#stick death maze

[kornelbutsdm]

these are quite old but i decided to post them to a public space finally

[navy-leader]

Hey girl i got attached to another group of stickmen

[x-i-l-verify]

Um. Does anyone know who these two “?????” fellas are? I know one of them is named Winston, but I don’t know which one it is (I think it’s the guy on the far left?). Like they haven’t spent any time establishing these guys at all, they haven’t even gotten any fun/witty oneliners like Frypan has, they’re just there. Either I am stupid and missed their introductions entirely, or the movie is slacking on properly establishing its characters. :|

[briefalpacashark]

~The Rally Driver~

Warnings: A bit of swearing. Death. Guns.

Synopsis: You and the 141 get in a car chase. You're the driver.

Perfect song to listen to while reading.

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You rarely had a mission in the heart of a city. But there you were, in the heart of London hauling ass down a street, the boys hot on your heels. You all tuckered yourself around an alleyway hiding from the array of bullets. 

“This is a shit show,” Price grunted as he checked the nick on his arm. 

“Yeah no shit,” you chuckled nervously, going to reload only to find you were out of ammo. 

“I'm out,” As you chucked the empty magazine to the side, your head snapped up at the sound it made. Your eyes took in what you assumed was a car under a fancy-looking tarp. 

“Hold on, I've got an idea,” you announced. The boys barely spared you a glance as you walked up to the car, yanking the cover off. A low, impressed whistle left your lips as you took it in. A 1969 Dodge Charger painted in a sexy navy black sat in front of you. You almost cried as you slammed your elbow into the window, smashing it. Slipping in, you worked a little magic. (Stabbing a small knife into the ignition and turning it). The engin roared to life, gathering the boy's attention.

“Get in bitches!” You called excitedly. Quickly, they piled into the car. Simon in the passenger seat, Price, Gaz and Jonny in the back, left to right in the respective order.

"Seatbelts on," you called.

"Nows not really the time to be worrin about taht love," Jonny chuckled.

"Seat belts save lives. Put them on or I'm turning this car around," you threatened.

"Were not even moving," Jonny grumbled but they all obeyed. As soon as you heard all four clicks you took off. You slammed the gear stick forward and put the pedal to the metal. You gave all the boys whiplash as you tore out of the alleyway. 

“She's got a bit more of kick then I though,” you chuckled excitedly, ignoring the boy's desperate need to get there seat belts on. Guessing your position in the car the enemies got off a few shots, the glass from the rear window shattering and running down upon you all. You shoot through the gears, zooming down the street. Gaz let out a strangled scream as his body was pushed into the back of the seat. Now the streets of London weren't necessarily long, they were a maze of old and new architecture. Which meant there were a lot of sharp turns. With expertise you skidded, turned and slipped around every corner with ease, rarely losing the speed you were building up. 

“You're crazy!” Jonny yelled.

“Don't worry, crazy people can still drive,” you shoot back. As the group held on for their life, you couldn't help but smile at the thrill driving gave you. 

“PEOPLE! PEOPLE! PEOPLE!” Price yelled, pointing to the group of drunken club goers crossing the street.

“Dont fucken back seat drive. I can see them” you yelled, swinging the car to the side, missing the group, and using the sidewalk as your new road. You took a sharp intake of breath when you saw the restaurant that had seating set up on said sidewalk. The road next to you was filled with cars so you couldn't move. You slammed your hand down on the horn, the few occupants quick to scramble out of the way as they saw the car barreling maliciously towards them. The car plowed through the seat tables and food. Simon stared at you as you casually flicked the wipers on, cleaning the window from the wine and food.

“Oh that smells lovely. We should get dinner there next time,” you suggested casually as you returned the car to the actual road. 

“TRUCK!” Simon yelled as he spotted a truck pulling out of an alleyway. Jerking your hand break up, you turned quickly, slowing just enough for the corner of the truck to scrape along the driver's side of the car. The screeching sound of metal on metal filled your ears as the side mirror disappeared in the near miss. 

“That didn't sound good,” you  mumbled, hanging half out of the window to look at the damage.

“GET INSIDE THE FUCKEN CAR!” Gaz yelled.

“Alright, I think everyone just needs to calm down,” you said gently, turning around to face the panicked passengers. As you did so she caught the look of a certain pissed of enemies pursuing you in another car. 

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!” Simon yelled. He looked hilarious, propping his large body the best he could in the corner of the seat. “Hey don't tell me how to drive. Why don't you be useful and use your little toy on our little friends” you asked slowly turning back to the front to return to driving. The boys turned round, spotting your pursuers. Simon threw half his body out the window as he started to fire, and they fired right back. The rest of the boys quickly joined Simon's efforts. 

“Does anyone have a map?” you asked casually through the gun fire. Simon cursed as his gun ran out of bullets. 

“No, we don't have a fucken map,” Ghost growled as he slipped back into his seat, throwing the gun down. Coming to a roundabout you smoothly drifted the car round Gaz struggling to understand the physics of a car driving sideways.

“Should you even be driving?” Gaz yelled. He had given up returning fire and handed his gun to Jonny. He was much more focused on the danger in the car. 

“I don't think so. You know I think there should be a law that if you fail your driving test ten times, then you shouldn't ever get one,” you chuckled, half jokingly.

“YOU FAILED YOUR DRIVING TEST TEN TIMES!?” Gaz screamed just about to pass out from the fear. “Of course not,” you reached back, patting his knee comfortingly.

“It was more like eighteen,” you stated. 

“Oh lord help me,” he whispered. The boys grinned at the interaction.

“I'm out,” Price announced. Jonny got off a few more shots before repeating his words. The poor night  inhabitants of the town were plunged into confusion at the cars that drove through there streets like rally drivers. A rally driver would be the only way the boys could describe your driving. It scared them shitless. But they had to admit, you were good, really good. You were quickly forming distance with the other car. Ghost reached across you where you usually held your gun.

“Lieutenant, so forward?” you chuckled. 

“Gun,” the simple word was meant to explain what he was doing. 

“Safe word?” you asked teasingly, making him look up at you with a small glare. A glare that momentarily faltered due to your close proximity. He hated to admit it, but his body flushed in attraction. You pose having one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear stick and the annoying smirk sent his heart racing. You chuckled at what you assumed was an are you serious look. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your lower back, sliding it down to meet the gun you had tucked into the back of your pants. Clearing his throat, he pulled the gun free, returning to the window, firing another shoot. 

“Drive straight!” he yelled struggling to keep his balance.

“You shoot straight,” you shoot back but tried your best to steady the car. Steady enough for him to land a hit dead center in the driver's head. To your shock, the passenger kicked the man's body out the door and continued driving.

“Shit,” he hissed, firing off more shots failing to see the fast approaching wall. You did, however. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the first thing your hand landed on. Which just so happened to be his belt buckle. Yanking him back into the car, he narrowly missed decapitation. His eyes snapped down to the grip you had on his belt, your hand pulling the material taunt.

“Close one, lieutenant,” you spared a grin at him, releasing his belt buckle. Simon was surprised, yet not entirely against it. Dare he say, even slightly aroused? 

“This place is like a maze,” you mentioned, taking her time to look at the signs.

“You are way too calm for this,” Simon huffed, going to fire again only to find that he was out of bullets. “Shit,” he whispered. Luckily, after another quick turn it seemed like you had lost them.

“Well, there's no point in panicking. Sure he's firing at us but there a terrible shot. Ain't that right boss?’ you asked, glancing back at Price that for a man with great composure looked like he was about to lose his shit. 

“Please focus on the road!” Price begged.

“Alright well.I feel like I'm taking a tour through this town. Where am i doing?” you asked.

“Head west,” he ordered. “Alright cool,” you nodded, pausing for a few moments. “Which way is west?” you asked.

“Left!” he snapped. Jokingly, you held up your hands. Holding your thumb and index finger into L shapes.

“SARGENT!” Price snapped.

“Ok ok, sorry!” you whispered back, making a quick left turn, a quick left turn that had them headed in the west direction, a direction that put them directly in line with an all too familiar car. The enemy. They had cut you off.

“Shit,” you whispered. Slamming into the break. The car came to a screeching stop. Almost sent Ghost through the windscreen. The driver in the opposite car gave you a shit-eating grin as his allies poked themselves out of the windows.

“Get down!” You yelled. Everyone did so, including you as you slammed the car into reverse, taking off just as fast as you had before. Gritting your teeth, you prayed for luck as they opened fire. Snapping up, you placed your hand on the back of Simon's head rest and not to toot your own horn, but drove like a boss ass bitch. Backwards. At full speed, weaving and jerking side to side doing your best to dodge the bullets. The chase was back on, with you doing your best to drive backwards. Waving and dodging cars as perfectly as you had done before. There just wasn't any room to turn the car around. And your near miss count was going up with every passing second. 

“Oh my god we're gonna die,” Gaz stated simply as he watched you. 

“Not today, bud,” you stated. You saw it, you slammed the hand brake up, throwing the car around barely losing any speed as you returned to forward face driving. Your eyes searched for your exit, anything. Then you saw it, A Little bridge in the distance.

“How long can you guys hold your breath?” you asked.

“What?” Jonny asked.

“Answer the fucking question!” You snapped.

“A long fucking time!” Ghost yelled.

“Alright, everyone, windows down seat belts off,” you ordered.

“Um fuck no,” Gaz stated, simply holding tighter onto his life line.

“Do it now!” You snapped. 

“Wanna fill us in on your plan?” Price asked.

“We're going for a swim. Everyone brace yourself,” you ordered, cutting the lights off. You took a sharp turn at the building, cutting off the view of the car behind. And in one quick jerk, you threw the car off the side of the walkway. You cut the engine just as the car hit the water under the bridge. The car was quickly submerged as you all clambered out. Well, almost all. You grunted as something caught on your ankle. You assumed it was the seat belt. Your hand reached for your knife as it pulled you deeper and deeper into the depths. Only your knife wasn't there. It was in the car's ignition. You reached for it, trying desperately to rip it out to no avail. Shit. You were running out of air as you struggled to untangle your foot. Only you had no light, and you couldn't figure out how it had snagged itself on you. You felt your body getting tired, panic started to set in. Your limited vision started to fade and your lungs burnt for air. Shit, you thought. As you started to acknowledge your possible death, your body went limp as you fought for the last remained of your consciousness. You didn't want to die. There was still so much you wanted to do. God and the boys would never let you down if this was how you would die. They would tease you shitless in the afterlife. You were about to let it go when a set of hands grabbed your shoulders. They gave you a yank, quickly discovering you were caught on something. Their hands patted you down till they found the culprit slicing the seat belt. They swam you back to the surface, you gasping like a fish out of water at the much needed oxygen. Sighs of relief sounded as you briefly caught a glimpse of the skull mask on the face eof the man who kept you afloat resting your upper back on his shoulder.

Ghost had saved you.

“Fucken hell,” Ghost whispered. You couldn't really tell due to the lack of oxygen but you could have sworn you felt him pull you closer to him, his chin pressing against your head in an awkward hug. Price swam over to you, taking your face into his hand.

“You alright, Sargent?” he asked. After a few more gasps of air, you nodded, pulling a thumbs up. 

With deep breaths you all waded in the water waiting as you heard the other car approach. As it drove over the bridge and off into the distance. You had lost them.

“Well, personally, I think that went well,” you said with a cheerful grin. The boys all chuckled as they somewhat relaxed. 

“Do you even have a license?” Gaz asked.

“An Australian one, yes,” you nodded.

“But then again, the police officer doing my test was drunk when I drove him home,” You shrugged casually, earning another set of chuckles. Reaching up you hugged Simon arm tightly. “Thank for saving my ass big guy,” you whispered.

“Don't scare me like that again, you hear me?" he grumbled holding you impossibly closer.

"No promises," you stated.

"Hey what was that bout seat belts saving lives again?" he asked as he sawm you to shore. You simply chuckled shaking your head.

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--COD Master List here--

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[manicpixiefelix]

all this, and love too (will ruin us)

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: The night of Oliver's party and both yours and Felix's moods are ruined upon finding out Oliver had been lying to you both for your entire friendship. While sticking with Felix all night to make sure he doesn't maim Oliver, Felix realises he doesn't like sharing you anymore. You're more than okay with this, but Oliver doesn't seem to be okay with sharing Felix, even if he has no say anymore. Canon tries to happen, but you get there first, so you kill the problem at it's source.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: MAZE SCENE; death, murder, violence, nongraphic smut, dominant felix, bathroom blowjob, oliver's birthday party situation, oliver being incredibly manipulative, reader being incredibly manipulative back at him, heavy drinking and drug use, You VIOLENTLY Murder Oliver Quick In The Maze.

A/N: 6074 words. oh god these oneshots are only getting longer and longer. whoops. but also PLEASE heed the warnings. this is the Reader Kills Oliver oneshot (first of two) that i was talking about. not sure how i feel about it. its very unedited.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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On the drive back from his parents' house, Oliver sits in the back. Like a scolded child he keeps his gaze low and voice even lower. None of you speak the entire drive back; you try and focus on the wind in your hair and the hum of the car and not how your stomach is turning. In your mind you see the connections as they light up, small things you'd missed, things that are starting to make a lot more sense.

You wonder what other lies you could have gotten ahead of if Oliver hadn't been so nervous about you going through his file at Oxford.

Every single thing about him was designed specifically to be appealing, to you, of course, but more importantly to Felix. It was meant to be you who knew it all, could see the full board and all the pieces the people around you moved; it was meant to be you who could plan well enough and see far enough out to keep Felix out of situations exactly like this.

Felix is curt and swift the moment he's out of the car, trying to escape Oliver who rushes after him, his desperation echoing through the halls. You're several steps behind Oliver, silent, watching the exchange, watching Oliver cling to an ever-dwindling hope for even friendship, as Felix calls out the weirdness of his ongoing lies, tearing that hope asunder.

"I just wanted to be your friend," is all Oliver can say when pressed about his lies. It's genuine, it breaks your heart, but it doesn't make it better. For a moment, you see conflict as it flashes across Felix's face, but he clearly can't do this right now, needing at least the night, but promising not to tell his family.

As you go to leave, go to follow him, Oliver catches your sleeve, holds it too tight for just a moment -

"I thought you knew," his voice wobbles, but there's something like alarm bells in the back of your mind. Everything about Oliver is purposeful, even now. But you know him, you know how he likes to play.

"No you didn't," you look at his fingers still coiled in your sweater, watch him drop them, "you knew I trusted you." You wouldn't let him shift this blame; the faint dismay you can see in his eyes behind the hurt gives him away. He knew Felix had more emotions than sense, but somewhere along the way he seemed to have forgotten that you were so much more than another adoring fan in Felix's shadow.

"'m sorry," stumbles from his mouth almost like a reaction to the look in your eyes, "for hurting Felix with all this, I- I never wanted that," he shakes his head, dropping his gaze, "or hurt you," tacked on as an afterthought. Both of you know where he was placing the importance of that apology. Everything Oliver Quick does is with purpose.

"I know you are, Oliver," you tell him, standing tall and unflinching as you left him alone.

"If you leave my side tonight I'm going to maim him," is how Felix greets you when you enter your room. Sitting on his bed, you see a little, ornate box open in front of him, and you recognise it as one of the few stashes he had around the estate for desperate times. This one, if you recall correctly, was shoved well beneath Henry the Eighth's bed, and had a decent amount of coke that you'd left here after last Christmas.

"Can't fucking believe- I can't fucking believe him!" He rants, cutting up lines of coke on the little hand mirror Venetia had donated to this particular stash box. Mind working a million miles a minute, you're quiet, letting him rant. Running on autopilot, you begin to strip down to your underwear, pulling out your costume for the night, frowning at it in the afternoon light.

"How complicated is your costume?" Felix asks, finally looking up, gazing over at you and the sheer, shimmering thing in your hands. Without a word, but with a vague shrug, you turn it to him.

The base was like something you'd see at a rave, little more than green underwear, with straps, and beading, and jewels, and loops of green and purple pearls by your hips that would bounce while you walked. The overcoat, though it was far to generous to call it that, was pure gossamer, sheer and green, with hand-stitched silk leaves making up the hem that fell perfectly to your ankles, and intricate, hand embroidery of vines that extended across both shoulders, and both arms, ending with little, purple flowers embroidered by your wrists.

There's large, brown boots with a bit of a hell and some large buckles, and a belt that's half a skirt that hit just below your knee to give you some coverage, at least on your left, sewn to look like it was covered in leaves. Plus a leather thigh harness and flask that Farleigh had gotten you made for your last birthday.

Leaning back, Felix reaches out to feel the gossamer between his fingers, frowning for a beat.

"Don't be precious about it."

For a moment, you frown in confusion. Despite your entire outfit being exquisitely and perfectly tailored, you knew you could afford to not be precious about pretty much anything, even this. But that's never been an outright request he's made.

"I'm not?"

Quiet follows, the soft rustle of your garments as you begin to get dressed, and Felix quickly snorting a line of coke.

"I'm going to lose my fucking mind tonight," he mumbles. Even though you're half dressed, you still lean over his shoulder automatically as he lifts the mirror and the rolled bill up to you like an offering, holding the mirror steady for you.

"I need a drink," you groaned, to which Felix immediately agreed.

"God, why don't we stash anything in here?" He lamented, laying back and watching you head to the door once more while you're trying to do up your belt to hold up your partial leaf skirt, still without your overcoat.

"Because that's tacky and we're not alcoholics." Even with your explanation, Felix pouted. Still, it's a quick trip to the Blue Room and the bottle of rum you're glad Venetia hadn't found in the broken piano.

The night gets blurrier, gets better, with half a bottle of liquor in your veins before the sun even sets. As you're making yourself dreamy and ethereal with glitter and gems and makeup in the mirror, Felix drapes himself over your shoulders, pouting again. The drinks and drugs are already hitting you both and you can hear the revelry beginning outside.

"It's not going to last," he says pointedly, and you're confused until you see him trying to poke at the iridescent eyeliner that wasn't quite dry. Rolling your eyes, you smack his hand away. So he makes his point again, adding, "I'm going to get glitter all over me."

You smirked at him in the mirror, tipping your head against his.

"Don't be precious about it."

A spirit amongst the fairies, you greet your college friends with open arms and boundless enthusiasm, always keeping Felix close at hand. He was more subdued than you, more subdued than many of your friends were used to. Whenever you looked at him, it seemed like his gaze was searching, his expression drawn unless someone had caught his attention, and he wore a smile that seemed to convince them.

"Need a drink," his hand around your wrist and no time to protest, Felix dictated your night and it's pace. Frustration and apprehension keep him tense, even as he tries to loosen up; you feel every time that tension spikes, even if you don't know it's cause. His nails dig into you, wherever he's holding you, shoulder, thigh, arm -

In the bathroom, doing lines with India and some guys who claim to be friends of friends of the Cattons, you're leaning against the sink until you Felix nudge your knee with his own. Looking to the door, you see Oliver in white, taking up it's space. Felix only has to gently tap your thigh for you to shift, sitting in his lap.

"You can't ignore me forever," Oliver tells him, watching you both, watching the way Felix wraps an arm around your middle to hold you close and secure on him.

"I can try," Felix practically sings, his nails sinking into your stomach. With his free hand, he offers you his cigarette, raising it to your lips. You drop your gaze as you inhale, trying to only focus on keeping Felix secure in this moment.

"Felix we need to talk," Oliver insists, "Felix, come on man -"

"Look, man, I tried to be nice -" Felix started, and though you tried to gently warn him, pressing against him with Fi on your lips like you hope he won't say something he'll regret, he just holds you tighter and continues on, "but can you fuck off and bother somebody else?"

