rolling his eyes. Though before he could say anything, he saw Jay shift in the corner of his eye.

“How did you even get out? Is the guy com-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Riki growled as he turned towards the older male, finally giving Jay a chance to see the crazed look in his eyes. “You know none of this would have happened if you had just kept your hands to yourself.” The younger boy dropped the gun to his side, allowing you to let out a breath that was being held hostage in your lungs.

Jay felt as though he had been hit with whiplash as Riki revealed the cause of all of this. What had he meant when he said that it was his fault? What had he done that deserved any of this? And what did he mean by saying if he had kept his hands to himself? Confusion clouded the male’s brain, and the question of ‘what?’ slipped past his lips before he even had a chance to catch it.

Riki’s glare towards the older male deepened but then morphed into a psychotic smirk as he brought the gun up to his own head, tapping the barrel against his temple. “Why don’t you use that brain of yours?” Riki’s smirk pulled wider as Jay looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. “No matter, though, because everything will still work out in the end.”

Jay felt his blood run cold as he started to realize what it was that was actually happening right now. Why was Riki standing with them instead of wherever he was being held ‘captive.’ He had never been taken in the first place. No. He was the one behind all of the hell they had been put through.

“You’ll just be another name in the book, while me?” Riki leans closer to Jay with a psychotic smile on his lips, “I’ll be the main attraction once more.” The boy then leans away before raising the gun to aim at Jay, and your heart drops.

You didn’t wanna believe that it was your brother who was behind all of this. There was no way that he could be. Right? He was just being used by the actual mastermind. Being told to do things because they were using something against him. That had to be it.

But why did he look so happy to point that gun at Jay?

“Riki, no!” It was like time slowed down; you reached forward, knocking Riki’s hand to the side just as he pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang throughout the room, causing your ears to ring as you looked over at Jay with wide eyes. He was okay.

Riki’s head snapped towards you, pure, unfiltered rage burning in his eyes. He slammed the gun down on the table in front of Jay before reaching towards you. It happened way too quick for you to registar what was going on. All you knew was that a pain erupted in your head as Riki grabbed the back of your head, slamming it on the table.

“You stupid bitch!” Riki seethed as he pulled your head back up, taking in your dazed eyes and the blood that was trickling down from the wound on your forehead.

Your ears were ringing so loudly as you tried your best to keep your vision focused, but black spots were clouding your sight. You could faintly hear Jay screaming at Riki to let you go, but it felt like you were standing under an ongoing train.

“It wouldn’t have come to this if you had just kept your promise,” Riki growled before dropping your head just as your vision turned black, your body slumping on the table. Blood from your wound pools under your skin, matting your hair.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jay thrashed around in his chair, his eyes flickering from your motionless body to Riki.

“Shut up.” Riki’s voice was cold and calm as he grabbed the gun, pointing it at Jay. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the barrel of the weapon, and he stopped moving completely. Riki then reached into his pocket before pulling out a small remote, “You try anything funny, and I won’t hesitate to blow holes into you and leave you here to bleed out.”

Jay felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at Riki. He knew that he wasn’t joking, seeing as he had already almost done that exact thing moments before. He nodded slowly, scared to make any quick, sudden movements.

Riki then released Jay, making him grab your still body before leaving the room, the gun still pointed at the back of his head.

Even with your eyes closed, it felt like your head was spinning, the light blinding even through your eyelids. A groan slipped past your parted lips as you tried to cover your eyes and blinked a few times. Only to realize that you couldn’t move your hands.

Panicked, your eyes shoot open, looking around the room. Where had you been taken? Because this wasn’t the same room you were previously in.

Then your eyes land on Jake. He was sitting by a table, his feet propped up on the surface cleaning the blade that was in his hands. The feeling of your eyes on him, Jake looked up, a wide smile spilling onto his lips.

“Well, good morning, there, sleeping beauty.” His voice was sickly sweet, and your stomach turned as you looked at him.

