#him yelling about stabbing a cloud left me howling

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

I'd also love to see the thing of Foul Legacy Childe going feral to protect the person he loves 👀

*coughs* well, if you insist >:)c again, i'm not good at fight choreography but this one seems ok to me so i hope it's alright for you too!!

~ * ~ Abyssal Ballad

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Injuries, gore, pain, blood, broken bones, mentally snapping, fear, potential death

~ * ~

You had never known much about the Abyss. How could you, as an ordinary, magic-less human, who toiled away at a standard researching position in the Liyue industry? While Celestia was often praised as being home to the archons and gods above, a sanctuary for only the finest heroes and the origin of elemental Visions, the Abyss was dark and mysterious, full of vicious creatures and an endless ocean, disturbed only by glassy waves and cold, twinkling starlight. While both held their infinite secrets locked tightly away, they were seemingly opposites, forever battling against each other in a plane the people of Teyvat wouldn’t dare reach. Fairytales and journals and books all held the same message: Celestia is day as the Abyss is night, and each will consume you, for better or worse.

The Abyss had always been “for worse”, something you had found difficult to believe when Childe reappeared. You had known him before, when he was a ginger-haired, Delusion-bearing Harbinger of the Fatui, but you knew him even better now as your fluffy and affectionate roommate, with endless curiosity and a love for dozing in the sunlight. You were cautious at first, but every time he curled up next to you for cuddles or pressed his forehead to yours with a happy trill, your hesitation waned, and it seemed every day grew brighter in this eternal summer.

But the Abyss never relinquishes anything it once kept.

It had been cloudy that day, rain looming on the horizon. But you, ever persistent, had set out with an umbrella, a report to deliver, and a mothlike monster by your side. He didn’t have to come with, but he insisted, something you found sweet and kind of him to do. The citizens of the city had gotten quite used to you and Childe, some even greeting you as you left for Wangshu Inn, just out of the Harbor and towards Mondstadt. The clouds looked suspicious, but remained a teasing gray instead of pouring rain onto you.

The walk was peaceful and quiet, only broken by Childe’s rumbles and your quick responses to them. Your umbrella was long enough to be used as a cane, and it tapped merrily with every step you took, never out of sync. The Inn was close, a faint outline in sight at the end of a winding path, soon to be reached by you and your companion.

It only took a moment.

Like all bad things, it happened at the first chance, quickly and efficiently.

Childe liked sparkly things, as did you. A couple of magpies, you often joked. A crystalfly had caught his attention, and he jumped up to chase it. He’d be back soon, as he always was.

Two minutes.

He was gone for two minutes, and two minutes was all it took for someone to grab the collar of your shirt and pull you back, immobilizing you with a simple yet effective hold. They whisper to you, and more whispers join them, ordering you to show them where “the monster” was, to do it, do it or else, because pain would be delighted to meet you. Unfortunately, for both them and for you, fear has never easily gotten a grasp on your senses, and you simply choke out a command for these people to leave you alone. They laugh, and take your right wrist between their fingers. They give you a choice: tell them, or have your wrist broken. Should be an easy choice, no?

There’s a sudden yelp of alarm and they turn, dragging you with them, towards the sound. Childe stands there, tense and furious. The person behind you laughs again, and someone moves closer to Childe, only to stumble back when he hisses at them. The grip around your wrist tightens, and they address Childe instead of you. Either come with them willingly, or your bone breaks; it’s his choice now. From your position, you subtly shake your head- don’t give into their demands- and he hesitates.

There’s an awful cracking sound as your wrist is harshly yanked to the side.

You grit your teeth from the pain, before whipping your head down and biting, biting hard, on your captor’s wrist. They yell in surprise and release you, and you scramble to get away using only one arm.

Then someone hits you with a blow to your ribs, and your breath vanishes as you fall.

Something in Childe snaps. There’s a deep, guttural growl, building slowly from his throat, before he leaps on your attacker, tearing off their head with horrifying accuracy.

Your captor’s companions hastily begin backing away, holding their weapons with trembling hands, pitiful little sticks that Childe easily flings away with a swipe of his talons. He lets out a shriek, a harrowing sound filled with rage and a terrible, eager anticipation, springing up and clamping his jaw onto someone’s arm to dislocate and rip it off.

Your vision swims as you blink, the edges of everything gray and fuzzy. Someone’s screaming- everyone’s screaming. It’s loud, so loud, and you wince in pain as howls of pain make your ears ring. There’s a stabbing sensation in your chest, and you vaguely wonder if one or more of your ribs are broken, the sound of bones crumbling beneath sharp, vicious fangs in tune with your thoughts.

Blood splatters on the ground, the tang of it making you nauseous, and there’s the sound of flesh being torn to shreds while you can almost hear a mocking, maniacal laugh.

You’ve heard that laugh, so long ago, in the fiery walls of a house of gold.

You close your eyes, letting your mind slowly go blank in a valiant attempt to ignore the cries and pleas of people before they die at the claws of the Abyss. The pain in your side remains, pestering you to stay awake, but quickly fades into the background as your mind detaches from reality, dulling your senses and thoughts.

Then everything falls silent.

The lack of noise hangs thickly in the air, deathly quiet and stagnant. The pond of eerie serenity ripples, heavy footsteps pressing the grass as they approach you, and a claw sticky with blood nudges your side. You tilt your head back, ever-so-slightly, and are met with an Abyssal gaze, filled with nothing but ice-colored stars; a cold, unfeeling anger.

And you.

Childe’s stare warms as he lays next to you, carefully draping an arm over your torso. There’s a wet sensation on your cheek, and you realize he’s licking the cuts you had unknowingly received on your face in an attempt to soothe you. He licks your wrist as well, despite the lack of open wounds, and your fear settles as you focus on breathing. You suck in a gulp of air, only to cough when your chest twinges in pain. Childe noiselessly tucks you closer to his side, supporting your head in the soft, blood-crusted pillow of his fluff, and your coughing lessens into sharp gasps for air. A warm liquid fills your mouth, the taste of metal and consistency of sticky syrup. Your vision becomes hazy, and the gray around everything turns to black. You think you can hear humming, a gentle rumble from the throat as a monster drowns in midnight waters.

Music plays, and an old ballad sings. Celestial skies and Abyssal waves, eternal twins, consuming the heart and mind forever.

[chironshorseass]

hello yes i’m OBSESSED with your writing so if you’re still taking prompts maybe “please look at me” bc i also have an unhealthy relationship with pre-tlo percabeth angst and live for pining percy

SYD U GAVE ME THIS AND I JUST HAD TO PUT ALL MY PROMPTS ASIDE!!! because how could i not!!!

for what i wrote, i kind of mention this clarisse one-shot.

anyway enjoy <3, since I sort of went crazy with percy being powerful :) like i always do :) and of course, pre-tlo percabeth :)

read on ao3

The waves had grown restless these past few days. Violent, brutal. The night was quiet, the moon hidden beneath darkened clouds, drenching the camp in heavy ink. Percy knew many demigods proclaimed it as the quiet before the storm. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

All he heard was noise.

He’d been like this—unsteady, overwhelmed—for some time, now. Everywhere he went, he felt like a ship sailing into giant waves, water crashing against his deck, threatening to bring him under.

Grover would’ve understood, maybe. But Grover, like the moon, had vanished. That only left a few of his other friends—and of course—Annabeth.

Percy couldn’t avoid her gaze, no matter how much he wanted to. She was always there, watching. Maybe she awaited the day when he’d sink to the power of those waves that plagued the beach, that plagued him. Maybe she anticipated with bated breath on the day when he’d turn sixteen and he’d have to make one decision that would change everything.

Nevertheless, she’d drift away from him. Then come back, again and again.

It drove him crazy, how much their relationship had changed with the times and circumstances. Only now, Annabeth wasn’t what bothered him.

His gut was.

It tightened and loosened, the same way the currents flowed to the rhythm of his rushing blood. He could hear that now, too.

His blood. The sea. The clashes against rock.

Everything was beating to a powerful symphony of drums.

But worst of all was his gut.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

Percy knew there was a war. He had nightmares about it, in fact. Nightmares leading to frantic waking-ups from the feeling of lava burning into his skin. But he hadn’t sensed the war’s presence so strongly in all his three years of attending camp as he did now—and he felt it, because the source of conflict had to do with the sea.

The shadows of cabin three clung to his skin in a comfortable blanket, but he couldn’t ignore this dread. It had trickled patiently into his system for a week now, culminating to this exact moment. He couldn’t sit still. He had to leave. Now.

Not long after stumbling outside while shoving his armor on did he hear the conch horn ringing as a warning. The lookouts had seen something. His legs moved faster.

Doors of other cabins began to smash open, and with it came the spilling of panicked campers. He was already way ahead of them, though.

“To the beach!” someone cried.

Percy arrived just in time to see Chiron assemble with Michael Yew and Austin Lake. The sons of Apollo. They’d apparently been the ones on night duty. The centaur saw Percy before the others made out his heavy footfalls.

“Percy,” Chiron said. “Thank the gods you’re here.”

“There’s something,” he gasped, doubling over once he’d reached them. “There’s something out there,” he finally managed to say, gulping mouthfuls of air. “The sea.”

They already knew, however. The conchorns were signal enough. But what was more obvious was the glimpse of the giant tail, jutting out of the water like a spear cutting through flesh.

The breath he’d managed to find from his mad dash was stolen away at the sight of the monster.

“Yeah,” Austin said, swallowing. “There’s something out there, alright.”

Chiron eyed Percy warily. “My boy. We are dealing here with something I fear that you are only capable of stopping.”

“Yeah, well...it looks like a pretty big fish. I—”

A howl punctured the atmosphere—probably the same sea monster he’d seen earlier. Percy gasped, feeling a stabbing jolt in his stomach. He didn’t know why this sudden change of the sea was affecting him so, but he had to stay strong. So he stood up straight and concentrated on his breathing.

“Are you alright?” Austin asked, studying him.

Percy looked at Chiron, who met his eyes as well. You have to be, his teacher seemed to say.

“I...I think so.”

Michael chose the moment to turn his back on the sea, blowing the conchorn once more. He shouted at the incoming campers, “Greek fire! We need Greek fire!”

The rest of the multitude showed up right away, Hephaestus kids priming canons while others exchanged weaponry. Through all of it, Percy’s gut became a pressure cooker, a fist closing around glass, about to break. He cried out in agony just as a tidal wave shook the world. Falling to his knees, his arms encircled his middle, muffling that pain. He wanted nothing but to make it stop.

He vaguely heard a sound of surprise, coming from someone nearby, then the rush of hands holding onto his shoulders. They helped somewhat, a comfort to the madness.

The hands were warm and soothing. The voice of the person became clearer. He knew that voice. He knew those hands.

Annabeth appeared in his vision, all worry lines and pinched eyebrows. She said something to him again, but the words might’ve been ghosts; the stampeding blood behind his ears was too thunderous to make out anything else.

He closed his eyes and concentrated like he had earlier.

Sharp as a blade, his senses switched to the outside world.

“Are—are you okay?” Annabeth was saying. “You doubled over, and I…”

“No.” He opened his eyes to meet hers. They matched the storm that raged across the sea. “I—I’m not okay. I need to stop this, I need—”

“We were just discussing strategy,” she said. He was glad for the distraction she’d offered. “The Scolopendra isn’t just any ordinary sea monster.”

“The Scolo what?”

She helped him stand up, steadying him with her arms.

“The Scolopendra,” she repeated. “A child of Keto. It’s one of the biggest sea monsters in existence, and it won’t leave the camp border.”

“No shit.”

Annabeth ignored him, glancing backwards at where the monster had last been seen. “There’s no telling what it can do. There’s barely any recordings of it.” She swiveled back to him. “Chiron says that it can control the tide. It might be capable of drowning the camp if we don’t kill it.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“I told Chiron that we needed to try my strategy first. As in, bombing it with Greek fire before we go with the last approach.”

“And what would that last approach be?”

He had some idea, but before Annabeth could speak, the creature shot out of the water, faster than lightning. He only caught a glimpse of the crayfish-like tail and rows of webbed feet before it disappeared again.

“That looks like a giant shrimp,” he declared.

A giant shrimp that was probably capable of crushing a decently-sized trireme. Shrimpzilla, he was about to call it, as a way to lighten the mood. But he thought better of it, once he saw the hard line of Annabeth’s lips as she watched the campers rev up the Greek fire.

The Scolopendra dared to peek out of the waves for the third time, giving the chance for Beckendorf to yell out an order. Instantly, canyons discharged the green substance directly towards the monster.

It roared defiantly, maybe in pain, maybe in anger. No one was sure, because as soon as the night sky lit up with green flames, the Scolopendra crashed against the water like a wrecking ball. For a moment, all was silent.

No one dared breathe.

Annabeth squeezed Percy’s shoulder. She looked hopeful, as if relieved that she didn’t have to go with the second plan.

Chiron’s tail twitched. Beckendorf held out a hand, urging the campers to wait. Some stood anticipatedly, swords ready. He saw Clarisse in the front line, her electric spear aimed at the sea and crackling with energy.

Percy sensed what was about to happen next before he heard it.

“Annabeth,” he said frantically. “Annabeth, we have to go. Now.”

“What? But—”

“NOW!”

He’d already separated himself from her, yelling at the rest of the campers to leave. They didn’t have the chance; milliseconds later, the Scolopendra appeared. It bellowed with the power of a thousand hurricanes. Many campers covered their ears.

To everyone’s horror, it had closed in on the shore, its back legs likely reaching the sand floor as it rose to its full, terrifying height. Lightning crackled, and with it, came another roar.

“No,” he muttered. “No, everyone get out!”

Too late. The monster had already spit out a million gallons’ worth of salt water.

Instinctively, Percy let out a yell and threw his hands out.

The water halted in midair, rippling like a broken mirror. It was as if time had slowed down, as if Kronos himself had been the one to interfere. But Kronos wasn’t interfering. It was all Percy—with nothing but his willpower. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple.

Annabeth reached him just as he cried out and threw the water back to the sea with everything he had, forcing the giant shrimp to hide as well.

He caught his breath while Annabeth looked back and forth. From him to the sea, from the sea to him.

She shook her head at no one in particular. “The plan didn’t work.”

“No shit.”

Then she gazed at him again. “Thank you for doing that, Perce.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “No problem.”

“About the second plan...”

“I have to kill it, don’t I?”

“I...maybe. But we can help—”

“It isn’t a maybe. It is a certainty,” a voice said, strong and firm.

They both turned around.

“Chiron,” Annabeth said. “How can he possibly—”

“He’s the only one capable,” the horseman said. “You know that better than most.”

Her eyes flicked to Percy. Memories flashed through his mind. A quick, burning kiss. A promise. Then, the way fire engulfed him. The call of the sea. An explosion, strong enough to wake one of the most dangerous monsters of all.

When the bombard was over, he understood. He had to face this monster alone, like he had with the telkhines.

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay, what?”

Chiron nodded at him, ignoring Annabeth’s question. Without glancing back, he retreated to where the rest of the demigods were watching by the sand dunes as a precaution.

“I need to face him alone,” Percy told her, once Chiron was gone.

“No! Percy, that thing is bigger than—”

“I’m the only one that can’t drown, Annabeth!” He grasped her shoulders so that she was looking directly at him. “If anyone can do it, it’s me.”

“Don’t think I can’t see what’s going on with you,” she said, voice bitter and rough. “You’re distant, like, like the ocean is—”

“We’re both growing distant, ‘Beth. That’s not the problem right now.”

She pushed his hands away. “And that’s not what I’m talking about, and you fucking know that!”

Before he could reply, the monster's call came again. A reminder that this night wasn’t over.

“Please. Just trust me on this, Annabeth. I have to try. It’s our last option. You said so yourself: it may be capable of drowning the entire camp.”

She said nothing, not even sparing him a glance.

“And—and I don’t know why I’m like this! Maybe it’s because I can feel the ocean getting agitated, or because the war is getting worse, or—”

He realized it, then. Annabeth's tears. They were silent rivers, flowing gently down her cheeks and into her mouth. Flowing down to where everything ended up, to the sea.

“Hey,” he said, approaching her slowly. He took both of her hands in his, but she repelled away from his touch. “Please, ‘Beth.”

This time, he cupped her damp cheek, moving it in his direction. “Please look at me.”

And when she finally obliged, her gaze was fractured with glistening tears, like diamonds.

“I can’t lose you again,” she whispered.

Percy had yearned for too long; he let go of that rope tugging him in the opposite direction and instead let Annabeth in. They melted into each other, both shamelessly giving away the little warmth they preserved. It was the kind of hug that felt like a lifeline, the kind that made them both sway like the tide.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into her curls.

She held him tighter. “I missed you, too.”

“But I have to fight this one myself.”

Annabeth pulled away slightly—and when he saw the look on her face—he knew that she knew.

-

“HEY, SHRIMPZILLA!”

The Scolopendra reared its head, even uglier up close. Its nostrils flared with hairs, beady eyes staring down at him. When he charged, the monster bellowed and threw itself in the water, sending sprays taller than a house.

But none of it touched Percy.

He didn’t stop running, a plan in mind. Meanwhile, the sea churned around him in one giant mass of power, but it parted with each step he took, forming a trail of now exposed ocean floor. Water collided with the sky, flying with the salt in the air.

Hello, friend, it seemed to say. Or rather, hum. The sea was a song, and he was just there to dance to its melody.

The Scolopendra had disappeared again.

He didn’t look back, though he knew the entire camp was there, watching—maybe in awe, but he didn’t care enough to find out. He kept walking, alone, surrounded by a pool of green and blue. Was this how Moses felt, In those stories he’d heard? Bricks of ocean water, flinging up into the sky, just so that Percy could pass. The feeling distracted him from the objective.

That’s what he’d argue later, because Percy can’t explain how the monster managed to sneak up to him that easily.

The pool of green seemed endless. There was a moment where nothing moved, not even the water. But then something did tug him violently, up, up into the sky.

For a second, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream out, the breath stolen from his lungs and the icy rush of air when flung into the sky nauseating. The only feeling he knew was of the Scolopendra and its death grip on his entire body.

With each second, the roiling waters grew farther and farther away. The Scolopendra’s growl, however, couldn’t have sounded closer. Sharp claws sank into his chest and arms. If he didn’t react now, he’d be eaten before the next flash of lightning struck the sea.

Somehow, he managed to uncap Riptide.

And with a scream, he stabbed, as hard as he could.

-

“Hey. Want company?” A soft voice said.

He craned his neck around.

Annabeth subconsciously made the world easier to look at. Especially now, as she stood behind him in the pier with the last vestiges of harsh sun striking her back. Her stance was stiff, hesitant. He understood why.

So instead his eyes bored into his lap. He shrugged.

That was a sign enough for her. She crouched next to him, pulling her legs under herself and then flinging them out to where the wooden planks ended and the open air began, toes nearly kissing the placid lake.

She sat next to him, quiet as the wind. It took a few seconds or minutes or hours before she decided to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

From his peripheral vision, he could tell that she’d been studying him instead of watching the reflection of herons flying above the water. Something he’d thought she’d been doing. Apparently not.

It also took him seconds or minutes or hours before he could respond.

“What for?”

She exhaled, “Letting you go alone. Being a part of the campers who…”

She didn’t finish that sentence. He knew why.

Being a part of the campers who abandoned you alone after what you did.

“S’okay. I get it.”

A lie. He didn’t get it.

“Doesn’t make it right.”

He stared at his hands. “Guess not.”

The details of the fight were yet to go away. The memories were still fresh—like his mother’s batch of cookies whenever he came home from camp. Teeth were ever-present in his mind. And those webbed hands. Those twisted sounds as a monster choked on its own blood.

Afterward, everyone had taken a step back. Even Annabeth and Chiron seemed to contemplate him as though he were doomed. Maybe he was.

“I wish Grover were here.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth sighed. She kicked her leg up, swatting at some mosquitos. “Me too.”

“He’d pull our shit together, fix everything.” He found himself sounding wistful, longing for a missing piece of himself all of a sudden.

She didn’t reply to that. They both missed their best friend. Now, more than ever. Percy tried to not dwell too much on the fact that Grover hadn’t responded to his Iris Messages or to his calls from their shared empathy link.

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No, Percy. I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“Just look at me.”

He did the opposite, gazing at the trees to his left. They were a deep, mystical green. The colors looked like the ocean, where he’d displayed his powers for everyone to see. Worst mistake of his life. He realized that tears had begun to form in his eyes; he quickly blinked them away.

“Percy,” Annabeth insisted.

Her tone wasn’t hash or demanding—but rather, a light pink sky. A hand brushing his, sweet and tender. He noticed that it wasn’t just his imagination; glancing down, he found her fingers ghosting against his knuckles.

“Please look at me.”

This was eerily familiar. It hit him, then, that he’d said those exact words when she’d panicked about him going alone to fight the Scolopendra.

Hesitantly, his eyes focused on her face. Her freckles were there, golden like the rest of her. Only now, her eyes were rimmed with tears.

Something changed inside them both. She stared at him, he stared at her. Her face contorted, and the both broke down, crumbling like ruins with the slightest gust.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, clinging to his shirt.

“Me too,” he murmured back.

He held unto her as if she were a life force, breathing in her lemony scent. Tears were exchanged, mingling in the other’s hair. They held each other, an embrace that didn’t deserve to end. It only made him cry harder, while Annabeth held him closer.

“Why are you sorry?”

He couldn’t say it out loud.

I’m sorry for why we’re like this. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry for leaving.

Instead, he pulled away. He studied her, every single feature, from those grey eyes and that upturned nose to those curls that no longer appeared to look like a princess.’ They were just Annabeth’s.

“I scared you,” he said.

His arms loosened around her, just now realizing how long they’d hugged, but their hands stayed interlocked—like some sort of middle ground.

She regarded him, eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t ever be scared of you,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re my best friend, Perce.”

He looked away. “Everyone else was.”

“I should have gone to you after—I just...I thought you were angry at me.”

Their hands separated. “Why would I be angry at you?”

“Because I let you handle all of it alone. The monster, the campers—”

“‘Beth.” He took her hands again, cupping them with his. “I couldn’t ever be angry at you.”

“That’s not true,” she said wryly.

An observation, not an accusation. Still, that didn’t make it hurt any less. He recalled the shouting, the fights. The only thing they looked for in those moments was to hurt the other, twist and pull at any chink in the armor they could find.

She winced, remembering that, too. “Sorry.”

His mouth twitched. “You’ve said ‘sorry’ too many times. It’s getting repetitive.”

She hit his shoulder playfully. “Well, I mean it.”

He didn’t retort anything back. They found peace in this lake, once again gazing at the horizon.

“It’s not true what you said, either,” he said, his mind lingering on what she’d told him earlier. “You’re scared, as well.”

The sound of the incoming crickets carried on in Annabeth’s hesitation.

That is, until she said, “I am. Scared. I’m scared.” He glanced over. She was staring in his direction, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did I.”

She laughed, breathless. “See that’s what scares me. What else can you do? Honestly?”

He shrugged, turning away from her.

“How’d you do that, anyway?”

“I defeated it, didn’t I?” It was better to deflect than to answer her question.

Defeating the monster should’ve been what mattered, anyway.

“Percy.”