India half snorts with laughter in the middle of a line of coke, the others all judging Oliver the longer he lingers in the doorway, but Felix drops his gaze. His lips are on your shoulder to keep from saying anything else.

One of guys whose names you don't know asks who Oliver even was, but Felix can't answer; tension again, maybe anxiety or frustration, but his mouth moves from the gossamer and embroidery on your shoulder to your bare skin above the neckline, where your collar meets your throat. His teeth sting. His nails still sting. He swears under his breath before he lets go.

"Sorry," he mumbles finally, sighing and resting his forehead on your shoulder. You tell him it's okay, voice fond, but when you lean over to do another line of coke, you meet India's reproachful gaze. It takes you a long few seconds to connect the dots, to realise what was going on in her head. You're so fucking over everything tonight.

"You know Farleigh was lying to you about us, right?" You say casually, taking your line and sitting back up. Her eyebrows rise in surprise, "I know you think we're all gross and cousin-incest-y -" you hear Felix's faint laughter behind you, and feel him nudge you with his thigh, silently asking you to get up. Both of you do, and Felix manages his first proper smile of the night, even if it is smug.

"But we're not related," he tells her, "thank fucking god," and smacks your ass as the two of you exit, as if to just prove a point.

You're on your knees in a different bathroom when you hear everyone else start to sing happy birthday, but Felix's voice is a low growl of don't you dare stop, and his hands in your hair. Nothing else matters to you in this state of mind, blurry, pliant, desperate to follow his every command. It's as if you've forgotten what exists outside of Felix's hands on you.

The night becomes lights that are too bright, and music too loud, and laughter and glitter and the warmth of the people dancing around you. After a few hours you feel yourself starting to come down from your high, starting to come back to yourself, still on the dance floor. Venetia's dancing with a blonde boy, looking so pretty, like she's having a genuinely fun night, but when you point it out, Felix takes your hand.

"Don't look at Ven," there's that hunger in his eyes, that firm tone he'd been using all night, "don't touch Ven, don't -" he cuts himself off, wets his lips. Looking around for a moment, he spots something in the crowd that makes him scowl. Just a moment, as you follow his gaze, you see Oliver. The moment your eyes lock with his, however, Felix has his lips on your jaw.

"Fucking mine."

There's half a second where you and Oliver are still locked in this moment, you watch the way his expression starts to shift, jaw tensing, something like anger flickering in his eyes. But you can't bring yourself to give a shit about Oliver as Felix has his arms around you, kissing down your throat with a feverish, almost lewd intensity in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Prove it," and you let him drag you from the house, heading towards the place that had always felt a little special for you both, almost a little magical.

"I'm being selfish," Felix announced as you finally hit the tree line just before the maze, "I don't fucking care anymore, I'm being selfish, about you -!" He turns to look at you, only to see you gazing up at him with starry-eyes, hanging on his every word. He breaks into a sheepish grin momentarily, shaking his head as his voice drops for a moment, "oh, you're fucking loving this, aren't you?"

"I want you so bad right now it's actually embarrassing," you agreed with a wide grin, unable to contain your laughter, despite how genuine the feeling was.

"I'm being selfish," he said once more, muttering it this time, though as you entered the maze and the moonlight peaked down upon you, you could see the blush still upon his cheeks, "I don't want anyone else to fucking touch you again, you hear me?" This time, when he looks at you, he thinks he can see hearts in your eyes; your overwhelming love and acceptance, even for this -especially for this- is making it very hard to keep the stern act up, except -

"Anything you say," you tell him, breathless as you approach the centre of the maze, voice edging on desperate, "anything at all." And you see it hits him just where it had needed to, to hear you wanting and wanton and offering yourself to him -

The gossamer overcoat is ruined, scratched all up the back where you're pinned against the statue, half sitting on the base with your legs around Felix's, your fancy green undergarments around one ankle. His nails scratch down the bare skin of your back, fucking into you with furious intent to match.

"You've always been mine," he groans into your ear.

"Felix -" you whimpered. Immediately he was grinning, lips inches from yours, gazing at you through his lashes.

"How's that proving anything?" He teases, low and knowing, and as his hips snap up to meet yours, you take the hint, his name getting louder and louder on your lips as you almost chant it, till his hand is between you both, helping get you off, and you're close and all but screaming his name and -

"Felix." Not from you. Oliver.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Felix immediately looks murderous, and not in a fun, sexy way. Oliver's demanding to talk to him while you struggle to pull your underwear back on.

"Could hear you out there," Oliver mumbles, half stumbling over his words, unable to look at you, focused on the dirt by your feet instead.

"Kind of the point, Ollie," you snapped, frustrated and now unsatisfied, but dressed once more.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Oliver?" Felix demanded. Oliver advances on him, presses into his space with desperate eyes and a bottle clutched to his chest. He doesn't look at you, he can't fucking look at you, you don't matter. It's Felix and his emotions who lead every situation the two of you share; it's Felix he has to win back over.

But he should have expected you not to leave, should have expected that when Felix pushed him away, shouted for him to get the fuck away, that you would try and step in.

"He's already got you on a leash, can I just have this one fucking moment?!" He snaps at you; he doesn't hit you but you recoil like he has, and Felix's gaze grows cold. Oliver seems to sense this before he even turns back, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just- they already have everything -"

"Back off." Felix warns sharply, but Oliver can't help himself, won't listen.

"I just gave you what you wanted!" Oliver throws himself at Felix, pins him to the statue, their bodies flush and Oliver rambling, "like everyone else does! Everyone puts on a show for Felix..." his voice drops, childish and weak and wanting, and you watch him press himself closer as he turns gentle, "so I'm... I'm sorry if my performance wasn't good enough..."

"I think..." some part of it was working on Felix, his voice soft and placating, "I think you need to see somebody," or maybe he knows by now exactly how Oliver wants him to act; his eyes never leave Oliver's face, even when he doesn't let him go, "you need help okay, seriously -"

"No, no, I don't," Oliver's voice is rising again, "I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you," a tremble in his voice, sounding so raw, so needy, "you're the only friend I ever had, Felix." The manipulation is so blatant it almost hurts; you don't matter to him in this moment, all that matters is saying exactly whatever Felix needs to believe.

"I mean, doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you?" That hope, that dangerous, heartbreaking note of hope that's going to make your skin crawl. But you're not leaving without Felix, and he's not leaving this moment it seemed, "I'm still the same person, yeah? I'm still the same person," he insisted.

A long few moments pass, Felix's gaze searching Oliver's face for something beyond you. But then, finally, his gaze slips to you. All you can do is shake your head.

"Don't-" Oliver murmurs faintly, tipping his head to try and block you from Felix's line of sight, but Felix turns his attention back, expression helpless.

"I don't know what you are," he breathes, "but I do know you; you make my fucking blood run cold."

The fight drains out of Oliver, as does every last drop of hope. He lets Felix push his hands away, makes himself give Felix space to breathe. After a beat, he looks back at you, unsteady on his feet, pain in his eyes, but then he lurches, quickly shoves his half-finished bottle into Felix's hands, and rushes away to be sick.

Oliver is doubled over, retching, when you get to Felix. Before he can raise Oliver's bottle to his lips, you tuck yourself under his arm and wrap him up in a hug. He's trembling, but you feel the bottle against your back. Felix tucks his face into the crook of your neck, tears unspilled, clinging to his eyelashes.

"Better?" You ask forlornly once Ollie had gone quiet.

"Fuck off," he spits, finally coming back around. You watch him over Felix's shoulder, and the glare he levels at you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand is almost surprising. Still, you try and show the same compassion you knew Felix would in this moment.

"Wash the taste out of your mouth," you try and tell Ollie gently, moving carefully out of Felix's arms, wrapping your fingers around the neck of the bottle he'd brought with him, "I think you should go to bed after." Oliver doesn't even reach for the bottle, but he does stop, looking between it, and then between you and Felix.

"Please," Felix sighs, head bent and bottle clasped tightly in his hand, "I need this."

"We can get another," you tell him quietly, calmly. Felix's gaze flicks to yours, imploring for just a moment, but dropping again when you don't relent. Felix sighs, once more, but finally relents, handing you over the bottle. Which Oliver has kept his focus on, brow now furrowing.

"I gave you everything else of mine, my drink's not even good enough for you anymore, like the rest of me?" He sneers, reaching unsteadily for the bottle in your hands, though his eyes and their focus betray him. Something lights up in the back of your mind, like one of those memories that made far more sense once Oliver's lie had been revealed. Alarm bells once again.

Felix stumbles to a halt -

"Fucking fine -" but as he tries to reach for the bottle again you step out of his range, beginning to see red as you got closer to Oliver, prickling with suspicion, "what is your problem, Y/N," Felix sounds so fucking tired, but all you can see is the deer of a boy before you growing wide eyed as he looks into yours.

"It's Oliver's," trying with all your might to not jump to conclusions, you hold the bottle out, desperately hoping that you'd connected the wrong dots, that Oliver was just drunk and as helpless as he appeared, that he couldn't be this malicious or vindictive-

"You want me to be sick again?" He tries to stand up to you, bottle pressed to his chest and refusing to step back even as you continue to crowd his space, "fuck off." He's seeming more sober, more alert, more with himself with each minute that passes. The distant noise of the party rings in your ears and all you can think about is the cold bottle between you and how Felix had almost -

"Leave him alone," Felix called out, footsteps in the grass sounding as though he was making his way back to the maze, "he's not worth it."

"He's pathetic," you spit, nose to nose with Oliver now, face heating up as hot, angry tears begin to close your vision. Still, you can see in Oliver's eyes that he's finding fewer and fewer ways to escape the situation.

"I don't care what either of youse think of me anymore," Oliver's lip curls as it quivers, trying to play distraught and callous all at once, "go fuck each other to feel like you're not just a fucking waste of space, vapid cunts -" he can see he's touched a nerve by the way your expression lights up with malevolent fury.

"Fi," there's a shake in your voice that you can't even fight, "please leave."

"Can you please come with me," Felix sounds like he's on the verge of tears, and when you turn, he's reaching for you, his hand shaking, "please can we go?" He begs.

An angel. Your best friend. Your everything. Your Felix.

Seeing him like this, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Oliver's greed and jealousy would rather see Felix hurt than not in love with him, you couldn't let him get away with it. Finally you start to cry, even if you hadn't meant to, and the sight of it has Felix begging for you to leave with him. Oliver starts pushing, demanding that you both fuck off.

"Give me a minute, My Felix," you tell him, trying to smile, trying to reassure him, "I'll catch up."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"I don't want you to see this," you turn back to Oliver with newfound resolution. He's stepped back, leaning himself against the statue, doubled over, head in his hands.

"See what?" Felix asks dubiously, and Oliver looks up, sees the way you're approaching him, and scrambles to straighten his posture.

"Ollie's going to have a little drink," you offer him the bottle again.

"Tryna make me sick again?" He snarls.

"Then use it to wash your mouth out, then swallow," you order coldly, "and repeat until the bottle's empty."

"Why should I?"

"Because it's just as perfectly fine as when you handed it to Felix," you hissed, voice low enough that Felix himself couldn't properly hear. Oliver narrowed his eyes, matching your tone.

"If I don't?"

"What I will do to you, Oliver Quick, will be much worse than whatever you've put in that bottle, so you'll drink it all up," you leaned in, whispering close and menacing, "and if you do throw it up, I will have you on your belly, like the worm you are, sucking your own sick off of the fucking ground."

"What the fuck is going on?" Felix demanded, and you turned, taking a deep breath and hopefully giving a much more convincing, determined smile.

"He made you cry."

Felix's expression immediately changed. All soft and fragile but understanding, he just asks that you don't be long. You promise not to be. Both you and Oliver watching him go.

Once in the clear, you turn back to your captive audience, keeping your voice low.

"I'm not going to make you drink it," you admit, and though Oliver's confused and on edge, he seems to relax, just a little.

"The fuck do you want from me then?"

"I just need to hear you say it," you step back from him, give him space, even step around to place the bottle at the foot of the statue and lean your forehead against the cool stone.

"Say what -?"

"I'm not fucking stupid, Ollie," you groaned, looking at him out of the corner of your eyes, "you think I could hurt you? I ruin lives behind the scenes, I couldn't -" you flail your hands awkwardly, rocking back on your heels, turning to him properly once more. It appears to work, however, as Oliver is now only regarding you warily, instead of seeming actively cautious. "I was... hurt," you admitted, "I know why you said it, but I was hurt to hear you say Felix was your only friend."

"That's not -" he tried, defences lowering further as he attempted to defend himself.

"No, I get it; I've done terrible things because I love Fi, I couldn't imagine," you cast a pitying, apologetic look to Oliver, "him not loving me back."

And it works. He cracks, little by little. The tears begin to form, the lip starts to tremble.

"It's not fucking fair," it already sounds like there's a lump in his throat, "why do you deserve his love?" He scowls, "why can't I? I can be like you, I can be good -" he babbles, sniffling harshly amongst his defiantly sharp tone, "I know I could be," you gently wrap an arm around him and he fists a hand to tightly in your overcoat that it tears, "I was everything he wanted me to be -"

"I know, Ollie, I know," you carefully remove his antlers, holding them in one hand as you coax him in close, running a comforting hand through his hair.

"I wanted him to love me, I wanted- I never wanted him hurt, but wanted him dead so it wasn't my fault if he didn't love me; he couldn't love anyone -" he breaks down into furious tears, "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I hate you, I hate that he loves you without you even trying -" there's no apology in his distress, even as he lets you hold him close, and you, for a few more moments, whisper reassuring nonsense. "I never wanted to hurt him," he mumbled softly, "but I wanted to kill him. I could never hurt him," there's anger and guilt in his eyes as he looks up at you, tear soaked and helpless, "but I wanted to hurt you." What you give him in return is pity, is sweetness and apology, but your blood is burning through your veins.

"You would have regretted it."

"I know..."

"Are you lying?"

"I think I am."

You have what you need, the confession, the intention; validation for your motivation. Hook, line and sinker.

"Hey, Ollie, Ollie, darling look at me, I know, okay, I know-" you try, taking his face in your free hand.

"No you fucking don't!" Oliver insists, but you keep insisting, "don't fucking take that tone, I just told you I was trying to kill Felix to hurt you -!" He thrashes, but your gentleness is unrelenting in this moment. You will give Oliver Quick what he deserves.

"Ollie, look at me, okay? Look me in the eyes, please -" you begged, and finally he did, despair and anger all there amongst the tears, "keep looking me in the eyes," you tell him gently, and firmly, and he does, too curious for his own good and wanting to see where this was going -

"Everything," you give him the faintest, reassuring smile, one hand on his face, shaking, messily wiping tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he keeps your gaze, "is going to be -"

- and you ram one of his antlers into his soft, exposed belly with all your strength. Surprise and pain hit him all at once and suddenly he's scrambling, trying to get your hands off of the headpiece. But he's winded, and suddenly in overwhelming pain.

"- fine," you breathe out, shaking with adrenaline. You have him pinned against the statue, just like he'd had Felix only minutes ago.

"Eyes, Oliver," you ordered coldly, while making sure to keep smiling, even as fresh traitorous tears were gathering and already spilling down your cheeks. Hand in his hair coming to grip him tightly, keeping his gaze level with yours, "what did I say? I want you to look me in the eyes -" and you rip the antlers out before plunging them back into his gut. Lips twisting into an animalistic snarl involuntarily, Oliver splutters and fights and squirms but everything is becoming slippery, and warm, and slick with his blood. The antlers, your hands, and his; hard to get a grip like the firm one you had on your weapon of choice.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-" he chokes out helplessly, bloody hands moving up, trying to grip your arms, your shoulders, your face, "how -fuck- why -?"

"Whatever you had in that bottle is too good for you; you tried to kill Felix, you said so yourself."

As his strength begins to fail, the way he holds your face turns tender, almost gentle, before his hands fall back to rest on yours, both gripping the bloody antler. Oliver's weight rests on the statue, watching you with despair and helpless, pained moans. Cheeks wet with tears, you can't even fathom how you're doing this, or who you will be once it's done.

"You are not the minotaur of this maze," you grit your teeth, leaning your weight on the headdress, driving it into his guts until the bloody antler snapped clean off of the headdress, you still can't bring yourself to stop. It doesn't feel like enough. He tried to kill Felix. So you took the other antler in hand, unable to stop yourself, shaking with rage and tears, "you are the dear in my fucking headlights; you tried to hurt Felix, you tried to kill Felix! You are nothing, nothing, nothing," you punctuate each nothing with another bloody, unnecessary jab until you can't keep going. The second antler collapses to the ground, and you stumble back, hands shaking.

"Didn't want to hurt him," Oliver insists weakly.

"You were someone we loved," you can see the first antler still jutting out of him, stemming the blood flow but undoubtedly causing excruciating pain. But you spare him no sympathy, only a look of absolute loathing, finally taking in what you've done, the blood your fury had shed. "Someone I loved!" Burst from you, raw brutal betrayal scraping its way from your throat, face hot and wet with tears, falling to your knees, looking up at him with an exhausted fury, "you will never hurt him again. I will never give you that chance."

But Oliver's quickly unfocusing gaze slips from you, rising to a point beyond you, out into the maze. A weak, faint, but somehow still triumphant smile works it's way across his lips.

"Him?"

Like in a horror movie, you cast your gaze over your shoulder. You hear when Oliver finally gives out, stop holding himself up on the statue and fall to the ground, but all you can see is Felix at the edge of the maze.

And that look in his eyes.

Oh god, what have you done?

"Felix," tears start welling in your eyes again, and finally he looks away from Oliver's body, his own antler protruding from him, slowly bleeding out, to you. From here, he can't see the blood on your hands, the blood that's all over you, but he can see it all over Oliver, "Fi, please, you need to -" but he's stepping towards you, almost automatically; he looks ill. You have to look away, can't bear for him to see what your rage has brought about.

"I'm not," his words are robotic, still a bit slurred, and he keeps looking at Oliver, "going without you. 'said that." But he stops behind you. Eyes closed, you wait, you can't bear to even look at him. Then, slowly, he moves. When you breathe, it makes you shake, but you slowly open your eyes.

Felix approaches Oliver. You watch the faint, far away smile wears as he sees Felix up close once more.

"Fe-lix," he sighs faintly, reaching out with weak, shaking, bloody hands, feather light finger tips leaving red streaks along Felix's cheeks, his jaw, his lips. Felix's head dips in close, into Oliver's aching touch, his forehead resting against Oliver's in this moment.

"You were going to fucking kill me, Ollie?" Felix whispered through clenched teeth, on the edge of tears.

"'m sorry," Ollie mumbled weakly, shock and blood loss catching up with him as he struggled to keep his eyes open, "didn't want to hurt you."

"You wanted to kill me -"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"It would have hurt them!" Felix grabbed him by the collar with one hand, wrenching the dying boy up enough to see him pointing at you, still kneeling on the ground, second bloody antler laying in front of you. All Oliver could do was make a pained whimper, and Felix dropped him back to the ground, "and you said it yourself-" his voice is venomous, but your breath catches as you realise just how much he must have heard to know that, "and even having a thought like that," he snarls, hatred burning in his eyes, "means you don't fucking know me at all."

Felix is by your side in the very next moment, pulling you into his lap as he leaned back against the base of the sculpture. You're sobbing into your bloody hands, nothing else to do or say. Even as he's shaking, as he's crying too, Felix doesn't let you go, doesn't let you feel anything but secure with him.

"You saw it all, didn't you?" You whispered finally, and feel him nod.