“Jake? Where am I?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

Jake just made a ‘tsk’ sound as he stood on his feet, stabbing the knife into the table and making a loud thud, which caused you to jump. Fear started to etch into your bones as he stalked closer. Was he also a part of all of this? What happened to Sunghoon and Jungwon? Then you remembered that you were with Jay.

You started to move your head to look around the room for the silver-haired male, but Jake caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Your breath hitched in your throat as you met his eyes, a crazed gleam in them.

“It was about time you joined the party; it was getting pretty lonely without you.” His bottom lip jutted out as he looked over your face, “He couldn’t even last long enough for the real fun.” Jake sighed as he moved your head until your eyes landed on the male who was tied to a chair across from you.

Bile rose up your throat as you took in bloody and bruised. Jay was sitting there with his head hung low, eyes closed as blood slowly dripped from the tip of his nose. Was he even still breathing? What did they do to him?

Taking in the look of horror that was decorating your feature, he couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, “Does it disturb you?” He moved his hand away from your face before standing straight, “that’s a shame, red is such a pretty color.” His words caused your head to snap in his direction, staring at him with wide eyes.

How could he say that? Jay was one of his friends, so why the hell would he do this to him? You then started to remember little details that you had missed during the earlier times of this whole ordeal. How weird he had been acting in the room where Sunoo was killed. It was starting to make sense, but why?

Jake then moved away from you, making his way over to Jay and grabbing a fistful of his hair. You started to tug on your restraints forcefully, but it was no use; they were far too tight. Tears started to brim in your eyes as Jake tugged his head back, causing a groan to fall from the older’s lips. Jay’s eyes are open, his pupils dilating as he looks over at you, and your stomach turns once more. He had multiple cuts on his face, a black eye starting to form around his left eye, and you could clearly see the popped blood vessel that surrounded his iris.

“Say hi to your lover, boy,” Jake cranked Jay’s head further back, causing another groan to tear through his throat and a sob to leave yours. “Because as soon as Riki is back, he’ll be joining the others.” The smirk that was playing on Jake’s lips left a sense of dread to overtake your body.

Tears were streaming down your face as you looked at the brunette, “Why are you doing this?” You cried out, tears dripping from your chin. Jake just looked at you with a slightly tilted head like it was the weirdest question that you ever asked.

“I don’t really think you’re in any position to ask that question…” He trailed on as he shoved Jay’s head out of his hands, causing you to jump, and your eyes flickered over to the other male. Jake then walked back around Jay towards you, “This little fucker has bee-.”

Jake, however, was cut off when Riki walked into the room, eyes instantly narrowing into slits when he noticed how close Jake was to you, “Sit down, Jake.” His voice was cold, which only added to your unease, but what really shook you to your core was when Jake just rolled his eyes before moving towards the table.

Riki’s eyes then moved over to your teary eyes, his face relaxing a bit at the sight. He then walked over to you, reaching out to wipe your tears as he has done multiple times; this time, however, you flinched away from his touch.

“This will all be over soon, and we can go home.” He smiled and patted the top of your head, making you flinch once more. His words felt more sickening rather than comforting; what was he going to do? Was he going to kill Jay? Why?

Your trembling lips couldn’t seem to move as you watched in horror while Riki walked over to the table where Jake was sitting. He laid the handgun from earlier on the surface before grabbing the knife and pulling it from the wood.

“Now, be a good girl and just sit there and watch. You can do that, right?” Riki asked with a wicked smirk on his lips, the knife twirling in his hand. He then walked over to you with the knife outstretched, the point merely inches away from your face. You bit your tongue as he moved closer, putting the blade under your chin to lift your head. “Just sit back and enjoy the show.” He chuckled before moving towards Jay.

The closer he got to the incoherent male, the more your heart hammered in your chest. Sobs and cries fell from your lips as you thrashed around in your restraints, hoping that they would give.