“Annabeth,” he said, in the same condescending tone.

“All I’m saying is that you could hurt yourself. You don’t know what you’re capable of. And then when your birthday happens—”

“You think I’m going to destroy Olympus or something?” He shook his head. “I should’ve known that you’d side with the gods on that, too. You think that they should kill me?”

“What? Percy, I’d never—”

He whirled, facing her, and finally let go of all those pent-up thoughts that just like the sea, wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Just admit it, Annabeth! Admit that it freaked you out that I blood bended or whatever the fuck Chiron called it! Admit, that it freaked you out how I killed that monster! That I’m fucking cursed!”

“Percy Jackson, you are not—”

“Yes, I am. Why would my dad give me powers like that? Huh? Just say it with me: you’re scared—of me.”

Her eyes were red, face hard as stone. Just like her voice when she said, “Look. I just wanted to help. But if you want to sit in your self pity, then go for it! You clearly don’t need me.”

She made no move to leave, however.

Their eyes held, until the anger from both of them melted. He huffed out a breath, shoulders hunching. “We can’t ever stop fighting, can we?”

She sighed.

“Guess not.”

“I won’t do that again.”

She lifted her chin. “Why?”

“Like you said. Scared you.”

That made her purse her lips.

“You’re not cursed, Percy. You know that, right?”

She reached for his hand. It was becoming a strange routine. Finding comfort in hand holding and then dismantling it as if it never happened.

“You’re mostly right all the time, so.” He squeezed her hand. “I s’pose I’m not cursed, then.”

“I’m right most of the time?” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “You’re right only sometimes.”

She opened her mouth in mock-offense. “Percy Jackson—”

He cut her off with his laugh, a laugh that fit with the music of the crickets. She rolled her eyes, something that he’d missed achingly, now that he saw her do it for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Scooting closer, she nudged him. “I could help you. Alongside Clarisse.”

His eyes widened. “You knew about that?”

“She’s my friend, too.”

“Of course she is,” he muttered.

Him and Clarisse...they might’ve had a rocky relationship when he’d first arrived at camp, but now, he didn’t know what he’d do without her help—without her friendship. They both understood the other in a bizzare, not very common way. She’d helped him hone in his powers, but it had yet to be something he’d wanted to admit to Annabeth. To everyone else, for that matter.

“I get why you didn’t want to tell me,” she said. “But...I do want to help. You’re my best friend, and, and I also want to spend time with you. If...that’s alright.”

“It’s alright by me.”

Annabeth gave him a look.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He tried for a smile. “I guess you could come along, then.”

His grin was shared with her, though her eyes were serious. “You’ll see. We’ll figure out your powers. What you can do, why you can do it, why the sea is affecting you…”

“All of it?”

She nodded. “All of it.”

They left it at that, though what they didn’t leave was the canoe pier. Not until the sun hid under the trees, spilling its ink of reds and oranges across the horizon.

The golden of the sun was replaced by the silver of the moon for the night, then it rose again for the day.

And in between, the waves lapped against the shore, constant and content. The ocean had calmed. For now.

[werezmastarbucks]

boston

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2538

music: savage streets by perturbator, you’ll only be safe with me by tuff turf, dark all day by gunship

You stood on one knee, feeling Kai’s fingers under your belt as he held you. You shoved out of the window half way, and yelled,

“I’m good!”

He pushed the gas pedal into the floor, and the car roared angrily, tearing through the night mist.

The black shadows surrounded you, floating out of the metal and brick twilight of the street so suddenly fear shot through you like lightning. You held up your shotgun and aimed, trying to balance with your hip on the frame of the window. Falling out of the window would mean imminent death: zombies were everywhere. They were waiting on the corners, in the windows of the buildings, hiding in the shade, behind the smelly dumpsters and in the middle of the road. As the city lights died out, and the car raced deeper into the district, golden and silver changed into cold blue and electric, the colors of docks and warehouses.

“I got them!”

“Shoot!” Kai yelled.

You exhaled and did not inhale, because the best snipers don’t breathe when shooting. As the monster truck passed by the cluster of black silhouettes, you fired three rounds into them, scaring the gathering and hitting one of them. Then you fell back into your seat and pulled your hair away from your face. It will be a bitch to try and brush after. The car drove out into the narrow quay where black water lay like glistening dirty skin, and Kai’s face was yellow in the passing bleak lights.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, poiting at the figure on the roof on the left. He slowed down a little, and you looked back to make sure nobody’s following you. You set the shotgun on your right.

“It’s Jeepers Creepers”.

“Wha... Y/N. What is Jeepers fucking Creepers doing at our zombie apocalypse?”

“I don’t know, Kai”, you snarled, “maybe he launched it. How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re driving me crazy”.

“I am afraid of Jeepers Creepers, okay? He’s gonna be the final boss”.

“I’m gonna tear his balls off”, Kai mumbled.

“He’ll take yours. That’s what he does”, you reminded him.

Kai snored.

“Get up. There’s more. They must have circled the parking lot. Look”.

Right in the middle of the road, where yellow fog was floating in the air like phantom veil, and the asphalt glistened, sweaty after 10PM rain, the black shadows barricaded the road. Kai stopped the car, and the low grumble slowly faded into the quiet, monotnous howl of the city. Somewhere, trains were moving to and fro on the rails, colliding with each other, creating noise. The factories were working, sending black smoke into the opaque sky, clogged by unwilling cigarrette clouds. The river itself, it seemed, hummed something very low, like a deadly lullaby. This world was a hostile and lonesome place. The only warm thing in here was Kai’s body sitting next to you, radiating humanity. You jerked your shotgun. You knew he was seeing exactly the same thing as you did - a bunch of zombies swaying slowly in your direction. He turned up the music a little.

“Ready?”

“Yeah”.

“Aim better or else we’re gonna drive in circles all night”.

“Don’t tell me how to kill zombies, Kai”.

He mimicked you, starting the car.

Next night, it was his turn, and you did the same thing, racing through the night city, crashing into cardbox fortresses and blowing up the glass forts, shooting the heads off the zombies, until you both have had enough of that zombie apocalypse world. It has been some time until you got tired.

(To get into the right mood, you have occupied the Columbus Movie Theatre for like a week, rewatching zombie movies. Turned out, you can’t just walk into a movie theatre and find all the zombie films piled up neatly in the movie room - or whatever it’s called. You have argued about them again and again, Kai insisting on Evil Dead being immortal classic, but the Day of the Dead was his all-time favorite. You nearly got into a fistfight with him over the Return of the Living Dead.

“Of course”, he puffed and laughed out, condescending as hell.

“What’s that laugh?!” you demanded. Kai shrugged.

“It’s such a girly thing. Return of the Living Dead. The third part is also your favorite, isn’t it?”

And he gave you the nastiest look. You narrowed your eyes.

“You bigot. You absolute fuckface. The first one is my favorite”.

He was enjoying himself too much, obviously agitated by the topic, not entirely there.

“Okay, okay”.

“But for the record, yes, I do think that the third part is the best love story I’ve ever seen on screen. It’s incredible”.

Kai nodded, the smile never leaving his face.

“She managed to fight off her cannibalistic instinct not to hurt the person she loved. She tore herself with needles and hooks to fight the urge to kill him and actually managed to keep him safe although she was literally a flesh eating zombie. How cool is that?”

Kai sighed and looked you in the eye.

“Very cool’, he said, with the tone that screamed ‘you’re silly and I adore you’.

“What other movies came out this year?”

“Not many, it’s only May”, he replied, digging deep into the box with films.

“Is Dream Lover out yet?”

“Yep”.

“We should watch it”.

“Later”, Kai said, throwing a film across the room and allowing it to crash into pieces. You hoped to hell it wasn’t Dream Lover.

“And Freddie Krueger?”

“No, not yet”.

“Damn it”, you looked over his shoulder.

“No Freddie Krueger!” he announced, “that’s it, she draws the line at Freddie. We’re leaving now”.

You laughed.

In the dark movie room, you could choose any row, any seats. You nested against each other, honoring the sacred cinema theatre tradition to gently touch in the twilight. While the action unfolded on screen, you had to shove popcorn into Kai’s mouth because it was the only way you could make him stop talking. When you ran out of popcorn, you had to shut him up with your mouth. It was a great week.)

You looked around the street and then, at Kai. How lucky he was, to find himself in this wretched place with someone as willing to play zombies as you were. You should do it more often. Maybe you should act out Mist next, somewhere in Houston.

You pulled your backpack up, and your eyes darted towards the black tower, ominous, insidious without any light, like a gigantic grave stone. Before Parker cut all the electricity, it was the Hancock Tower, now, it was just Tower. And the path to it lay through the dangerous city filled with brain craving monsters, bloodthirsty, dumb and ferocious, and you were running out of bullets. Besides, earlier on, you fell through one of the cardboard box forteresses and bruised your knee so badly, together with your left hand which you landed on. This adventure would be the death of you.

Kai twitched.

“I hear something”, he said, cocking his gun. You stood behind him, one-handed, unable to shoot. You closed your eyes. Lo, if they attack from all directions, you won’t be any help. A wounded companion is worse than an enemy in this world. You wondered if Kai would leave you alone to be eaten and stall them, or whether he’d shoot you in the head first, to spare you.

He walked on a little, entering a small square, and the black outlines of hairless, clotheless humans frightened you like you weren’t the one who had put them there ten hours earlier. They spooked you every time.

Kai shot three times, hitting each mannequin with one bullet.

“On the roof!” you pointed, turning back. You bowed as he threw up his shotgun, and fired. Heavy plastic body hopped and rolled down, falling on the ground. Kai could see in the dark so well you had to remind yourself he was human. Sometimes you would forget that fact completely. He was so different from everybody else.

He led you towards the tower where you stabbed one of the zombies in the throat. He was good at shooting, but you were very gifted with stabbing. You never missed.

“God damn”, Kai panted, as the mannequin swayed and collapsed on the asphalt just next to the glass door he was holding for you, “you saved my life”.

He took you in the movie gesture, pulling you into a long kiss. Your wrist started swelling and you had to take off your electronic watch temporarily. In the bleak room, it shone with green thin neon light from the bedside table while you had sex on the matrass.

In the middle of the night something fell off the roof, and scared the hell out of you - for real this time. You did not put anything on the top of the Tower since it was your fort. In the morning you came up on the top, while Kai went down and examined the object. Turned out, on the tenth of May, 1994, one single bag filled with files and staplers fell off the roof of the Hancock Tower. There was no way of knowing why.

“Wake up”.

You opened your eyes and rubbed your neck, aching from sleeping on the single mattrass on the floor. You looked out of the window. It has just stopped raining, which meant it was already close to midnight. In the dystopian Boston, you have switched to night regime of living completely because in the daylight, mannequins randomly standing in the streets looked simply stupid.

“The Titans”, he said. Kai’s face was so close to yours, you could feel the words on your skin. His eyes shone nervously.

“What Titans? It’s zombie apocalypse, Kai”.

He frowned.

“And what was Jeepers Creepers doing there then?”

“Oh my god”, you groaned, “let go of it already! You killed him like a week ago”.

“Come on, see for yourself”, he pulled you up, and you walked to the window, and gasped, instantly feeling for Kai’s hand. It couldn’t be happening.

That’s it! This madness finally drove you... mad.

There was an actual silhouette, the one you didn’t put there, and possibly couldn’t. The one that could not be put there for the life of you. The one of proportions too great for anyone to put it in the middle of the city, one foot on the right side of the river, and the other, on the left.

“What the fuck!” you yelled, your fright real as ever. Kai grinned happily, but then his face changed back to the philosophical expression of impending doom.

“This is it, Y/N. The zombies... and that dude... were just omens, but that’s it. The sky people have come to destroy us. It’s the end“.

“Seriously, Kai, how did you put it up... there?”

The sky was blackish-bordeaux, like usual. The river was seen just fine from here, from the top floor of the Tower. You had a pretty good look on the gloomy city and all its post-war industrial charm. The figure was so big it stood almost above the Tower itself; he reminded you of the Colossus of Rhodos, the Bronze Man, or one of the mythical golden gods of ancient times. You could actually feel your heart trying to break the hell out of your ribcage in a desperate attempt to kill itself. You couldn’t breathe for a second, mortified by the size of that thing. It was one of the deepest nightmares of your childhood, one of the visions haunting you from when you were little and kept dreaming about the end of the world.

You told Kai about those, and he now used them against you, but you appreciated the performance. It was all almost like art. It was horrifying and great, but you hated it.

“He came down from the clouds”, Kai said quietly, like a dispassionate narrator. Who already knows what’s coming, and doesn’t give a shit, because he’s already dead.

“To press the earth into the core of the planet, and make all life perish. He shall walk the land... waging his wrath on all that breathes. Including you and me”.

You made an effort to turn away, mesmerized by the statue, and looked at Kai.

“How much magic have you wasted on it?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break the character, it takes me a lot of concentration”.

“Sorry”, you whispered.

“How do you feel about facing the end of the world with me?” he asked.

It was a damn good question. Parker really did ask all the right questions. After all the time in post-apocalyptic Boston, surrounded by enemy, living in a dark den and barely seeing the sun, it was very easy to actually sense the end coming. You clutched your own elbows, thinking. Strangely, you weren’t scared anymore.

A part of his face was in the shadow. He blinked the way you’ve only ever seen Kai blink, just a little, as if he didn’t want to lose visual even for a split second.

“I’m okay with it. I have lived a fine life, in my totalitarian city, guarded by robots and...”

“...zombies...”

“Hunted down by Harrison Ford...”

“You just jumble together all the movies, it’s actually insane, stop it”.

“But now as Cthulhu has sent its warriors...” (Kai rolled his eyes), “I’m ready to go”.

A lonely honk of a train cut through the distance making you feel melancholic. The trains were just crawling there day and night, filling the air with their lonesome cries occasionally. It would make any reasonable person go crazy, too.

“What will be the last thing you do before you die?” he whispered, his nose almost touching yours. You gave in, hot slow lava crawling up your body. You took Kai’s waist, trying to feel his ribs through three layers of clothing.

“You”.

He probably wore three or four shirts just to see you go nuts as you tried to undress him every time. His street jacket goes, then, a pullover, then a shirt, then another shirt, and you groan with anger as he chuckles at you, his hands snaking under your clothes at once. Your skin went shivering, covered with goose bumps under his fingers, like by magic.

As he pushed you against the wall, the gigantic Titan started melting above the river, looming shadow stepping away from the city, which was flattering. Kai’s whole mind was directed at you now.

You thought about how one loves at the brink of extinction; is it passionate, like when Kai grabbed your shoulder, your hair, pounding you into the floor, or is it gentle and thoughtful, like when you only moved your hips slowly, pressed against each other like two halves of Oreo, or is it impatient, breathless and vile, like when he was fucking you against the wall, talking all the way through your whimpering?

It took the end of the world for you to end up on his dick.

[alolowrites]

A Late Night Promise

Summary: Much to your dismay, you share an elevator ride with Shouto after staying late at the office one night.   

Author’s Note: Saw a prompt with just the word “elevator” and my mind came up with this. It’s been a while since I wrote a long-ish fic for Shouto. One last thing, everyone is of age. 

Enjoy!  

“So what do you say?”

“Oh…I don’t know…”

“C’mon.” Saito leans against the doorframe. “I promise we’ll have a great time on Saturday night. I know this fantastic hibachi restaurant in the city. The chef is also a close friend of mine. What do you say?”

“That does sound like fun.” What’s not to love about watching an experienced chef perform their tricks on the grill? The excited yells, the sleek spatulas slicing on the metal ice, the delicious food sizzling to perfection. Your mouth waters at the mere thought of it. And yet, “Can I let you know tomorrow? I just gotta make sure I’m free.”

“No problem,” he smiles at you. “Text me when you’re ready.”

Waving goodbye, you walk away. Few employees are working late tonight at Endeavor’s agency, especially if they are network engineers such as yourself. You don’t mind staying behind to help. It means spending more time in the server rooms. Each one is like a fun maze where you purposefully try to get lost in. They came in handy after enduring a painful heartbreak.

The hallway runs for miles. Lights flicker above you and the low buzz tickles your ears. You can’t shake the growing feeling of someone watching you. Pausing mid-step, you peek over your shoulders with weary eyes. A janitor pushes his cart around the corner. His whistles echo down the hall until they fade away.

You relax.

It’s a false alarm. Shaking your head, you stride towards the elevator. Cool air bursts from the vents which is a blessing. Outside is a nightmare with all the humidity. From the corner of your eye, you see a storm approaching. The wind howls in between the trembling leaves. Dark clouds gradually engulf the entire block like the Blob Monster. And soft thunder rumbles in the distance.

Perhaps it will rain tonight. Lord knows you desperately need it to rain. After suffering under humidity’s tyrant rule, you are ready to be saved.

The button turns yellow. You wait for the elevator by scrolling through your phone. Instagram is a bore. Snapchat’s hourglass reminds you to keep your fiery streak alive. And, unsurprisingly, Chargebolt is trending on Twitter. Just as your thumb hangs above the screen, the strange feeling returns.

You glance to your left and nearly drop the phone. Shouto is marching down the hallway. Panic hits as you pound the button multiple times. Seconds are ticking by. Precious time is fleeing. Where is the damn elevator?!

Ding!

You immediately dive inside. Lurching forward, you attack the button until the doors start closing. A hand slices midway and everything stops. Shouto saunters inside; the elevator groans under the newly added weight. You scuff back to the center. He dusts off the invisible lint on his black dress shirt. He gives you a once over before standing besides you.

The elevator moves.

No music plays from the speakers. The box is so quiet, but your mind is on overdrive. It’s as if someone accidentally disconnected a cable and now the network system is malfunctioning. Only you couldn’t fix this mess. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea answering those emails; they kept you behind an extra ten minutes. Too late to change that now.  

You glimpse at the black screen above you. The dwindling numbers keep you sane even if you’re hanging on by a thread. Once the ride reaches the lobby, you will block it from your memory. Until then, all you need to do is ignore him. It should be easy enough.

“You’re leaving late again.”

Shoulders back.

“It’s not good for your health.”

Eyes front.

“Will you please say something to me?”

Lips shut.

Shouto takes the hint and backs off. He rethinks his strategy in silence while your eyes are fixated on the elevator’s doors. His body is partially blurred. Although you couldn’t see his face, you know he is frustrated; the clenched fist gives it away. Your phone vibrates in your grasp. A soft smile tugs on your lips as you read the sweet message.

Shouto scoffs. You frown.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shoves one hand in his pocket. You suspiciously eye him before turning your attention to the phone again.

The blue light flickers with each floor change. A finger taps against the side of his leg. Time is running out for him. He must act quick. Who knows when he will be this close to you, and alone, ever again. Shouto thinks back to your answer and nearly cries; he craves to hear the sound of your voice—it’s sweet and addictive.

“Are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Go out with him?”

“How did you—did you spy on me?!”

Shouto bites back a grin. That’s six more words than the last response.

“I wanted to know if you were okay.” He shrugs as if he did nothing wrong. A migraine knocks on your forehead. “Your team has been working diligently on installing the new security firewalls. After all, my father wants to make sure everything is secured.”

“Forget about your father’s insane demands!” You thrust a finger his way. “How long have you been spying on me, huh? Tell me right now!”

His mouth is glued shut.

“Shouto!”

“Since you started talking to Saito!” Embers flicker off his hair. He towers over you, but you do not flinch away. One hand rushes through his locks. “He kept getting close to you. I wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you.”

“Like you didn’t hurt me?!” You dryly laugh. Your icy glare almost gives him frostbite. “You’re the one who broke up with me!”

“I did it to protect you!” Oh here we go again, that same old excuse. You pace around the elevator to avoid his nonsense. Shouto does not back down. “There are villains who want to kill me! If they ever found out about you—”

“You don’t think I know that?!” A foot harshly stomps on the floor and rattles the box. “For crying out loud, Shouto, I work for your dad! This whole freaking office is a prime target!”

The numbers continue climbing down.

“I knew the risks that came with dating you. I’m not stupid, but you—” a finger jabs his shirt “—made the choice to leave me. You decided to end things without even considering how it would have hurt me.”

His eyes flicker between your finger and fiery daggers.

“It was hard getting over you.” A cold, haughty chuckle rings into the air. “But now that I’m ready to start dating again, you decide to spy on me? You have some nerve!”

Another stab to his chest.

“It’s over, Shouto.” You boldly stand your ground. “I suggest you move on and forget about us.”

A thin line appears on his mouth.

Shouto marches towards the front and smashes the emergency button. The elevator abruptly stops. For a few seconds, it shakes like an aftershock from a larger earthquake. You yelp and stumble, but catch yourself. Shouto’s hand slips down. The unbearable humidity returns, only it feels worse, like standing in the middle of the Amazon rainforest with no escape.

A pair of eyes focuses on you. He’s like a jaguar who briskly stalks closer to his prey. Out of instinct, your legs stagger away from him until you hit a wall. Two large hands slam against the metal plate. The shockwaves roll down your back as his arms cage you in place.

When Shouto leans forward, you swallow a hard gulp. Apparently there are two storms happening tonight—one outside and the other thrashing inside his eyes. You’ve only seen this look a few times; it never fails to make you shudder with anticipation. Soon a small flame ignites deep in your soul.

It grows at an alarming rate. A cool sensation trails across your jawline and down your neck. You restrain yourself from biting your bottom lip. The air swirling around becomes unstable. Your breathing quickens its pace. Your throat dries instantly. Your heart beats uncontrollably. Shouto amusingly peeks at the bag and the pitiful distance it puts in between you two.

“You said to move on and forget, but there’s one small problem…” His gravelly voice makes your legs quiver. He tilts his head so your noses brush. You could almost taste the peppermint breath flowing out from his parted mouth. It fails to cool down your flushed face. After the brief pause, he rasps, “I can’t and I’ll show you why.”

Lightning finally strikes.

Without warning, strong lips crash against yours. They are desperate for you. Starving even. His actions reawakens a long forgotten feeling in your core. The small flame transforms into a powerful wildfire ravaging everything in its path. You wither under the heat. At this point, nothing holds you back and fully give in.

You kiss him. Hard.  

A cool touch makes you gasp. Shouto wastes no time devouring the inside of your mouth with his tongue. The movements are precise, yet reckless. A wave of pleasure spreads throughout your body as your eyes roll back. The bag drops to the floor and Shouto effortlessly kicks it behind. With the only obstacle gone, he collapses his entire weight on you.  

You yank away to catch your breath.

Large hands seamlessly wander down your body. They are painfully slow for your liking. Shouto smirks when your fists fervently tug the collar of his shirt. He stops torturing you by swooping his hands underneath your thighs and lifting you up. Eager legs wrap around Shouto’s torso to hold yourself steady.

After weeks being apart, you miss his touch. You miss exploring his lean muscles bulging through the fabric. You miss inhaling his unique cologne scent. You miss digging your fingers through his sleek hair and disrupting its neat form. You simply miss everything about him.

Shouto hears you beg and fulfills your wish by deepening the kiss. It is more animalistic, more ferocious than the first one. Shouto shoves you further up against the wall for better control. Ironically, he is fighting to keep his composure together. Your tantalizing lips, however, pushes him over the edge. Lustful thoughts consume his mind as he praises every inch of your body. His mouth attacks your neck while you sing against his ear.