"I said I wouldn't leave without you."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry -" and while he tells you that you don't have to be, the words, the fears, the desperate justifications and rationalisations pour out of you, "he said he was trying to kill you, Fi, and I couldn't- I should have walked away, just gotten him kicked out or taken away or- or- but I couldn't," you gasped, "I couldn't let him ever have that kind of chance again, I couldn't risk that, my mind wouldn't let me -"

"I know, I love you," Felix murmurs weakly, his forehead against your shoulder once more, "dad and Duncan will know what to do, they'll take care of it tomorrow," he sounds so young in this moment, so tired and fragile. You nod quietly, leaning into him. When his hands find yours, threading your fingers together and holding on tightly, Oliver's blood is still sticky on your skin. Neither of you seems to care.

"How did you know something was so wrong?" Felix finally asked, the air cooler and quieter now. You have no idea how much time has passed, but it sounds as though the party was winding down. Oliver's party.

"He wasn't that drunk," you said after a long moment of deliberation, "could see it in his eyes," taking a deep breath, you cast your gaze to the guest of honour, completely still, chest no longer shifting with shallow, frantic breathes, "if he wasn't drunk, why was he sick?" Sighing, you leaned into Felix. You felt so hollow; "everything Oliver Quick did, he did with purpose."

[demigod-shenanigans]

The choiceless hope in grief

Summary: Leo Valdez has lived and died for the gods. Their war has shaped his life since he was a baby. With Gaia defeated, he sort of hopes he can finally rest. He has friends and some semblance of home to return to for the first time since he was eight years old. Just this once, he allows himself to hope the good things might stick.

But the gods aren’t done with them just yet, by the time Leo finds his way back, Jason is gone.

This time, Leo decides he’s done just taking the Fates’ bullshit lying down. If getting his best friend back means striking a deal with the gods and venturing into the Underworld… well, it’s probably not even the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

The caveat of said deal? He has to trust Jason will follow him, or his self-doubt will doom them both.

And after the life he’s lived, Leo is so intricately familiar with self-doubt that he could probably trademark the word.

Or: The only possible way for Orpheus to succeed is if he learns to think of himself as a person worth loving.

Word Count for chapter 1: ~5k

Rating: Teen and Up

So! *claps hands together* I’ve been threatening you guys with my Orpheus Eurydice valgrace fic for a while! Technically I wanted to wait to post this until I’m completely done writing the fic, and I mostly intend to stick to that! I’m only posting this now because I have a minor surgery tomorrow and I’d rather be anxious about fic related things than about the surgery in question. So, take this chapter as a preview of sorts, more to come soon-ish but probably not immediately!

A couple of important notes before we start:

-TW for suicidal ideation. It’s less Leo actually wanting to die and more his canon behavior of “I’m doing something extremely reckless that might succeed but if it doesn’t, my death is an acceptable consequence”, paired with general grief related self-loathing, but if you think you’re not in the right headspace to read about that, come back when you are or at least tread carefully. This fic pics up at the end of The Burning Maze, so especially the beginning is pretty heavy on the grief stuff.

-Since ToA is vaguely canon to this fic, Leo and Calypso are technically dating in the beginning, but they don’t really interact positively as a couple (honestly they don’t interact that much in general) and break up pretty early on. Just be aware in advance that they’re still together for a little bit.

-Fic title is from Talk by Hozier which is maybe a painfully obvious pick but it was too perfect for me not to use it.

Chapter 1: Leo and Piper have an extended sleepover

It wasn’t a discussion between Leo and Piper whether or not to go to Jason’s funeral. They came to the decision that they wouldn’t silently—or as silently as one could come to an agreement when all parties involved were sobbing.

Maybe it should have been a discussion. There was a part of Leo that worried he’d regret this later—his refusal to take this chance to say goodbye and let himself grieve.

But Leo remembered his mother’s funeral. Remembered the way his aunt Rosa had looked at him like she knew his mother’s death had been his fault. Leo couldn’t stand the thought of people looking at him like that again.

He also didn’t remember his mother’s funeral bringing him any sense of closure or comfort. He’d stood at her grave, afterwards, just as desperate and afraid and utterly inconsolable as he’d been before the funeral, except it had suddenly felt sickeningly final. The wound it had torn in his soul had kept bleeding for years, and the scars would stay forever. He didn’t need any of Apollo’s shitty oracles to know Jason’s death would be exactly the same.

At this point, Leo was pretty sure his sanity was being held together by a combination of jokes and a truly questionable amount of duct tape.

Beyond all that, though, Camp Jupiter was a battlefield right now. It would continue to be a battlefield for the foreseeable future.

Leo wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back and help. But one of his best friends was already in a box, and there was no way in hell he’d risk the other.

With how tightly Piper was clinging to him, maybe she was thinking the same thing. 

For all his big talk about dragon escorts, Festus did most of the actual escorting on his own, occasionally torching what Leo hoped were monsters and not random public monuments. Leo, for his part, spent most of the journey crammed into the backseat of the car next to Piper, sandwiched between her and a bunch of moving boxes that seemed determined to flatten him into a Leo-shaped pancake whenever they took a sharp turn.

He’d spent so long thinking about seeing her and Jason again. 

He’d talked Calypso’s ear off about them the whole journey, to the point where it had clearly started to annoy her. He’d thought about various ridiculous entrances he could make, and the fact that he’d probably get yelled at, but he’d also thought about sitting together by the campfire, sharing nachos. He’d thought about Jason hugging him so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe, and Piper cussing him out while she held him, making him promise never to do anything that reckless again.

Now Piper was actually holding him, and Leo couldn’t feel anything. There was a numbness in his chest. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to ever feel happiness again. Hell, even if he did, what was the fucking point? Every time anything even remotely good happened in his life, it got ripped away from him again.

They didn’t talk a whole lot for most of the drive. They cried until it felt like they couldn’t anymore, clinging to each other like desperate children.

Even if they’d wanted to talk about what had happened, Piper’s dad was right there, and despite the Mist usually working overtime for them, having him overhear seemed like a gamble. Or, well, maybe that was what Leo told himself. Maybe he just wasn't sure he was ready to hear it all. He still felt like he couldn’t think. He was overwhelmed to hell and couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Several hours into the trip, his stomach started grumbling. Piper dug through the bag at her feet and offered him one of her PB&J sandwiches, but Leo couldn’t eat. He hadn’t skipped a meal in forever—he’d been homeless and unsure when he’d even get access to the next meal enough times that it had been all but tattooed into his skull that he couldn’t afford to—but he couldn’t even think about eating without feeling sick. He thought about Jason. He thought about the state he’d left Camp Jupiter in and the fact that they hadn’t even been able to give the dead their proper funeral rites.

Had Leo’s help made any difference at all? Had anything he’d done in his life changed things even slightly?

Leo knew the Fates had intended for it to be fire that fell—for him to burn in a bright, hot blaze and turn himself to charcoal. But he’d refused to stay dead like a good little pawn, and now Jason was gone, and it was all his fault.

He wasn’t sure how Piper could even look at him right now, but he was beyond grateful that she was holding onto him as tightly as she did. It was the only reason he didn’t fall to pieces completely. The cog at the heart of Leo’s machine had broken in a way that made it utterly beyond repair, and now it felt like a matter of time before the whole thing came apart. Piper holding him was the only reason his remaining pieces were still functioning. 

It should have been impossible for Leo to fall asleep under these circumstances, but he’d been traveling for hours and fighting before then and he’d cried out his remaining energy, so eventually, the world started to fade around him, reduced to just the sound of Piper’s breaths, until finally, those went, too.

~~~~

It would have been kinder, maybe, if Leo had dreamed up some shitty visions promising violent death and/or the end of the world. That would have been business as usual. 

Instead, he dreamed of his time on the Argo II—of one of those early nights when the different groups were still getting to know each other, having a brief moment to breathe between their ridiculous tasks and saving the world. 

It had seemed reasonable to catch each other up on what had happened on their end. Percy, Hazel and Frank had talked about rescuing Thanatos, and Piper, Jason and Leo had told them what had happened with Hera in turn. 

This would have been a boring intel conversation at best, seeing as Leo had been there for all of their part, but they’d grabbed snacks and sat on cushions on the floor and made it a whole bonding activity. Jason had been wedged between Piper and Leo, and they’d taken turns storytelling. 

And Jason had bragged. So much. But he hadn’t even had the decency to brag about himself like a normal human being. Instead, he’d talked about how capable Piper and Leo had been, somehow managing to make Leo sound like the coolest person he’d ever met. Which was ridiculous, considering he’d met everyone else on their team.

And sure, Leo made it sound like he thought he was amazing all the time, but he was exaggerating, which everyone, himself included, knew. 

Jason didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, though. He had one arm wrapped around Leo the whole evening, and he got all starry-eyed when he talked. 

“Leo took on three Cyclopes by himself. Three!”

“Dude, stop!” Leo had laughed, shaking his head. “I know I’m incredible and you’re blessed to be friends with me and stuff, but you weren’t even conscious for that part.”

“Still happened, though.” Jason had beamed at him. “You’re amazing, dude. I would have died about fifteen times on that mission if it hadn’t been for you. You guys should’ve seen him.”

It would have been easier if Leo had thought Jason was just trying to talk him up to the others to make them more willing to trust him after how badly he’d messed up in New Rome, but Jason wasn’t the type. He’d looked like he honestly believed every single word he was saying.

So, of course, Leo had refused to seriously deal with any of the things that made him feel.

“Sorry, Pipes, but I’m pretty sure your boyfriend is in love with me. It’s the fire powers, I’m afraid. I’m just too hot to resist,” Leo had joked instead, and Piper had untangled herself from Jason’s other side to throw Doritos at Leo, and everything had been right in the universe.

~~~~

Waking up from that, blearily blinking himself awake in the car full of moving boxes and remembering… that was a worse punch in the gut than waking up from most nightmares had been. And Leo should know. He’d had so many of those over the years that he was basically a certified nightmare expert at this point.

Leo wanted to go back in time and spend forever in that one evening, living it over and over and over again until the Fates or a temporal paradox or something eventually killed him. He wanted to hold on to what they’d been back then—the three of them together and happy and whole,back before they’d realized what the prophecy really meant. 

He wanted to stay wrapped in Jason’s arm and hear him laugh at whatever stupid joke Leo came up with while he and Piper threw snacks at each other like ten year olds. He wanted to believe he could actually be the person Jason was bragging about—this invincible hero that could do just about anything and saved people’s lives.

But Leo had never been that hero. Even his sacrifice had been the selfish decision of a coward who wasn’t ready to die just yet. Jason had been their Superman. The guy who could fly and threw lightning and saved people from falling to their deaths. Jason had been the hero. And ultimately, that had been what killed him.

Leo wasn’t exactly sure what he planned to do once they got to Oklahoma. He should have been heading back to the Waystation, to give Calypso the normal life he’d promised. But he wasn’t thinking about Calypso, or the Waystation, and the thought of a normal life had gone out of the window the second he’d seen the coffin. Besides, the Waystation would mean people asking questions, wanting to know about his mission and asking him to talk about his feelings, and he didn’t want that.

The only thing Leo really wanted to do right now was not think. 

By the time they got to the house, it was so late that cross-country dragon flight seemed inadvisable for visibility reasons alone, so Leo agreed to stay the night. Festus nuzzled him for a bit, got a fuel snack from the canister Leo had brought and then folded down into his million pound suitcase form for the night.

It took a little under two hours to carry all the boxes inside, which was an annoying amount of time to be carrying boxes but seemed like an absurdly short amount to move the contents of an entire life.

They spent some time in search of the necessities that needed to be unpacked, but the house was still furnished and also had running water and electricity as of a few days ago, so it wasn’t that bad.

While Piper went in search of some ancient camping gear so Leo wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor—this seemed silly to him, the floor was far from the worst place he’d ever slept—Leo asked Piper’s dad if he could help with dinner. 

Tristan looked relieved at his offer, actually. He’d been staring at the assorted vegetables with a slightly lost expression, trying to hack at one of the zucchinis with a butter knife. It seemed like he was trying to remember how cooking worked and had just discovered he had absolutely no idea. 

Considering how long he’d been an insanely rich guy with a personal cook, Leo guessed that actually might have been a pretty accurate read on the situation. 

“You might want to try a sharper knife,” Leo suggested, which made Piper’s dad look absolutely mortified. “Try not to chop off any of your fingers, though. I think Piper’s been traumatized enough for one week.”

The words were out of his mouth before Leo could think to stop them. Tristan didn’t laugh, but at least it didn’t seem like he’d be tossing Leo out of the house over this. Maybe he realized people sometimes said stupid shit when they were grieving. Maybe Piper had just warned him in advance that Leo was like this sometimes.

Tristan just went to find a different knife, which would have maybe been concerning if he hadn’t gone back to hacking at the vegetables a moment later.

“Well, at least this one is actually cutting through the zucchinis. That’s already an improvement.”

“Yeah, I’m basically a cooking expert,” Leo said with a grin, only half-joking. He went to peel and chop up the carrots, and was done with those and about half the mushrooms by the time the poor zucchini had been hacked to bits.

“You and Piper went to school together, right?” Tristan asked after a while of them quietly chopping vegetables for the casserole, trying to make sense of things with information he didn’t have and that, judging from past evidence, probably would have made his skull crack. “You and her and Jason.”

“Yeah. We went to Wilderness school together.” Leo winced, trying not to think too hard of Jason while also trying to remember the lies they’d already told Piper’s dad. At this rate, he was pretty worried his own skull would crack, too. “Then all three of us switched to a different school. Then I was gone for a while.”

Tristan nodded like this made perfect sense, though he mostly seemed lost in thought. That was a little rude, in Leo’s opinion. If he went through all that effort to remember their elaborate setup of lies, the least Piper’s dad could do was appreciate it!

“I’m glad you’re here now, with everything that’s happened. Piper was really upset when you left,” Tristan said, still with that faraway look in his eyes. “The last few months were hard for her. Between the move and the breakup, she really could have used a friend.”

Leo promptly lost all rights to make fun of Piper’s dad and his vegetable chopping skills because at the word ‘breakup’, the knife slipped and he nearly sliced off two of his fingers.

“Fuck! Ow!” he said eloquently, trying to avoid bleeding all over the cutting board in his attempt to get to the sink. “Jason and Piper broke up?”

The question sounded absurd even to his own ears. Why would Jason and Piper break up? They’d been happy together.

Surely, Piper’s dad had to be talking about something else.

To Leo’s shock, Tristan nodded.

“A while ago, yes,” he said, but he didn’t go into details—possibly because Leo was bleeding all over the sink. “We should bandage that. Do you think you need stitches?”

“No, the cuts aren’t that deep,” Leo decided, turning on the faucet and holding his bleeding hand under the stream of cold water. Maybe he should have been more concerned about the injury, but his mind was still whirring at the thought of his best friends breaking up. Unfortunately, the cold water stung like hell. He hissed with pain. “Sorry for making your kitchen look like a crime scene right after moving in. Usually, I at least have the decency to wait a day or two.”

Because the house was a small, cozy place and Leo had not had the decency to curse quietly, Piper appeared in the doorway a moment later, an alarmed expression on her face.

“What happened?”

“I’ve been bested by a stupid potato,” Leo cursed, holding up his bleeding hand and wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He figured out immediately that this was a mistake. “Ow.”

“Stop that, dumbass!” Piper cursed, moving to stand beside him. “Sink was the right call, but you need to use soap or the cuts could get infected. Dad, any chance we have gauze lying around somewhere?”

Tristan didn’t seem to question why his daughter had immediately jumped into emergency medical treatment mode. He just abandoned the cutting board and headed for the front door.

“Not exactly sure what box our regular medical supplies are in, but I’ll get the first aid kit from the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Do we have to do the soap?” Leo whined, because fuck, that stung, but Piper nodded with a scary expression on her face, so he complied. “How do you even know this stuff? Are we sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

“I know this stuff because I’m friends with a bunch of morons who have zero sense of self-preservation,” Piper cursed, gritting her teeth. “You shouldn’t be around knives when you’re this distracted.”

“I can usually cook just fine when I’m distracted. Your dad was the one who told me you and Jason broke up in the middle of this stupid potato,” Leo said defensively. “Is that the Mist messing with him?”

That was the only explanation his mind had supplied so far that made any sense to him.

Piper shook her head. “We really did break up. That was a few months ago.”

Leo felt his jaw hit the floor. 

“What the hell happened? You were together for ages. I thought- you always seemed so happy.”

“I know, but-” Piper broke off abruptly when her dad came back inside with the first aid kit. Demigod stuff, then?

Leo’s mind was racing. The breakup was a completely stupid thing to focus on, considering everything that had happened in the last few days. He knew that.

But it was easier to try and make sense of this than it was to try and make sense of the fact that Jason was gone and he’d never get to see him again.

“Is it alright if we do this somewhere else?” Piper asked her dad, taking the first aid kit from him.

“Of course. It might be easier to patch him up when you’re both sitting down, anyway.” He turned towards Leo. “Thank you for your help, but I think I can take it from here.”

Leo sent a silent prayer to whichever deity was responsible for protecting vegetables—Demeter, probably?—and gave what he hoped was an encouraging thumbs up with his uninjured hand before he followed Piper into the hallway to presumably be reprimanded some more.

~~~~ They ended up sitting on an old bed that looked like it had lived a long, miserable life and was excited for retirement, but the wooden frame thankfully didn’t break down under the weight of the new mattress or the additional weight of them sitting on said mattress. Piper explained that this had been her dad’s room when he’d lived here as a child, and that it would probably become her room now. Then she went very quiet and focused on bandaging his hand, clearly avoiding looking at him.

“It wasn’t because of me, was it?” Leo asked. The thought made him feel ill. “Please tell me it wasn’t something like, I don’t know, you two being unable to stand being around each other after what happened to me. I think I’d actually have to blow myself up again if it was.”

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn’t feel like one at all. The thought that he'd managed to ruin his best friends’ relationship on top of everything else made it hard to breathe.

When Piper shook her head, it felt like a whole boulder was lifted off his shoulders.

“I actually think we would have broken up sooner if you hadn’t gone missing. We leaned on each other a lot after you disappeared. It wasn’t until we realized we wouldn’t find you and things started to settle down a little that I had time to think. And when I did…” Her voice went very quiet, and she still didn’t look up at him. “I realized I wasn’t happy in the relationship. I don’t think I ever was.”

“How did I not know that?” Leo wondered quietly. “I just… you two seemed happy to me. What kind of garbage best friend am I?”

Piper shook her head. “It isn’t your fault. I was telling myself I was happy for a long time. It’s almost- sometimes I wonder if I was charmspeaking myself. That maybe I kept saying I was in love with Jason until I convinced myself I actually was. And with Hera and my mom setting it up… I love-” her voice caught in her throat, and Leo felt like maybe he needed to throw up, “-loved Jason, but not like that.”

“Pipes, I’m really sorry.” Leo squeezed her shoulder. “That sounds like it was super hard for both of you.” Leo felt awful about the fact that he hadn’t even been around to comfort either of them, but it wasn’t like he could fix it now. It was just another item on Leo’s unending list of epic screwups he’d never be able to make up for.

“Jason was… well, he took it exactly like I expected him to. He was surprised, but he didn’t get angry or anything. He mostly seemed okay. Part of me wonders if maybe…” But whatever Piper had been thinking about, she seemed to decide it wasn’t important. “It was hard to get a proper read on him, and as nice as he was about it, things were still super awkward after. I'm terrified he died thinking I didn’t care about him.”

And then she was tearing up again, and Leo thought he would shatter if she cried. 

“He knew you cared,” he said as earnestly as he could manage, pulling Piper to his chest again. “You love way too annoyingly for him not to have known. Hell, even I know you love me, and we both know I’m a fucking nightmare when it comes to this stuff.”

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his back like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Oh, I’m about to make you regret saying that,” Leo said, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll bring it up each and every time you say you find something I do annoying.”

“You’re annoying as hell, but you’re still my best friend.” He could feel her tears dripping onto his shoulder, and he knew that would make him start up again too. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”

And well, passing away from dehydration after crying too much would be a really lame way to die the second time, but everything was just too much right now, so if that was how he went, Leo wasn’t sure anyone could blame him.