“Leave him alone!” You screamed out, tears blurring your vision as Riki moved the knife to Jay’s face, “He didn’t do anything wrong, please, Riki!” You screamed, pulling harder at your restraints, causing the chair to move underneath you.

Riki looked back at you with crazed eyes, “Nothing?” His tone was full of amusement as he roughly grabbed Jay’s head, pulling it back and bringing the tip of the blade to his cheek, “He’s done nothing but get in the way.” Riki seethed, digging the point into Jay’s skin, eliciting a loud cry of pain from the older male.

“Please leave him alone!” You screamed out again, pleading over and over again like a broken record. The sound quickly annoyed Riki as he continued to leave small, deep cuts all over Jay’s cheek.

Groaning, he raised his hand to rub the crease between his eyebrows. " Find something and shut her up, jeez!” Riki exclaimed, looking over at Jake, who quickly got to his feet. He grabbed something from the other side of the table before walking over to you, but you continued to scream and cry.

You tried to fight against Jake’s hold as he started to wrap a piece of cloth around your mouth, but it was pointless; he was too strong. Tears continued to stream down your face as you watched Riki continuously dig the blade into Jay’s skin, causing him to cry out and groan.

Was this how your life was going to be? Were you going to get out of here and have to pretend that your brother and best friend didn’t just kill everyone that you have ever cared about? Go on having to keep a distance from anyone in fear of either of them doing anything like this again? Would you really have to carry around the guilt of knowing that all of this was because of you? Your nails were digging so deep into the palm of your hand that you had broken the skin, causing blood to pool in your fingers.

This was going to be the end.

Jake moved away from you, backing up until he stood against the table. His fingers wrapped around the holster of the gun, picking it up. Then, while Riki’s back was turned towards him, Jake moved around you to stand behind the younger boy. You didn’t even notice your gaze glued to the blood that was dripping from Jay’s motionless face, having passed out yet again due to all of the pain.

The older male raised the gun until it was leveled with the back of Riki’s head. It was when the gun clicked that you tore your eyes away from Jay and looked over at Jake. Your heart dropped even further into your stomach as you realized that he could easily kill your brother.

“Thanks for letting me help, but I’m afraid this is where we come to an end.” Jake’s voice was cool as he wrapped his finger around the trigger. Riki dropped his hands down to his side, allowing Jay’s head to hang lowly. He then turned his head just enough to look at Jake, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You’re right…” Riki smirked, turning fully to face Jake, his body completely relaxed. “This is the end of the line for us, but…” Just then, Jake’s hand started to tremble as blood seeped from his nose, dripping down onto the floor; coughs racked his body, causing him to double over, “Not for me.”

You were completely shocked as you watched Jake cough into his hand, only to pull away with a handful of blood. What was happening? Your eyes went wide as Riki just tilted his head, watching Jake with an amused smile.

“Did you really think you could try and take me out without me realizing it?” Riki laughed, crossing his arms over his chest, the blade of the knife pointing in Jake’s direction. “Oh boy, you must have forgotten who I am, Jake.” He placed the blade under Jake’s chin, lifting his head much like he had done to you earlier, “I was planning on getting rid of you, but you just made it a whole lot easier for me.”

Jake started wheezing, dropping the gun to the ground. He clutched his neck as his throat started to close up. His body swayed from side to side. Blood continued to pour from his nose like a waterfall, and before too long, his body dropped to the ground.

You watched as tears continued to flow from your bloodshot eyes. Watching as yet another friend of yours died. Killed by your brother.

Riki glanced over at you, smirking at the horrified expression that was displayed on your pretty face. A look he wished he could etch into his brain for the rest of his life, but he was sure he’d see it again if you ever stepped out of line again. The feeling of something hitting his foot caused the younger boy to look down just as Jake’s eyes rolled back and he stopped moving completely. Blood pooled around his head as it continued to flow from his nose and the corner of his lips. His eyes were completely red as they stared at the ceiling, lifeless.