He almost loses it when you breathe out his name.

Meanwhile, his searing touches threaten to unravel the last string of your sanity. You guide his mouth back to yours as you are hungry for more. The storm charges through with no end in sight. Shouto’s satisfying groans blurs with the thunderous applause exploding among the thick clouds. Time is nonexistent. Your focus is on Shouto who pours his entire heart and soul into each blazing kiss. They are chaotic, but divine. You surrender yourself to the madness and transcend into a state of euphoria.

Oh how you wish you could stay there forever.

As the kisses weaken, you sink back down to reality. Through your heavy eyelids, you see Shouto pull away from your plump lips. Both chests heave like two runners who finished a grueling marathon. There are no crowds of people cheering for you two, just your heart. A soft sirocco wind passes by as Shouto tiredly presses his forehead on yours.

He croaks, “Now you understand why I can’t move on and forget about us?”

You do.

Shouto searches through your overwhelmed eyes for an answer. He gently caresses your face like the precious treasure it is. The hero savors your lips one last time and etches them into his memory. Fighting against his wish, he carefully puts you down. Your legs wobble and you don’t trust yourself to move. Shouto walks to the front and press some buttons.

The elevator roars to life again.  

You tuck in your blouse and pathetically fix your disheveled hair. A bag appears in your sight. Grabbing it, you choke out a quick “thanks” to Shouto. Both of you return to your original positions as if the passionate episode never happened.

No music plays from the speaker, but it is far from quiet. You hear your heart racing and the electric sparks buzzing in the tensed air.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto whispers. You stiffen at the sound. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I was inconsiderate about everything…especially your feelings.”

You lower your gaze.

“I won’t stop you from going on that date.”

Your ears perk at his statement. Ignoring all warnings, you stare at him. Something indescribable swirls in his eyes. You realize they only appear when he’s preparing himself for battle.

“It is still your choice to make, but,” Shouto holds your hand in his warm grasp. The sheer determination flaring through his gaze takes your breath away. “Please know that I will not rest until I win your heart again.”

Ding!

The doors open, but you don’t exit. You’re still trying to process his words—his declaration of war for whomever decides to challenge him. Closing your gaped mouth, you glance between Shouto, your hand and the empty lobby. You numbly step off the elevator and lumber away.

Rain droplets cover the glass doors. Everything is quiet outside. The storm is gone and off to torment another city. You can finally breathe since the air is lighter. As you take a whiff of the earthy-musty scent, you feel the back of your hairs rise. Your eyes peer over your shoulders to see Shouto watching you.

He proudly stands tall.

A giddy sensation rushes down your spine. You grip the handle to keep yourself steady. Overwhelmed, you release a shaky sigh before exiting the building. In the lobby, Shouto curls his fist without looking away.

“I promise to win you back.” His lips curve into a small, but confident smile. “No matter how long it takes.”

Shouto will make sure of it.

As always, thank you for reading!  

[hermit-pistol]

stubborn (oldseph x reader)

anonymous asked:  why hello there! i'd like to request a part 3 joseph x reader where the reader is a crusader and joseph's always trying to protect her, but she's always trying to prove herself to him and then they fall in love! thank you so much my joseph fan friend!

Oldseph is literally the light of my life, okay. I don’t usually write super long stuff like this but I was so moved because Oldseph. Here ya go! 

You had never guessed that you would find yourself in this situation: traveling the middle east with a few grown men and a couple of high school students thrown in for good measure.

The dynamic was a bit awkward at first, to say the least. While you were in your mid-twenties and were capable of handling yourself, being surrounded by men always had its downsides.

They always thought that you needed protection, which wasn't true in the slightest. You knew what you were getting into when accepting the offer of defeating DIO once and for all. You even had a stand of your own. Yet, it was always "You should stay out of this, Y/N." or "It's dangerous to go there alone. Let me come with you."

It drove you insane, to say the least.

You've told the other crusaders countless times that you were okay and they left you to your own devices. Except for one. Joeseph Joestar.

He had to be the most stubborn man that you've met in your entire life. After your pleading and constant requests to leave you be, he would still watch you like a hawk all day every day.

Although you had to admit that you found his dedication to you quite flattering. Or...maybe you just craved the attention. You couldn't be sure.

Today was another hectic day, with the gang chasing after another enemy stand user that went by the name of Hol Horse. Just a few short moments ago he had shot your beloved comrade Avdol point-blank. After cornering him; however, the slippery cowboy had evaded their grasp. Luckily they wasted no time chasing him down, and they were quickly closing the distance.

"Get back here! I'll kill you for what you did to Avdol!" Polnareff shouted, Silver Chariot attempting to stab at his heels. Hol Horse had now begun shooting with Emporer at the sand, creating a cloud of dust that had made it hard enough to see just about anything. "Shit!" It was later discovered that Chariot's rapier was stabbing at nothing.

"You'll never take me alive!" Hol Horse had begun shooting like a madman now in a desperate attempt at escape. You had kept up with the rest of the bunch this whole time, but Joseph wasn't having any of it.

"Y/N. You have to stay behind me." He glanced back at you to see that you were following his careful orders. You could feel your blood beginning to boil.

"Excuse you? I can take care of myself, thank you very much." Your stand expertly deflected the stray bullets that were flying here and there. Joseph used his Hermit Purple to create a net around you, lifting you off of the ground.

"Hey, what the- you've got to be kidding me right now..." you were now suspended above the sandy terrain, your stand trying to free you from the vine's grasp. It was no use, as Joseph used a spark of Hamon to keep your quest for freedom at bay.

"Sorry Y/N, I know that you're mad. But Hol Horse isn't taking any chances. He's gone crazy, and we can't risk losing you."

You slumped to the bottom of the makeshift net, the sounds of gunfire still ringing in your ears. The statement really should have been: 'I can't risk losing you' at this point. All of the other crusaders have respected your wishes, but Joseph always went that extra mile to make sure that you were protected and safe. Maybe it wasn't all bad, but you figured that another talk with the old man would just do more harm than good at this point.

A couple of minutes had gone by, with you still trapped in your makeshift prison. It was only when you heard the screams of a certain cowboy that you stood up and leaned lightly against the thorny wall.

Hol Horse had finally been caught. Kakyoin was interrogating him about DIO's whereabouts while Jotaro's Star Platinum had him in a chokehold. "Please, please lemme go! I'll tell ya where Mr. DIO is!" He cried, and Joseph let out a low rumble of a laugh. It was strangely...attractive?

"You really think that we're gonna let you go, huh?" He removed his hat to scratch his head. You watched him run his hands through his salt and pepper locks, and from your practically-aerial view, it looked particularly soft?

No....you were not getting feelings for Joseph Joestar. 69-year-old Joseph Joestar. This can't be happening.

Hol Horse was having none of Joseph's teasing. "Please, I'll do anything!" He pleaded. Joseph looked over to Kakyoin, who looked to Jotaro and so on and so forth. No one looked at you, still trapped in vines. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the idiotic display.

While everyone was exchanging glances to decide what to do, you were the only one who had noticed Hol Horse reaching into his boot. He had something up his sleeve. "Guys, he's got a-!" you tried to shout out to reach the others, but it was no use.

There was an extra gun stashed away that had been neglected in the patdown after his capture. He shot at the sand once more and then ran as if his life depended on it...which it certainly did.

Jotaro pointed in his direction, ready to send Star Platinum into a frenzy. Kakyoin stopped him before he could begin his assault. "It's not worth it, Y/N was the only one who could have possibly prevented that escape from happening." Joseph began to turn around and walk back to where they had thrown their supplies before Kakyoin could call him out. "Now where do you think you're going?"

"Ah, me?" He instinctively put his hand on the back of his neck. "I was just getting a drink! Was probably gonna grab something for Y/N too." He gave a thumbs up.

"Why am I still trapped in his hellhole?" You yelled down to the group. Joseph quickly released his Hermit Purple and you were safely brought back to the ground. "You are so thick. What makes you think that I can't take care of myself, huh?" Out of frustration, your hand had rested itself upon your hip.

"I was just trying to protect you!" He threw up his hands in defense. "That Hol Horse guy is crazy-"

"You wanna know what's crazy? Taking me out of the chase and lifting me into the sky so I wouldn't be in harm's way." You bit your lip in order to avoid saying something that you would later regret.

Before things could get more heated, Polnareff was the one who finally decided to break the tension. "I think that everyone is just tired since we've been out in the sun all day. Tensions are still high from the loss of Avdol, agreed?" Everyone gave a solemn nod. Losing their friend that day had taken a toll on all of them, Polnareff especially.

"He does have a point," Jotaro spoke, folding his arms. "Today's been a rough day for us all. And to top it all off...I'm starving..."

"Me too..." You couldn't deny the sounds that your stomach was making. All of that rage and aggressive towards Joseph had made you work up quite the appetite.

"I've got a great idea! Let's go somewhere special for dinner tonight. To make up for what I did to Y/N." Joseph gave a grin. It made your anger dissipate almost immediately, but you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. "Even better, I'll pay!"

"Fine, but only because you're paying..." You grumbled as you gathered the rest of your earlier confiscated belongings from the heap of supplies on the ground. At least you were being treated to a good meal. ---- After arguing for a solid 30 minutes about where to eat for the night, you all had finally decided on a steakhouse. Even though they were in India, Joseph had insisted on sampling a classic "American" burger because he was feeling homesick.

The waitress that ushered you in was very polite, and soon the 5 of you were settled into a booth, with you and Joseph sitting on one side, and Kakyoin, Polnareff, and Jotaro sitting on the other.

"Can I get you guys something to drink?" The uncomfortably jovial waitress asked around the table and just wrote down a little scribble here and there.

When it was finally your turn, you asked for an iced tea. But not before being cut off by Joseph who insisted that water was the better choice. Thankfully, the booth was so cramped that you could dig your elbow into his side, making him howl with pain. "I'm so sorry about that. If I could get an iced tea that would be great!"

When the woman was out of earshot. Joseph turned to you, still rubbing his side with his prosthetic hand. It accidentally brushed against you, and the chill of the cool metal sent shivers down your spine. "Now, what was that about!"

"I can order a damn beverage for myself, Joseph."

"Someone could have poisoned the iced tea and we don't even know!" He raised his eyebrows along with his voice.

"I'm done fighting. Let's just finish this dinner and find a hotel...I'm exhausted." You sighed, resting your read on the table. Even though you couldn't see it, you could practically feel Joseph's eyes on you.

The rest of the dinner continued in silence. Everyone stared at their plates when the food came out, and so far the only interaction that had occurred during their outing besides the outbursts from Joseph was when Polnareff started choking on his burger.

"This is what I get for eating American food..." He managed between coughs.

"A rather silent bunch tonight, aren't we-" Kakyoin eventually broke the silence, reaching across the table for the ketchup bottle.

"I just don't really feel like talking, that's all." You answered, just pushing around the leftover food on your plate. In reality, you were just trying to process these newly-surfaced feelings for Joseph. You must have been so spaced out that he noticed.

"Hey, space cadet!" He waved his hand in front of your face, causing you to snap out of it. "You okay, Y/N? You've been acting awfully strange."

You could feel a blush creeping up on your features, so you attempted to cover your face. "I-it's nothing, really. I just- haven't eaten beef in a while and it's upsetting my stomach, that's all!" Really? Like he would believe that.

"I've got some medicine in my bag I can give to ya when we're back at the hotel. I don't want you to be in pain." Curse him for caring about you!

"I'll be okay, let's just get out of here." Joseph shrugs and calls the waitress over to bring the check. The rest of the restaurant outing goes smoothly, you guys even got the fancy mints! You each pitched in for the tip, despite protests from Joseph, and made your way back into the stifling desert air.

The hotel check-in was a relatively painless process as well, Jotaro and Kakyoin had decided to room together, and Polnareff offered to share a room with Joseph. That left you with your own room for the night.

Since you usually traveled in even numbers, finally having a room to yourself for once was pretty nice. Although, you wished that it could have been under different circumstances. When you entered your single suite you all but ran to the bed, throwing your bags on the ground. The soft sheets welcomed you and lulled you into a deep sleep.

That was until you were woken up from your precious slumber by a sharp knock at the door.  

You checked your phone, seeing that only a couple hours had passed since you had checked in and bid the rest of the group goodnight. Looking out the window, you could tell that the sun had already set, giving way to a night sky accompanied by a slight breeze. Nights in the desert could be pleasant sometimes.

"Coming!" You shouted, looking in the mirror quickly to make sure that you didn't look like a complete and utter mess. After giving yourself the once over you peered into the peephole to see Joseph. He was clutching a bag and some water. 'Oh yeah, the medicine.'

You opened the door, and he gave you a wide smile. "Good evening! I came to bring you that medicine. And I got some water too!" He playfully shook the bottle in his hand. What a goofball.

"That's very sweet of you, Joseph." You felt the corners of your lips tug upward, threatening to form a smile. God, you couldn't deny how charming he was. "Why don't you come inside."

"Okay, if you insist!" He stepped across the threshold and shut the door carefully behind him. He handed you the medicine and water and walked across the room to sit on your bed. "I see that you already broke this bad boy in." He gestured to the sheets, which had still been rustled from your nap.

"Yeah, I was exhausted after everything that happened today." You decided to be bold and sit down on the bed next to him. He almost flinched a little when he felt the bed covers dip beside him. Was Joseph Joestar getting a little flustered?

"Y/N, now that we're here. I actually have something else to tell you." The grip on your water bottle tightened, and you took a shaky swig.

"Oh yeah, what's that? You finally want to apologize for all those times that you got in my way?" You tried to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

"No, actually. I find myself doing those things because I can't stand to live in a world without you. I really you Y/N-" The last sentence came out a little rushed, but your eyes went wide.

You were holding the water bottle so tightly at this point that it was a bit uncomfortable. Being taken aback by the confession, you just sat in silence for a bit. Finally, after a few seconds of unbearable quiet, you spoke up. "Well, that explains a lot actually."

"It does, doesn't it." Joseph moved a little closer to you, now gently holding your free hand. "I don't mean to sound like a bother to you, but I just can't stand to see you hurt. I know that you are probably more than a little uncomfortable with the age difference, anybody would be but-" You cut off his rambling with a quick kiss.

You giggled as you watched his face turned red. He was completely speechless for once. "You really need to learn when to shut up sometimes. I've been denying my feelings for too long as well. It's about time that I was completely honest with myself."

"You- you really feel the same way?" Joseph was absolutely bewildered at this point, for he was not expecting this response. You nodded your head in response.

"But, from now on if this is gonna work out, you gotta let me off the leash a little. Or else I'll have to... tickle you or something." You set your water bottle on the nearby nightstand and stood up.

"Empty threats, empty threats I say." Joseph blew a raspberry. He also stood up, and you noticed the size difference between the two of you. His tallness was insanely attractive, to the point where it wasn't fair. "Well, I better get going."

"You don't have to if you don't want to, it gets lonely here at night." You shot him a pleading look, slapping the covers where he once sat.

He walked over to you and picked you up, your legs were now wrapped around his giant torso. "You would like that, wouldn't you." Your lips were dangerously close to touching, but he decided not to close the distance, much to your dismay.

"Well, it sounds like a good idea to me." Your arms were draped around the back of his neck. They reached up to play with his hair, and you cherished the feeling of his soft strands. 'His hair really is that soft...'

"You're gonna have to let me grab my clothes then, I'm not sleeping in these." He was still wearing his daily attire.

You slid off of him reluctantly. 'I guess I'll let you go then. Don't take too long."

"No promises!" He teased, exiting your room, leaving you to shut the door behind him. You leaned against the door before closing it, admiring his retreating assets. 

After shutting the door, you leaned against it and smiled. That was quite the unexpected turn of events. At least you found out the reason behind Joseph's constant nagging, and quite honestly you wouldn't have it any other way.

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 9

Warnings: fluff/angst

Rating: SFW

(Reader is now Riku’s age)

On the bright sandy beach of Destiny Island, the sun shone brightly on Sora who had just woken up from a nap on the sand. He sat up and looked at the water. He yawned and laid back down on the ground only to be greeted by you and Kairi. 

“Woah!” Sora yelled as he jumped back up. He turned around and saw you and Kairi giggling. 

“Give me a break, you two,” Sora said. 

“Sora, you lazy bum. I knew that I would find you here sleeping,” you said. 

“No! This huge, black THING swallowed me up! I couldn't breathe! I couldn't--” Suddenly Kairi smacked him. 

“Ow!” Sora said. 

“Was that a dream?” Kairi asked. 

“It wasn't a dream! Or was it? I don't know.” Sora looked off toward the ocean, seeing the clouds billow in the sky. 

“What was that place? So bizarre...” he said. 

“Yeah, sure,” you said. You and Kairi walked past him and out into the water. 

“Say, girls, what was your hometown like? You know, where you grew up,” Sora said. 

“Like we said, we don’t remember,” Kairi said. 

“Nothing at all?” 

“Nothing,” you said. 

“You ever want to go back?” Sora asked. 

“Well, I’m happy here,” Kairi said. 

“Same here,” you said. 

“Really...” Sora said. 

“But you know...I wouldn't mind going to see it,” Kairi said. 

“I'd like to see it too. Along with any other worlds out there. I wanna see 'em all!” you said. 

“Yeah, me too!” You and Kairi faced Sora and smiled. 

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” you asked. 

“Hey!” The three of looked towards the voice and saw Riku carrying a log. 

“Aren't you guys forgetting about me? So, I guess I'm the only one working on the raft,” Riku said. Riku tossed the log to Sora and he fell over with a yelp. Riku then walked over to you and Kairi. 

“And you two are just as lazy as he is,” he said. 

“So you noticed. Okay, we'll finish it together,” Kairi giggled. You jumped up and down as Riku sat next to Sora and you giggled with Kairi. 

“I’ll race you guys!” you said. 

“Huh?” Sora asked. 

“What, are you kidding?” Riku asked. 

“I’m down,” Kairi said. You giggled and got ready. 

“Ready? Go!” you said. Sora and Riku glanced at each other before leaping up and racing across the beach. They smiled at each other as you and Kairi followed them, still giggling. Meanwhile, in another world, Donald Duck the court wizard walked proudly through the Colonnade of Disney Castle, passing a group of brooms carrying buckets. Donald stopped in front of two enormous double doors. He cleared his throat and knocks on three times. A smaller door just his size opens and he walked through. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” he said. He walked down the long red carpet of the Audience Chamber toward a golden throne. 

“It's nice to see you this morn--” he saw that no one was sitting on the throne. 

“What?!” he yelled. Pluto walked out from behind the throne, carrying an envelope in his mouth. Donald opened it and read the letter. He blinked for a second, then suddenly speeds back out into the Colonnade. He raced across the courtyard to where Goofy, Captain of the Royal Knights, was sleeping. 

“Wake up, Goofy, wake up! This is serious!!” Donald yelled. Goofy continued to snore and Donald’s temper got the better of him. He pointed his finger into the air, yelling, and summons a lightning bolt, which swoops down and strikes Goofy in the side, jolting him awake. He sat up sleepily and looks around. 

“Hey there, Donald. G'morning,” Goofy said. 

“We've got a problem, Goofy! But don't tell anyone...” Donald said. 

“Queen Minnie?” Goofy asked, ignoring Donald. 

“Not even the queen.” 

“Daisy?” 

“No, it's top secret!” 

“G'morning, ladies.” 

“What?” Donald around to see a cross Daisy, hands on her hips, and Queen Minnie. Daisy cleared her throat and Donald laughed sheepishly. The next night, thunder rumbled softly outside, catching Sora’s attention and he gazed outside. In the darkness of the cloudy night sky, lightning flashes, striking near the small island. You woke up and looked at where Sora was looking. 

“The raft!” the both of you said. The two of you ran out of the house and towards the raft, not hearing Sora’s mother calling for you two. You and Sora arrived at the small island, spotting a large orb of energy hanging low in the sky, wind swirling in it dark depths. 

“What’s that?” you asked. 

“I have no idea,” Sora said. You and Sora jumped onto the dock, seeing two other boats moored there. 

“Riku’s boat!” Sora said. 

“And Kairi’s!” you said. He looked around warily, seeing no one. In the dim landscape a pair of eyes emerges from the ground. The eyes illuminated the Shadow’s body, its antennae wriggling as it scans its surroundings. Another appeared and Sora gasps in fear. He takes out his wooden sword and hid you behind him as one of them leaps at him, but he blocks the strike. He tries to hit them with the sword, but they seem unfazed by it. It feels to Sora as if it goes right through the creatures. Sora realized his only option is to run and he take your hand as he makes his way to the wooden bridge, dodging strikes from the Shadows. Everywhere he ran, more appeared in his wake. You saw Riku standing at the small island across the bridge, facing the orb in the sky. He appears unmoving, as if in a trance. 

“Where’s Kairi? I thought that she was with you,” you said. 

“The door has opened...” Riku said. 

“What?” Sora asked. Riku turned around and faced you and Sora. 

“The door has opened! Now we can go to the outside world!” he said. 

“What are you talking about? We’ve gotta find Kairi!” you said. 

“Kairi’s coming with us!” Riku said abruptly causing you and Sora to look at him in shock. 

“Once we step through, we might not be able to come back. We may never see our parents again. There’s no turning back. But this may be our only chance. We can’t let fear stop us! I’m not afraid of the darkness!” Riku said. 

“Riku...” Sora said nervously.

“Riku! Don’t follow the darkness! It’ll only tear us apart!” you said. You remembered how you lost Vanitas due to Xehanort’s darkness. A pool of darkness formed at Riku’s feet, its tendrils licking at where he stood, wrapping around his impassive body. You and Sora rushed forward to save your friend, and the darkness grabs at you two. You tried to reach toward Riku, but the weight of the darkness pulls him down. Riku’s face is unchanging as you failed to grab his hand, the darkness proving too much for you. You and Sora blacked out for a second before a light twinkles into existence. It starts out small, but soon grows into an incredible brightness. It fills you and Sora’s vision and Sora felt something metallic fall into his hand. The two of you opened your eyes, nearly stumbling forward as the light dissipates. You and Sora stared at the large object in his hand. Its golden handle and silver blade shines like a sword, but the tip of the blade is pointed like the teeth of a key. A keychain hangs from the pommel of the weapon. A name whispers softly in you and Sora’s ear.

“Keyblade... Keyblade...” You looked down and saw that you were wearing a completely different outfit that before and you felt something in your hand and saw a dagger with your mother’s name written on the scabbard.

 (yep it’s the same dagger from the other chapter)

Shadows appeared around you and Sora and he swung at them with the Keyblade while you stabbed them with your dagger. A Shadow, unable to dodge, is knocked backward in a flurry of stars. With a few more swings, the darkness of the Shadows is driven away by the might of the blades, and they vanish. With as many as you two defeated, more appear and Sora races back across the bridge, you following close behind. The two of you saw a strange door over the entrance to the Secret Place. The door opens and you two ran inside to find...

“Kairi!” you and Sora said. Kairi stood heavily in front of the door-like wall of the cave. A soft hum hangs in the air as she slowly turned towards you and him, her empty eyes weak with exhaustion. 