~~~~

For the next couple of weeks, Leo stayed.

Helping Piper and her dad unpack was the perfect way to keep himself occupied and not have to think. Usually, a mundane task like this probably would have driven Leo nuts. But right now, it was a bit of a godsend—if not literally, at least figuratively. Being productive was always so much easier when it was done in order to avoid something you wanted to do even less. There was a reason his spaces in the foster homes had only ever been tidy when he had exams coming up.

He helped cook, too, and Piper’s dad became increasingly less garbage at it the longer this went on—like muscle memory was finally kicking in after years of disuse.

It was mostly good—listening to Piper reminisce about trips she’d taken with her dad and where she’d gotten the weird variety of items she kept in her room. When they weren’t unpacking, Leo and Piper played video games or watched movies or explored the area. Twice, during the night, they took Festus on a little flight to a nearby fast food place. Finding a parking spot was a bit of a nightmare, unfortunately. Leo would submit a complaint about their inability to accommodate celestial bronze dragons the first chance he got.

The first time they tried hiking—Leo didn’t even like hiking, he’d spent enough time outside for several lifetimes, why did he do this to himself—they got hopelessly lost in the woods, and of course, due to demigod bullshit, neither of them had brought a phone, so Google Maps wasn’t an option. It was probably for the better. The last thing that situation needed on top of them being lost was a monster attack. 

They were already jokingly planning out their new life in the woods when, thankfully, a girl their age came to their rescue.

“A human being! Thank the gods. The squirrels weren’t talking to us,” Leo greeted her, which had Piper shout “Please ignore Leo!” loudly from the branches of the tree she’d been climbing.

The girl lifted her head, spotted Piper and promptly burst out laughing.

“What in the world are you doing up there?” 

“Trying to get a better vantage point,” Piper sighed, making her way back down the tree. “We’re hopelessly lost.”

“Well, nice to meet you, hopelessly lost. I’m Shel,” the girl said, still grinning. Leo decided immediately that he liked her.

Piper had almost made it back down when she somehow missed a branch and fell the rest of the way. In comedic movie fashion, Shel moved before Leo had the chance to and caught her mid-tumble. “That was a bit of a dramatic way to get my attention, but you’re cute, so I’ll allow it.”

“Oh yeah, Piper’s got a bit of a thing with falling for people that way,” Leo commented, and Piper gave him her most murderous look while she got back on her feet.

“You guys need help getting back?”

“Please, yes,” Piper said immediately. “It turns out we’re both garbage with maps.”

“Maybe you just need a tour guide next time,” Shel suggested, winking at Piper, whose face turned scarlet. Leo wasn’t even mad about being the third wheel for once. He’d give her so much shit about this later.

And he did. And then Piper properly came out to him—no label or anything, mostly as extremely confused but sure she liked girls, which also made a few additional pieces click into place regarding her breakup with Jason. She ended her anxiety-riddled explanation by thanking Leo for being so normal and annoying about all this. 

Which was how Leo realized he’d apparently never told Piper he was bi.

Or maybe he had, and it had gotten lost along with their other memories of Wilderness. Stupid memory-stealing babysitters.