You felt like you were going to be sick at the sight of all of the blood. The lifeless expression on Jake’s face is forever etched in your brain. The tears had stopped as you sat there in shock, your heart hammering so loudly it was deafening.

Stepping over Jake, Riki walked over to stand behind you. Your whole body jolted when his hands came down to rest on your shoulders, fingers digging into your skin. He then moved down until his face was right next to yours, looking over at Jay’s unmoving body to Jake’s lifeless form on the ground.

“Isn’t the sight just beautiful?” He asked; the sinister tone of his voice sent a chill down your spine. “Don’t worry so much about them, sis. You have me, and that’s more than enough.” He pulled away from you, patting the top of your head once more. You squeezed your eyes shut, pushing more tears out, sobs racking your lungs once more.

He then untied the cloth muffling your sounds, throwing it off to the side before moving to stand in front of you. You, however, refused to meet his eyes, keeping them glued to the ground by his feet.

Riki just rolled his eyes before moving back towards Jay. He knew you would snap out of it eventually whenever the two of you got back home. You had done the same thing after leaving your parent's house, so why wouldn’t you be able to do it again?

He grabbed Jay’s head once more, twirling the knife around in his hand, ready to plunge it into the older male's neck, but you had started screaming at him to stop once again. He looked at you from over his shoulder, a glare adorning his face.

“Please, Riki, I’ll do anything! Just leave him alone!” You sobbed, thrashing about once again.

Scoffing, Riki just shook his head before turning back to Jay. You weren’t ever going to understand that your words meant nothing. Jay was going to die one way or another.

He was the last person on his list, after all.

Riki then started bringing the knife down, ignoring your screams for him to stop. Then there was a loud bang as the door bounced off of the wall behind it, a bunch of geared-up men rushing inside.

Your eyes went wide as you realized who these people were… the police. You were saved. Jay was saved. Tears once again welled up in your eyes, and for the first time in the whole night, you let out a sigh of relief.

Your ears started ringing, and it felt like everything was moving in a blur as a few of the cops grabbed Riki, forcing him to drop the knife and shoving him to the ground. His shouts of protest were ignored as they cuffed his hands behind his back.

Another cop walked behind you and undid your binds, asking you questions, none of which registered in your head as you watched them tug your brother to his feet. Watching as they drug him out of the room, you thought…

You’re finally safe.

You sat in the back of an ambulance, the paramedic checking you over to make sure there wasn’t anything seriously wrong. She had asked you a few questions but you could only respond with a series of hums, your brain not quite working.

“It does seem like you might have a concussion, so please take caution with any physical activities.” She informed you as she dropped her hands to her side and you just nodded, eyes staying glued to the ground.

When she started to move away, you looked up, hands closing around the bandages they had wrapped your hands in.

“Um, where’s Jay?” You asked, your voice hoarse from all of the screaming and crying. The paramedic turned back towards you, offering a small smile.

“The boy you were with? He’s on the way to the hospital along with the other boy.” You felt your shoulders relax, a sigh leaving your lips. Then, her words fully registered. Other boy? Riki was in the back of a cop car on his way to the station, not the hospital. So, who else could it be?

“Other boy?”

She nodded, “The boy who called the police, Jungwon, I think his name was.” She informed you, and tears instantly started to pour from your eyes.

Jungwon was okay. You were so sure that he had been killed, too, but he was okay. He was safe and alive. The paramedic smiled sympathetically as you cried, hand resting on your shoulder in a comforting manner.

“Was he okay?” You hiccuped, wiping some of the tears away, but they were quickly replaced with more.

“He was stabbed pretty badly, but by some miracle, he survived, and he’ll be okay.” She patted your shoulder before moving out of the way when an officer made his way towards you.

As you answered the cop's question, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The hellish night had finally been put to an end. You and the rest of your friends were going to be okay. Riki was going to be locked away for a very long time. It was over.

...Right?

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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