“Sora...(Y/N)...” she said. The two of you were startled to see Kairi like this as she struggles to move forward to you two, lifting a hand toward you. Suddenly, the door behind her gives way and a great wind billows forth. You and Sora stood your ground, covering your guys’ face as Kairi loses her grip, flying toward you. Sora opens his arms to catch her, but just as she reaches him, she vanishes and he catches nothing. Astonished by this, you and Sora lost your ground as the dark wind knocks you two harshly out of the cave. The two of you fell on the beach with a grunt, the purple sky stretching around the island. Sora kneels in the sand looking around at the island below him. Large chunks of the island have broken off and risen into the sky towards the dark orb.

“Woah!” you said. The orb looms above you two, lightning crackling in its dark depths as the wind swirls in the air with rocky and wooden debris. Sora senses a presence behind him, and stands, turning around to see the demon from his dreams, Darkside, gazing down at him through black tendrils. You and Sora took out your weapons as Darkside kneels on the ground. Energy pulses in the heart-shaped hole in its torso and it releases beams that target you and Sora. Sora begins attacking its right arm and you taking its left, while dodging the beams of energy. Darkside stands, its hands out of reach of you and Sora, and it pauses, peering at him through glowing yellow eyes. You and Sora waited, watching its every move. It leaned forward clenching its hand into a fist, gathering strength, before slamming the fist into the ground, spewing darkness along the sandy floor. Shadows emerge from the dark pool. You and Sora raced through them to the demon’s wrist, running along its black arm. The two of you made your way to Darkside’s shoulder and slammed the blade into the creature’s face. The wind howls louder as the island creeps further toward the orb of energy. You and Sora dropped to the ground as Darkside was pulled into the air. The wind whipping at him, Sora grabbed a wooden board stuck in the sand while you held on to Sora’s torso and held on for dear life. Every muscle in Sora’s body tensed as the wind pulls him upward. His fingers slowly lose their grip and the two of you was sucked into the orb, screaming.

To be continued...

[angelatmidnight1]

Never Rouse The Beast

This is part two to my first Bloodhound and Octane fic. I had fun writing this one and hope you guys like it. It’s 11:42pm here and I hope there are no typos lol. xD

Summary:  After finding out how ticklish Bloodhound is, Octane finds an opportunity to remind them at every chance he gets. Little does Octane know, however, is that there’s a reason you never poke the beast and expect it to lie still…

“What’cha lookin’ at, amigo?” Octane smirked at his teammate from across the dropship and chuckled. Bloodhound turned their head away from the daredevil and cleared their throat, pinging the Sorting Factory below.

“...I think we should land here.” They murmured as they nodded towards the furthest L-shaped building towards the back of the area. Since the pair was among the last few squads in the ship, Octane moseyed on over to the hunter’s side and peered down where they pinged. He brought one of his hands up to his forehead as if he needed to shield his eyes from the glaring sun, his other hand finding their side and giving it a squeeze. Octane pretended as if he needed to balance himself but they both knew better. 

“Over there?” He asked innocently while kneading their side between his fingers. Bloodhound squirmed out of the daredevil’s touch and nearly fell out of the ship themselves, earning them strange looks from the few remaining squads and a giggle from their teammate.

“Yeh-hes..” Bloodhound stammered, bringing their arm down against their side protectively. Although they were the Jump Master, Octane could have easily decided to break off and jump before them and go wherever he wanted. In fact, that’s what he usually did, claiming that it took foooreeeever to land. But ever since their recent “training session”, Bloodhound was finding it difficult to put some space between themselves and the daredevil. And it was their luck that out of all the Legends that they could have gotten as a teammate, they were stuck with him. 

“Alright, then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Octane cheered before the pair finally jumped from the ship and descended at a rapid pace. As they were landing, Octane whipped out his selfie stick and held it above himself and Bloodhound, elbowing their ribs to get their attention. 

“Say cheese for all my followers~!” Octane yelled against the roaring wind, Bloodhound audibly gasping and recoiling out of his reach. Octane finally broke off and laughed all the way down, stashing his selfie stick and immediately stabbing himself with a stim to dash around for weapons. 

    The rest of the match followed a similar pattern: As the pair scrounged around for loot, Octane’s hand would “accidentally” brush against the hunter’s side as they’re picking up ammo, would tweak their ribs as they both launched themselves across the map with his jump pad. But then, after Bloodhound got their 7th kill, most likely fueled by Octavio’s mischief, the largest banner in the arena flashed to the hunter’s picture, much to Octane’s excitement. 

“Mira, check out mi amigo, the new Kill Leader!” Octane announced to any team within earshot of the two. He snaked his arm around Bloodhound’s shoulders and spun them around so that they could both face the camera, the daredevil wasting no time to strike a pose for his adoring fans. Bloodhound offered a polite nod towards the camera but, in one swift motion Octane snuck his hand down to the hunter’s hip and squeezed it hard enough through their armor to make them sink down laughing. 

    That was the last straw for Bloodhound. When Octane attacked them before in the firing range, they were the only two in the area. But in the arena, all eyes were on them, and if an enemy didn’t hear them, spectators definitely saw them. The last thing the hunter wanted was for their sensitivity to become public knowledge. So, after securing a win through Bloodhound’s accurate sniper shot and Octane being...well, a guns blazing lunatic, the pair went to the medical ward to be checked out for injuries. Bloodhound was cleared rather quickly but Octane, having a very mild cut on his right side, stayed behind to be patched up by Ajay Che. As she approached the two, she smiled and waved to the hunter before strolling up to Octane with a smirk.

“So how much trouble did ya put Bloodhound through, Silva?” Lifeline chuckled, leaning down to examine the injury. Octane scoffed and laid back on the table so that it was easier for her to patch him up.

“Pfft, me? Trouble? Never, hermana.” Octane smirked, lifting up his mask so that he could wink at her. Bloodhound turned to leave the medical ward but paused at the door upon hearing a sudden bout of snickering. They looked over their shoulder to see Octane fidgeting on the table with Lifeline’s hand still on his side, his laughter picking up as she lightly squeezed his side to get a better grip.

“Wahahtch it, Ajay!” Octane squeaked only to have Lifeline roll her eyes and playfully push his arm, standing back up.

“I woulda been done already had ya not moved! Ya just have a small abrasion, doesn’t really need a bandaid. I only need ya to hold still so I can clean it.” Lifeline answered before turning on her heel to retrieve the medical cleaning wipes. By that time, Bloodhound had left the room, but they had seen all they needed to get the vengeance they sought.

    The hunter found the daredevil out by the Gauntlet later that day and watched as he tinkered with one of his many jump pads. There was a large tool box with tools scattered all over the platform and Bloodhound, seeing their prey thoroughly engrossed in what he was doing, slowly approached the platform. Octane mumbled excitedly to himself as he carelessly tossed bolts he didn’t need anymore over the platform and, when he suddenly felt a hand on each of his shoulders, he screamed in surprise as he was pulled backwards and sat on. Bloodhound held both of the daredevil’s wrists in one hand and used their legs to keep him pinned at the waist; by the time Octane caught up to what happened, he struggled to pull his wrists free from their iron hold. 

“Bloodhound?! What are you doing, get off of me!” He yelled, cringing as his struggling only made the hunter hold on tighter. 

“I will not. You disgraced me on the battlefield today, and you are going to atone for your actions.” They growled, bringing their hand up to Octane’s neck and dragging one finger along the side. Octane flinched, expecting pain, but his eyes widened once the realization hit and he struggled more frantically under Bloodhound’s weight. Octane must have caught them on an off day before, because the hunter was strong and easily kept him in place. 

“W-Waahait amigo, wait, listen. We can talk about thihis! Y-Yohohu’re aahahlways s-so sehehrious anhnd I’m not even--pfft, Blohohoodhohohund wahahahit!” Octane sputtered and snickered, his shoulder shaking as he tried to lift it and block out their hand. However, when Octane rolled his head to one side and blocked one side of his neck, Bloodhound simply switched sides and wiggled their finger against the skin ever so slowly. 

“You may speak, Octavio. I will listen to anything you wish to say while I satiate my vengeance.” Bloodhound answered quietly before they moved their hand to Octane’s exposed sides and dragged their fingers at a slow, tortuous pace.

Octane yelled again before falling into a heavy giggling fit, already on the verge of laughter as the hunter carefully moved their fingers against his skin. If the slow pace wasn’t enough to drive him crazy, it was the deliberate, frightening accuracy that the hunter sought out and scraped at the most sensitive spots on his sides. Octane yelped and giggled harder the further up Bloodhound’s hands went and they settled their hands on the uppermost area of their sides, walking their fingers up and down more briskly.

“BLOHOHOHOOOHOHdohohohohund hahahahah PLEHEHEHehehehase DOOHOHOHhohohn’t t-tIIHIHIHIHihihihihcklle! POOHOHOHohohor fahahahahvoohohohr!” Octane squeaked and suddenly barked out a laugh when the hunter kneaded their fingers into his stomach. “AAHAHAHAHAH NOHOHOHAHAHAH!”

“I am not doing anything that was not previously done to me. However, it is unfortunate that your armor does not offer any protection to attacks of this nature.” Bloodhound smirked as they worked their thumb into each side of Octavio’s stomach, drawing out a harder bout of laughter. 

“I’M SOHOHOHOHRRY! IIIHIHIHIHIH WAHAHAS JUHUHST M-MEHEHESSING AHAHAHAROHOHUNDHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHOHP!” Octane cackled and arched his back, his head rolling side to side as his legs fruitlessly kicked against the ground.

“Suppose I do not stop, Octavio. Suppose I keep you here, at my mercy, and torment you in the same manner you tormented me. The gods granted you unlimited stamina, and it would take a great deal of time before you grow tired..” Bloodhound mused as they took the tip of their finger and drew circles around the daredevil’s navel. Octane screamed and bucked harshly, his laughter taking on a desperate note as he kicked at the ground even more, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“NONONOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH! PLEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHAHAHSE ‘HOHOHUNDHAHAHAH STAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”  Octane howled and convulsed beneath them in a wild fit of laughter that only grew higher in pitch the closer they got to his navel. The daredevil shook his head so much that his goggles became crooked on his face and Bloodhound, taking notice, brought the tickles back to that slow, agonizing pace. 

“This appears to be a sensitive area of yours.” Bloodhound noted calmly, poking just under the navel and making Octavio wheeze. Octane remained in stitches until the hunter slowed the tickling down even more though he still shook with laughter.

“SIHIHIHIHI-SIHIHIHI! Ihihihihit ihihihihihihs! I’m behehehehehehegging yohohohu, stahahahahahahp!” Octane pleaded, sucking in his already slim stomach. This did nothing to deter Bloodhound from delivering careful pokes to the daredevil’s abdomen though, all of a sudden, the hunter did stop. Octavio noisily gasped for air and let his head fall back, a thin layer of sweat lining his forehead. “Haha...hah...thahnk yoohou…” 

Bloodhound remained quiet as they brought their hand up to their helmet and ran their fingers along the upper part of the head piece, fishing out a sleek, black raven’s feather and holding it between their index finger and thumb. “I am owed no gratitude,” They started, watching Octane look up with a start and tense up at the sight of the feather. “For I am still not satisfied with your pleas for mercy..”

Octane, not taking too long to recover, began struggling with a renewed vigor as Bloodhound lowered the feather closer and closer to his navel. “WAIT! Bloodhound please! ¡Te lo ruego!¡Te lo ruego! (I’m begging you!) I won’t tickle you again! I wohOHOHOHOHOHOHN’T!” Octane’s pleading was cut off with a sharp scream as the feather stroked the inside of his navel and he started bucking with hysterical laughter. “NOHOHOHOHOHO POHOHOHR LAHAH AHAHAHMOR DE DIHOHOHOHS (For the love of God) NOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Bloodhound grinned slightly beneath their mask as they twisted the feather between their fingers and drew circular patterns against Octavio’s navel. Octane shrieked with laughter and kicked the ground furiously, the cloud of dust he kicked up looking more like a tornado than a cloud. Then, maybe in an attempt to be a little merciful, the hunter swept up his torso and flicked the feather against his armpits, flinching in surprise when Octavio screamed again. The daredevil’s laughter momentarily became silent before it picked up again, though it was riddled with hiccups. 

“Oh? Is there a spot that is more sensitive than your navel?” Bloodhound asked with a tilt of their head as they held the feather at the junction where the armpit and upper arm meet. Octane snorted before falling back into a heavy giggling fit, his answer half in Spanish, half in English, and jumbled together at that. 

“NYAHAHAHAHNOAHAPLAHAHAHDIHAHA!”

Bloodhound tutted softly and lifted the feather, dusting it against his ribs during his trip back down to Octavio’s abdomen. “An unintelligible answer I’m afraid. Fret not, I will discern for myself.”

By the time Bloodhound finished tickling Octavio, where they promptly let his arms go and climbed off his waist, the daredevil was drenched with sweat and laying with his arms and legs splayed in random directions. He didn’t bother to fix his goggles, which were barely hanging on to the side of his face, and he was still grinning as the ticklish sensations racked his core. Bloodhound patiently waited for Octane to recuperate and eventually, the daredevil brought himself up to lay on his side and finally readjusted his goggles. “You...are evil…” He breathed out tiredly, groaning as the hunter carefully reached over and helped him lean against a wall within the Gauntlet. Bloodhound shrugged their shoulders and moved the miscellaneous bolts and other stray tools out of Octavio’s way to give him enough room to rest, propping themselves against a wall opposite the daredevil.

“I am only what the gods will me to be. However, should you choose to return to your previous actions, the only mercy you’ll find shall rest with the gods.”

[kpophoneybunny]

Aurora (Chapter3) - ATEEZ OT8 Pirate!AU

Genre: Adventure/Romance (Mostly fluff)

Rating: PG-13 (select chapters will have strong language, violence, and suggestive situations)

Disclaimer: Our main girl has a name but feel free to self-insert. (WARNING: this chapter contains blood and gore. If this is a trigger, wait for the next chapter. There will be a bit of plot lost but you’ll catch on.)

Tag List: @unatempesta-dipensieri @sugarrimajins

It took about a week before Jangmi was able to navigate the ship on her own, and without emptying her stomach every few hours. The clothing still felt too revealing but the stares had subsided and she was actually enjoying the freedom that pants provided. She was able to move a lot more quickly and felt less heavy.

She often sat on the main deck, mending clothes while having conversations with whoever was closest. “You’re working fast. You’ll be out of work by the end of the week at this rate.” Yeosang laughed, looking up from his map as he checked up on her. “We might have to teach you something new to keep you busy.”

“Something-“ Jangmi was cut off by Wooyoung yelling. He was talking too fast, he couldn’t really be understood. “Wooyoung, what is it?” Jangmi looked up at him and followed his arm. He was pointing at something in front of them - a storm.

“Shit! Tighten the sails! Seonghwa, take the wheel!” Mingi yelled, starting towards the main mast to tighten the ropes so the storm didn’t rip their sails away.

“All hands on deck! Now!” Seonghwa’s voice left no room for argument. Everyone burst into a frenzy, fixing their sails and bracing the most vulnerable parts of the ship.

“I really hope you can hold on tight, Jangmi.” Yunho grunted as he tightened a few knots, checking the tension in the ropes. “This is about to get crazy.”

Jangmi gulped and held onto the main mast as Wooyoung climbed down to avoid being hurled into the sea. “Jangmi, you’re gonna want this.” He grabbed a bucket, dumping out the mop water and handing it to her. “Trust me.”

They sailed into the storm, the sun being blocked out until it was almost pitch black. Cold rain pelted them from all angles, waves growing rougher and rocking the ship violently. The wind howled so loud that Jangmi couldn’t even hear her own thoughts, the yells of the boys sounding muffled and far away.

And then it really started, waves started crashing over the side of the boat, water rolling across the deck. Jangmi lost her balance and fell, sliding along the ground with the rocking of the ship as she fought to regain her footing. “Agh!” Her fingers clawed at the floorboards until they bled.

She rolled until she crashed into a mast, the wind knocked right out of her lungs. She gasped, water washing over her her and filling her lungs. She coughed and gagged, unable to catch a break from the water that tried to drown her where she lay. Jangmi sputtered, managing to get to her hands and knees, trying to crawl towards anything she could use to anchor herself when a barrel knocked her back over.

She continued to roll and slide, crashing right into someone’s legs. She looked up as the legs trapped her in place, steady, used to the sea. Yunho. He reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet and holding her tightly, keeping her from falling again. “Hold on. It’ll be over soon.” Jangmi clung onto him, trying not to repeat the rolling incident.

“YUNHO! Look out!” The voice was frantic and Yunho looked up, a huge wave approaching. Lightning flashed and the silhouette of something large and ominous could be seen in the wave. Yunho held on tighter as the wave practically curled over the ship, slamming what looked like a monster straight from hell onto their deck.

It slowly uncoiled, its body starting to wrap around the ship to anchor itself. Yards after yards of it’s thick, scaly body trapping the ship in what could only be described as the promise of death.

The creature lifted its massive head to tower over the sails, jowls opening as it let out a hellish screech. Even with its mouth closed, dozens of razor sharp teeth could be seen, each at least three feet long. It had two, clouded, white eyes on each side of its head: one set larger than the other. Horns stuck out from its skull, mirroring paintings of western devils.

“Oh my god! What the hell is that?!” Jangmi gasped, eyes widening in horror.

“I have no clue but we’re gonna kill it before it kills us!” Yunho shouted back, trying to be louder than the cacophonous roar of the storm. “Can you use a sword?”

“I never learned! They don’t teach noblewomen how-“ she was cut off by Yunho grabbing a sword out of a nearby chest and handing it to her.

“Now’s as good a time as any. Just… don’t let it kill you.” He rushed off to start attacking the enormous serpent. Jangmi’s eyes darted between the boys as they all jumped in.

Every time a sword was stabbed into its body, the serpent seemed to contract its muscles to push the sword back out, fan-like flaps opening up on either side of its head as it screeched.

“Die, dammit!” Hongjoong brought his sword down, slicing clean through the snake. A large chunk of the snake went limp and slid off of the ship, the fluorescent blood staining the wooden planks. It hissed, lowering its head to snap at Hongjoong, its forked tongue rattling in the air.

Jangmi’s body reacted before her mind could and she ran across the ship, ducking under parts of the serpent and jumping over others, piercing her sword up into its lower jaw as she slid under it. Her eyes widened as blood sprayed onto her face. She gasped, letting out a shocked cry.

“Jangmi!” Wooyoung yelled. She looked up and saw that the serpent was rearing back, staring her down. “MOVE!”

Jangmi scrambled onto her knees, trying to stand to run when the serpent struck. She managed to roll out of the way, just inches away from the jaws of the monster. It ripped its head back up, leaving a hole in the deck and spitting out chunks of wood. Jangmi panted, getting to her feet and rushing to stand farther from the serpent.

Everyone pitched in, stabbing and slashing at the serpent to shorten its body and free the ship. “Get back!” Seonghwa shouted, sprinting up the thick body, climbing it as if it was a hill and stabbing his sword clean through the skull. It went limp and crashed onto the deck, jaws opening as it died.

They managed to make it to the other side of the storm, the sun once again shining down on them. Everyone was drenched in rain, sea water, and sweat. There was blue blood everywhere: on their clothes and skin, staining the deck and the sails.

“Get that damn thing off of my ship.” Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed as he stared down the dead serpent. “It ruined my deck. How the hell are we supposed to fix that?”

“I can make a temporary fix but we’ll have to hire someone in Japan.” Jongho’s voice was quiet but sure. “Let’s hope we don’t run into any more trouble.”

“Uh…guys?” Wooyoung cleared his throat and nodded towards Jangmi who was, once again, vomiting over the side of the ship. “Who wants to handle it?”

“We got attacked by a sea serpent.” Jangmi gasped, her head snapping back to look at the remains. “We got attacked! By a sea serpent!”

“Yeah. Shit happens.” Yunho shrugged, approaching her. “You should sit down. Breathe and process what you just witnessed.”

“I thought sea serpents were just a myth. I thought they were folk lore and nothing more. I thought-“

Yeosang collapsed, causing everyone to whirl around and face him. He had a bruise forming along the side of his face from slamming into something during the storm. “Get him to a bed. Now.”

[melon-kiss]

Screaming, Pt 3

Part 1

Part 2

Link to the part three on AO3

__________

“Molly, I’d like you to talk to me.”

And I’d like to be not-post-LSD traumatised. We all want something, don’t we, Mark?

I flash him an irritated look. He was the one who stabbed me with the freaking syringe two weeks ago. I’m still not over it. He surely thinks he did the right thing but I beg to differ. Although... well, it looked like I was capable of killing Sherlock Holmes, who, apparently, is a London celebrity.

Since I’ve opened my mouth (only to scream, but who cares, right?), they bring me newspapers here. It’s nice to get my hands and brain busy but I’m sure they have an ulterior motive for this. Like, I don’t know, a topic for a conversation?

“I know you can do it.”

I sit with my legs pulled up again. I want to hide in the tight space between my thighs and my chest, so I place my forehead against my knees and let out a sigh.

I’ve made it easier for them. Apparently, the connection between my brain and my body has been restored. I swallow my meds all by myself. I eat more. I especially love toasts for breakfast. Sometimes it takes me two hours to chew out two, but I make myself do it because I want this nightmare to be over.

I really start feeling it - the heaviness of my damages. I’ve come to the realisation that I am truly alone and have no idea about myself. I know only a couple of things: my name, my sister’s name and address, my own address, my workplace. My scientific knowledge is intact, so that’s a relief. But I don’t remember who I was for the last seven years (at least!). I don’t know who to trust, who to refer as a friend. I am really lost. I don’t remember feeling so lost ever in my life. I’m like a time traveller - I’m suddenly moved from one place to another and no one gave me an instruction manual. I suspect the Three Horseman of Madness used to be my friends. Though, I can’t help but wonder - how come did I manage to make friends with detectives?

And there’s still the matter of Sherlock himself. I can’t figure him out. He said, he clearly said he was now the one who’d said ‘I love you’ and would get nothing in return. Does it mean he wants to receive something in return? And does saying ‘I love you’ equal loving someone for real? What were the circumstances? And have I said it first?

The number of mysteries here is too much for me.

I’ve gathered more pieces of my memory puzzle. When the content of the syringe begun to work, I remembered myself standing in a kitchen, wearing a colourful sweater, holding a phone in my hand. Every time I try to retrieve more, a wave of anxiety forces me to back out.

“Molly, you’ve managed to break the catatonic state,” the doctor resumed. “Please, don’t let it go to waste.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Fine,” I reply.

Mark’s eyebrows go way up as he smiles and almost chuckles at the sound of my voice. I sound a bit hoarse. Last time I ‘spoke’, I screamed like in a torture seat. But they must definitely change my meds. They make me feel numb and sleepy but I assume it’s way too soon for such a request.

“What would you like to know?” I ask.

“Well... how are you feeling today?”

I sigh in exasperation.

“Seriously, Mark?”

He shrugs.

“You know what they say - if you want to know how someone feels, ask them.”

I rub my eyes before I respond.

“Sleepy and lazy. These sweeties do much more damage to my brain than LSD has done.” I point at the pills in a small plastic cup on my nightstand.

“If you don’t feel good, we’ll think about finding something better.”

“Thanks.”