Well, at least they got to hug about it now. 

~~~~

It was strange how normal some days felt when nothing would ever truly be normal again. When in every moment Leo and Piper spent together, the gaping hole that had been ripped into their trio was so blatantly obvious.

The benefit and problem of this friendship was that Leo and Piper were both experts at not talking about things they were struggling with. 

This wasn’t exactly news. From what little Leo did remember of Wilderness School, they’d spent months not talking about his mom, or about the fact that Piper’s dad kept canceling their weekend plans. They’d both known there were things left unsaid, but as long as they’d been able to cheer each other up, that hadn’t really mattered. It made sense, honestly. Put two people who hadn’t had a shoulder to cry on for ages in a room together and see what happens!

Right now, this meant they were expertly ignoring the box of belongings Piper had picked up from Jason’s school. It had been pushed so far under the bed during that first night that it was no longer visible, and neither of them made any effort to move it out of its new home since. They ignored the topic of Jason, period, until it inevitably hit them in the face again. 

It was mostly dumb shit that set them off. Piper automatically reaching for vanilla ice cream at the grocery store because it was Jason’s favorite—seriously, who in their right mind even liked vanilla ice cream?

Sometimes, Leo would make a joke and burst into tears instead of laughing because he knew it would have cracked Jason up. They found old photos unpacking. One time, Piper’s dad suggested they make tacos and they started simultaneously bawling their eyes out.

Leo had spent a long time exactly like this—pretending everything was normal and okay when it wasn’t either of those things until he inevitably broke down. Then he’d started to actually feel sort of okay whenever he was with Jason and Piper. Now, he was sure he would spend the rest of his life pretending.

His appetite was too used to being stuck in survival mode for him to bow to nausea for long, so he went back to eating properly after a few days. He still cried himself to sleep most nights. He kept dreaming about Jason. The memories wrapped themselves around him like a safety blanket that he knew would get ripped away again in the morning. He always woke up feeling empty. Sometimes, he wished he could just go to sleep and never wake up again.

But other than that, it was mostly good.

Then demigod communications went back up, and everything went to hell.

———

Chapter notes:

Fun fact! I originally planned for this chapter (as well as the next few chapters) to just be backstory in my head and for me to maybe do a flashback or two. Unfortunately for me, Piper McLean waltzed into the room and refused to leave.

I do actually think the fic works better this way, but it will take a second to get to the plot! Hopefully you’ll enjoy the whole journey :)

I may not be able to have Leo and Piper go to Jason’s funeral without seriously messing with the plot of Tyrant’s Tomb, but I could at least pick the most evil reason possible for them not to go!

Side note: I sort of forgot that Hedge and Mellie were supposed to be here according to TBM, but by the time I remembered I already had this chapter written out and, as someone who cannot be bothered to figure out how to write them, I decided to just leave it. ToA is vaguely canon to this universe, but only for the most part. Some details are inaccurate, and I think that’s okay.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs super, super appreciated as always!!

List of people that at some point asked to be tagged when I post this: @poppitron360 @ginnyluna @keefessketchbook (feel free to comment if you want to get taken off or be put on the tag list for future chapters!)

[ohbo-ohno]

Please please bo sort a girl out with Ghoap x Reader in an abandoned farm 🤪🤪

1k game here - no more please!

@luminousbeings-crudematter my beloved!!! idk if tumblr gives you a notif when i post an ask you sent so im tagging you just in case lol. also you said "unhinged texas chainsaw massacre" and i tried my best but i've never seen that movie :')

3.8k of ghoap x reader ft. ghost and soap hunting down their newest pet in a corn maze (cw: rough noncon sex, kinda puppy play? super light) this is mostly soap x reader, sorry!!

The collar is heavy around your neck, making every breath difficult as you pant. Your lungs seize in your chest when you stumble through the corn maze, desperate for any light at the end of the tunnel.

It doesn't come, but you push on anyways.

The corn is rough against your arms and legs, your body vulnerable to the rough stalks with so many tears in your clothes. Everything hurts - your feet from the rough ground, your throat from all the screaming, your stomach from pure fear and adrenaline. You're too blinded from terror to focus on any of that, the only thought in your head to go go go go get away.

The roar of a chainsaw is loud somewhere to your right. You nearly fall to your knees at the sound, windmilling your eyes to keep yourself steady. A loud, manic laugh echoes from the same direction, and your legs nearly give out.

Fuck, he's right there.

You can't think about how close the sound is, can't focus on how you swear you can see the corn moving, you can only run.

The stalks split in front of you, and you stumble into a clearing. You freeze, feet stopped right on the border of the new area. You bounce onto your toes, like you'd been tugged to a stop before exposing yourself.

The clearing is empty accept for an old tractor, sitting in the center of the grass. It's just a large enough circle that you'd be exposed for several seconds if you tried to reach it, totally clear if anyone was in the stalks.

But... you could hide there, couldn't you? The machine looks massive from your vantage point, there's surely a place to hide there.

It feels cruel to leave your fellow victims to the killers hunting them down, but you know that you have to try and save yourself before trying to help someone else.

You take a deep breath as you sink back to your heels, crouching a little lower in the corn to see if you can spot any movement around the perimeter.

The chainsaw revs again, and someone screams.

Your decision is made for you. The sound of death sends you forward, instinct making you move.

The dirt is rough beneath your feet, small rocks sticking into the soft parts of your sole and offsetting your run. You try your best to keep your balance, eyes trained on the tractor and the small space you know you can squeeze in.

It's silent but for the sound of your own panting, blood rushing through your ears, nothing but that perceived safety in your mind.

Just as you start to ready your legs to launch yourself up to the seat, legs tensing, you're shoved away. Your breath is forced from your lungs as you hit the ground, dirt and rocks shoved into your arms as you roll.

"Ah!" You cry out, forced to your stomach as you roll. It takes a minute to recognize what's happened, for it to click in your mind that someone's there.

It's too late by the time you realize.

You still try to get away, some animal part of you knowing that it's dangerous to stay down.

You manage to get to your knees, eyes darting wildly to spot whoever's tackled you, to know what direction to run. But the field is empty, and you're already moving before you think to look behind you.

It costs you, because you hardly get a step away before you're shoved to the ground again, your attacker staying over your body.

"Where you goin'?" The man rumbles in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and lips against your ear. He nips the shell of your ear and your eyes fly open, face shoved into the dirt.

Hardly a foot away, a chainsaw rests in the dirt. Blood drenches the blade, slowly dripping into a puddle beneath the weapon. It makes you whimper, trying to squirm away from the killer above you.

"No, no, no," he purrs, nosing his way to your cheek and just leaning there, pressing his smile into your skin, his voice rumbling through your back. "Down, pup, c'mon, you're caught. No point in runnin'."

"Please-" you gasp, neck arching to try and get away. "Please, please, please-"

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. "Please, please, please?" His voice pitches up in a mocking tone, a horrible imitation of yours. "You a broken record, lass? Only wanna say the same thing? Come on, tha's no fun, gimme something new."

You shout, the sound caught somewhere between a cough and a sob, hands stretching forward and clawing at the earth. "Please!"

He truly laughs now, a sharp noise in your ear. He stretches himself up above you, chest lifting and hips pushing into yours so that your legs are pinned. All you can do it try to drag yourself forward, hot tears beginning to fall as you're held down in the same place.

"Guess it does sound good from your lips," he muses. He shifts behind you, knees squeezing to either side of your hips and hands reaching so he can grab your elbows.

"Look'it you," he tsks, bending forward to lace your hands together. You cry out at the feeling of being covered, his chest above your head. "Ruinin' your pretty nails, and for what?"

Your head drops to the ground, sobs tearing your throat to shreds as spit falls from your lips. You feel bile working in your stomach, that horrible tension beneath your tongue like you're about to throw up.

"I can't-" you gasp, panic clawing at your mind. You know this man is going to kill you, that he's going to make it hurt, and every part of you rebels at just the thoughts. You can't stop fighting, can't stop trying to get away from him even with the weight holding you down.

"Can't what?" He hums, shifting to kneel above you so that he's not nearly suffocating you. "Can't go anywhere? Naw, bonnie, you're not goin' anywhere now. Caught you fair and square, didn't I?"

There's a part of you that screams to try and argue, to take a deep breath and settle to see if you can make some sort of deal, but the bigger part of you can't calm down, can't do anything but try and shove yourself out from the maniac above you.

"Plus, if I let you go runnin' off you might get caught by Simon." His arms settle on your shoulders and you can't help but yelp, ducking your head low to try and protect your neck. "Then I'd lose. You want that? Thought we were closer than that, lass."

You sob, teeth clenched tight. You don't fucking know the man, you don't know whoever Simon is, you just want to go home.

"That's what I thought," he hums. "Now," he pushes up, and your arms and torso are free as he settles back to rest his weight on your thighs. "I think you and I have some time to play, hm? Before Simon catches us both."

You don't- you don't know what he means, and it's hard to breathe past the fear. It clicks when his hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly.

"Wait," you gasp, eyes flying wide when his fingers creep beneath the hem of your jeans. "Wait, stop-"

"Oh, look at that," he laughs, hands shoving further down until his palms wrap around your thighs. "Learned some new words, baby?"

Your eyes squeeze as your feet kick against the dirt, unable to find any traction without shoes. Scrabbling so frantically only to stay right where you're pinned only serves to work you up more, to make your heart race faster.

"You're warm," he hums, kneading at your thighs and using his wrists to force the pants down, slowly revealing more and more of your skin to the cold night air. "Gonna warm me up, lass?"

"No," you hiss, the realization of what he's going to do sinking in. Your pants are pulled down to mid thigh, keeping your thighs from spreading and leaving your backside on display. "Stop- I'll- don't you dare-"

He laughs again, landing a harsh smack to your vulnerable ass. You cut your begging off with a yelp, hips rocketing into the ground to try and escape the sting when he lands another slap.

"You tryin' to boss me around? Real cute, pup, but you don't have a leg to stand on. Stuck pinned in the dirt and still tryin' to be in charge?" He laughs again, blows shifting from slaps to taps, jiggling the fat of your ass. "Cute, bonnie. Real cute."

You fold an arm beneath your face, try to use the other to force yourself up. "Stop fucking- stop hitting me, you bastard!"

"Oh!" He cackles, his lap slap almost bruising in it's force. "She's got some spine, huh? Maybe you'll be more fun than I thought."

You snarl into the dirt, legs kicking up behind you to try and hit his back. He's too high up on your thighs o reach, and you end up kicking the air like a toddler throwing a tantrum. It only fuels your anger, makes you feel more stuck.

"Keep fightin', bonnie." He presses himself closer to your face, and you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth from your peripheral, his smile sharp. "Makes it more fun for me. Think you'll tighten up if you kick kickin' and screamin'?"

You scream, a primal sound straight from the gut as you throw your head back and to the side, trying to hit him. You somehow manage it, but you hurt yourself just as much. You cry out at the sudden pain in the back of your skull, crumbling back to the ground.

There's a loud moan over your shoulder, and his hips press into yours. He's hard to your horror, his length pressing against the softness of your ass. "Fuck, that felt good."

God, the man is disturbed.

Your attempted attack doesn't stop him from hooking his fingers in your underwear, tugging them down to rest in the crease where your thighs meet your ass.

"Pretty," he purrs, hands stroking from your rips to your jeans, hands pushing hard enough to make you whine. His treatment is all too rough, like he's trying to mold you into the shape he wants. "Can't wait to get my dick in you," he groans, groping you.

"Nooo," you whine, trying to push yourself into the dirt, like it might open you up and swallow you whole, help you escape the horror you can't do anything to stop. "You can't- you can't fuck me, please, don't-"

He moans again, and you hear the clinking of a belt being undone. "Fuck, say it again for me."

Your eyes squeeze shut. You want to be anywhere else, anywhere but here.

You feel the heat of his cock against your ass, and tears sting in your eyes. You taste dirt against your lips, feel your palms sluggishly bleed from the scrapes against the rough ground. You try to focus on everything but what the killer's doing to you, but's impossible

His palm cups your center, fingers wrapping around your vulva and holding firmly. You flinch when his middle finger works between your folds, coming to rest on your clit.

"Need to get you wet," he mumbles, starting to work at the nub to coax some pleasure out of your body. "Simon wouldn't like it if I made you bleed." He snorts, then corrects, "Well, bleeding down there. Won't be shocked if he wants to carve you up a bit."

You shiver, focused too much on staying stiff and keeping your mind as far away as possible to put off the inevitable. What he says doesn't even properly click in your mind, floating in one ear and out the other.

"There we go," he purrs, palm growing slick as your body warms to him unwillingly. He grunts as he shifts to use both hands, one focusing on your clit and the other coming back to tease at your hole.

Two fingers slip in without warning and you yelp at the sudden stretch, hips bucking back instinctively and forcing the fingers further. Your moan is pulled from your chest, part pleasure and part pain.

"You want more lass? Here, don't mind stretching you out."

The third finger comes too soon, too suddenly, and the sting edges too close to pain for you to feel good, even unwillingly.

He's got no patience at all, fingers spreading inside of you while his thumb works furiously at your clit. The mix of good and bad leaves your head clouded, tears slowing as your mind starts to float away a bit.

He moans against your back, face pressed into your shoulder. "Feel so tight, bonnie. Can't wait til you're wrapped around me, wet and tight... fuck, can't wait much longer..."

His teeth press into you throw the fabric of your shirt, the bite only slightly blunted. You breath stutters out of your chest, lips shaking. You want to fight, tell yourself that you should bite and claw and scream, but he's already proven to you that he'd only enjoy that. All you can do is lie in the dirt, lamp and shaking.

Despite all your fear and your hatred for the man over you, you wish he'd stretched you out more.

"Gotta get inside of ya," he grunts, tugging his fingers out with a terribly wet sound. You can hear him sucking your wetness off of them as he shifts further up, letting his hard length rest between your thighs. "Don't... God, you taste good, don't wanna stretch you out too much. You get it, yeah bonnie?"

You whine forlornly, turning your head to the side. You can see him over your shoulder - tall and broad, brown hair in a... mohawk?, bright teeth shown off in a smile. He ducks down while he fists his cock, dipping himself into your wetness.

Wet lips press a kiss to your cheek, a trail of that wetness left against your face. When he pulls back you see the blood dripping from his nose, sniffle at the realization that he's left his own blood over your face.

"Look pretty in red," he whispers, tone oddly soft. It tugs another tear out of you, dripping down the bridge of your nose. His free hand comes up to your face, running a finger through the tear track and sucking the drop off his fingertip. "Taste good everywhere, love."

Your eyes close when he notches himself at your hole, pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch. He's massive, and the prospect of him shoving himself fully inside of you... you shudder, trying to loosen yourself as much as you can.

He's not kind when he pushes in. You're not sure why you hoped he would be, not with the blood-soaked chainsaw still in your line of sight. But the sudden fullness, the sting, the stretch, draws a high cry from your lips.

His groan nearly drowns out your sounds, your walls spasming around him to try and adjust. You hate that it feels so good for him when you feel like you can hardly breathe around him.

"Feels so good," he moans, words hardly enunciated, thick accent only thickened by his pleasure. You can hardly understand him, far too upset to bother translating him in your head.

"Can't-" he pants, hips jerking out just a few inches only to buck back into yours, pushing as far inside as he can. "Can't come, but can get you off, yeah?"

There's a part of you that's confused by that, that wonders what the fuck he's talking about, but a much larger part of you is focused on the slow drag inside of you.

It would feel better if you were a little wetter, a little more stretched out, but you can't change those things. You relax, try to force your body to cooperate just to make things easier. You try to lean into the parts that do feel good - the way his cock drags against all the most sensitive parts of you, the slap of his balls against your clit - and sink into that pleasant feeling instead of the adrenaline still lingering in your veins.

He doesn't speak when he fucks into you, forehead pressed into your shoulder blade as he starts to drive you truly insane. It starts feeling good quickly enough for you to forget the pain, the horror, and you gladly fall into the oblivion creeping over your mind.

It's good, as horrible as it is to think. The bastard knows what he's doing.

It's some indeterminate amount of time later when you hear the stalks shifting again, eyes flying open just in time to see a man step into the clearing.

The man over you moans when the stranger gets closer, turning his head to the side. His hips buck into you even more roughly, your thighs beginning to ache from the force.

"Simon," he calls out, and it clicks in your head.

The new man is masked and wearing all black, and you recognize him as the other killer hunting you through the maze. His mask is just as terrifying from close up as it was when you first glanced over your shoulder while running, the sight of him in the distance almost floating while surrounded by shadows.

"Bein' good, Johnny?" He rumbles, boots stopping next to the chainsaw and toeing it away.

"Yes, sir," the man over you - Johnny - grunts, thrusts erratic. "Left-left the ring on, haven't come, promise."

There's a hum from above you, the man crouching down. "Good boy. Woulda had to ruin your fun if you got yourself off."

He whines at that, and you can't help but furrow your eyebrows. The man above you going from cocky and terrifying asshole to whining and moaning above you doesn't fit with the image you'd had in your head.

"I ken. 'S why I didn't take it off, ye bawbag." Johnny's voice shakes a bit as he switches to grinding against you, hips pressed flush with yours. The sudden pressure against your clit and so deep inside of you leaves you moaning, eyes rolling back. The peak of an orgasm is right there, just out of reach, and you reach for it desperately.

"Watch it," Simon scolds, shifting forward to his knees and reaching far enough to slap Johnny, the sound echoing through the silent clearing. Your eyes fly open, instinctually flinching away.

Simon's head tilts down to you, ignoring Johnny's whine. His gloved hand comes down to rest on your face, gripping your chin and lifting enough to get a good look at your face.

"Pretty thing," he says, giving your face a little shake before letting you drop to the ground. You can't even begin to care so close to the edge, focus solely on getting off

"'S what I said."

"Hmm. Why don't you go ahead and get the poor pup off? Looks like she's cockdrunk enough as is, might as well get her the whole way there before we take her home."

"With pleasure, sir."

It's hard to focus after that point. Johnny's hand tunnels beneath your stomach and to your clit, working his hips in full thrusts and rubbing you so perfectly. It takes hardly any time at all to get you off, the perfect mix of sensations sending you flying over that edge.

You're not sure what happens between the time when you come and when Johnny pulls out. Your vision nearly whites out, moving away from the scrapes and bruises and into the pleasure gripping every muscle. It's so much easier to lean into the good than the bad, to pretend the warmth is just the pleasure instead of the man at your back.

You're brought back into the real world by the feeling of something being wrapped around your neck, left just tight enough for you to jerk, panicked you couldn't breathe.

"Hush, pup," Simon shushes when you jerk up, eyes flying wide. "Just givin' you your collar. Makin' sure anyone who spots you can take you right home, hm?"

Johnny tugs you up as Simon speaks, grip just a tad too rough on your shoulders when he pulls you up to your knees. You're still a bit out of it as he tucks your jeans and underwear up, dick hard and slick against the small of your back.

The fear comes back as you're brought to your feet by Simon, hands on your elbows tugging you up. You're unsteady on your feet, knees almost knocking together while you blearily blink up at the masked man.

The sound of metal clinking together, a small yank against your neck, is what brings you fully back into your skin. Simon clips a leash to your collar and then Johnny's, matching pink and blue leads that make your eyebrows furrow.

Johnny - shirtless, drenched in blood - smiles at you, teeth stained with his own blood.

"Come on," Simon rumbles, a sudden tug against your throat nearly sending you to your feet. "Need to get you home, pup."

Johnny catches you before you can fall, laughing as he helps you up. The sight of a black studded collar at his throat jars you, fingers lifting to feel at the fabric around your throat. It's not studded, just a soft leather with a thick ring at the front where the leash connects.

"Looks good on you," Johnny compliments, guiding you to stumble along behind Simon as the man leads you both away, into one of the entrances to the maze.

"What..." your throat is rough and you cough, heartbeat picking up. "What're you doing?"

Johnny's smile is a little condescending, almost herding you forward by staying half behind you. "Takin' you home, lass. You're the last one alive. You make a pretty final girl, bonnie."

There's a sharp yank at your collar, tugging your attention to Simon where he's glancing over his shoulder at you. "Think you'll make a good pup. Johnny's been needing a new little friend, might as well be you, hm?"

There's.... nothing really to say to that. You're too weak, too shaky to try and make a run for it. The blue leash is held loose in Simon's hand, but the pink is wrapped tight around his fist. There's no way you're strong enough to jerk it out of his hand, and even if you could you've got no way out of the maze - they already found you first.

Johnny's hand nudges you forward, almost making you fall. He moves to walk beside you, shoulders almost rubbing together. You think the expression he shoots you is supposed to be comforting, but it's anything but.

You breathe deeply, head beginning to throb again, and hope you have the strength to survive what they'll do to you.

[kaygee-doodles]

how might the boys react to going to knotts scary farm/HHN with us (or just halloween haunted houses in general)?:3

Why does everyone want to take jumpy, high lv, stab-happy skeletons to a haunted house?

Well. Here we go:

JUST a haunted house isn't any good for anyone except maybe Nightmare. But those Halloween carnival/festival/full attractions? Not a bad idea!

Horror doesn't like the flashing lights and aggressive approaching of strangers in haunted houses and mazes, but fair food is always good, the games are usually fun, and he likes a good horror show, "magic", acrobatics, stunts. And he'll put you on his shoulders if it's crowded!

Nightmare doesn't need to do anything to enjoy himself at a haunted attraction. He'll indulge in a snack of actual food, but mostly bask in the aura of fear that's already permeating the area. Sometimes there's a little too much fun and joy mixed in, so you'll have to forgive him if he slips away to adjust the scales, so to speak.

Error is there for the food, the chocolate-covered-whatevers. The haunts are stupid, the shows are lame, there's too many people. The games are rigged, but he'll win you whatever you want, and probably a few things you don't. He drags you to an awful lot of shows though, and seems to enjoy just sitting with you and snarking while people-watching.

Dust will go through a haunted house with you if you really want him too, but he can only handle one, with a death grip on your hand, and he really shouldn't have gone because now he's all grumpy and snappy and on-edge and stars help the first wandering actor to try to sneak up on him. He'll stick with the shows, the food, and one of those projector showings of old, terrible horror movies.

Killer's got this. He will go through the haunts with you, making sure you're the closest one to whatever scare comes at you two. He'll take you on the haunted hayride, the ferris wheel, and turn every game into a competition between the two of you, even though no matter who wins you end up with most of the prizes...although Killer guards the small light up keychain you won for him with his life.

[joffyworld]

Ecce Agnus Dei

Red. Red. Red. Red.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Peer around.

Feel the dread.

The crown controls;

Commands their deaths.

Your new lord does marvel,

At these fools torn, bloodied flesh.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Awaken, to find,

The solemn hit;

Reality has begun to slip.

Your life was yours,

Now a tool for him;

He owns your soul,

Servitude begins.

Trip. Fall. Stand. Repeat.

Flee the scene;

The gored mincemeat.

Ignore the smell,

Of the bodies you've heaped.

Reap rewards for your service,

Vessel, little sheep.

Exit the maze. Emerge, unscathed.

Witness the heretics,

The land they've enslaved.

Realise the corpses,

The way that they've paved,

Will lead all these sinners,

Down straight to their graves.

Control. Control. Control. Control.

The crown that sings,

It owns your soul.

A good little vessel,

Does exactly as told.

Now go carve your way,

Through these fools,

To your goal.

Loud. Loud. Loud. Loud.

The crown, its commands,

They create a dark shroud;

It jumbles your mind,

Brings those thoughts disavowed.

This is all your fault,

You have no way out now.

Stumble. Stumble. Walk. Walk.

Run. Run. Forward. Forward.

Don't stop. Don't stop.

Just run. It's important

You survive,

For your life

Is now of far larger import.

Run. Run. Stop. Stop.

Come to a halt,

Gaze upon an old sod.

Battered, bruised,

With a smile, friendly as a dog,

He announces quite softly,

"I am Ratau, fear not!"

A guide? A saviour?

A vessel as well?

"Those days are lost to the winds"

The small rat does yet tell.

There's wisdom in age,

And this wisdom excells

At being apparent and immediate,

From the stick and the pelt.

The rat explains quickly,

But slowly as well.

The words ring so softly,

But the urgency's held.

"We are in the Lands of the Old Faith,

And their charming personnel.

Here lies a great danger,

So there's no time to dwell."

"Instructions." "Safety." "Escape." "Close by."

There's barely some time,

To balance the mind.

It all moves so swiftly,

By your patrons design,

The crown hums so lowly,

As the corpses yet fly.

"Another." "Soul." "Rescue." "Cult."

A lamb to the slaughter,

Lies in wait to exalt

These fools to their Gods,

Whom are cruel by default.

They know no means of peace,

So their lives you must halt.

"We have reached safety.

You have done well.

The Red Crown shall transport you,

To your new holy realm.

There lies there a temple,

Now in ruinous health.

A new lease on life,

A true chance to excel."

"You will make it your own,

You will soon call it home,

The shattered old tatters,

The dust-covered bones.

Your deal may compel you,

Like the words of a tome,

But your life is now yours,

There is time to atone.

You may fill it with cheers,

Like a live hippodrome.

You may fill it with shrieks,

Like those bishops you know.

It is yours to domineer,

It is yours to control."

"Your fate is now yours.

You've sold the devil your soul.

Just as I did,

Such a long time ago.

But look at me closely,

In the eye that yet glows."

"We may serve a God,

But it's you,

That gives hope"

[norikuna]

GOO GOO MUCK #1 — jujutsu kaisen x reader choose a storybook to open. aka my mythos take on jujutsu kaisen.

you've turned the page to: CHAPTER I. ITADORI YŪJI go back to the table of contents.

"an unchangeable colour rules over the melancholic: his dwelling is a space the colour of mourning. nothing happens in it. no one intrudes. it is a bare stage where the inert is assisted by the suffering from that inertia. the latter wishes to free the former, but all efforts fail, as theseus would have failed had he been not only himself but also the minotaur; to kill him then, he would have had to kill himself." alejandra pizarnik

prologue. → there was no other ending for this story — none where you did not end up as fodder for the beast in labyrinth, not after the king decreed that you would be the next sacrifice. how ironic that itadori yuuji doesn't seem like a monster at all, just a brilliant boy who was marked for death and sorrow.

pairings. minotaur!yuuji itadori x reader (sfw!)

song inspiration. goo goo muck — the cramps / still monster — enhypen

warnings reader comes from the royal family, has a deadbeat + awful father, mentions of injuries, death, sacrifices, angst and hurt, comfort. mildly ooc yuuji because life has dealt him a rough hand. reader picks their skin and cuticles + mention of bleeding, ambiguous ending, grief. word count. 2.9k!

a/n. y'all know i dont play abt this little guy but omg i was literally scratching my head trying to come up with decent plot. also i'm not entirely faithful to greek mythology my bad 😧 i hate spelling the word 'labyrinth' bc who the fawk came up with all that?

ask/comment/dm to be added to a taglist 🩵

mp3. when the sun goes down, and the moon comes up, i turn into a teenage goo goo muck!

you're not quite sure how long it had been since you were thrown to the rough, cold stone of the maze, where each jagged groove bit into your skin as you traced the contours of your new prison. the walls rose ever so high, swallowing you in an oppressive and towering silence and had it not been for the cold that bit your bones, you might have sobbed.

what was the weight of family, or the worth of blood, when a father could offer his own child to the gods as casually as one might surrender a coin to the tides? you could still feel the rough ghost of his grip on your shoulder, his hand heavy with the ringed wealth that he refused to give up.

all his gold, all his riches, the coffers of a kingdom that was within your rights to inherit, what did it matter in the end — when it was you that he sacrificed? the gods did not care for mercy, was that not why they were gods? but they had demanded, and the king had answered. not with offerings from hoarded treasure, but a child of his own flesh and blood. you, stripped of finery and beaten gold, and left adrift in the maw of stone and shadow.

but now, you laugh, a bitter sound swallowed by the cold air, hoping that your nerves are able to rework themselves into something braver, to allow the maze to drink in your defiance. at this point, you're not quite sure where you'll meet your end, but you've been told the beast waits, a monster of bone and sinew and deific anger, bound to the hunger of the cruel gods.

your eyes have caught the faint outline of something strewn along the path ahead, a line of small and crooked shapes against the stone. brittle sticks left to decay? a morbid curiosity has stirred within you, drawing you closer, as you kneel in thin linen onto the grimy stone.

they are not sticks at all, but fingers. withered and mummified, bent in unnatural shapes as if frozen mid-reach. dark, claw-like nails tip each one, and the skin is shrivelled and taut over bone, in a faded mauve hue. something bruised and ever so ancient.

you just cannot help the sickened gasp that escapes you, lurching back and clutching a hand to your mouth as bitterness rises and makes a home in your throat. the grotesque trail stretches on before you, and you hazard a guess that this rotten path leads into the heart of the labyrinth. a warning, a lure?

but a sound has risen from the depths of the stone around you, a low and rumbling roar that makes the walls tremble, as if the maze itself is struggling to take a breath. the noise grows, and it sends a cold shock through you that drains away every shed of defiance you had clung to.

for a moment, you can scarcely breathe, chest tight with fear. the memory of all you wanted to be, all you dreamed of becoming, hands over you like a whisper, a fragment of hope already out of reach. you think of the things you will never see, the lives you will never touch, and it startles you — how your heart breaks with a quiet desparate longing as you regret the way you lived in this short life. you wanted more than this, even if you did not get a proper death. but you wanted more than to be swallowed up as a nameless sacrifice, your thread picked out of the tapestry of history.

a flicker of thought urges you to raise the torch in your hand, to wield it as some pitiful defense. you imagine the flames as a fragile beacon against the shadows, a last defiant spark in the face of the death that you have been handed. but even the flame trembles, casting erratic shadows, and in the pallid light, you feel the futility of it all.

your strength has failed, and you sink to your knees as a numbness overtakes your body, as you bow your head, pressing your forehead against cold, damp stone.

"please..." you murmur, the word a faint breath lost in the maze, a plea without direction or expectation. whether it is mercy you seek, or simply a swift end, you cannot say. but death has never been kind, and it would never hold its hand out to you in a painless way.

but in waiting for a blow to be delivered, your eyes crack open, vision blurred by the shadows that lovingly cling to the labyrinth. each muscle is tense as you struggle to rise from the cold floor that pressed sharply into your smarting knees. but slowly, a shape and a form comes into focus — broad and menacing, a silhouette bathed in the flickering light of your torch.

at first, he seems like a nightmare sprung from the depths of the eldest primordial myths, markings etched across his skin like a map of some forbidden world, as dark ink ripples down his shoulders, down his chest.

you blink, and your gaze adjusts to the strange half-light, and you're bewildered as the black lines begin to fade, dissolving as if they were never truly there. the intensity of his form softens, and you're not sure if the monstrous edge is beginning to fade away, leaving something...unexpected in its place.

the form before you now is young, hardly older than you, with a face that seems almost human in its expressionless calm, yet somehow haunted. your breath catches, air hitching as you take in his features — amber eyes so intensely golden that they seem to glow in the dim light, fixed upon your with a gaze that is neither hostile nor welcoming, nay. just unflinchingly steady. his hair is a soft, choppy pink; like the goddess of the dawn had run her rosy-tipped hands over his head. but he is bare-chested, the lean muscle across his torso gleaming with a faint sheen, and the broad lines of his shoulders and thickened waist speak of one who has been carved for war.

you fight to quell the tremor in your chest, a rising mixture of terror and something else — something you just cannot name. there is no cruelty in his face, nor hatred. but it is a sad emptiness, a blankness, as if he himself is lost and hollow, waiting in this forsaken pit for far longer than you can possibly imagine.

but the soft rumble of his tone pulls you back, "so, you are the next one they sent?" and his voice is coloured by a kind of bitter amusement.

his eyes, that haunting amber, crease slightly at the corners, and you cannot help but notice that despite his demeanour, his face is incredibly expressive when he speaks, with a warmth that softens his gaze, but the sadness remains. a quiet and relentless grief that settles around him like a shadow.

you feel the tremour in your own voice as you stammer, leaning back against your calves, and yet still kneeling. but your head is tilted up to meet his gaze. your heart races, an awful and unsteady ba-bump! but you force yourself to speak.

"i would ask only for mercy," you whisper, "for my only crime was being an obedient child of a harsher master."

for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crosses his face. but the boy scoffs, a bitter sound that is not entirely unkind. he looks away, his mouth twisted into a grim half-smile with no real mirth, and you watch as the puckered scar on the side of his lips crumples.

"if there was any mercy in the world," he replies quietly, "they would have just executed me by now."

you pick at your nails, at the skin that is peeling off your cuticles with a sharp sting, "mercy is as much as a myth as the gods themselves."

"and yet you choose to kneel and ask me for it?"

you've looked down, focusing on the rapidly blooming crimson, "i do not want to die."

the boy does not answer at first. instead, he just stares at you with an intensity that feels as though he's examining you from the inside out. you're not sure if you meet a hint of suspicious flickering behind topaz eyes, as if you are the real danger here.

but you just test your luck, shaky but persistent, "why would execution be a mercy?"

it is no kindness to your nerves that the question hangs in the air like a fragile thread — and his response is a growl that rumbles deep in his chest, primal and sharp. it's shaken you to your core, and in that instant your gaze blurs, with your heart slamming against your ribs as a foggy vision plays before you like a twisted reflection.

you've pushed the beast too far. and for a moment in this haze you see him, this beautiful boy, morph into the very thing you had imagined in the darkness before. a four-armed creature covered in dark markings, his form expanding and distorting into something far more grotesque. would there be savage claws, reaching for your face as you recoil, tearing you into ribbons?

but the moment passes in a breath, and he's still there, slumped against the stone. no monster, just mortal fresh. no, he has not moved to strike, nor to rush at you.

instead he just sinks lower into cold stone, pulling his knees up to his chest, and resting his elbows on them, looking almost defeated. there's a strange heaviness in his posture, as if the weight of something much larger than the maze itself is dragging him down, something wide and unbearable.

"what did they tell you before they tossed you here, alongside me?"

"they told me that i was doing my father a service," you begin, and you wonder if there is a bitter drip that falls from your tongue as you let the words fall from your dry mouth, "and that the gods would award me for my pious duty and sacrifice."

the boy raises a thin brow, a faint flicker of surprise scattering itself over his faint, pale scars, "your father. the king i gather? he sent his only heir down here?"

what a sting. even a monster could understand. even the ones trapped in the dark can understand the greed that drives the hearts of men. you grimace, a fleeting shame twisting in your gut as you nod, but it is no surprise. your father's name had never been one to inspire reverence — only fear, and the hollow hope that the gods would look favourably upon his ritualistic sacrifices. it was hard not to feel small and broken in comparison to the king who stood tall in his halls of marble.

your new companion shakes his head, almost in acrid disbelief, but he continues, "i'm not the beast that they say lives down here," and at your look of disbelief and confusion, he grinds his heel down onto sharp stone, "it's not me."

your gaze drifts over him as he speaks, and your eyes fall on the harsh marks scattered over his chest. some are thin, barely more than pale lines, while others are thick and jagged — carved into him by hands that had no mercy. there's one in particular, a long streak that cuts across his face, something etched there by something far darker than any mortal blade. like patchwork.

there's a curl in your fingers, one that scratches at you. one that tells you to reach out and place your hand on thickened skin, but you tamp it down. he must have noticed the way your eyes linger on him, and for a moment, the corner of his scarred mouth quirks upward. he doesn't seem quite offended...just aware. you shift slightly, folding your legs beneath you, the thin linen shift you wear now soiled with the grime of the stone floors. the dirt clings to the fabric, staining it a muted grey.

"the beast is not me," he says again, and there's a quiet ache in his words, "he just lives within me. that's all."

you frown, trying to make sense of his words. "he?" you echo.

the boy glances at you, his gaze distant for a moment before he continues, as if he's not looking at you, but rather past your head.

"the council said they were going to kill me at first. said it would kill the monster that lives in here -," and he presses a hand harshly at his sternum, fingers splaying against his chest, "thought it would kill him if they just put an axe to my neck. two birds with one stone."

"and then...," and his smile is harsher, rueful, "then the king decided that it would be more useful to keep me down here, extend by sentence a bit. said that i could help them like this. said i could control the beast just enough to save the lives of others."

you curl your lip, and you can't fathom the cruelty of knowing your body is a prison. that your blood, bones and sinew is being used as the bars of an enclosure. such was your father's consistent cruelty.

"i am sorry that you suffered at the king's hands."

he doesn't look up at you at first. instead, his gaze drifts to your hands, where you've ripped at the edges of your cuticles, leaving faint scars that are prone to be reopened. your fingers tremble as you shove your hands into the folds of linen, hiding the fresher, red wounds.

his voice is low, but not unkind — with his eyes lingering on your hands, "i could say the same for you."

you almost smile, feeling as though a distant thunderclap has unsettled you and shaken you.

"what's your name?"

he doesn't answer immediately, the silence stretching just enough to make you wonder if he'll speak at all. but finally, his voice emerges, laced with a faint warmth, "itadori yuuji." now his eyes flicker to you, and after a beat, he adds, almost with a touch of irony, "your highness."

the title sounds wrong here, in the dark deeps, in the hollow of this wretched place, yuuji's home. you laugh, though you're certain the sound is thinned, "i'm sorry we met under these circumstances," you say, words slipping out before you can stop them. but you are sincere — and you wonder, briefly, what it would have been like to meet him in another life or another world.

yuuji laughs softly at that, and you catch the faintest glimpse of a smile, wan but genuine. it's a tragedy, you think, at how you cannot help but marvel at the way the torchlight catches onto his beautiful silhouette, illuminating small crescent marks that lay under his eyes.

"i am too," he says, and you wonder foolishly if he, too, regrets the way he lived. the strange fate that has brought you both to this moment.

your smile drops suddenly, "i will die down here, won't i?" the question slips from your lips, softer and more naive in a way that doesn't belong in the air of this place.

yuuji frowns, the furrow of his brow deepening, and his eyes darken — is there pity in his eyes? or something else that you cannot place?

"you don't have to."

you don't believe him, not truly. you know the customs of this sacrifice. the king's laws, and the will of the gods — they all point to the same conclusion. you know this, for all of yuuji's apparent mercy cannot hold back a four-armed beast when it catches the iron scent of blood in the air.

"and when the guards come with the next prisoner?" you ask.

yuuji doesn't look at you immediately. instead, he draws faint and absent patterns in the dust with the tips of his fingers.

"the guards will never be able to report back to your father then. maybe sukuna can be of some use, for once."

you frown, a thousand questions racing in your mind — about the finality of his tone or the underlying oath of blood being spilt. but the one that rises to the surface is the unfamiliar name, "sukuna?"

yuuji shifts slightly, his posture loosening, as if he's trying to make himself more comfortable in the cramped space between you. your gaze catches on his slender fingers tracing lines in the dust.

"the beast within me. gojo said he was my uncle too, apparently."

"gojo?"

yuuji's face darkens, "he was my - " he ends his sentence abruptly, as if he has not the heart to bite the last words out.

you stare at him, bewildered, your mind struggling to process the connection he’s just made so casually, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. what cruel fate.

he catches your expression and laughs softly, a sound that is more bitter than it is light.

"long story," he adds, as if that explanation is enough, his eyes glinting with something unreadable as he leans back slightly, his attention slipping into the distance.

"seems like you have a lot of those," you offer heartedly, but it darkens your heart. you do not see a boy capable of great violence in front of you. in another life, itadori yuuji would have lived a happier life — surrounded by those that he loved. but when the beast, sukuna, is unleashed, who will stand between you and the creature to protect you? how haunting, for the last face you believe you will ever see is the first face that you think you've ever loved.

[reallyromealone]

SOULMATES 5

Muzan x male reader

Warnings: Omegaverse, male reader, mpreg, gay, arguing, shit gets weird ngl

She's a long fic

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tengen set (name) behind him as the pillars drew their blades at the demon, the scent of pure rage falling off them in waves as Akaza smiled playfully before rushing at them.

(Name) saw the damage being done and made a run down the hall, not an easy task with a pregnant belly. The Omega realized how much of a maze this place was as the sound of crashing could be heard getting closer "nonono!" (Name) said shaking with fear for his pup, clenching his eyes closed as he hugged his belly, the sound of a woman laughing could be heard and it was almost in slow motion as black wisps covered his vision as a woman with white hair crashed through the wall fighting Shinobu, the pillar and (name) locking eyes before he blinked and was in...well he couldn't tell you where he was....well he didn't know where he was.

"H-how..." (Name) mumbled as he held his belly, looking down at his pup "did...did you do this?" (Name) was confused as he gently rubbed his belly, feeling a small foot kick back "thank you for protecting me my little dove" (name) said before standing and looking at his surroundings, he was in a field somewhere "might as well find shelter..." (Name) said wondering in a random direction, hard to see in the darkness.

He was thankful Muzan purchased him thicker materials, the night air slightly chilly against his skin "don't worry, I will keep you safe my darling" (name) said as he continued his journey.

"Where did he go?!" Tengen freaked out as the fight stopped for a second so all could process what the fuck just happened "where the fuck did you take him!" Tengen hissed out as he slashed at Akaza "we know as much as you do" the upper moon said causally "though our he won't be pleased with his mate and pup missing"

The realization amongst the demons dawned at the fact that they lost their Lords mate and Muzan was already well aware of the situation and like that the moons were gone.

"We have to find him before them" Tengen said coldly.

(Name) had been walking quite a distance before he came upon a shrine, old and abandoned but shelter none the less.

"Thank goodness your papa let me read those books, once I'm rested we can find food" (name) said as he sat at the tiny Engawa as the storm clouds rolled in, covering the dark sky "let's find some light..." He said worried.

Thankfully on the old shrine there were some candles and some match sticks "luck is on our side little one" he whispered as thunder rolled in "we got in just in time"

The storm raged on for hours, (name) humming his unborn pup a lullaby as he looked out the window, heart growing fond at the thought of his mate.

"I know this isn't the best but we will make it through this"

Muzan was ravenous with rage as he ripped apart the home he made for (name), the Alpha having moved the omega and pups belongings back to the infinity castle "when he returns he will never leave the castle" he hissed out all the lower moons bowing before him "find him, if he is harmed in any way you know what will happen"

Death.

It was a race between the slayer's and the moons, night and day for the Omega.

(Name) learned the shrine wasn't abandoned for too long, maybe a few months give or take, finding bedding and the like in a small closet "we really are lucky aren't we?"

(Name) constructed a small nest in the corner and removed his robes, revealing his shift that Muzan gifted him as apparently omegas wore these under clothes in the west.

The robes were large enough to suit as a makeshift blanket as he snuggled into the nest, the sound of rain soothing him as his pup moved slightly.

(Name) woke to the sound of cicadas as he opened the sliding doors to see the morning sun shine down on him, the rain completely gone.

Dressing himself the Omega stepped out and took a full look at his surroundings, what he thought was a shrine was actually an old farm "where there's a farm there's people" the Omega said softly while taking in his surroundings "I guess we're here for now..." (Name) said going back inside and taking a full look at his new temporary home "we should probably find people, we need food"

A month had passed, (name) using his survival knowledge Tengen taught him growing up and the Botany books Muzan let him read, finding roots and such and generally surviving.

He was outside sweeping the Engawa when a carriage with two women passed by and stopped while waving at him.

Curious (name) wandered to them "are you alright?" A woman asked curiously and (name) sighed "well you see... I have been stranded here" he explained and the two nodded "this farms been left behind by the former owners, the wife actually lives at our home..."

"Oh?" (Name) asked curiously "yes, you're welcome to come with us, we have a doctor in the village not to far from our home"

(Name) agreed to come with them, the women calling their home "eternal Paradise" where omegas and women go to find sanctuary under their ruler Doma.

Where had (name) heard that name before...?

The members of this place doted on (name), not a lot of people got pregnant here, having escaped abusive mates and the likes.

They spent their time bonding with the Omega, helping him get used to the space and finding darling baby clothes.

"I-I am actually trying to find my alpha... Or my brother, either is fine really" (name) said not wanting to admit he wants his alpha a little more, feeling a sense of betrayal at the thought of choosing between them.

"Maybe our Lord may know!" One of the omegas said happily as he cuddled (name), the Omega having spent a few weeks with them and though they were kind to him, he needed to get out of here.

"Really?"

"Of course, he's all knowing!"

(Name) was brought by the members of the 'eternal paradise' to their leader, a man with white blond hair and eyes (name) had never seen before "my... Hello little Omega, are you alright?" The man's voice was almost clipped, staged and calm.

"Hello lord Doma... I'm sorry to bother you like this" (name) said softly and doma smiled at the shy Omega "leave us" he said to the cult members who bowed and left the two alone "come here Omega..."

"You been through so much..." Doma said sweetly as (name) sat before him "why do you come to see me?"

"I-im looking for someone... Or someone's to be specific"

"I see... You must have travelled far"

"A bit, you see my brother doesn't approve of my relationship with my alpha and tried to take me back but I just wish they could talk a-and maybe work things out"

"They seem to really hate one another..." Doma said softly as the Omega nodded "they do, I-I just wish they could get along for the pups..."

"Well little one, you're welcome to stay in eternal Paradise for as long as you may need" Doma said softly, the demon letting (name) ramble and talk before the pups decided they wanted to have the attention "oh! Sorry... They have strong kicks" he said softly and doma looked curious "may I?" He asked and (name) let him gently place his palm on the others belly, feeling the movement.

"I'm having twins, my alpha is very excited" (name) said "oh! How rude of me, I spoke so much about myself but I haven't asked you about your day"

This actually threw Doma off for a second, people only come to him for guidance as they believed he could speak to the gods "My day was wonderful thank you" Doma said though today had been quite boring, hearing peoples woes and such.

But it was nice being able to talk about himself "I'm glad you had a good day! It must be hard running all this"

Doma didn't know why he let the Omega come see him every day, the two talking for hours.

Muzan failed tell Doma who his Omega was, the Alpha seeing as Doma never left the cult he wouldn't need to do so.

(Name) stayed for the remainder of his pregnancy, helping as he waited for the Alpha Doma wasn't looking for, the demon having grown attached to (name) who never asked from him anything but his company, the Omega clearly didn't understand what this place was or exactly what power Doma had but the Demon didn't mind.

"Oh... Oh no" (name) mumbled as liquid leaked down "no...! Alpha isn't here... He needs to be here..." (Name) sobbed out as the members tried consoling him, bringing him to Doma "I-I need alpha...! I need Muzan!"

The room halted at the name the Omega cried out, as Doma came to check on the issue "you're... That (name)?"

Another contraction rolled through as Doma began blasting his thoughts for his lord to hear "where is he?" Muzans voice spoke clearly before seeing his Omega get soothed by the omegas.

"You where here...?" Muzan felt like an idiot, not bothering to check with Doma because well as mentioned before, why would he?

He liked to keep out of the blonds head as much as possible.

The room cleared out of the members as Doma watched the two interact, he didn't know what he considered (name), the psychopath was attached to him but was quite pleased to know that they were mates with his lord.

That meant he could see him more.

"Shhh, dont fret Omega" Muzan said softly and like that Doma alone, the sound of a biwa heard.

He missed the peppy Omega already.

(Name) was clinging to Muzan as the Alpha tried soothing him, poor (name)s emotions spilling out fully as he tried to remain strong and calm but....

He missed his alpha so much.

Another contraction rolled through and (name) shook in agony "m-my brother..." He sobbed out "I-I want..."

Muzan kept trying soothing his poor omega "p-please... I need to see him..."

Muzan could feel the anguish from the bond and sighed summoning kokushibo and giving very clear instructions on what to do next.

It wasn't tengen who found the note in the night, attached to an arrow imbedded into a wall of the slayer's headquarters but instead Tanjiro who curiously brought it to Tengen as it was addressed to him.

'Tengen Uzui