We both fall silent. A guilt manages to resurface over the fog of numbness. I look at my palms. They’re normal. My fingers are appallingly bony but they look all right. No injuries. I think about the moment when they were tightly clenched around his neck. I was so close. I would kill him, no doubt.

I thank doctor Mark in my mind. He would be right to say he did the right thing.

“What... wh-what...” I stammer, my breath getting shallow and irregular. “What- what about-“

“He’s all right,” doctor Mark answers, smiling gently. “No permanent damage. A bruise on the neck and bloodshot eyes for a week. I’m convinced he looks good as new now.”

My fingers around his pale neck. His eyes filled with sorrow and guilt. He tried to say sorry.

I try to even out my breath but I fail. Tears burst out of my eyes and I utter a sound that resembles a howl. I press my hand clenched into fist against my forehead. My crying is so intense something inside me cramps and hurts. I catch every breath with a great effort, greedily but barely successful. I feel shrunken. I notice there’s a stream of drool coming out of my mouth. I let it soak up in the sheet.

This is how broken I am. This is how broken I’ll always be.

Broken beyond repair.

“I didn’t want to...” I shriek, rocking a little bit forwards and backwards. “I don’t know...”

“I know you didn’t want to hurt him, Molly,” says the doctor calmly. “You were disoriented.”

Disoriented?

“I’m not fucking disoriented!” I yell, looking at him. I don’t see him too well, my vision is blurry from the tears. I wipe my mouth into my arm. “I am messed up! Hell, I’m fucked up! And this-“ I point my finger at my temple, “This is now fucking useless. If I killed myself, no one would care.”

I let out a sigh. Inhale, exhale. I try to stop the increasing frustration. The tears stop falling down my face. My heart slows down. My breathing finds its rhythm.

“Did you think about killing yourself?”

I shrug, avoiding his eyes.

“No,” I reply sincerely. “But I wouldn’t mind if I died.”

Doctor Mark remains quiet. He stands next to my bed, holding my patient chart and observes as I slowly pull myself together. So this is what’s been hiding behind this catatonia?, I think, analysing my behaviour in last two weeks.

“You’re wrong,” he says eventually. “There is one person who would bring hell on this world if you died.”

I look up at him. He smiles.

“Don’t worry. It’ll come to you.”

He walks out of the room, leaving me clueless.

 * * *

 My reading is being interrupted by a shut of the door in my room. I raise my head up to see him glued to the wall as if he played a spy. He pants heavily and looks at me suspiciously. I frown.

“Erm... hello?”

His body relaxes and he bounces off the wall, slowly striding closer to my bed.

“Hello, Molly Hooper.”

I watch him carefully but it’s difficult since my heart pumps my blood so loudly I can barely hear my thoughts. Not that I have a lot of them. The drugs take care of that. He goes around the bed and stops at my left side. He looks down at me with a sincere interest.

There is a barely visible remain of a bruising (the author being me) on his neck. His eyes look perfectly white, his (lovely) curls don’t seem so floppy. He grins, which, I suppose, is a bit unusual of him, since this is the first time I see him smiling and he’s been visiting me for about two months. Well, excluding the last three weeks. He wears one of his suits with a plum shirt. He looks good. I have to swallow hard to distract myself from the thoughts which begin to cloud my judgment. I pretend to be interested in my book again.

“How did they let you in?” I ask flippantly.

“I’m not exactly following orders by being here,” he replies.

I look up at him.

“What do you mean?”

His gaze freaks me out but I manage not to flinch.

“I’m not allowed to be with you alone. Apparently, you’re a danger to me.”

I put away the book and stand on my bed. We’re face to face. Our heights are equal now and the distance between us is not bigger than ten inches.

“Are you afraid of me?” I ask and I start noticing I’m unable to refuse the urge of looking at him.

“No,” he responds. “Unpredictability is my forte.”

We gaze at each other for a while and the moment’s suddenly gone. But I could swear I saw a spark in his eyes - a spark ready to light a fire.

“What are you doing here, then?” I ask, crossing my arms on my chest.

“I came here to see you,” he replies, following my every move. “I heard the good news about you breaking the catatonia, so I thought it would be a wise idea to talk to you, now that you do talk.”

“You do realise that you’ve made me angry enough to wake me up, right?”

He smirks and I don’t like it. I mean... I like it, but I don’t. I have a bad feeling about this.

“I’m well aware of the fact, yes. Mainly because I’ve done it on purpose.”

My eyes widen and the urge of choking him again suddenly doesn’t feel so distant.

“WHAT?!”

He hushes me, looking at the door behind me.

“Oh, come on, we’re in a lunatics’ house. Talking to oneself isn’t unusual.”

He chuckles, visibly beaming. Did I just... make him laugh?, I think watching his face wrinkle in a pure happiness. I almost forget I was mad at him. Almost.

“So?”

“I’ve been observing your eye movements and microexpressions for weeks. You’ve been slowly opening and I knew you needed a trigger. And I know what triggers you easily, so...”

I think about the time we must have spent together. How well does he know me? Apparently, very well. Papers write a lot about his observing skills and deduction, so I assume he doesn’t need much to get to know somebody. I flash him a smile.

“Thank you.”

Instead of returning the gesture, he does something completely different. His cheerful mood fades away as he locks, almost stubbornly, his eyes with mine. I can count his eyelashes and see every speck in his blue irises. His pupils are wildly dilated. I’m close to forgetting about breathing.

He glances at my lips every now and then.

He leans forward a little bit but backs out in a second. My heart races so fast I’m sure it doesn’t go less than two hundreds beats per minute. And trust me, it’s a lot.

“So...” I whisper, not letting go of the gaze even for a microsecond. “What was the nature of our relationship before?”

“Not sexual,” he replies quickly.

I open my lips a little bit more.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His voice is weak.

Something new and forgotten wakes up in my body. I feel a pleasant tingling in my lower back and a heat radiating from his skin. My hands are surprisingly hot as I move one of them upwards the left side of his chest. He glances at my palm but gets back to my eyes immediately. My head is so loud with wild visions.

I surrender to the urge and lock my lips with his. They’re soft and it feels like I haven’t done this in ages. He’s tense, not a muscle in his body moves. I throw my hands around his neck but his hands are stiff. I feel like an assailant. I don’t want to force him into anything but he definitely returns the kisses. It looks like he restrains himself.

I tangle my fingers into his dark curls. He closes his eyes a bit tighter and exhales softly. He definitely represses his emotions.

“Oh, come on, just give in already.”

He’s still tense for another three seconds and he finally gives up. His hands land on my waist. His embrace tightens and his mouth opens wider. He lets out a soft moan when one of my legs clenches around his hip. His touch wanders across my back, my hair, my face. He grabs my buttocks and lifts me up, so I can clench the second leg around him. When I feel his hands on my bottom, I utter a pretty loud groan. I am out of control of my body again but this time it’s different. I feel the pleasure of being taken over by it and I voluntarily surrender. I let the heat control me. I like the wild person I am right now.

His kisses slide down on my neck and turns dangerously further, into my neckline. I lean back my head, savouring the moment, the life that has woken up in my body. I definitely have troubles breathing evenly.

He lets go of me and I stand on my bed again, but the kissing doesn’t stop. I take the opportunity and slide my hand down his belly and into his trousers. He stops, looking at me questioningly.

“You really aren’t yourself,” he murmurs.

I let out a quiet giggle.

The door suddenly creaks and my hand find its way out of his pants.

“Mr Holmes, what do you think you’re doing?!” An older nurse looks at us, disgusted.

“Getting physically intimate with the patient, I’d say,” he replies and I try to hide my chuckle.

“This is a hospital, not a dirty motel! It’s inappropriate!” she yells as she comes closer. “And you shouldn’t even be here!”

He steps back from my bed and I sit on it. The nurse flashes me a disapproving look while taking my blood pressure. Not a great timing for this particular measurement, though. He goes in circles around the room; I suppose he has something to walk off. The nurse writes down the result on my patient’s chart and shakes her head but leaves without a word.

But the mood is gone. Once the nurse gets out, he locks his eyes with me but I sense a different kind of tension. I guess he regrets getting carried away. I’m not saddened by this. It seems logical to me, although it really doesn’t.

I think back to the moment when he said not sexual. How can he love me and claim it’s not sexual?, the question pops into my head. Maybe I misunderstood it and he let me kiss him out of pity?

“You once said I loved you,” I speak up. “And that you loved me.”

He nods his head, standing opposite to the end of my bed.

“Yes. But we weren’t a couple,” he replies.

I frown.

“Why?”

He stares. Unpleasantly.

“It’s a long story.” His reply is almost hissed through his gritted teeth.

“I’ve got all the time in the universe.”

He gazes at me expressionlessly. I think he’s calculating the risk or tries to introduce the story the shortest way possible. Somehow, it also seems obvious to me. He comes one step closer.

“I have a sister named Eurus. She’s highly intelligent and even more dangerous. She’s locked up in a institution built for people like her but she’d managed to turn the entire staff there to be her slaves once. She lured me, my brother Mycroft and John Watson there to execute her very cruel plan. Long story short, I had to go through a series of tests, each one of them requiring my emotional engagement. And I’m not really an affectionate person.” It sounds weird since he’s obviously very emotional. “One of my tests was you.”

I raise my eyebrows and he pauses for a minute.

“I’d been convinced that your flat was filled with explosives. Eurus said that she would blow you up if I didn’t make you say ‘I love you’.”

I love you. My heartbeat races, my vision gets a little unstable. I feel a little bit dizzy.

“But you asked me to say it first. To say it like I meant it-“

“Stop it.”

I’m unable to look in one direction for longer than a second. The room dances around me. I clench my fingers on the both sides of my bed. I feel sick and I’m pretty sure I’m going to vomit any minute. My breathing gets heavy.

“What’s going on?”

It feels like I’m going to faint. I lean forward and press my forehead against the mattress. Oh, God, I’m going to throw up, I think in a complete panic.

Say it like you mean it. The colourful sweater, the telephone, the kitchen. I love you. My not-so-impressive stomach content gets closer to my throat.

“I said it then,” he resumes as if nothing happened. “I said and I meant it: I love you.”

I have to force myself into thinking about breathing, otherwise I would be long unconscious. I struggle with the vomit and his voice, his exact voice wanders around my head.

“I tried to make amends because you’re important to me,” I hear him from over my head. “You thought you weren’t important but you do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you-“

“Get out.”

I lean over the edge of the bed, ready to get rid of my stomach content but this is not the moment. I sense his presence and therefore I raise my eyes to look at him. The view of him doesn’t make things better.

“I said: get out.”

His presence irritates me out of sudden. Every inch of his body I was touching a couple of minutes ago seems repellent to me, his voice is like the worst music possible. The scent of his cologne makes me even more sick. I look up at him, fury in my eyes again.

“I’ve choked you once before. What makes you think I’m incapable of doing it again?” I snap at him.

He flashes me an enigmatic glance and walks out of the room.

I throw up extensively and after that, I plop onto my bed, drifting away into unconsciousness.

[littlelambdrgnfly]

Tumblr exclusive fic

Hey y’all! So I wrote this fic a couple of years ago on my ABDL tumblr (which I’m not sharing because I did at first and it quickly got weird because that’s where I reblog all my fap material lmao), and it’s just straight up humiliation smut. Warning: it does get messy. Hope you like it! <3

Love and Punishment

Something John had never anticipated about extreme fame was the immediate lack of privacy and time to himself. He had come to relish the times when he was able to hide in the restroom for even just five minutes without someone knocking on the door to usher him to the next concert, press junket, recording session, charity event, or competitive ass-kissing he and his bandmates were pressured into on a daily basis. Sometimes, even a toilet break at all was an unusual luxury—there were often times that he found himself unable to find even a few minutes to relieve himself, and he had to hold it in until he finally had to excuse himself.

Paul teased him about it regularly, especially when John had a close-call which happened more often than John would like to admit. When they roomed together, Paul would help John out of his clothes and inspect his underwear for wet spots, which were usually present. “You naughty boy,” he teased, “I should keep you in nappies all the time, shouldn’t I?”

John squirmed in his seat, thinking about the thick nappies Paul liked to dress him in and not about the growing pressure on his bladder. “I have to go to the loo!” he whined to Paul. They were on their way to the hotel from their concert; as soon as they had finished the performance, the boys were swept into two separate cars, John and Paul in one, with George and Ringo in the other.

Paul only smiled and squeezed John’s knee. “You can hold it, right? You’re not going to have a smelly accident all over the car seat, are you?”

John flushed bright red, glancing up front to see if the driver had overheard. “I’m not a baby!” he snapped. “I can wait to use the toilet!” Paul didn’t respond to that; John knew that he could have named any number of embarrassing things John had done that would refute his claim of adulthood. He and Paul started playing these baby games months ago, and it made John so excited, even though the same process was so shamefully humiliating. They didn’t usually play these games while they were on the road, and John was getting desperate for his infantile release. He didn’t say this to Paul—while Paul acted as his daddy and often got more excited than John while playing, he didn’t want to admit how much he needed it. It was all right when Paul invited him to stay the weekend at his house, wrapped his arms around him and whispered in his ear how much he wanted to treat John like a baby. Having to ask Paul for it himself was beyond him.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, John was in the middle of an awkward pee-pee dance as they went to check into their room. It was late, and the lobby was nearly deserted except for the bellboys whispering among themselves about the famous pop stars in their midst, and a pretty, dark-skinned girl behind the counter, probably not too much younger than the boys themselves. The other car was nowhere in sight.

“Welcome to Magnolia Inn,” the girl giggled, “my name is Carrie! And what’re your names—except everyone already knows your names! Oh gosh, I’m sounding so silly!”

“Not at all,” Paul replied, turning on his thousand-watt smile, and John knew he had immediately forgotten all about John’s “situation.” “I actually like to travel under the name ‘Paul Ramon,’ it adds a little more mystery, don’t you think?”

“Paul,” John whined, shifting his weight from leg to leg, “Paul, please, I gotta—”

“John, I’m talking to this young lady, you’re going to have to wait,” Paul scolded, and John felt a stab of pain in his bladder as his temper flared at the same time. Paul was supposed to care about him, take care of him! This girl, this stranger, could never need Paul the same way John did!

He felt the wet heat between his legs before he fully realized what was happening—he was pissing himself! Carrie trailed off in the middle of her sentence, staring at John’s trousers in shock. Paul glanced over at his friend, then did a double-take at the wet streaks running down John’s legs.

“Look at you! You can’t hold your pee for more than half an hour?!” he yelled, and John burst into tears. He had had accidents before, but almost entirely when he was black-out drunk or in a safe environment with Paul egging him on to just let go, never like this, with a pretty girl staring at him with giggles in her eyes and Paul scolding him for the whole world to see.

“What’s going on?!” a familiar Liverpudlian accent exclaimed, and John wished the floor would open and swallow him. George and Ringo stood behind him, eyes wide as saucers. They knew about his and Paul’s romantic relationship, but absolutely no one knew what they did behind closed doors.

“Little Johnny decided that his trousers would be the best thing to piss in, and he didn’t even want to wait until we got upstairs,” Paul said sarcastically. He finished filling in the necessary paperwork, slammed the pen down, and grabbed John’s wrist, dragging him to the elevator while John sobbed, looking back over his shoulder to see the entire lobby watching them, except for Carrie, leaning over the counter to inspect the large puddle he left behind.

“It was an accident!” John wailed as soon as the elevator doors slid closed. “I didn’t mean to!”

“Bullshit,” Paul snapped, lighting a cigarette. “Were you jealous that I was paying attention to that pretty girl and not you? I’ve never seen you do something so babyish, even when you cut up that girl’s clothing in Hamburg. You’re in for a nasty punishment, little boy.”

John couldn’t reply, he was crying too hard. He let Paul lead them to their bedroom with no arguments, sniveling like a naughty baby as Paul led him by the hand with his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his thighs. As soon as they entered, Paul flipped the lights on and made John stand before the full-length mirror on the wall.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered. “I want you to see the big baby I see.”

John forced himself to meet his reflection’s eyes—his face, bright red, streaked with tears, and trousers, streaked with piss—he knew Paul was right. He was a grown man, but he looked just like an oversized little boy.

“This is what everybody saw, Johnny,” Paul growled into his ear. “You want to embarrass yourself like this, that’s fine, but don’t you dare bring me into it. I thought I had a good little boy who knew that he was only supposed to have smelly accidents in his nappies, but everyone is going to think that Daddy Paul can’t control his big baby. What do you have to say for yourself, baby?”

True to his childish self, even through his tears and sobs, John choked out, “I told you I had to go! You weren’t listening to me!”

The minute he said it, he knew he shouldn’t have. Paul’s face clouded over, and within seconds, John’s wet trousers and underpants were around his ankles, and Paul was yanking him over to the bed and over his knee. “No! No!” he squealed, kicking his legs in a useless effort to free himself, but Paul held him down strong and tight, locking one of John’s legs between his own to make sure that his naughty boy didn’t escape until he had suffered his punishment properly.

“Naughty baby!” Paul grunted as he brought his open palm down on John’s bare bottom. John howled in pain, squirming on Paul’s lap. “Stay still and take your punishment!”’

Despite the pain and the overwhelming humiliation, John was painfully aware of how hard he had become. Having Paul, who was younger than him, who looked so much more innocent than him, dominate him so completely, treating him just like a misbehaving child… John was initially horrified to find how much this role play turned him on, and as time went on, it still shamed him to the core, but he became more and more desperate for even more embarrassing baby situations.

Paul sniffed the air dramatically. “Ugh, you smell like piss, and you’re getting it all over my trousers. You better not wet yourself while you’re on my lap, I haven’t forgotten. You’re going to be Daddy’s good baby and wait until you have your nappy on, aren’t you?”

John only sobbed and moaned into the mattress. Paul loved to bring up the time he wet himself during a spanking, but shushed John every time he tried to argue that he told Daddy that he had to pee-pee before the spanking, but Paul had assumed John was only saying that to get out of his punishment. He didn’t want to wear his nappy tonight, he knew George and Ringo would be coming to their room shortly to demand an explanation, but it was hopeless to argue with Paul on this. John knew very well what the punishment for wetting himself was, and while that was all well and good in Paul’s bedroom, the thought of his friends seeing him in his most embarrassing secret made his heart pound so hard, he thought he may be sick.

Paul finished his spanking with his usual soft tap on the middle of John’s bottom. “All right, baby, let’s get you in that nappy. My little boy is just a regular fountain, isn’t he!” He let John up and helped him out of his shirt, leaving him naked and still sticky from his accident. With practiced ease, Paul pulled a terrycloth nappy from his suitcase and prepared it for John. “Come here, little darling, lie down, right on the middle of your nappy, there’s a good baby! Such a smart little baby he is!”

It was then, as John lay naked on the floor on top of his open diaper, that there came a knock on the door. John started to sit up, but Paul held him down. “No, no, you’ve lost your big boy privileges for the night. Everyone downstairs saw you wet yourself like a baby, so they’re not going to be surprised to see you like this. This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Johnny?” He reached into his case and pulled out John’s oversized blue dummy, popping it into John’s mouth before he had a chance to react.

That was how George and Ringo saw him as Paul let them in the door. He wanted so badly to cry, but resisted by suckling the dummy in his mouth, using it for just its intended purpose.

“What the fucking hell is this?!” George cried, mouth agape. “Is this some kind of gag?”

“John, what’s wrong with you?” Ringo asked. He looked visibly disturbed, but also like he wanted desperately to burst out laughing. “You pissed yourself downstairs, and now… this? Did you lose a bet to Paul or something?”

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” Paul said, kneeling next to John with the baby powder and wipies. “Johnny here needs to be treated like a baby sometimes. It’s really the only way to properly discipline him. You remember what a terror he used to be? Well, a few nights in nappies really sorts this boy out.” He patted John’s bottom. “Legs up, baby, let Daddy wipe your wet bummy!”

John felt like he was on another planet when Paul lifted his legs and ran a cool baby wipe over his abused bottom, exposing him to George and Ringo. The humiliation was so deep, so intense, he felt like cold clay in Paul’s hands, and was unable to react when Paul spread his cheeks to inspect his little hole.

“Tsk, Johnny, you haven’t been wiping properly. This is why Daddy should be in charge of wiping all the time!”

“This is insane!” George exploded. “John, get up! You’re not a bloody baby; you’re twenty-five years old! How can you let Paul do this to you?!”

Even the dummy wasn’t helping now—John bawled behind his pacifier, tears streaming down his cheeks, even as Paul continued his diapering process. “George, John can tell me to stop anytime,” Paul said calmly, sprinkling a fine layer of powder over Johnny’s neatly trimmed pubic area. “All he has to say is ‘Paul, I want to be an adult,’ and I’ll immediately stop. But he’s not going to say that, because as embarrassing as this is, Johnny loves being a baby. He’s actually quite a sweet baby, when he’s not being a naughty little stinker, and I love being his daddy. Even though I have my hands very full with this big baby’s nappies!” He tickled John’s chubby tummy, and John giggled despite himself.

 “He actually uses those nappies?” Ringo asked in obvious disgust. “He shits himself and everything?”

“Oh yes, he was reluctant to it at first, but now little Johnny loves to do his poo-poos in his nappy, don’t you, love? In fact, that reminds me…” He reached over to his suitcase once more to pull out his medicine kit, and from within it, a small jar of large pills. “Johnny has a long night of punishment ahead of him for that stunt he pulled in the lobby, and these suppositories are perfect for a naughty boy who likes to potty in his pants. Would the two of you like to stay?”

John whined loudly in fear as George and Ringo looked to each other, then back to their friends on the floor. “We won’t…” George started, hesitantly. “We won’t have to change him, will we?”

 Paul laughed. “Not unless you want to! But believe me, you don’t want to.” And with that, he swiftly slipped the suppository deep into John’s bum and pinned the diaper closed. “The only rule is that you won’t tell anyone what you saw here tonight. The only reason I’m letting you two see this is because you’re our closest friends, and we trust you. This isn’t hurting John, it’s about loving him and disciplining him the way he needs.” He sat John up, still red-faced from crying, and kissed his cheek. “We do love you, Johnny,” he cooed, stroking his hair back. “Even though you’re a naughty baby, we love you.”

Ringo crouched down in front of John, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Hullo there, baby Johnny. I’m your Uncle Ritchie, do you remember me?”

John only blushed and sucked shyly on his dummy. Even just a year ago, he never would have dreamed this would be happening! Ringo reached out and grasped John’s diapered crotch, making the boy gasp.

 “He is rather excited by all of this,” Ringo remarked to Paul, acting like John couldn’t hear them, or rather, that he was too young to understand. “I thought it may have just been from the nappy change, Zak gets little stiffies when he’s getting his dirty pants changed too.”

 “He does usually get a stiffy when I’m changing him,” Paul said nonchalantly, standing up but making no motion to help John from the floor. “Has Zak ever pissed on you while it’s up? Johnny’s gotten it all over my shirt before.”

John whined loudly, and hid his face behind his hands as the other boys laughed. “Sorry, Johnny, this is just what parents do!” Ringo chuckled. “They all talk about their little one’s most embarrassing moments… It’s just that usually the little one in question is too young to remember it happening!”