Remember what killing me will do to your brother and the pups before reading the rest of this'

A thinly veiled threat Tengen noted as he continued.

'your brother and my mate is in labor though he demands your presence, bring whomever you desire but remember.

This isn't a battle.

Remember what this will do to (name)'

An address was added to the bottom, the Hashira shaking in rage but had to consider his brother.

It was a threat yes but... He needed to see his brother and the pups.

The address wasn't far, the slayer's managing to get there within half an hour as the moon hung high, the slayer's able to see the moons on guard both upper and lower "our Lord is with his mate, only the brother is allowed to enter" kokushibo said simply, eyes staring down the slayer's who were equally on guard, tengen walking forward "what is this is a trap?"

"He wouldn't risk killing his mates brother" tengen knew Muzan wasn't that reckless, the affects of that could put (name) into a drop or even a sleep especially seeing as the two siblings are incredibly close.

Tengen was let into the small home where (name)s scream could be heard, the Hashira rushing to see his brother being consoled by Muzan "hold his hand, he desires your comfort"

Tengen couldn't believe he was taking orders from a demon but when (name) reached out to him so teary eyed the Alpha instantly was at his brothers side as he gripped his hand almost painfully "darling I'm going to need you to push now" Muzan said and (name) shook his head "c-cant!"

"Yes you can... Come on darling, don't you want to see our pups?"

(Name) was sobbing as he tried pushing, letting out a painful groan as tengen supported his brother, whispering encouragement to the Omega "Fuck!" (Name) hissed out and that was the first time either alpha had heard him swear but not the time.

The slayer's and moons dead stared each other as Zenitsu tried not to make eye contact with them and Doma waved at Shinobu flirty to the woman's disgust "so.... Who thinks the pups will be human or demon?" Zenitsu asked finally and everyone stared at him with a look "they will obviously be human/demon!" And that created a debate as the poor Omega after four hours have birth to the pups, Muzan cleaning the pups before handing them to the Omega who looked at the two alphas "look pups, it's your uncle and papa..." (Name) was a mess but deliriously happy as the pups made little noises as the Omega scented them "thank you...both for not fighting" (name) said "I-I know this was..." (Name) was teary eyed as he clutched the pups "thank you..."

"Of course"

"Anything for you"

(Name) let the alphas hold the pups and watched Tengen make silly faces to the youngest pup, Muzan wrapping the pup so the folds moved to the left opposed the the right like the eldest.

Muzan was quiet with his pup, the two obviously bonding as the babe grabbed his finger with his tiny hand, the Alpha unblinking as he gently scented the pup.

The two alphas didn't want to admit it but they both had a deeper connection now that the pups were born.

Tengen knew he couldn't make his brother a widow and leave the little ones without a father and Muzan was well aware of the betrayal it would be to (name) to kill his brother.

It would be unforgivable.

"I... I don't want to be seperated from either of you" (name) said softly, playing with his fingers as the two alphas looked at him "please don't make me chose..."

(Name) never voiced his feelings on this but it was damaging that he was seperated from his loved ones because they hated each other.

He knew he was asking the impossible but he just wanted his family to get along.

"Please...."

"He eats people (name)..." Tengen tried reasoning with his poor brother who looked so heartbroken "I-I just want... I just want you guys to get along" and began sobbing, his distressed pharamones making the pups cry, the alphas now trying to soothe a crying Omega and two new borns, both looking alarmed though tengen was more openly worried "give me my pups!" (Name) hissed and the alphas complied "I-I just want my pups to have their family!"

Logically (name) knew why it wouldn't work but he just gave birth to two pups and his Omega was on high alert.

"(N-name)--""no! Out! Both of you!"

The two alphas were stunned but weren't given room to argue as the Omega growled at them.

And that's how tengen and Muzan were standing outside the small home wide eyed and kind of shocked.

"I- what...?"

"I wasn't aware my omega could react like that"

"Hes a Shinobi, he's capable of anything"

"...what happened?" Rengoku asked confused and Tengen didn't even process he was around demons "he kicked us out?" Tengen said still shocked.

"What did you two do?" Shinobu asked with a raised eyebrow and Muzan glared at her slightly "we didn't do a thing..."

"We refused to comply with what he wanted" tengen said "and what did he want?"

"For us to get along"

The moons and slayer's all looked at each other almost disbelieving "they literally eat humans"

"That's what I said!"

"Well unless you guys want (name) to let you anywhere near him or the pups, we can't fight" Tanjiro said simply and the two alphas realized he was correct, that would just make situations worse.

None of them knew how to proceed, a temporary truce being formed until they could settle on how to handle this.

(Name) was seething with rage as he flicked between consious and feral as his pups fed, the Omega kissing their tiny heads as he kept them close.

When the pups fell asleep, the Omega tucked them safely into the nest, body in pain from giving birth but he needed to keep his pups safe.

Crawling to the door he cracked it open to make eye contact with a six eyed demon and waved him over, completely ignoring his alpha and brother.

Kokushibo listened to his Lord's mate as he was held to equal importance by the moons, (name) whispering into his ear "could you tell Shinobu and Tanjiro to come here..." He asked softly, voice hoarse from screaming for four hours.

The demon nodded to the Omega who thanked him quietly before closing the door and returning to the pups.

The moons knew better than to not listen to (name) if they didn't want to face Muzans wrath.

The two slayer's went into the house where (name) doted over his babes "Shinobu... I want you to be the god mother...." (Name) said softly, not looking at them "I know if god forbid anything happens you will make sure they are loved and valued"

"I understand (name)" the Omega said watching the other "Tanjiro.... I have a request of you, I know it's a lot to ask but could you please get me supplies for the pups, I know you know what a pup needs and... Would you be willing to stay with me? Nezuko can stay as well but.. this is my first time really around children.."

"I-I would be honored!" Tanjiro said and bowed to the Omega "thank you...." (Name) said ushering them close "this is (child A) and this is (child B)" he introduced and Shinobu gently traced (child A)s cheek "they're beautiful..." She said softly "absolutely stunning" Tanjiro said genuinely as he smiled at the pups.

"I'm not leaving my pups with slayers" Muzan seethed as Shinobu explained the situation, and Shinobu wasnt having any of this shit.

She wasn't very happy her dear friend was mates with the king of jackasses but there wasn't much to be done!

"Well until (name) decides he wants to even look at any either of you, we will work in rotations on who watches him"

"And why should we listen to you?!" Daki hissed out, not wanting to take orders from a human "because I'm those pups god mother and what I say goes currently" Shinobu said with a smile.

Everyone could agree this was the weirdest and most uncomfortable time for everyone involved and no one was happy "where's Tanjiro?" Tengen asked confused and Shinobu just wanted to go home at this point "(name) chose him to essentially be a midwife of sorts to help him with the pup"

Muzan was furious at this, ready to rip the door open and bring his mate to the castle and force him to forgive him but it wasn that easy.

It never was.

So begrudgingly they worked out a crude schedule.

The forest was dense enough to keep out sunlight so it was one Slayer and one demon per shift.

Each shift being twelve hours.

[kornelbutsdm]

new sdm logic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hysterotic]

𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄 ⚠︎ this hysteric kinktober is packed with enough carnage to make you scream. so NO MINORS ALLOWED! extreme violence, slasher antics, and gruesome deaths awaits under the cut.

welcome to a world where the line between fiction and reality blurs, where iconic slashers are no longer confined to celluloid but are rumored to walk among us. this october, the streets aren’t ruled by gang wars anymore—it’s the blood soaking the pavement that tells the real story. some say this is corruption, that the city’s most notorious gang members have been tainted. others? they call it an excuse to kill. the city’s on the brink of one hell of a massacre, and we’ll be here for every slash and scream as these gang members go full psycho. how many bodies are piling up? don’t worry. we’re keeping score. grab your popcorn—or a shovel—and stick around for the bloody details.

𝑷𝑨𝑮𝑬 1. 𝑾𝑬’𝑹𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑩𝑰𝑮𝑮𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑴𝑼𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝒀𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝒀 𝒀𝑬𝑻.

𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐆! 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇, 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈.

rumor has it, hanma shuji might’ve found the perfect gig to indulge his darker hobbies — working as a scare actor in a haunted corn maze. but this isn’t just any ordinary job. word on the street is that hanma took it for one reason and one reason only: to live the life of a slasher without the consequences. with an increase in disappearances — all women — some believe the haunted maze in mckinley park is hanma’s perfect cover for his murders. after all, in a place where blood, screams, and chaos are expected, who would notice a few victims going missing? do you dare visit hanma’s haunted house of horrors? (coming soon)

↳ final destination 3 (2006).

𝑷𝑨𝑮𝑬 2. 𝑳𝑰𝑭𝑬 𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯: 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑫 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑺 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳?

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒, 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐉𝐈.

keisuke baji’s back from the dead with a whole new makeover! (not that he needed one, of course.) he has been spotted in tokyo resurrected as the crow! according to the legend, when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. but in rare occasions, if terrible sadness and anger is carried with it, the crow brings the soul back to set things right. does keisuke baji have unfinished business? (coming soon)

↳ the crow (1994).

𝑷𝑨𝑮𝑬 3. 𝑳𝑰𝑭𝑬𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑶𝑹 𝑨 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑫 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫𝑬𝑫 𝑲𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹?

𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 : 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒)

a weekend getaway with friends in the woods? sounds like the perfect escape! but not with a masked killer running loose. when a seemingly harmless game at the campsite goes wrong, bodies start dropping, and panic sets in as the group realizes the killer may be one of them. can they survive before it’s too late to unmask the the killer? click here to find out!

↳ scream franchise.

that concludes the stories we’ve gathered so far. but don’t worry, the horror has only just begun. they won’t get away with hiding their bodies or covering their tracks. we’ll make sure that every victim gets their stories known to the public, exposing every heinous act they commit. stay tuned.

© 𝑯𝒀𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹. all rights reserved, please don’t steal, repost, or modify my work or themes in any way.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part three —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: let's build some relationships :)

From behind a tree, your eyes narrow with concentration as you draw the string of your bow. The feel of it in your hands offers satisfaction; you used to love new makeup, blushes and creams, or sweet custards from the market. Now, you love a good weapon.

Is there anything Ghost doesn’t know how to do? And you thought Paul had skillful hands.

You’re not sure exactly where Ghost and Blue have gone, because after leading you out the gate of their camp, Blue showing you the exact maze of steps needed to avoid their booby traps, they went their own way. Again, they disappeared among the white trees. You were left to pick a direction and stick with it. So you ended up here, the opposite way of the pond, with your eyes finally catching sight of a small deer. A fawn.

It’s young but perfect.

The blood that courses through its limbs switches on the predator part of your brain. It will be enough to keep you fed for at least a week, perhaps more, and promote the healing of the wound that aches with each shift of your waist. You inhale, exhale. The arrow is ready to release.

A single gunshot rings out.

Straight through the fawn’s eye.

It doesn’t even have time to cry out as it falls over, a small thud filling the quiet air. Your heart skips a beat and your eyes flicker in the direction of the gunshot, but you already know who has stolen this kill from you. In the distance, you see his bulky form, the lowering of his rifle, and then you see the girl bounce down from a tree and whirl towards the dead animal.

Are you kidding me?

You want to snarl and sneer. Instead, you flare your nostrils while lowering your bow. Meters away, Blue kneels down by the deer and you see her gently mouth words to its corpse. Perhaps, a childish parting that helps her feel better about its death. Ghost arrives and bends down to Blue’s level, and you can’t see his mouth with the mask on, but you know he is speaking to her by how he gestures his gloved hand around.

You’ll have to find another animal.

Squirrels aren’t your favorite meal. They’re not much compared to the taste of venison. But if you char squirrel meat just enough, it can get a nutty flavor that, with your eyes closed, you can pretend is a juicy slab of chicken home-roasted by your mother.

There is no room to be picky.

There is no room for wants anymore, only needs, and from behind the tree, you move your gaze to spot a grey squirrel that will be enough for the day’s needs. You take aim again. You’d put your washed hair in two French braids to keep the strands from interfering, but without ties, they are starting to come undone at the ends. There was a time when you cared about the fashion of your hair. Now, styling is a tactical choice.

Squirrels are trickier. They are small and require greater marksmanship than you are confident you have. Archery was never something you did until the world bled grey and demanded it of you.

The animal flicks its bushy tail, prancing about over thick tree roots. You wait for the moment it stills.

“How’s it going?” someone says, and you jump back in a step, fingers nearly slipping and releasing the arrow off at the ground.

Blue. You whirl around to see that she’s snuck up in a tree behind you, nimble and light on her feet, with curiosity filling her eyes as she sits perched on a branch, one that would be too high for you to ever climb. Her brown hair is hidden under her hood, the tip of her nose flushed pink from the air, and she rubs her hands together to brush off the crumbs of tree bark. Her movements remind you of the squirrel.

It takes a moment for your muscles to soften. You glance back at the squirrel and it’s already scampered off.

“Going great,” you tell her flatly, sighing through your nose. You can be patient with her. She’s nice, young. She’d snuck you extra food. “Shouldn’t you be with Ghost?”

“I’m just stopping by to tell you that we’re leaving. And—“ she squints her eyes in the distance for a moment, “That there’s a couple of those fucks due south.”

Those fucks.

Lovely. You glance around at the unfamiliar trees. From down here, you don’t see anything, but from her vantage point, her scope of sight is better for scouting threats.

“They’re pretty far off. Just be careful, okay?”

“Thanks. I will,” you nod.

Her bright stare then flickers to your braids. “You did your hair... What are those called again?”

She frowns, searching for the word somewhere in a corner of her young brain. You’re surprised that a ten-year-old girl doesn’t know what French braids are; they’d been all you wore as a kid. But then you realize her normal life came to an end at age five. Perhaps many of the memories have faded, replaced with more useful knowledge that her father has had to stuff in there.

You swallow. “Braids?”

“Braids,” she repeats, tasting the foreign word with a click of her tongue. “Right. They look really cool on you.”

“These ones are pretty shitty because I don’t have anything to keep them in.”

Blue starts to say, "Maybe you could—"

But a gruff call cuts through the trees, beckoning her head to turn.

"Blue. Let's go."

Your own eyes follow the voice and land on Ghost some odd paces away. He is already staring at you through lidded eyes, a palpable energy rolling off his body in waves that you can feel even from this distance. Over his shoulders, he carries the fawn with ease. Large palms clasping the knobby ankles. A steady drip of its blood creates a red stain in the snow beside his boot.

He looks horrific. A smear of crimson on the skull. Dressed in all black, carrying a dead animal as if it is nothing. You recall how he'd pushed you to the ground like you were nothing, too. You swallow the thought.

Before you can even look back at Blue, she's already gone. Whirling down from the branch and running over, following in his footsteps as they head back.

It takes another agonizing hour but you manage to kill a squirrel. The Greys don’t find you, luckily. You stuff your coat pockets with some pine needles and decide to call it a meal, knowing that you will have to hunt again tomorrow.

This area of the forest is still new. In your brain, you’ve already etched some markers to find your way back: the pond where they found you, a circle of pine trees to the right of their camp with a big stump in the center, a small creek past the hill. But the way you return back today leads to you approaching the camp from the backside, and you notice something.

Behind the cabin is something covered in a big black tarp. The tarp is peppered with fallen twigs and snow, but still, you think you make out the shape of a vehicle underneath.

They have a car—?

Irritation finds you. How did Ghost manage such things? A goddamn cabin, a deep trench that you assume he dug all by himself. And now a car. Did he also have petrol stored somewhere? By the looks of it, the tarp hasn’t been moved in a while. What is the car for? Is this what he uses to get medicine from the cities?

You almost scoff as your boots crunch the snow.

You won’t have any of our medicine.

There hasn’t even been a chance to consider how you might fend for some yourself. 

For now, you will just focus on food.

Ghost has tied the deer upside down on a branch by the time you are back. You carefully recall the way through their traps. Blue has to unlock the bolted gate for you, but then she runs back to Ghost, who hands a thick blade to her.

“Go on, then, kid.”

“I hate this part,” she mumbles, but he lifts her up so she can reach the knife to the animal’s hind legs, beginning to skin the hide top-down. She wears a concentrated expression as she does so, nose scrunched, and you can tell that skinning deer is a skill her small hands have practiced before. 

Ghost is the one to butcher it.

You skin your squirrel. 

They use the fireplace for cooking, and of course, their dinner is prepared first. While you wait, you undo your braids and snack on the pine needles. Blue is surprisingly quiet, helping her dad cook a little and playing with Grim on the floor, but also flickering her gaze to you every minute or so. 

“Your hair is curly now,” she comments softly during dinner. “From the braids?”

“That happens when you take them out,” you say after swallowing a piece of meat. There’s nothing to wipe your hands on, so you use your trousers as a napkin. Your mother would’ve had a fit. 

“Do you…” you clear your throat, glancing at Ghost and then back to the girl. “Do you want me to braid your hair after dinner?”

She nods sheepishly, but Ghost huffs out a low breath. “I could do that for you, Blue.”

“Ghost,” she sighs. “You don’t know how.”

“How hard can it be?”

But Blue licks her lips and shakes her head, mumbling, “I want her to do it. She’s good at it.”

The way Ghost looks at you is rarely anything but uncomfortable. However, when you sit down on the rug with Blue, your hands finding purchase in her hair, his eyes seem to burn holes through your body deeper than any time before. It is as if letting someone touch his daughter physically sickens him, and causes his breathing to turn weighted and deep. He begrudgingly allows it but supervises, sitting on the couch as you begin braiding her hair. 

Grim sits in her lap. She strokes his fur.

“You have pretty hair,” you tell her.

Blue softly wonders, “How can hair be pretty?”

“I… I don’t know,” you say. “The color, the length. It’s just pretty, I think.”

“Ghost cuts it for me,” she says, turning to look at him.

“Wait, don’t move. It’ll mess me up.”

“Oh, sorry,” she turns back but continues. “He gets it wet and has me lay my head on the tree stump so it’s all flat. Then, he chops it off with his knife. Right, Ghost?”

His response is a low hum. It’s stiff, pushing through a tense jaw.

You finish the two French braids, running your fingers over them.

"I don't have anything to tie them, but they look really nice on you."

It is then that Ghost stands up and disappears for a minute. When he returns, he has a roll of black thread that you believe he used for your stitches.

With the knife from his belt, he cuts two pieces, bends down, and silently offers them to your palm. Blue lights up. You tie off the braids and she stands, toying with them happily, and asking her dad what he thinks. Finally, you notice his shoulders soften.

"Beautiful," he murmurs quietly, just for her. He strokes the braided hair and then gives a gentle brush of his thumb over her cheek. "Always look beautiful, Baby Blue."

"Don't—" her cheeks flush and she briefly flashes her eyes to you, "Don't call me that."

"Used to call you it all the time,” he grumbles. “Gettin' too old for it, are you?"

What you learn Blue isn't too old for is curling up with him on the couch. This is the first night you stay in the cabin after dinner rather than retreating to your shed, simply because they've left some embers in the fireplace for warmth. You sit on the floor beside it. Blue sits with Ghost and he pulls out a book to read quietly to her.

You try not to look.

It touches you in a way you didn't think it would. It seems so normal. For a moment, you imagine a world where things could be different. A world where Blue wore braids to school every day. A world where Ghost could pick a new book out, rather than read the same ones over and over. A world where, maybe, you could have a family of your own, rather than be an uncomfortable witness to theirs.

But your family is nothing now. You never even knew what happened to your parents. The end arrived when you were away from them. No wifi. No service. Whether they died or turned Grey, you could never be certain. A pit in your gut told you their end happened years ago.

You’re brought out of your daze when Ghost stands from the couch. Blue has fallen asleep. He carries the girl to her room, and you take it as a sign to leave for your place outside. 

But before you can open the door, his voice stops you, dropping down to an even lower octave.

“Hold on.”

You turn. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

Despite the warmth from the fireplace, your blood goes icy rigid. You stand there and press your lips. “If this is about the braids, then I won’t do it again. I was just trying to be nice.”

“No. Not that,” and he holds your stare, unwavering, “It’s about your old camp. The other day, you said there were… hoards of ‘em.” 

The words roll off his tongue thoughtfully as if this is something that has been mulling over in that brain of his for a while. Thoughts belonging to a skull. A ghost. A father. 

Ghost continues gruffly, “Where were you?”

“West of here,” you say. “Jesus, I think, at least. I couldn’t really tell where I was going.”

“How far?”

“Far, but not that far.” Your eyes drift to the floor. “By the forest’s edge.”

“We don’t see that many of them here,” Ghost mutters. This might be the most he’s spoken to you in five days. “Only ever a few at a time. Ten at the most.”

“That’s how it was for us. But more came, and then,” you exhale, “And then there were too many.”

Your eyes close, recalling the frantic manner in which you escaped. The last glimpse of your old life had been the mangled arm of your sister, thick bites cutting down to white bone. In a way, you were glad there were enough of them to kill her.

Your eyes reopen. “We should’ve had an escape plan, something for emergencies. We got too complacent after making it for so long.”

All Ghost says is, “Yeah. You should have.”

And then he is dismissing you with a lazy wave of his hand, turning to give you his back. You scowl, roll your eyes as he is not looking, and leave the cabin. Your spine already aches before you even lay down on the floorboards for the night.

You wonder if Ghost has his own emergency plans; what would have to happen for him to abandon this perfect setup? How would he do it? The memory of the car out back finds you as you drift off. But your sleep that night is haunted by terrible, grey dreams.

It usually is.

Hunting on your own is different than hunting with Paul. There's some learning to do. You have to study the tracks on your own and observe the marks of antlers against the trees. For the first week, you don't get a single deer. Only squirrels. One skinny hare. Ghost and Blue don't go with you; the fawn, rabbits, and stored cans and jars hold them over.

Most evenings are spent braiding Blue's hair. I like the way it feels, she claims. Ghost gets used to it. He still watches from the couch but rather than stiffly staring, he lays down and relaxes, placing a hand over his chest.

The next time they go hunting, Blue's hair is still woven in the French braids when you catch an interesting sight through the cabin's window. She stands on the dining chair to reach Ghost's mask, peeling it off. You can only see the back of his head: brown hair, chopped short.

So there is a human under that thing?

She sets the mask on the table and picks up a clean one. A different one.

When they come out, Ghost with his guns and Blue with her knives, he appears more like a father than a character from a horror film. There is no plastic skull. Instead, a cutout in the fabric reveals the tops of his temples and the strong bridge of his nose. You would never say it, but you prefer this one.

Blue must catch your staring because she tells you, "The other one was starting to smell. I made him change."

"Good call," you quip under your breath.

Again, you go your separate ways. You head for the pond. You think you can hear them somewhere nearby, but ignore it, focusing on the deer prints in the snow. It's hard to tell if they're fresh. It hasn't snowed in two days.

Your footsteps quiet to a halt when you hear light crunching sounds. Another living thing is close by. You take position behind a thick pine, eyes scanning the wooded area and the pond to the right of you. But you know the sound of deer, and you're starting to learn the sound of Blue.

She's scampering towards the pond, just her. You can't see Ghost. As protective as he can be, he allows the girl some length to her leash. Offers bite-sized moments of independence. She's allowed to play in the tree just outside their camp before sundown, but only if he is watching. So you imagine he has let her run off ahead only because he is somewhere nearby.

From the distance, you watch her lurch for a squirrel.

She is quick about it.

Grabs the neck, and holds it up. A quick slice to the jugular. Blood seeps. She frowns, closing her eyes and murmuring something that, in the quietness, you think is along the lines of: I'm sorry. Tried to make it quick for you.

And then she begins to skin it, right then and there.

Young, nimble hands taught to survive.

As she does so, you decide you've seen enough. You have your own food to find.