“So… he does really like this?” George sounded less angry than before, and John peeked through his fingers to look at him before quickly hiding again. “He gets off on it? And you do too?”

Paul hummed in agreement, and ran the tips of his fingers through John’s hair. “It’s really not as bad as you think it is, even the messy aspect of it. It was a process. It started with giving Johnny a spanking when he misbehaved and… ended up like this.” He bent over, stuck his hands beneath John’s armpits and hoisted him to his feet. “Oof, come on, darling! Your punishment isn’t over yet—it’s Corner Time.”

“No, Daddy, pwease!” John cried, the words muffled behind his dummy. Paul didn’t listen, of course, and John found himself with his nose pressed to the corner of the wall, tears streaming down his face as everyone else laughed and Daddy told him he had thirty minutes of punishment left.

“God, he looks just like an overgrown baby,” George commented, lighting a cigarette, and John heard the other boys follow suit. “This is seriously perverse, Paul.”

 “Aw, it’s not as bad as all that, Georgie. You know John didn’t have a dad growing up… This is therapeutic for him as much as anything. Have you ever seen John cry before? This makes it so much easier for him to let go of all his troubles and just focus on little baby things instead.”

“What does he like to do?” Ringo asked, voice brimming with glee. “Does he drink from a bottle?”

“Of course he does! Sometimes I’ll feed him from a bottle even when we’re not playing, he just loves it so much. He always wants to be sucking on something, whether it’s his bottle, or his dummy, or thumb, or even just my cock.”

John heard someone choke on their drink, and the three of them burst into laughter as John burned in shame in his corner. His cock ached against his soft nappy, and while Daddy was distracted, he rubbed his crotch gently, trying to get even the slightest bit of stimulation, but Daddy was much too vigilant.

“Ah-ah, Johnny! Hands behind your back, little boy!” Johnny obeyed with a sob, and heard Paul explain, “Johnny isn’t allowed to play with his pee-pee either. He knows that belongs to Daddy, and only Daddy is allowed to touch it.”

 There was movement from behind him, and moments later, John felt someone’s hot breath on his neck. “Is that true, Johnny?” George whispered into his ear, and John shivered, the reverberations of George’s voice going straight to his groin. There was a heavy smell of liquor of George’s breath, and it took all the strength he had not to turn around. “You like your nappy so much, but Paul won’t let you play with your… Your little pee-pee…” John tried not to moan as George groped between his legs; he didn’t fight, only rolled his hips against George’s hand, attempting for even the slightest bit of gratification.

But just then, as George kissed his sweaty neck, he broke wind so loudly, he was afraid it might have been heard from the hallway. Paul and Ringo burst out in hearty guffaws as George leapt back. “Christ Almighty, John!” he cursed. “Are you not potty trained at all?!”

John wailed in humiliation and whirled around to defend himself. “It’s not my fault! It’s the supp—”

“Back in the corner!” Paul thundered, and John did as he was told, cowering pathetically, slightly smaller farts filling his nappy. It wasn’t far away now.

“Daddy, please, please let me go to the potty!” John begged, shifting his weight from side-to-side. “Please Daddy, I don’t want to use my nappy!”

“Now now, Johnny,” Ringo said, “there’s no shame in using a nappy for what they’re meant for!”

“Thank you, Ritchie, that’s what I’ve been telling him for ages! You heard Uncle Ritchie, Johnny, go ahead and make your messy in your nappy. Daddy and your uncles will be here to change you.”

John moaned loudly; the thought of little Georgie, whom he had always treated as a child, an inferior, changing his shitty nappy, fried his brain, so deliciously humiliating that he would have done absolutely anything he was told. He squatted down, nose still deep in the corner of the room, and took a big breath as he began filling his nappy in front of his closest friends.

“He’s doing it!” Ringo cried. “Bloody hell, I wish I had my Polaroid!”

Paul was next to John instantly, kissing his cheek and stroking his hair. “That’s it, little darling, push all that nasty mess out. Daddy is so proud of you! Go poo-poo in your nappy like a good little baby!”

“Daddyyy,” John whined, tears still falling from his eyes, every squelching, rumbling noise that came from his backside making his scrunch his face up in shame.

“Daddy’s right here, lovey.” He patted John’s already-drooping bottom. “Get it all out, baby.”

 “Christ, that’s rank,” George muttered. “Hey Ringo, what smells worse, John or one hundred babies?”

“Oh, John, for sure! Babies have simple diets, but I see what John puts away on an average day!”

“Shh, Johnny, just ignore them,” Paul whispered, as John whimpered and sobbed. “You’re Daddy’s precious little boy and I love you no matter how stinky you get.”

It took several minutes of John pushing and straining to get all of the mess out of his system, Paul comforting him all the while. When he finally stood back up, the back of his nappy hung low on his hips, stained brown. George and Ringo hooted and hollered with laughter.

“There you go, little sweetheart,” Paul cooed, patting his nappy again. “Doesn’t the baby feel much better now that he has an empty tummy?”

John nodded and whimpered through his tears, “Uh… Uh-huh…”

“You were so good, honey, so Daddy hates to do this…” He checked his watch. “Daddy will change you in just fifteen minutes.”

John wailed babyishly, and Paul gave him a sharp smack on his messy bottom. “Don’t make me get the dummy ribbon!”

 “Dummy ribbon?” Ringo inquired.

“Johnny has a tendency to take his dummy out and complain if I don’t strap it in somehow. I found a lovely pink ribbon that I can tie around the clip of his dummy and then back around his head. You don’t want your uncles to see your dummy ribbon, do you, Johnny?”

John shook his head but didn’t answer. The mess against his arse felt disgusting, and he feared it was so full, the nappy may fall off his hips altogether, exposing his messy bottom to all of his friends. Despite the revolting load in his nappy and the most frightful humiliation he had ever experienced, John had never been this hard in his life. He spent the last fifteen minutes of Corner Time trying not to listen as Daddy Paul regaled George and Ringo with stories of his babyish habits and exploits, and trying not to brush the front of his diaper against the wall for any sort of relief.

“All right, baby, time’s up!” John turned around to see the three other men smiling wolfishly at him. “Now let’s get that nappy changed, shall we?”

Paul led him on shaking legs back to the towel that marked his changing spot on the floor, and grimaced as he sat his full weight into the mess in the back of his nappy. He understood why babies cried when they needed a change, he felt so perfectly helpless and disgusting that he couldn’t do anything but lie on the floor and suck on his dummy while Paul gathered his diapering supplies.

 “So what do you say?” Paul asked. “Do you guys want to help me with this?”

Ringo finished the rest of his drink in one large gulp. “I’m game. Two kids have inured me against being disgusted by shit.”

Paul turned his doe-eyes onto his youngest friend. “Georgie?”

George drew out a long, guttural groan, before saying, “Fine, if everyone else is…”

John lay perfectly still as Paul unpinned his nappy, and for a brief second, he hoped that he would start laughing and tell the other boys to leave so he could give John the privacy he deserved. That fleeting hope was gone the moment Paul pulled the front panel of his nappy open, and the full extent of his mess, and his leaking little erection, was revealed.

“Man alive!” George cried, waving a hand in front of his face. “He smells worse than a thousand stadium loos!”

Paul laughed. “You should smell him after he’s eaten beans! Now, both of you take a leg, and hold it up. We want to make sure Johnny gets nice and clean after his stinky accident!”

John’s legs were raised high in the air as Paul pulled on a pair of thick latex gloves. John could tell that Ringo and George were staring at his messy little hole and privates, but by now, he was almost too far gone to care. He squirmed under their scrutiny and the cool baby wipe that Paul ran over his bottom, but otherwise lay still, suckling his dummy peacefully.

“There we go, lovey,” Paul crooned. “Daddy and your uncles are going to make you all clean! Then we can give you a nice little cummy for being so good during your punishment before Daddy puts you in your nighttime nappy.”

 John gurgled and cooed happily from behind his dummy, even as George and Ringo laughed. “Oh, I think the baby likes his cummies,” George said. He stroked John’s chubby thigh with his finger, smiling when John turned his half-lidded gaze to him.

Soon enough, John’s bottom passed inspection and Paul threw the overloaded diaper in the trash, and in the back of John’s mind, he reminded himself to leave a very big tip for the maid in the morning. “Keep his legs up,” Paul ordered, and produced a small, bright yellow egg, that with a deft twist of his fingers, started to magically vibrate. Paul knelt on the floor and pushed the egg deep into John’s bum, making him pant and squirm on his makeshift changing mat.

“Now come, darling,” Paul said. “I want you to give your uncles a nice thank-you prezzy for helping change your stinky nappy! Ask them if they want a blowie?”

John sat up, and said in his most childish voice, “Uncle Ritchie, can I please give you a blowie?”  

Ringo grinned and stroked John’s cheek before unzipping his fly. “Now, how could Uncle Ritchie ignore such a sweet request? Go ahead, little Johnny, it’s all yours.”

John immediately started to bob and suck along the length of Ringo’s cock, the toy vibrating inside him making him sloppy and inexact, but no one expected more from a big baby. He tried to take it deeper, but choked, gagging around the shaft. Within minutes, Ringo’s large cock exploded all over John’s face, covering his cheeks, bridge of his nose, and lips with strings of white cum.

 “Daddy!” John exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Daddy, my face is sticky!”

 Paul and Ringo laughed. “It certainly is, darling!” Paul gushed, and wiped his boy’s face sweetly. “Now it’s Uncle Georgie’s turn.”

John turned to George shyly. “Uncle Georgie… Uncle Georgie, can I…

“Yes, go on,” Paul encouraged.

“Can I suck on your... Your baba?” John whispered, mouth dry.

“Fuck,” George whispered in return. “Fuck, Paul, I’m sorry I said what I did, I think I understand perfectly now.” And with that, he took the back of John’s head, fingers intertwining with his thick hair, and urged John’s mouth onto his cock.

John bashfully sucked on the head of George’s cock, so much larger than his own. He glanced up at his younger friend, and George let out a loud moan. “That’s it, little baby, suck it,” he growled, and John regained his nerve, bobbing his head up and down until George spilled his spunk into John’s mouth, and this time, John was able to swallow all of it.

“What a good boy,” Paul murmured, helping John to his feet and wrapping him up in his arms. His little cock was so eager for release, it looked painful to the touch, and a large pearl of pre-cum clung to the tip. Paul sat on the edge of the bed, and sat John down on his knee. John moaned as the egg pressed deeper inside him, buzzing against his prostate, and Paul took a firm grasp of his cock.

 “Baby has Daddy’s permission to cummy,” Paul whispered in his ear, and that was all it took. With a loud, quivering gasp, John finally found the release he had been waiting for since Paul had pulled him over his knee.

“Good baby,” Paul said, kissing the side of his head. “Now stand up for Daddy…” John did as he was told, and Paul bent him over to remove the egg from his bottom. His legs felt like jelly, and as soon as he started returning to his senses, he was hyperaware of George and Ringo watching him.

“Now we’ll get the baby in his nighttime nappy, and it’ll be time for night-night,” Paul said firmly, laying John back down on the bed. “Do you want to thank your uncles for taking care of you?”

“Th-thank ‘oo, Unca Ritchie. Thank ‘oo, Unca Georgie.”

Ringo smiled gently, and leaned down to kiss John’s forehead. “Think nothing of it, Baby Johnny.”

George stared at Paul. “Aren’t you going to get off too?”

Paul smiled as he unfolded a fresh nappy and slid it under John’s bum. “I will, just later. Daddies have to put their babies’ needs ahead of their own desires.” He quickly and expertly diapered John, and with a burst of baby powder, one would never know how foul he had been only a short while before.

George bent over to kiss John’s forehead just as Ringo did, then after a second, pressed another to his lips. “Good night, Baby Johnny. I’m sorry if I was mean to you tonight.”

“It’s okay, Unca Georgie,” John whispered. “I wuv you…”

George smiled widely. “And I love you too.”

Paul showed the other boys out of the room, saying his own good nights and reaffirming their itinerary for the following morning, before coming back and tucking John under the covers.

“I’m so proud of you for being such a good boy during your punishment,” he said, pulling his clothes off until he was nude, his erection stiff against his abdomen. “You’ve come such a long way in your baby training.”

John smiled sweetly as Paul snapped off the light and crawled into bed with him, spooning him close from behind. “Uncle George and Ringo won’t tell anyone, will they?”

“Of course not, baby. They would never do that to you.” John could feel Paul’s erection poking him insistently through his nappy, and he let Paul turn him on his front with no arguments.

Paul took one of the pins from his nappy and pulled it down enough for John’s arse to be exposed. With a little lube, he slid into John’s relaxed hole with ease, groaning with pleasure. “I’m so happy you’re my naughty little baby, Johnny,” he panted, thrusting into his boy. “I love getting to punish you and make you my good boy.”

John cooed in happiness. He had inhabited many identities thus far in his short life—troublemaker, teddy boy, pop star, troubled artist… But somehow, by no narrow margin, being Paul’s good boy was the best of all.  

[ongaku-ato-kakikomi]

You Break Up With Them: Monster Prom Characters

(A/N): This took me a month to write and it honestly shouldn’t have taken me a month to write but OMG I FINALLY MANAGED TO WRITE IT ALL AND IT’S OUT! I kinda feel like I messed up Polly’s and Vera’s part at the end, but that’s okay... I hope you guys will like these! (And be sure to check out the original artists for Miranda’s and Liam’s art, they did an amazing job! The links will be below them)

Miranda Vanderbilt (picture by stitcheddraws) :

The two of you were having what she thought was a romantic evening in a giant silverware store when you told her you needed to talk. She didn’t pay much attention at first, too preoccupied with all the gorgeous and amazing silverware that was surrounding her, and you were praying that it’ll lower her anger once you tell her your news… but as soon as the words “I think we should break up” fall out of your mouth, her happy expression turns to a stoic one while her turquoise irises stare back at your soul. It takes her a while to fully register what you said, her fish guards slowly walking over with their threatening tridents, until a wild smile breaks out of her lips and she chuckles.

“You can’t break up with me, silly.” She boops your nose with her index. “You know you’ll get executed if you do.”

She ignores the terrified look on your face as she turns back towards the golden spoon on display, having her eyes set on a pair with the letter ‘M’ and ‘(first letter of your name)’. You, on the other hand, tries to calm down from her threat and eventually ignores the guards to speak up your mind.

“Mir’, I’m breaking up with you. You have to accept that.”

She feels her heart bleed from how hard your words just stabbed her, and her bottom lip quiver in sadness. She concentrates back on the spoon and forces a smile to come out.

“What do you think of those spoons, (Y/N)? They have our initials on them.”

“Mir’, you’re not listening to me. I’m not happy anymore!”

She slightly flinches, her face turned away from you.

“You really wish to leave me?”

You sigh. “I’ve loved every bit of time I’ve spent with you, Mir’. But like I said, I’m just no longer happy.”

She looks back at you with a death stare. “Then perish.”

You don’t have time to add anything else that a trident is already piercing through your ribcage, the blood pouring out of your lungs to engulf your throat. You fall down on your knees as soon as the weapon leaves your body, and you give Miranda one last look only to see that she has turned away from you.

“Mir.. anda...”

She closes her eyes in pain from hearing you say her name with such a coarse voice, the loud echoing thud of your now lifeless body hitting the ground soon after. She waits a couple of seconds, in silence, until one of her guards ask her how they shall dispose of your body. She only opens her eyes again and spot the pair of spoons with your shared initials on them, the tears appearing on the corner of her eyes.

Her agonizing screams are all that can be heard in the store after this.

Damien LaVey :

It was in the middle of the night when you finally decided to break up with the prince of hell, having joined the boy earlier in a park to do some arson action, his favorite type of dates of all time. While you do enjoy to do crime every now and then, your feelings towards the boy have faltered through time and your chest has been heavy for weeks, the arson and killing not having helped at all. And so, even thought you weren’t going to say the fearful words tonight, your brain blurted them out of your mouth without your consent, and now the demon boy was staring at you in silence without even blinking. It doesn’t take long for his expression to twist into pure rage, his fist tightening while he tries to contain himself.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You flinch from the anger despite expecting it. “Are you really breaking up with me!?”

“Damien, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you fucking dare say you’re sorry.” You take a step back when he walks towards you, his finger pointing at you. “You better have a good reason to do this or I’m killing you.”

But is there really a good reason for breaking a heart?

“I just… I’m not happy.”

One of his eye twitches from your answer.

“I mean, my heart just… feels heavy all the time.”

“That’s it?” He squints his eyes at you while grinding his teeth. “That’s your only reason? You’re breaking up with me because your ‘heart feels heavy all the time’?”

“Well, yeah, I-”

“And you didn’t think you could have mentioned this fucking way sooner? That I could have helped you feel better?”

“I can’t fake my feelings, Damien.”

His silence following your words is only scarier than his usual screams, his red eyes seeming like they’re slashing your head off.

“Damien-”

“You know what? Fuck this shit. Just leave.” You give him a hesitation look when you see the pain in his eyes. “Are you fucking deaf? I said leave!”

You don’t wait for him to actually try to murder you to run away towards the park’s exit, unaware of his pupils following your leaving form. He looks down at the ground while shaking from the pain and anger, the tear pouring out of the corner of his pupils despite shutting them down.

He destroys the park with fire to cope with the reality of you leaving him, his yells of distress getting engulfed by the flames.

Scott Howl :

You wanted to wait at the end of Scott’s football practice before you tell him you wanted to break up so he could stay focus and have fun. You kept telling yourself it was to let him have a little bit more of happy time, but you knew it was only because you were dreading to break his heart. You knew how much your decision would hurt him, and how much hurting him would hurt you in return, but just going along with the relationship at this point was just hurting you even more and you had to do something.

And so, despite the fact that football practice hasn’t even started yet, or that Scott is looking at you with his goofy grin and his eyes full of life and excitement, you tell him the words you’ve been trying to get out for weeks now.

Your heart twists in a hurtful way when you see his pupils scream at you in pain, his lips quivering from sadness while his shoulders sink.

“But… but...” His throat lets out a whimper, which cuts through your soul. “But I love you.”

“Oh, Scott… I know you do.” The fact that you don’t say ‘I love you’ back seems to remind him that you haven’t actually said it back in a while, and it shakes him to his core. “It’s just… not enough anymore.”

His body starts to shake as he tries to control back his sobs. “Am I not a good boy?”

“Oh no, Scott… don’t think that.” You put your hand up to touch his cheek as a comfort, but you stop yourself at the last second and revert your movement. “You’re an amazing boy.”

He stares at your hand for a moment, wishing really hard that you didn’t stop your movement and were now petting his head like you would usually do.

“See, Scott, it’s not you the problem. It’s me.” He looks back into your eyes, wondering why he didn’t see this coming. “I really wish my feelings stayed the same… but I can’t control the fact that I’m not happy.”

He closes his eyes to try and stop the tears from coming out.

“And you deserve someone that can be happy with you, Scott.”

“I don’t want someone else.” He opens his eyes again, his pupils aching even more than before. “I want you… and I can make you happy. Remember how I can make you laugh all the time?”

You give out an empathetic smile. “You know I haven’t laughed in a long time.”

Your words hit his soul like a wooden bullet through his heart, and he almost doesn’t hear the coach’s whistle signify that it’s time to start practice.

“This is for the better, Scott.” He almost begs you to stay when he sees you take a step back, hesitantly looking back at him. “I’m sorry.”

He only gets to watch your leaving form for a few seconds before he gets dragged by one of his cousins on the field, another one putting his helmet on his head without him noticing. He walks over to his position without somehow stumbling over his feet, even though his mind is clouded by numbness. He doesn’t hear the second whistle that means the beginning of the practice match, but he does notice the ball getting thrown into his hands, his pupils staring at it as his body doesn’t move.

“Yo, Scott! Send the ball!” His cousin’s voice seems rather far away as he continues to stare at the ball. “… Scott?”

“They left me...” His bottom lip quiver again and his eyes watered, his claws tightening around the ball. “They left me…!”

He falls down onto his knees just as he hugs the ball as close as possible, his face distorted by his tears and his mouth letting out sobbing cries while his whole body shakes from the pain.

Liam de Lioncourt (Gif by trash-cass):

You didn’t know when would be the appropriate time to break up with Liam, especially since he made it clear that you were his first real relationship in centuries. Heck, you were the first person who made him get out of his shell and experience new things in life… like love.

His first true love.

Which makes you feel so fucking guilty. Especially when you would look at him with the intention of telling the hurtful words no one wants to hear, your brain screaming at you to stop every time you were about to do it. I mean, you make him so fucking happy, so why would you be selfish and take his happiness away from him? You’re a monster, but not a monster... right?

But the more you sit at this table with him, his eyes glued to his phone as he tries to find the best filter for his next Instagram’s picture, the more you feel your heart’s numbness worsening. And it’s at this moment that you know that if you don’t do this right now, you’re not only going to lose your chance to get happy again, but also trap him in a one-sided love story for who knows long.

And he deserves more than that.

“Liam.” You feel the anxiety rising inside your chest, but you don’t let it stop you this time. “We need to talk.”

He slightly looks up from his phone to quirk an eyebrow at you, never having heard you talk with such a serious tone.

“What is it?”

“I… I’m not happy anymore… so I think it’s best if we broke up.”

When he simply stares back at you in silence, his eyes blinking from time to time, your stomach flips and your thoughts get louder in your head. You try your best to silence them, and you open your mouth to try and ease the situation when he sighs in relief.

“Finally!” You frown in confusion, not expecting this kind of reaction. “To be honest, this ‘being in a relationship’ thing was getting way too cliché for me. I’m so glad you’re feeling the same way.”

“What-” You shake your head to dismiss your thoughts before you talk again. “I thought… you liked being in a relationship…?”

“Did you really think I loved posting all those couple’s pictures on my Instagram?” He lets out a small chuckle, his lips staying in a snobby smirk. “I only did it to make you happy. And really, I can’t wait to delete them. They’ve been polluting my artistic view for too long now.”

You open and close your mouth a few times, then give out a smile.

“Well, I guess I got worried for nothing. Maybe we can stay friends-”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He gets up before you have a chance to finish talking, his phone in his hand as he does so. “I have a secret meeting to attend to.”

“Oh, okay.” You give him a shy wave while he leaves, slightly hurt by his cold demeanor. “I’ll see you later, then.”

His fingers clench around his phone when he hears your words, his chest burning in a rage from the pain you’re unaware that you’ve just caused him. But he can’t let you see it, no. He has a reputation of not caring about those type of things to keep.

But when he turns around a corner to be out of your sight, he can’t help but to look down at the picture he was about to post, the one it took last week. You were smiling at the camera and he was kissing your temple, a tree in the background. He thought you were happy, that you were in love. How long have you been feeling unhappy? How long have you faked your love for him? How long-

Tears fall down on his screen as he deletes the picture, his free hand squeezing the fabric of his shirt just as he feels his dead heart agonizing in silence.

Polly Geist :

The reason you waited so long to break up with Polly isn’t because you were afraid of hurting her, but rather because of the fact that she never gave you the chance to do so. You feel like she might know that you’ve been thinking about ending this relationship, and so she either kept changing the subject, starting random events out of nowhere or acting like she had to go somewhere. Then again, maybe she was also just being her random self who always wants to party and have fun…

… but seeing how she kept avoiding you for the party she invited you to in the first place, you beg to differ.

And so, at one point, where she was busy forcing a human drinking lots and lots of alcohol so she can possess them and experienced the consequences, you managed to corner between two drinks. She lets out an awkward laugh under your serious expression and she tries her best to ease the tension by putting your attention on something else.

“Hey, boo! Want some drinks?” She shows off the two that are somehow staying in her hands. “I got you some!”

“Polly, we need to talk.”

“Sorry, honey, I can’t talk right now.” She tries to get past you without flying right through your body, her smile slightly faltering under her stress. “I really need to get this human drunk so I can-”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

The drinks in her hands fall down unto the floor, but because of the music blasting the room, no one else notices the liquid spreading on the floor while Polly’s expression turns to a horrified one.

“No...” You take a step back when she tries to touch your shoulder, her hand staying frozen in the air after you do so. “Babe… I know you’ve been unhappy for a while, but... but there’s no need to break up!”

You shake your head at her, which only seem to make her feel more desperate.

“I… I can work on the things you don’t like about me! I can change!”

Your expression turns to a sad one. “Polly...”

“I swear! I’m not always like this… I… Please, don’t leave. I love you too much to lose you.” You feel your chest shrinking in pain when you see tears in her eyes, her voice starting to coarse. “And you know that it’s totally unfair because having my heart getting broken is totally how I died!”

“Polly, I don’t want to hurt you.” Her eyes give out a glint of hope, and you shake your head at her. “But if I stay with you, I’m only gonna hurt myself more.”

“But...” She tries to reach out for you again, and you step back a second time. “But… babe...”

“It’s over, Polly.” You give her one last look before you walk towards the exit. “We both deserve something better.”

She watches you leave while her whole spirit trembles in pain, the girl ghost feeling like her heart is shattered on the floor beneath her feet. She lets out a few cries that die under the party’s music, her head soon shaking to try and shove her feeling deep down in her soul. She gives out a wide fake smile, tears having disappeared, and she turns towards the crowd with her arms in the air and her tongue out.

“Who’s ready to do some drugs!?”

The excited screams barely make it to her ears, her brain already begging for the numbness.

Vera Oberlin :

You were completely terrified of breaking up with Vera. Mostly because you knew that if you managed to say the unbearable words to her, she would send a hitman to kill you… that is if she doesn’t decide to end your life with her bare hands instead. She loves you, you have no doubt of that, but she wouldn’t hesitate to end your life if you ever hurt her in any way. So staying in a relationship with her was definitely the wiser choice in the case of your own survival.

… but it wasn’t for your happiness.

And so, even though you knew the consequences of your action, you decided to let her know about how you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks, having asked her to join you in a public place in the middle of the day for some security.

“Ugh, I hate this place on Saturdays.” Her eyes skitter around the mall full of people, her face scrunching up in disgust. “Why would you want to come here? You know we only shop on Tuesdays.”

“Vera… um...” She turns her attention on you, her brows frowning at the sight of your terrified expression. “I… I need to talk to you.”

She gives out a smirk. “Did you choose this place because you thought I would try to kill you?”

She intended it as a joke, knowing how much you like her dark humor, but when you stay silent and avoid looking at her eyes, she starts to worry.

“Okay, (Y/N), what’s going on?”

You give out a shaky sigh, your fingers playing together for a few seconds before you look back at her.

“I… I wanna break up.”

Her heart sinks in her stomach upon hearing your words.

“… what?”

“I just…  I haven’t been happy for a long time and…” She closes her eyes for a second, trying to contain her emotions. “And I think you deserve something better than this.”

“Bullshit.” You jumped up when she sends you a death stare, her upper lip twitching from rage. “You think you can break up with me and make some bullshit excuse like that?”

“No-Vera, it’s the truth, I-”

“You think you can break up with Vera Oberlin?”

“Vera-”

“Well, you can’t! You can’t break up with me! Because no one breaks up with Vera Oberlin! I’m the one who breaks up the relationship!” She puts her finger at your shoulder and slightly pushes you away, the snakes on her head snapping their mouths at you in anger. “In fact… I’m breaking up with you right now!”

You open your mouth in shock, your eyes giving out sadness. “Vera, I know you’re hurt, but there’s no need to act like this.”

“Watch me.” She stands up straight, looking down at you like you’re nothing. “Have fun with your pathetic life.”

She turns away from you and lets you watch her back as she leaves, her snakes still snapping their mouths at you until you can't see her anymore. As soon as she gets into one of the exit hallways, her furious expression breaks into sorrow. She bites her bottom lip to stop herself from crying, her hand already getting her phone out of her pocket. She takes a pause when she sees her home-screen of you and her, your arms wrapped around her neck with your head pressed against her temple as you both smile at the camera. She breathes in sharply, feeling her whole body yelling in agony at the thought that you’re no longer hers, and she forces herself to compose a phone number.

“Hey, it’s me.” She pushes the exit door’s as she talks, ignoring the sun hitting her face. “I’ve got a new target for you.”

If you won’t let her have you, then you deserve nothing more than death itself.

[mysticmelove]

Hi! I don’t know if I’m the first but congratulations on 1 year of running your blog!! I’ve been following for a while and wondered if you could write that soulmate au where the last words of your soulmate are tattooed on to your skin so you don’t know until after they die (angst all the way)

*Thank you x It doesn’t really feel like a whole year but here we are... Alas, here is your angst, proceed with caution and thank you for the engagement- it mean so much xx

Last words

(Jumin x MC) [angst]

.

‘I’ll see you in a few days, my love.’ Those were the last words he had spoken to her. Simple, routine words he said before he left for every business trip and yet the those words had clouded her mind more than anything else within an instant.

‘Everything will be okay once she gets here.’ Those were the words permanently imprinted onto the skin of her wrist. Dark, fine letters encompassing the final words of that of her soulmate. Jumin had always told her it was trivial, meaningless words that held no significance. The two of them were meant to be; their souls were intwined whether the fates had intended for them to be or not. He’d often watch her trace over the lines, her face pondering their meaning and he would tell her once more that he simply loved her. Her loved her regardless of his or her final words. Those words rarely came to her mind anymore and, if she were honest, she wasn’t even aware of what the scripture on her husband’s wrist had said. Instead, she now found herself solely focused on what the future of their relationship held. Because, of course, they had a future together.

It took a monumental amount to convince MC otherwise, such as the time Jumin had come home with a lipstick stain on his shirt and a ludicrous explanation as to why- it turns out he had been involved in the testing of a new make up line. Things were more serious this time though, it wasn’t a falling out or an accusation, it was a single phone call that was enough to send her into a state of panic. Jaehee had phoned her not too long after he’d left, and the second that she’d called MC knew there was something wrong. They should have been in the airport, she knew that, and Jaehee shouldn’t have even been available to phone her, she knew that too. Yet, her phone rang and she answered it will all the hesitation imaginable. She hadn’t even spoken a word before Jaehee spoke, her voice thick and uneasy: “MC... I...”

“Jaehee, what’s wrong?” Her voice was timid yet pressing as she spoke, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her jumper.

“Um...” the woman on the other end of the line chewed at her bottom lip, unsure of how to go about this. “You... You need to come to the hospital, MC. There’s been an accident.”

“Accident?” MC felt her heart stop, her chest hollow and quickly filling with dread. “What kind of accident?”

“Just get here soon. Please.” She hung up before MC could protest or question her any further. She raked a violent hand through her hair, shaking her head in dismay as she tried to understand what was happening. She needed to act fast, not waste time concerning herself over something she knew nothing about.

MC had arrived at the hospital faster than you could have imagined. She’d fled the penthouse in a rush, things practically falling out of her bag and her jumper hooked up in the wait of her skirt. Fleeting memories of the journey to the hospital was all she could remember- she remembered being an absolute mess but the time itself was no longer with her. After that it was the mad dash into the hospital, not having time to thank her driver or whoever had been holding the door open for her, her mind in a daze as she moved faster than she could logically think.

Her pace quickened as she saw the woman she’d been speaking to not too long ago beside the reception desk. She must have been subconsciously preempting something because there were tears pricking her eyes before either of them had spoken a word. “Jaehee!” MC called out to her as the distance between them shortened, her bag slipping from its place over her shoulder. “Jaehee, how–” Her feet came to a halt as her friend moved between her and the length of the corridor, her mouth slightly agape as her head barely shook and her eyes found their way to the floor. They were red- Jaehee had been crying. Jaehee didn’t cry. MC’s jaw trembled, her brows furrowed. “No...” she mumbled to herself, her hand moving to cover her mouth in haste. She was going to be sick. “No.” She protested now, her chest heaving: “No! God, no!”

“...I’m sorry...” Jaehee only managed a whisper as her friend began to sob. Tears streamed down her face as she let out choked cries, falling to her knees before everyone in the waiting room.

MC gasped for air, her face wet and flushed as she tried to hold back the bile growing in her throat. “My god,” she mumbled again, only to wail out a cry of pure anguish. How could Jumin not be there? Jumin was always there. Jumin was a constant. And now she was clutching at her chest, sickened by the thought that he wasn’t.

One of the nurses had spotted her howling, a blubbering state heaped on the floor, and she was quickly guided off to a quiet room with Jaehee. They’d all been so kind to her; offering comforting words, endless tissues, glasses of water, yet her mind was everywhere but within that room. She was miles away and the only thing she could think of was the fact that she had yet to see him with her own eyes. MC knew it was true- no matter how much she pleaded with whatever Holy Spirit was listening- but she had to see it before she’d ever really process it. So when the nurse came back that was the first thing she did: she asked to see her dead husband, regardless of how scarring it would be. The look of the nurse told her that she wanted to say no, but how could she deny a grieving widow the chance to say goodbye to her husband.

The room was so extremely daunting before she’d even laid eyes on him. You couldn’t see in, all the blinds had been drawn, and the second she stepped in she was blinded by the walls- too bright and too pristine. Only when she looked to the bed did it really hit her though, a tremble raked through her body and she became unsure of her footing as she approached his lifeless body. He was pale. Sickly pale. There was a huge gash over his chest, smeared red, with a poor bandage trying to cover up the harm. And then there were the tubes, the tube leading from his mouth with plastic lodged between his dead lips. MC took a hesitant step forward, her breath hitching in the back of her throat as she found herself unable to move her eyes from him. “We did everything we could for him,” the nurse said gently from her spot in the door frame, “He was stabbed, Mrs Han.”

“I don’t care how it happened,” MC breathed, tears beginning to prick her eyes once more. “The tubes?” She questioned quietly, her arms folding over her chest as she tried desperately to sooth and comfort herself.

“We had to ventilate,” she explained once more: “It’s procedure that we leave it in post passing.”

MC nodded slowly at her words, her hand etching towards his colourless features yet flinching before her fingers could make any contact.

“I’ll leave you be. If you need any help just call.”

The door shut and she let out a cracked sob, quickly trying to regain her composure before him. Her finger traced the outline of his jaw so delicately that they barely made contact- his skin felt even colder than usual. “Hey...” She tried to sound happy but the twinge of despair was all too present in her voice: “You couldn’t wait a few days, hm? I would have much rather waited for you than this...” MC’s act soon flattered, her smile falling as she sank immediately into the chair at his bedside. She folded her arms on the bed beside him, weeping into the cool sheets and cursing her own existence. “And there you were telling me to be careful.” She cupped his hand within her own, fiddling carefully with the gold, engraved ring around his finger. She could only sigh as the tears continued, “So... So selfish, Jumin Han... but I suppose that’s why I love you...” Her eyes trailed back up to his face, his jaw as prominent as ever and catching her gaze. “I love you.”

The sound of the door opening again caught MC’s attention immediately. She shot up, wiping away her tears and taking a heavy breath. She looked to the door to find Jaehee, bowing her head sincerely and closing the door behind her. “Sorry,” MC barely spoke above a whisper, “I lost myself for a bit.” Her grasp soon went back to Jumin’s hand, caressing it gently.

“You’re perfectly fine, MC. I just thought you might want some company.”

“Thanks,” she breathed, her gaze still focused on their hands. The sleeve of her jumper had fallen slightly, revealing the first few words written on her wrist and causing a whole new thought to take centre stage in her mind. She traced her own wrist, speaking aloud to the other woman: “Were... Were you there?”

“When he passed?” Jaehee questioned quietly, leaning again the wall for support. MC only nodded, her eyes unmoving. “No...” she responded, almost disappointed, “they needed to ventilate and I was sent away.”

“But you were there when he spoke his last words?” A deafening silence fell among them, her reluctance to answer the question too apparent. MC looked to her, her face exhausted and simultaneously void of and yet so extremely full of emotion. “Jaehee?”

“Yes, but...” she bit her tongue before sighing, “but you know he didn’t believe in that.”

“I...” MC’s words were caught with a sudden pang in her chest. “I know... But I just... I just need to know.” Tears were threatening her again now, her voice hoarse but caring as she looked back to her husband.

Jaehee swallowed thickly, she knew it was only right to tell her but it would cause even more heartache. It’s not what either of them would have wanted. “...I don’t think–”

“Tell me!” She burst out with a yell and a stream of new tears. MC tried to regain herself, looking out of the window for some sense of clarity as she spoke. “I just... I just need you to tell me so... so I know that this wasn’t worth nothing.”

“It could never be worth nothing,” Jaehee commented carefully in return, “especially not to him.”

“Please...”

She took a deep breath, her gaze trailing to the centre of the room where he lay in peaceful silence. “It was... chaotic. And he was being stubborn, of course. He wouldn’t admit that he was in pain and you could just tell that he was struggling to breathe but he was fighting it relentlessly... The doctors were telling him what might happen but he... he just started saying how he was going to be fine because you’d get here soon.” Jaehee, too, was fighting back the tears now. “He didn’t care as long as you would be here.”

MC froze, her grasp on his hand tighten and her tears falling in silence as her eyes remain unfocused. “Thank you...” She blinked once and suddenly she was trembling again, overcome with feelings she couldn’t quite grasp. She didn’t even hear Jaehee leave as she cracked more sobs over Jumin’s hand, holding onto it as if she could somehow manage to pull him back. She kissed his hand without a second thought, whispering into his skin with as much care as he had given her throughout all of their time together. “We’ll meet again, won’t we. Because I love you... more than possibly imaginable and I’ll hold you to my heart until the day I die.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Olly Olly Oxenfree (part six)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

TW: Death

———————

as quiet as an empty church

“Well, the station’s at the top of the hill.” Cathy said. With a sigh, she adds, “I hope this works.”

“Me too.” Joan said.

They were back in the woods, back to pushing through brambles and branches to get to the area with the cable car. Their goal was the upper cabin they didn’t go to before, and they began hiking up to i-

- .... . / .... --- ..- ... . / .. ... / .- .-.. .. ...- . / .- -. -.. / - .... . / .... --- ..- ... . / .. ... / .... ..- -. --. .-. -.--

“Well, the station’s at the top of the hill.” Cathy said. With a sigh, she adds, “I hope this works.”

Joan felt like she wanted to cry or pull out her hair and scream- maybe both.

“It’s the thing again.” She mumbled sluggishly.

Cathy groaned. “We’re due, I guess. It’s been, like, a minute since the last one.”

They try to trek up to the hill to the Catbird Station again, but are sent right back to the bottom of the maintenance cabin.

.... ..- -- .- -. ... / -.-. .- -. / .-.. .. -.-. -.- --..-- / - --- ---

“Well, the station’s at the top of the hill.” Cathy said. With a sigh, she adds, “I hope this works.”

“Yep.” Joan agreed.

She tries again.

Cathy doesn’t say anything.

So she tries again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

But the tenth try, Joan’s head was splitting open and she was frustrated to the point where she was near tears. She backed up, ready to maybe charge up the path and hope she couldn’t be looped if she moved quick enough, but then she noticed something under the bridge.

Lightning cracks and lit up the horribly bloody and disfigured shape of Anne’s body impaled on the rocks.

She’s strung by the stomach, gouging it wide open and letting her long, gooey intestines hang out. Her skull, which must have hit against one of the rocks, is split and her brains are revealed to the cool night air. Blood is practically soaking the entirety of the stone her corpse is stuck on, turning the river water below a sickly shade of red.

Kitty is on the other side of the bank, sitting on the shore with her head buried in her knees. She couldn’t bear to see the sight of her dead cousin.

Joan can’t breathe. She can’t even muster up the will to cry; she’s too mortified. Shock sets in fast.

“Kitty,” Cathy said as they both slowly approached the scene. The smell of blood and entrails was thick in the air. “What happened? What happened to Anne?”

Kitty snapped her head up. There are tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Anne’s— she’s— she had an accident, she— she died. I couldn’t—”

“Oh my god.” Joan whispered. Her knees wobble, then buckle; she’s on the ground.

“What happened?” Cathy asked.

“She—”

Joan’s vision bugs out. Anne’s bloated, waterlogged corpse is in front of her, skin grey, eyes clouded, mouth open in a frozen horrified expression and leaking water.

“She drowned.”

Joan’s vision bugs out.

“She—”

Anne is standing at the top of the guard rail on the bridge. She spreads her arms and falls backwards. The blood splatter splashed out onto Joan.

“She fell.”

Joan’s vision bugs out.

“She—”

Anne is nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t know... She just...stopped.”

Joan’s vision bugs out.

And then it twists and shifts and everything bleeds together. Starbursts and fireworks explode beneath her eyelids and her brain rattled viciously inside of her skull to the point where she thinks it may just fly right out. When she pries her heavy eyes open again, she’s standing in the maintenance shack in the dark. A storm is raging outside. The only light comes from the claps of lightning and Cathy’s red glowing eyes.

“I mean, does it really matter what happened?��� She asked. “Either way, done is done.”

“I know you’re not really Cathy.” Joan grits.

“Soon, it won’t be a pretense. It will be an absolute.” Not-Cathy said, and her words ooze from her lips like thousands of spider. “Joan, we know you’re in charge and we know your plan and we also know that your plan won’t work. It never does.” A smile twitches on her horribly pale lips when Joan shivered. “So, we have a proposition for you.”

“Like what?” Joan pressed.

The door behind Not-Cathy swung open, not affected by the power of the howling winds outside. She turned smoothly and walked right out into the freezing rain. Joan has no choice but to follow, and she gets drenched instantly. The cold bites her right down to the bone.

“It’s over for Catalina, she’s gone.” Not-Cathy began to say. “We’ll pilot her through the rest of existence, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.” She glances over her shoulder and smirked at the shivering girl below her. “But...if you agree to let us take her, quietly, without a fuss...we won’t slaughter the rest of your friends like you did young Reginald, here.”

They stop at the bridge. Anne’s corpse rots below them.

“We will leave the rest of your cattle alone.”

“No.” Joan’s voice is firm and hard, even with the underlying laces of fear. “No way. I’m saving everyone!”

Not-Cathy laughed. “Courage isn’t always the answer, dear.”

Joan shrunk back. Her drenched, ruined grey jacket chafes uncomfortably against her back.

“You don’t have much time left.” Not-Cathy said. “Do you know how we know you don’t have much time left?”

Joan is quiet, even when she’s egged on with hums to answer.

“We know,” Not-Cathy went on, “Because we can be Cathy for this long... and her soul’s as quiet as an empty church.”

Joan’s vision starts to bug out-

“Jµ§† ñêvêr §å¥. Wê ÐïÐñ’† þrðvïÐê ¥ðµ. Äll. †hê rµlê§.”

-but this time it’s so much worse than all the other times before. It feels as if someone was taking a knife and stabbing it into her ears over and over and over again until brain matter is spilling out. She can barely get her eyes to focus after the looping sequence ends, but she recognizes that she’s back in front of the maintenance cabin, Cathy is gone, and there’s three tape players on the bridge.

Her legs feel like sticks of lead when she moves them to walk.

She winds up two of three tape players when she notices Kitty huddled beneath a lamppost with her head in her knees. Before she goes to the last one, she checks on the younger girl.

“I know she was your best friend, Joan.” Kitty said before Joan could even say something to her. “I— I’m sorry. I don’t— I don’t know what happened... One moment she was just there, and then she was...” The image of Anne’s corpse seemed to flash in her eyes like it did for Joan. “Gone.”

Joan wanted to yell at Kitty. She wanted to scream at her, slap her, spit on her, throw her stupid body off the bridge for payment for not saving Anne, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t needed.

“You were her cousin.” Joan whispered.

Kitty scoffed sadly. “You knew Anne better than I ever have.” Fresh tears stream down her cheeks when she realizes that she’ll never get the chance to know her cousin like that anymore. “I liked what I got to know of her.”

“If she can hear you right now,” Joan said. Her voice is breaking and the tears finally spill free. “She’d be over the moon.”

Kitty sniffled.

Joan moved on.

She winds the last tape player and lets the loop embrace her.

“Well, the station should be at the top of-“ Cathy’s voice halts and she gagged. “Ugh... I feel like I just ate a tree...”

Joan is still soaked, even though the rain is gone and nothing is wet anymore. She shivered and uselessly pulled her jacket closer.

“You were possessed.” She said. “It was the longest it’s been before.”

“Yeah, I can...kinda remember that part.” Cathy said. She notices her sister shivering, so she takes off her beanie and puts it on Joan’s head.

“Hello?”

The loudspeaker crackles.

“Hellooo?”

“Oh, they’re broadcasting from the station speaker somehow.” Cathy said as she and Joan made their way up to Catbird. She smiled slightly at both of the cousin’s babbling over the com and Joan’s wonder at getting to wear her beanie.

They get to the top at Kitty and Anne tell them about how they were ready to go at the bunker. Joan clicks on the microphone at the control panel.

“Hello,” She said. “Hello, we are here.”

After a quick joke- which, in hindsight, was pretty inappropriate at the time being, but they all needed it- Joan flicks a switch on the board.

“Signal Verified.” Said a mechanical voice on the panel. “Shelter TF1 Open.”

“Great!” Kitty said.

“Alright, hurry back, you two!” Anne added.

The sisters exit the station and begin walking out of the woods when-

“I have an idea, Mr. Jordan. Can we make him reborn?”

Joan whipped around.

Cathy’s eyes are solid red.

“Cathy!!” Joan cried.

Cathy blinked and her eyes are back to normal.

“Okay okay okay, I’m— god, I really hate that!”

“It’s getting worse, Cathy.” Joan whispered. “I think we’re running out of time.”

Cathy swallowed thickly. She nods slowly.

“Yeah...” She mutters. “Hey, I— I don’t want to get all sappy on you, but... I just want you to know that it would have been nice living with you and ending high school by your side.” If she’s about to cry, she’s really good at hiding it. “I’m just...glad I met you that’s all.”

Joan bites her quivering bottom lip. She doesn’t want to cry, not again, but her sister is making that near impossible.

“I’m just glad we met.”

Joan reaches down and takes Cathy’s hand as they walked to the shelter together.

“Me too.”

Cathy smiled at her softly.

They continue the rest of the walk in silence, hand-in-hand.

They meet up at the cousins in front of the bunker. There was no time for them to spare, so they cut right to the chase.

“The bunker won’t open back up once we’re in.” Cathy said. “Anne, Kitty, don’t wait for us. Find someplace safe to stay...or hide. Main Street might be a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Joan nodded. “If the ferry comes, get on it. Leave. Don’t wait for us.”