But as you move from the tree, your eyes drift to find another watcher. A form takes shape behind a distant oak, near the pond. Your heart spikes; a Grey? But no— a Grey would already be running towards her scent. This shape belongs to a human, a withered man with hair that juts out in grey clumps, and crazed eyes pointed right at her.

More so, a revolver pointed.

taglist: @cool-0-n @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09 @spikespiegell @littlezarp @rebel-soldat @4headkissess @mckenzieriley69 @moxxiestar @palomaxaxaxa @msjaeger

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |10|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Fighting, Bleeding, Injuries

Word Count: 4.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

“What now?” Clarisse asked.

You looked down the dark corridor, then back to the wall that originally held a door. “We go forward,” you said.

Clarisse sighed, nodding along as the two of you began your trek down the dimly lit hall. The flames from the torches flickered as you passed them. Your mind was on high alert, your eyes were darting everywhere when so much as a shadow moved.

“What do you know about the labyrinth?” Clarisse asked as the two of you continued your walk.

You had been walking for a few minutes and hadn’t passed by a door or another hall of any kind. The corridor seemed never ending, the stones around you never changed but ahead all you saw was darkness. Torches would come to life when the two of you got close enough, illuminating a few more feet in front of you. You never knew what lied ahead until the torches flicked on, for all you knew every step you took was leading the two of you to a giant monster or the path would just end, sending the two of you to your demise.

“Not much,” you admitted. You weren’t going to pretend to know anything about the labyrinth. “Just that most who enter don’t make it out.” You glanced out of the side of your eye to see Clarisse’s reaction. She didn’t seem surprised by the information, just nodding along. “What about you? You were searching for it, any relevant information you learned?”

“No,” Clarisse sighed. “Annabeth rambled on about it, but it was all just theories, it’s always changing and growing, rarely does anyone survive, it tries to trick you.” Clarisse’s eyes fell to the ground, she gripped her spear a bit tighter. “I wasn’t supposed to enter the labyrinth,” she whispered. “I was just supposed to find the door.”

“Hey,” you came to a stop, gently touching her on the shoulder to make her turn to face you. You stared at her for a second, she held her head high, looking as strong and confident as ever, but you saw the hesitation in her eyes, she wasn’t sure the two of you would make it out of this. “We will get out of here,” you said, your voice unwavering. “We just have to stick together, watch each other’s backs, we can’t allow this place to separate us.”

Clarisse nodded. “You really think we can find a way out?”

The truth was you weren’t sure and if you did find a way out you weren’t sure when it would be. You heard stories of heroes entering the labyrinth, disappearing for years and then all of a sudden popping back up. They were never sane when that happened, so you never knew what exactly happened to them down there. It was proof one could survive for years down there but at what cost, if they all lost their mind in the maze you had to wonder if death would be a kinder outcome.

“We have a better chance together,” you said. You couldn’t lie to her. You needed her to believe you would both survive this, you both needed to have hope, if you didn’t, you surely wouldn’t last long. You didn’t want to lie to her though, you couldn’t pretend everything would all work out, you just had to hope it would.

You glanced up, having to do a double take, when you saw a glowing light behind Clarisse at the end of the corridor. “What the hell,” you whispered.

Clarisse turned around, following your gaze. You grabbed an arrow, making sure to have it ready if needed. Clarisse held her spear out, ready to attack whatever lay ahead. The two of you slowed your pace, inching closer to the glowing light. The light wasn’t from a torch, it almost looked like a room at the end of a hall.

As you got closer, you saw what looked to be a standard-looking room. There wasn’t anything in it, but the walls were white, and the floor looked to be a shiny white tile. “Maybe we should turn back,” you said, slowly coming to a stop. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

You turned to go back the way you had come, furrowing your brow when you saw an empty dark void, no torches lit, you couldn’t even see the stone wall anymore. “What the-”

You were cut off by a loud rumble, then the ground began to crack. Your eyes widened as between the cracks was an orange glow before the ground quickly started giving away towards you and Clarisse.

“Run!” you turned, pushing Clarisse to run towards the room you had been wanting to avoid.

You kept glancing back, seeing more and more of the ground give away. Your eyes widened when the cracks got close enough and you could see molten lava beneath. “Go!”

The two of you were running side by side. The room was within reach. The floor gave out from under you.

Clarisse jumped, making it into the room.

You didn’t make the jump.

You stabbed your arrow into the side of the wall as you fell towards the lava.

Your eyes were glued to the glowing orange and red lava below. You saw a few bubbles pop, making splashes of lava come up near your feet. Despite being a few feet from the lava you were already sweating from the heat.

You kicked your feet, trying to get some traction on the side of the wall. Lucky for you the wall wasn’t smooth, it was a rocky surface, but there wasn’t anything to grab onto. There wasn’t a way for you to maneuver and climb your way back to the top.

You felt a small vibration travel through your hand. Your eyes instantly snapped up, seeing your arrow beginning to crack.

“Shit,” you gritted out.

You kicked your feet against the wall, trying to run up it as much as you could, swinging your arm with your bow, hoping it would catch on to something. As you flung your body up, you let go of the arrow, allowing it to fall into the lava below. You gave a small smile as your bow caught on a small rock that was poking out.

Your smile quickly left your face when the rock crumbled. You opened your mouth to let out a yell as you prepared to fall into the lava, but death never came. You looked up, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw Clarisse partially hanging off the ledge as she gripped your bow with both hands.

“I got you,” Clarisse said through gritted teeth.

She used her strength to push down on the bow, trying to keep it stable so you could pull yourself up. You kicked your feet, using all the strength you had to pull yourself up. When you got close enough Clarisse moved one of her hands to grip your arm. She helped you push your bow onto the ledge then used her now free hand to grip the back of your shirt, helping pull you up the rest of the way.

You collapsed onto the ground next to each other, both of you breathing heavy. “Thank you,” you said between breaths.

“Anytime,” Clarisse breathed out.

Clarisse was the first one to pull herself to her feet. She held out a hand for you, you looked at it, releasing a few more breaths before grabbing it, allowing her to pull you to your feet. When you were both standing you looked around to see you had made it into the mysterious room, the doorway you had gone through was gone, which you should have expected, and the rest of the room was all blank white walls.

You scrunched your eyebrows when you heard a high pitch whistling sound before your eyes went wide. “Get down!” you grabbed Clarisse, pulling her back down to the floor.

As soon as the two of you hit the floor arrows shot through the air, whistling as they passed over your heads. You kept your head pressed to the ground as you watched the arrows fly over you. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until the arrows had finally stopped.

As soon as you and Clarisse got to your feet again you were being pulled to the side, pressing yourselves against the wall as a large axe swung down the middle of the room. Then another axe swung out, swinging across the middle of the room the other way, forcing the two of you into a corner. Both axes swung up and across the middle of the room, perfectly in sync so they didn’t hit each other.

You gripped Clarisse’s arm while she braced herself against the wall when the entire room started to rumble. Your eyes darted around the room as the walls started to close in, pushing the two of you closer to the axes that continued to swing. Right before you would have been sliced in half the axes stopped swinging, though the walls continued to close in.

“What’s that?” Clarisse asked, you looked up to see she was pointing at the ceiling.

You tilted your head when you noticed that not only were the walls closing in on you but that the ceiling was moving. The ceiling wasn’t coming down to crush you, but the tiles of the ceiling were shifting around, revealing black panels underneath. Under one of the panels was a small red button, but the tiles shifted to quickly to try and jump up and hit it with your hand.

You grabbed an arrow from your quiver, lifting up your bow to aim at the red button. Clarisse was crouched down, pressing herself as close to the wall as she could get without being in your way. You had to adjust your arms, getting into an uncomfortable position as you focused on the red button and not the walls about to crush you. When you let the arrow fly, you watched it sail through the air, the panels continuing to shift as the arrow hit the red button just as the panel moved out of the way.

Once your arrow hit the button all the walls stopped and the panels on the ceiling stopped as well. You and Clarisse were pressed against each other, barely able to move, having been just seconds away from being crushed. The both of you just had time to let out a shaky breath when the floor came out from under you, sending the two of you falling into darkness.

You let out a long groan, rolling over, at least you weren’t dead, if that could even be seen as a plus. “I hate this place,” you groaned out. When you became more aware of your surroundings, you felt a smooth cool surface under your hand. It was clearly a stone or rock of some kind, it almost felt damp.

Another groan came from right next to you. “How are we still alive?” Clarisse asked.

You used your forearms to prop yourself up as you got a look at your surroundings. The first thing you did was look up from where you had to have fallen from. Once again, the door you fell through was gone and there was nothing but a rocky surface through the darkness. You looked around the rest of the area, you definitely seemed to be on a rock, the only way you could describe it was a cave of some sort.

There was a loud screech making your blood run cold. “What was that?” Clarisse whispered. You only raised a finger to your mouth, silently hushing her. A second later there was another loud screech.

You looked around the cave, there was a dim light coming from above, replicating what would be moonlight. It lit your surroundings just enough so you could see island formations of rock surrounding the area. There was a larger island in the middle of everything. A couple rope bridges connected smaller islands to the larger one. There were several waterfalls pouring down from the islands into an endless black abyss, the largest waterfall flowing down and through the large middle island.

A large black form moved high above you, blocking wherever the light was coming from for a second. You pulled yourself to your feet as quietly as you could, holding out your hand to help Clarisse do the same. The both of you stood back-to-back as the black form flew over the two of you again. It shot down from high above and into the darkness below and then began circling the two of you. You and Clarisse had your backs pressed against each other, her spear pointed at the ready and your bow already drawn.

There was another loud screech, much closer than the first two, followed by loud flapping. The entire island rumbled when the large black form landed in front of you. You backed up, forgetting for a second that Clarisse was right there. Clarisse opened her mouth as she turned to face you but whatever she was about to say died in her throat as her eyes widened at the creature before you.

The two of you stood there, both of you holding your breath as the creature slowly opened its wings, then leaned forward letting out a loud screech right in your face. You could feel your heart in your throat. The wings were as dark as the night sky, the rest of the body a dark grey, it had little tuffs of fur around its neck and ears. Its eyes were a pale white, telling you it was in fact blind, its large, pointed ears flicked repeatedly, probably from little sounds you could never even dream of hearing.

It used its arms, which were connected to its wings, to walk around, circling you and Clarisse. You tried to stay as still as possible, but a simple shift of your foot made the scraping of your shoe against the rock echo throughout the cavern. You pushed Clarisse to the ground as the creature screeched, pushing off the island and flew just inches above the two of you, you were pretty sure you felt its claws graze against your jacket.

 It flew high, turning to circle back around to get you. You and Clarisse jumped to your feet at the same time and took off as fast as you could, jumping from one island to the next, hoping that if you could make it to the main one, you’d actually have a chance. The closer you got to the island with the bridge the greater the distance you were having to jump. You made the last jump, having to duck and roll to stick the landing. Clarisse jumped, her foot catching the edge, but before she could tumble into the darkness, she used her spear, stabbing it into the rock and pulled herself to safety.

Just as you were about to let out a sigh of relief you were hit by a strong force, then suddenly you were being lifted in the air.

“Y/N!” You vaguely heard Clarisse yell, but you were a little distracted by the monsters’ claws digging into your shoulder.

You looked up, seeing the large bat-like monster carrying you away. You began thrashing around, hoping something would cause it to lose your grip on you. You had lost your arrow after being caught off guard when it grabbed you, but you still had a tight grip on your bow. You swung the bow up and around blindly, hoping to get lucky and hit the bat somewhere painful. Your bow came in contact with something, the bat let out a loud screech, and then suddenly you were falling.

You weren’t sure if plummeting into the dark abyss to your certain death was better than being carried away by a giant bat creature, mostly likely to be eaten and ripped apart. As you were falling your hand hit something, making you reach out on reflex, gripping whatever it was. When you opened your eyes, you were staring down into the dark abyss, but you were still alive.

“Y/N!” Clarisse called again.

You looked over to see her running towards you. When you looked up you saw your hand was gripped around the rope of the bridge, your other hand still gripped your bow. You let out a shaky breath as Clarisse got to you, the rickety bridge wobbling with each step. You weren’t sure how many people crossed the bridge but based on the rotting wood and moldy rope you would assume it’d been a long while.

Clarisse quickly grabbed onto your arm, helping pull you to safety. You reached up, setting your bow on the bridge and helped Clarisse get you up the rest of the way. “Are you okay?” Clarisse asked, resting her hand on your back as you were breathing heavily.

You nodded, unable to verbally answer. You straightened your back, the movement making you hiss as it pulled skin the bat’s claws had dug into. You moved your shirt, seeing blood through the tears from the monsters’ claws, if you survived this you would have to get the wounds cleaned out as soon as possible.

You grabbed your bow and pulled out an arrow again. You followed the movement of the bat flying around as it circled you and then you released your arrow. The arrow sailed through the air and tore through the bat’s wings as soon as it flew into the arrow’s path. The creature screeched but as soon as it turned to face you, you released another arrow, sending it straight through the other wing.

“Go!” you yelled, turning to run across the bridge when you saw the bat flying straight for you, despite clearly being thrown off with its torn wings.

The bat slammed into you, sending you to your knees. “Keep going!” you yelled, knowing Clarisse would turn back for you.

You used your bow to hold back the bite as it tried to snap at you. You felt around for the arrow you had dropped, wrapping your fingers around it when you felt it. You brought the arrow up, stabbing it into the creature’s eye. You didn’t hesitate to rip it out, ignoring the blood that surely splattered all over you before stabbing it into the other eye.

“Hold on!” you shouted, sparing a glance behind you to see Clarisse had both hands on the ropes at her side.

You leaned up as the monster thrashed around above you. Raising your bow you let another arrow fly, aiming for the right post where the rope was tying off the bridge. As soon as the arrow left your hand you grabbed another one, aiming for the left post, quickly releasing it as well.

You flipped yourself over, grabbing the wood planks of the bridge as tightly as you could. There was a second where everything was silent, then you were weightless, you held on tight as your body came up, swinging through the air as the ropes tying the bridge off tore, sending the bridge smacking into the side of main island.

You let out a shaky breath, looking up to see Clarisse had a tight hold on the bridge as well and was beginning her climb to the top. You glanced down, letting out a tired sigh when you saw the bat was still attached to the bridge, shaking its head as it continued to try and recover from its eyes being stabbed, despite already being blind. As carefully as you could you slipped your bow around your head, keeping yourself pressed against the bridge.

Once your bow was secure you began your climb. As soon as you reached for the next plank it ripped out from under you, sending you further down, smacking the other planks as you tried to find one to grab onto. Finally, you got your hand wrapped around the rope, stopping your descent, and allowing you to grab onto another board. You pulled on the board a few times, making sure it would hold your weight before beginning your climb again.

You had barely made progress before you felt a searing pain in your calf, letting out a yell as the monster ripped its claws down, trying to bring you down with it. You gripped the planks tighter, using all your strength to pull yourself up and out of the creature’s grip. You felt something breeze past your head then suddenly claws impaled in your leg were gone. You looked down to see the bat falling into the dark abyss, a crackling red spear in its mouth.

You used your remaining strength to climb up the bridge, going slower than you should have, your injured leg shaking each time you needed to use it to push off the next plank. When you got close to the top you once again felt Clarisse’s arms reach out for you. She took one of your hands in her own and then helped brace you by putting her other hand on your back, helping pull you up the rest of the way.

Your breathing was ragged as you laid on the cold stone surface, the sound of the rushing waterfall filling your ears. You turned your head, glancing down at your leg to see your pants ripped and already covered in blood.

“Come on,” Clarisse said. She reached down, throwing one of your arms around her shoulder, and swinging her other arm around your waist before you had the chance to respond.

You limped, trying to help as much as you could as Clarisse led you across the large island. You went the opposite direction the water was flowing until you got to the bottom of the waterfall. Despite the slipperiness of the rocks Clarisse managed to get the two of you to the little cave behind the waterfall. It was a little damp but if there were any more bat creatures in the cavern it was the safest place the two of you could be, the waterfall was loud enough to cover any noise the two of you would make.

“Easy,” Clarisse said as she gently laid you on the floor, propping your back up against the wall. “Let me get a look at your leg.” She didn’t wait for a response before she ripped the rest of your pants leg, gently turning your leg as she got a look at the wound.

“My-my bag,” you rasped out, tiredly reaching for your bag that you somehow managed to hold onto.

Clarisse reached over you, taking the bag from your hands. You let your head flop back against the stone wall, the sweat was already making your hair stick to your forehead. You had been running on pure adrenaline and survival and now you were really beginning to feel each and every one of your injuries.

“Ambrosia?” Clarisse asked. You opened your eyes to see she had opened your bag; you gave her a small nod and smile.

She cut one of the squares of ambrosia in half and handed it to you. You quickly put it in your mouth, savoring the sweet taste. When you lifted your head again you saw Clarisse ripping off a piece of her shirt and beginning to wrap your leg.

“Don’t want you bleeding out before the ambrosia kicks in,” she mumbled. You let out a tired chuckle, that certainly wouldn’t be good. Ambrosia helped with the healing, and you would be good to go in the morning, or whatever time it was, but it wasn’t a guaranteed safety net, you could easily die even after eating some ambrosia.

“Let me see your shoulder,” Clarisse demanded, already putting her hands on you to help lean you forward.

“That’s not as bad,” you mumbled. You were quickly shut up by Clarisse throwing a glare at you.

Clarisse ripped off one of her sleeves and took it to the waterfall, sticking it under the water. When she came back, she leaned you forward, moving your shirt out of the way just enough to see the wounds. She began wiping away the dried blood and the wounds themselves. When she was all done, she helped you lean back against the wall, wincing as your shoulder touched the stone before quickly going back to a dull ache.

 “I thought I was going to lose you,” Clarisse whispered. Her eyes were glued to the ground as she refused to look you in the eye.

You were to tired to lift your hand so you slid it across the smooth surface until your fingers brushed against hers, making her look up at you. She reached up, resting a hand on the side of your face, making you instantly lean into her touch.

“You sacrificed your spear for me,” you mumbled. You knew it wasn’t the original weapon given to her by her father, but it was still her pride and joy, and she lost it because she decided to save your life.

“You or the spear,” she whispered. “It wasn’t even a choice.”

You noticed her eyes flick down to your lips. “I’m sorry.” Your gaze fell as well, you wished for nothing more than to give her everything she deserved. “Maybe in another life things could be different.”

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours. “I’ll wait for you in the next life,” she whispered. You could feel her breath against her lips, but she never leaned in, still respecting your status as a Hunter.

“It could be a long time.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.” After another second, she pulled away, caressing your cheek one more time. “Get some rest, I’ll take first watch.” Her tone was kind, but it was clear there would be no arguing with her.

You shifted your body, getting as comfortable as you could against the hard rocky surface. Clarisse stood up, pulling out a dagger that was strapped to her ankle. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was Clarisse standing tall in front of the waterfall.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @danonered

[just-a-casual-newtasaur]

Banished

Banished (Newt x Reader) (what a surprise)

Word Count: 862 words

Warnings: I guess mild violence

Summary: you are banished (why? idk I was too lazy to think of a reason, so feel free to come up with your own)

your breath is ragged and rasping as you are dragged towards the circle of boys. ropes bind your wrists, cutting into your skin. Minho holds tight to the twine, keeping your arms stuck behind the back of your head.

you twist around to look at the boy, he keeps his eyes away from yours, looking like he doesn’t know who you are. though this was the common practice when someone was stung. when someone was banished.

“Minho.” you say in a quiet voice, “Minho you don’t understand,”

you know there is no point trying to dissuade any of them but you were, in truth, desperate. there was nothing that awaited you out there but a lonely, long, painful death.

Minho doesn’t answer or look at you, he keeps his eyes fixed forwards as he walks towards the circle.

as you draw nearer, a somber silence presses in on you, the keepers and glader’s faces are filled with either, hostility, a numb stare, or pity.

yet your eyes seek only one. you spot him, as expected, next to the other keepers, knuckles white on the long stick he held and looking just about ready to crumble into a pile of dust right there and then.

Minho drags you into the middle of the circle and pushes you onto your knees, holding your arms above your head and putting the knife up to it.

he cuts the rope and you fall forwards onto the ground. you watch Minho’s boots move in front of you and here a thump as he throws a bag of stuff that you all know won’t do anything to stop a griever eating anyone.

though it was customary. banishing was not exactly enjoyable experience, and if they had to sentence a child to death they at least wanted to try and help them.

if you were stung you were not sent to death. no, you were sent away to protect the others. and you were sure, if your mind were working properly, you would oblige if it meant keeping the others safe.

however, no such same thoughts occurred to you as the deafening sound of the door closing echoes around the entire glade. feeling your already broken mind break even more, you here Ably’s shout above the sound.

“Hold!” the keepers lower their staffs and point them at you, the gladers doing the same with long pointed sticks. there was no way out.

“No, no please.” your son is lost in the shaking wind and rattling of the doors. you get shakily to your feet, looking around at all of the gladers. the people who you thought were your friends.

no, no they were your friends, that small, still sane part of you pipes up, they were trying to protect the others.

“Move in!” Alby’s second shout breaks your train of thought. the keepers start advancing on you, herding you towards the steadily closing doors. you back away looking at the faces of the keepers.

Zart…Frypan, looking like he was attending a funeral…Alby…Gally, whose face was filled with hostility…Winston…and then the boy you most wanted to see.

Newt looked as though he was about to faint, unlike the other he had not made the move yet to close in on you, Alby nudges him and he starts moving forwards, looking as he did so that he regretted every step.

you are right in between the wall, between the glade and the maze. your eyes lock onto Newt’s who dark insides looked both sick with terror and wet with tears.

“Newt.” you say quietly, yet you are sure everybody can hear you, “Newt please. please.” tears run down your face.

your plea gets more desperate as you are shoved further into the maze, “Please!”

you are in the maze now, and the keepers are drawing their staffs back into the glade, watching you gravely.

Newt looks to be fighting some painful internal struggle. only about a metre is left between the two walls.

you look, terrified, at the gladers as the gap closes. a shout rises from the crowd as do several protests. Newt breaks free of the group and sprints towards you.

Alby dives for him and tackles him to the ground, pulling his arms behind his back and trying to stop him from running at you.

“Get off me!” Newt’s shout is lost in the cries of surprise and gasps from the crowd, as he writhes desperately, kicking his friend hard in the leg.

Alby lets go of him, gasping in surprise and pain. Newt sprints towards you again, ignoring the many outcries of, “Newt!”, “stop!”, “she’s not worth it!”

wasn’t that hard to identify who the last voice belonged to. he slams into you, hugging you tightly before turning to look back at the shocked faces, some still trying to figure out what had just happened.

the last thing you see is Thomas, Minho and Alby looked sadly at the two of you, before the large doors slam shut, and you’re lost in the dark.

the two of you stand in the dark, arms wrapped around each other, breathing heavily and taking in what had just happened.

(Preparing some Newtmas fanfics, exciting)