Anne and Kitty just nodded quietly.

“Ready to go?” Cathy asked her sister.

“Yeah. Just-”

Joan walked up to Anne and hugged her tightly. Anne hugged her back and she can feel her friend’s tears splatter on her shoulder.

“We’ll be back, Annie.” Joan whispered. “I promise.”

Anne sniffled and wiped her eyes. She squeezed Joan’s forearm with one hand tightly.

“You better.”

Joan goes to Kitty next and hugs her, too. The younger girl clearly wasn’t expecting it, but she accepts the embrace.

“Go bust some ghost heads.” She tells her softly.

Joan manages a laugh. “Will do.”

Then, she hugs Cathy before they both go to the bomb shelter door. They turn to Anne and Kitty and the true peril of the situation only really sets in when the cousins spring forward and pull all four of them into a big group hug.

“We love you guys.” Anne choked out through a sob. “Come back. Please come back.”

“We love you, too.” Joan whispered.

“This isn’t goodbye.” Cathy added.

And then the heavy bomb shelter door shuts and they’re engulfed by darkness.

[sailorshadzter]

just a quick little piece. felt like some pre-reunion angst was needed. 

plus, any excuse for me to write about jon & sansa thinking about each other is fine by me, haha.

id set this the night before jon’s murder by his comrades. 

When she wakes, she's cold and stiff.

Sleep clouds her mind, but it fades with the first sharp pain that shoots through her body. She winces, stumbling from beneath the thin fabric she calls a blanket. It's been so long, she no longer wishes for furs. She's begun to grow accustomed to the cold.

Several, staggering steps later, she's crossed the room and she clings to the window that hangs open, snow spilling in to dust the floor beneath her feet. Beneath her gaze, there is nothing but darkness, white snow swirling with the howling wind. It's hours until the morning call, hours until daylight, hours until Ramsay might return. A chill races through her, a chill that has nothing to do with the cold wind, and she slams the window closed. For a long moment, she remains standing there, staring out into the cold, dark night, wondering if out there, Jon was thinking of her. She can't say why he's come to her mind, but he's there all the same. He's been there quite often, these days. He was her last living relative, her last living sibling, though bastard born. I too am a bastard, she reminds herself, sorrow drifting through her veins. I am undeserving of his thoughts, she thinks with a sigh, turning from the window. She had never been unkind to him, but she had never been welcoming, either. For a moment, she's trapped in a memory so vivid, she thought it might be happening around her. There's Arya, cheering Jon on as he wrestles Robb in the courtyard, their three wolf pups watching from their places at Arya's feet. Sansa is watching them from where she stands in her chamber window- Lady asleep on the rug in front of the hearth. She wasn't a part of them, even back then she knew, but she loves them all the same. Those are her siblings, her brothers and her sister, dearly loved despite their differences, despite the anger they sometimes cause. Even in memory, she remembers thinking how much she might miss them if they were to ever part. A sigh passes from her lips and she wishes she could turn back time, she wishes she could go back to that moment.

Just as she takes the first step back towards her bed, she hears it; the howl of a wolf.

She turns back, a gasp tearing from her lips as she pauses, silent and listening. Just the wind, she tells herself a moment later, it was just the wind. Of course it would be the wind, there were no wolves now. But then... She hears it again. A long, mournful sound that erupts goosebumps on her bruised flesh. Ghost, she thinks at once, somehow knowing it was Jon's wolf that cries out to her from somewhere. For a moment, she waits, thinking perhaps she will hear a response, as if Grey Wind or Nymeria or any one of the other wolves are out there to hear him. But silence descends and the breath she's been holding releases in a cloud of white. Reaching out, she presses her palm against the frozen glass, wishing with all of her heart to hear it again.

But there's nothing but silence, nothing but darkness.

[ x x x ]

Jon wakes from a dream of the autumn sky.

Streaks of crimson gold across a clear blue sky, a sky that he sees through the canopy of weirwood trees. As he pulls himself from the grasp of sleep, his mind drifts to a single name, a single girl. Sansa... He thinks of her, of her sunset colored hair, of her eyes the color of the sky just before nightfall. She's out there somewhere, he knows, alive... Or so he hopes. The only family he has left, the only sibling left to him. He feels the familiar stab of pain, like a knife to his gut, and it's all he can do to keep from yelling out.

Rising up from his tangled furs, he crosses the room to stand at the window, the glass frosted over. He leans in, rubbing the ice away with his bare hand, uncaring of the shivers it sent down his spine. Peering out, he can see nothing but darkness, though he can hear the howling of the wind, so loud he might swear it was the howl of wolves. Across the room, Ghost raises his head from his massive paws, as if he too can hear the crying of the wind, as if he too is mistaking it for the cry of his long lost siblings. They're gone, Ghost... As are mine. A terrible sense of sadness washes over him and Jon must steady himself against the glass, breath catching in his throat as he fights to remain in control.

Looking back out, he thinks he might return to his bed where at least it is warm- warmth, it is all he longs for now. But as he turns to go, he hears it; the lone howl of a wolf. He's throwing open the window then, ignoring the cold rush of air as he leans halfway out, as if he might see the wolf that calls to him. For what feels like an eternity, he hears nothing but the wind and for a moment, he thinks perhaps he's only imagined the wolf's howl. But then... It comes again, a long, mournful cry that echoes in the night, though it is a soft and gentle sound. Ghost is beside him then, whimpering softly as if he knows the howl is of a ghost he cannot chase. Lady, he thinks, though he knows its strange, no it's impossible. But that soft, mournful howl belonged to Lady, a wolf long since gone from this world.

He stands there at the window for several minutes longer, until he can see the peak of the sun on the horizon, reminding him of the early hours. A sigh escapes him and he closes the window, stepping back towards the barely burning embers in his hearth. He reaches for the poker and prods the old log until it catches again and he feeds a new one into it, holding out his hands as the fire grows. Warmth and light fills the room and he wonders if out there, wherever she was, Sansa was warm and safe.

He can only hope.

[fevertowrite]

hi! BIG fan of your wattpad story no use. While it is sad you ended it so soon with 34 chapters I have a small request. If it is possible, I would like a small follow up? Maybe on what the Shredder did to Donnie all this time? Or Donnie's thoughts when he left, got captured, was harmed and then returned home? Either is alright with me but I would really love to know what happened. Thank you for taking the time to read this comment

Hey ! Thanks so much for reading this story and being a BIG fan !! That means so much to me :)!!! I wrote a little drabble under the cut, but I tried adding both situations into this, and if it’s not what you’re looking for, by all means send me another detailed request and I’ll do my best :D! 

His anger clouded his mind as he made his way to the junkyard. Donnie didn’t get angry often, but when he did it’s been towards Leo. His brother been annoying him about the cure for Karai, the sleepless nights made him more agitated when Leo gets to have more than 7 hours of sleep and he’s on his third day of barely two hours of sleep.

 Maybe it was due to the storm coming up that lead his mind to go foggy, or the fact anger clouded his judgment of the storm coming earlier than he thought. He just needed to grab a piece and go, but the howling winds and the paranoia were kicking in. Maybe if he turned back now, apologized to Leo and actually go to sleep, he can go another day.

 Looking up at the dark, loomed sky, he knew another day meant weeks or even months and they don’t have time to sit around waiting for the snow to end. Their sister could be on the verge of dying, she was alone and couldn’t control herself, and Donnie owed her that much to at least save her.

 Donnie picked up a scrap of metal, and in the reflection, he was able to turn around and block the incoming sword coming his way with his bo. He thanked whatever made him the urge to pick up that metal but destroying that one random bot he knew something was wrong. Foot bots came like a pack of wolves, he needed to go before –

 At least 30 of these bots sprang out of nowhere, and Donnie was surrounded. He had no choice but to fight, the snow started to flutter, and the storm was going to kick in soon, Donnie had to act fast.

 “Can’t we do this another night?” He groaned at them, as he pulled out the naginata from his bo, and as the crowd of bots came closer to him, their weapons out gleamingly into the night, he fought as hard as he can.

 But it wasn’t enough.

 Quickly, he was outmatched, they knocked his bo out of his hands, and there were at least 20 bots, or it seemed like more were coming out. He swore there were 15, and now –

 He was hit on the back of his knees, and it took his breath out as another kicked him straight to the throat. Wheezing, he took out his phone to alert his brothers, maybe they can’t come due to the storm, but they would know at least that he’s going to die.

 With the cold taking over his body, and being stabbed, kicked and punched, and maybe even burned? He couldn’t feel anything as his body fell numb, was it due to the storm or were they beating the crap out of him that he lost all feeling?

 With the last of his strengths, he slurred: “T-phone…ssself destruct.” He didn’t even feel his phone being snatched from him; he watched his phone crumble under the hands of the foot, he laid his head on the concrete, letting the billows of snow go on top of him.

 At least he knew his brothers will be safe. 

 x

 The constant questioning Donnie was enduring sort of wished that he was dead. 

 Finding out he survived the ambush, probably because Shredder didn’t want him dead, yet, meant that torturing and questioning would have to do.

 As he laid in his own prison cell, counting the days he’s been in here, hours and minutes, he knew that the probability of his brothers coming for him was 0.3%.

 He knew that they knew he was gone, kidnapped for sure ‘cause his bo was left at the junkyard and the rest of his stuff, maybe. He told Leo two hours he would be gone, and it’s been over 30.

 “You know,” Baxter said behind the cell, smirking at the turtle. “If you talk, Master Shredder won’t kill you.”

 “Beat it, Stockboy.” He tried sounding tough like Raph, maybe it will raise his chances of survival, or worse, he would die quicker.

 “Oh, giving attitude? Strange coming from you, but not eating for almost two days now gets to a man, err turtle. You do realize your brothers aren’t coming for you, so maybe you should start talking.” Baxter wrapped his hands around the bar, leaning on them to hear the turtle talk. His voice was strained from the screaming, he was being tortured like there was no tomorrow and he knew the little comfort Donnie gave himself wasn’t going to last.

 But Donatello was a smart turtle, and it seemed like it’s been lacking since the only thing he has was water, and not enough to survive.

 “Talking? You think because my brothers aren’t here, I’ll start talking?” Donnie gave a scoff of a chuckle, “I’d do anything to protect them.” He knew Shredder sent Baxter to talk to him because they had the most common. They were both geniuses who were looked down upon, but he had thick skin, Stockman wasn’t going to break him easily.

 “Alright,” Baxter tightened his lips in a hum, “your chances of survival are slim, I say you won’t make it by the end of the week.”

 “I’ll take it.” Donnie said, maybe a little too quick, “Anything for them.”

 x

He knew his time was coming up when his breaths became too shallow and he could barely talk. But the Shredder kept on insisting, over and over and over and over, it was driving him nuts.

 “I’m not saying…” He licked the blood off his top lip, feeling the bruise, the swelling as Shredder punched him repeatedly, everywhere. He was his punch dummy, and each time he would torture him, Donnie thought that the Shredder was doing it for some sick entertainment and not to find his home.

 “I’m getting tired of this, turtle.” Shredder told him in the most monotone, angry voice he could give. “I want answers now!” His gauntlets shot out, and he pressed it along Donnie’s neck.

 “Do it, I dare you.” He spat blood on the floor next to his shoulder, waiting for death to claim him. He was tired, he was tired of talking, of waiting for his brothers. It’s been too long, why was Shredder keeping him alive?

 “Alright, turtle,” Shredder pulled his gauntlet away from the turtle’s neck and kicked his shell so Donnie would be laying on his stomach. He looked at the bruised head and pointed the gauntlet towards it. “Say goodbye.”

 “I’ll see you in hell.” Don laughed, almost mockingly, and then a white sharp pain hit him, before there was nothing.

 x

He woke up to something light yet heavy falling onto him.

 It was white, and he slowly staggered up, staring into the obliviousness into the world. His body ached, and he didn’t know why.

 He didn’t know where he was, who he is, or how he got here, but, his head. He placed his hand on the back of his head, and slowly crept out of the narrowed area.

 He stared blankly, seeing the pillows of white surround him, as he shivered. There were colors all over, bright colors, that clashed against the people’s dark clothing.

 He walked straight ahead, hearing the honks and screeching as he tried to make his way.

 Donnie was confused, with everything. Everything was, confusing. Nothing felt right, the faces in front of him showed emotion he didn’t – couldn’t – understand. So, he stood still, hearing screams, and people yell at his face, until something – someone – pulled him away.

 “Dude… what…thinking…know.” He stared towards the wall, swaying, he was yelling like the people. He didn’t understand, nor who he was.

 Orange pulled him arm, the one holding his head, and stared at his hand. There was nothing wrong with his hand, but he let Orange examine him.

 Orange took off his mask, that made him look not orange, and he balled it up and put it on his head. He hissed, he heard a murmur and his arm was hooked over the smaller one and was dragged away.

 His eyes felt heavy, his legs hurt, and his body burnt. His knees collapsed under him, and small was able to pick him up.

 He felt safe, his head dipped a couple time, and feeling like it was led, he crashed onto smalls shoulder.

 x

Waking up was a scary thing, because each time he did he was somewhere new. Yet, he felt like he was in a similar place.

 The place was metal, and the smell was strong with chemicals and this turtle wore red.

 Red picked him up and he dug his nails into his arm and tightened up. He didn’t like that; he didn’t want strangers touching him. Red placed him on something soft, but his head didn’t like the pressure, and turned to see Orange staring at him.

 “Hey…!” Orange voice drowned, and he wasn’t listening to him. He moved his head away, staring at the floor.

 There were papers and metal scattered on said floor, and his arms were wrapped in white, stained with red.

 He felt an arm wrap over him, and he looked at Orange.

 Everything looked wrong, everything felt confusing, but his sense of smell never forgot what home was.

 He grabbed Oranges hand, and half listened to some random babble he was saying, Orange was close to him, but he couldn’t figure out who he was.

 Orange showed his teeth, and he stared at it, not knowing what it meant.

 But Orange looked just like him, and Red did also.

 Something soft was pulled over him, and he snuggled the best he can.

 Orange kissed his sore head, and as he closed his eyes, he knew everything was going to be okay.

 Even if he didn’t know what okay was.

[jinmukangwrites]

Lose

"If requests are still open for LinkedU fanfics I'd love to read smth like this: The links adventuring and all and suddenly Twilight turning into a wolf without knowing why and transforms back being in terrible (like TERRIBLE pain) and its all because the twilight realm reopens and monsters are there for a fight. And if you could include Midna that would be AMAZING ... Thanks" @awesomeunicat

(also in answer to LU discord's prompt: Taken/Loss)

-o-o-o-o-

The group walks along the forest path in a companionable silence. They had changed worlds again and none of them knew where they were. The trees are large and full of green leaves and the sounds of the animals chatter around them. Not much help with distinguishing a location when every Hyrule had these traits.

Twilight yawns and looks around him, trying to spot some kind of landmark or anything that could clue in the group as to where they are. Yet there is nothing; only the endless expanse of forest.

The small path below them suddenly narrows and turns off in a seemingly random direction. They must be following an animal path, one trodden down by rabbits or deer over a long period of time. They'll never find civilization this way.

"We'll have to make camp soon," Times says, his voice cuts through the silence. Twilight looks up to the sky and sees that the sun is indeed beginning to sink through the leaves of the trees, casting dark shadows over the forest ground.

If they knew what Hyrule they were in, they would be able to probably travel further, yet because they don't know, there is no telling what kind of creatures are lurking behind the corner, waiting for the cover of dark to pounce.

The group answers Time with various grunts of acknowledgement and continue onwards until they stumble upon a clearing in the trees that's wide enough to set up their bed rolls and a fire.

Wild sits in front of the campfire, cutting up rabbit meat, as Time sits down with Legend, Hyrule, and Sky to look at each other's maps, pointing out different areas, theorizing where they could be. Twilight sighs and is about to join then before the world pulses.

Twilight stumbles and something horrible tears at his very bones, bringing out a strangled gasp of pain through his throat.

"Twilight?!" Wind calls, but it's echoing and far away.

Twilights whole body radiates with a stinging agony, one that he hasn't felt in a very long time. Fear claws its way through his chest and latches onto his heart as another pulse of sheer pain streams throughout his entire being. He feels himself falling but he can also feel his bones and muscles shifting unnaturally. Through his blurry gaze, he catches a very familiar design on the back of his hand glowing golden.

Strong hands wrap around his shoulders, attempting to steady him or something alike. The dark blue of Warrior's scarf envelopes his vision and then blurs with the darkness creeping in at the corners of his eyes. He feels his fingers snap and his jaw shatter, shaping and morphing into something else. Something not human.

It's not supposed to be painful, he thinks, and Twilight wants to scream that as Warrior lowers him gently to the ground. He hears worried voices as he loses feeling in his thumbs, shocked gasps as tufts of dark grey fur sprouts from his skin, but he's in too much pain, too busy writhing as his body is shifting against his will, to try and search through the pain clouding his mind to understand what they're saying or trying to do.

Another pulse of fire vibrates his very bones and he howls.

k….

Everything goes so silent as his body shakes from it's attack of pain. It's taking all his strength to keep his eyes half lidded as hands gently grab through his fur, attempting to shake his canine shoulders and check if he's okay. He smells Wild. He smells fear.

ink…

His ear flicks at the voice trying to speak to him. It's different than the other panicked voices above him, this one seems to be directly speaking to him from inside his very skull.

Link…

His eyes close, a wine leaving his throat as well as any feeling or any sense of reality. Black fog coveres his vision and ice seems to replace his blood as his whole body goes numb with the coming unconsciousness.

Link… answer… it's… me….

His lungs let out a puff of air as sleep takes him with a wash of calm. He must be hallucinating, yet it was still nice to hear her voice.

Black takes him as he thinks of her name.

-o-o-o-o-

"Link."

He blinks and looks up to the blackness above him. For a second, he thinks his eyes are still closed until he brings his hands up to his face. He rubs his eyes and groans as he forces himself up so he's sitting.

"How many times do I have to call your name, idiot?"

He startles and jumps to his feet. All around him is black, the space surrounding and the ground beneath almost seems like it just doesn't exist. However, he can see himself just fine as he grabs the sword on his back and brings it out, searching for whatever had called out to him.

Something shifts in the darkness and it approaches him slowly yet elegantly. It's dark like the space around him, and tall like a giant. "Where am I?" He demands, stepping backwards as the figure continues to approach.

Something catches his eyes, something orange like a sunset and red like pure determination. His breaths leaves his lungs. "W-who are you?"

"You're such an idiot," Midna says, smiling as she finally comes into view.

Link drops his sword and stumbles back like he had been stabbed. It certainly feels like it. The sight of her, standing tall, in front of him hurts like someone dug a dagger straight through his heart.

"A dream," he whispers.

She steps closer and he wants to back away, but he can't, his feet are stuck in place. He can't do anything but stare with wide eyes at her as she shakes her head and reaches up to caress his jaw. The touch vibrates through his entire body, tingling down his spine and numbing his toes.

"You're not here," he says, because she can't be. She shattered the mirror and left. There is no way for her to be standing in front of him.

She smirks at him and lowers her hand. "I'm here, but… not for long."

Before Link can say anything her face falls and she steps back. "The Twilight," she says, "something has happened. A monster, it came and… and used evil magic to break the barriers again."

"A monster?" Link finds himself asking even though it has to be a dream.

She looks at him in the eyes. "It was you… or it looked like you."

His blood goes cold and a chill shivers up his spine.

"But... It was black with glowing eyes full of malice. It attacked my tribe, my people, it turned them into dark creatures. With a simple spell, it tore open the barrier."

Memories come flying back at him of his forced transformation and he almost loses his balance completely as he realizes what has happened. Midna continues on, studying him with her ever sharp eyes.

"The Twilight is reopened," she says, confirming his biggest dream and his worst fears.

The darkness around him begins to brighten to gray and Midna fades with it. Panic flares inside his chest because this is too early, she can't go yet, what is he supposed to do?!

"You're so stupid," she says, smirking at what must be his scared face, "I'll find you. Until then, you have people you need to protect, Hero of Twilight."

The world flashes white.

-o-o-o-o-

His eyes open to the sound of battle. There's the running of feet and the gluttal growls of dark monsters he hasn't encountered for such a long time. There is yelling and clashing of swords but there is also… panic.

He pushes himself up to his paws and shakes his head, fighting off waves dizziness. It's night, made so much more impossibly darker by the other world leaking into his own. He's alone, he notices with a start. He turns his head around, breathing deeply and searching with sharp animal eyes for any signs of his friends. His ears twitching and his nose is flaring with his deep breaths of air.

There's noises all around him, he can't tell which direction to go, but thankfully a scent stands out to him.

It's dirty, yet full of life. It smells like like fresh air and stormy weather mixed in with the smell of grass and wildflowers.

He sprints off in the direction.

Leaves and bushes whack at his flank as he runs, but his thick fur and skin keep him protected as he pushes himself harder. He can hear heavy breathing, panicked breaths coming out in short bursts. The smell of blood mixes with Wild's scent.

He bursts through the trees and snarls at the black creature that's crawling forward. Wild in in front of it, holding a sword in front of him with one hand while the other lays limp at his side, dripping blood from his fingertips. He's breathing hard and his eyes are wide as he snaps his neck towards Twilight. Red is running down the side of his face.

The monster screeches and Wild flinches, Twilight growls and runs towards the creature with an animalistic fury before it could attack. He jumps on its body and buries his teeth deep in it's throat. He can feel it's high pitched scream run past his teeth but he digs further until it still and falls down to the ground: dead.

Growling, he unlocks his jaw and backs up and spits black ooze from his mouth. He memorizes the scent, the scent he had long past forgotten, and then turns back towards Wild who is tying a strip of cloth from his garments around a gruesome gash in his arm.

Twilight steps up towards him and he tries to return to his human form, but just like so long ago he's stuck in the wolf form until he leaves the Twilight. Instead, he nudges his head against Wild's leg. Wild looks down at him.

"Can't fight them," he says, breathing hard. His hand goes down and combs through Twilight's muzzle, seeking comfort. "Goes right through."

Twilight understands instantly. Beings of the Light cannot interact with the Twili, but the Twili can definitely interact with them.

His heart beats fearfully at the thought of the others all facing the same creatures, not able to make a scratch but vulnerable to take damage. Not even Time would last long.

He lifts his snout into the air and sucks in a deep lungful. He can instantly tell there are four other creatures of Twilight hiding around. The world around him goes dark as black smoking trails seem to appear out of thin air, heading out in multiple, random directions.

He nods his head at Wild and begins to pad forward. Wild follows. Twilight keeps his eyes on the black smoke and begins to speed up when noises of battle hits his sensitive ears. He breaks into a sprint with Wild expertly chasing behind him, like he's chased after a wolf before.

He crashes through the undergrowth and comes across Four and Sky attempting to fight their own monster. Sky swings the Master Sword, but even that does nothing more but pass right through the monster. Before Sky could back away, the creature swings out it's clawed arm and scratches Sky right across his chest. Twilight howls in anger and kicks his hind legs back, snarling as his jaws locks around the jugular of the creature.

An evil may have reopened the Twilight, released a chaos upon the world, but there is no way he will let it win. He's not going to let it take his family, his world, away from him.

Not again.

He won't lose.