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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

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BORUTO ALTER: Last Shinobi by SongofVedas

Anime » Naruto Rated: T, English, Adventure & Fantasy, Naruto U., Sasuke U., Boruto U., Sarada U., Words: 112k+, Favs: 48, Follows: 49, Published: Dec 2, 2020 Updated: Jul 19

21Chapter 25: HIMAWARI AND BORUTO

BORUTO/ALTER

BORUTO leapt building to building-

Sirens screamed within his ears, while smoke rose from the streets below. Himawari's chakra-

Boruto stopped mid run, skidding backwards upon roofing while bracing arms into a cross. Chakra.. vile, repulsive, and violent, bellowed at him from nearly all directions. Despite all of this.. Boruto could tell that the chakra was Himawari's.

The density of it.. it's almost like it's physical!

Boruto knew that dad was somewhere- but he couldn't sense anything other than Himawari's screaming chakra.

"Boruto!"

Mom?!

Boruto turned to see his mother zip down beside him in a blip of trained speed. Her Byakugan were active, veins strained beside eyes that bore almost hidden tears.

Despite this- her face was resolute. Amidst the chaos of everything, Hinata was the one calming figure amidst the storm.

"I can't sense your father or anyone else. My Byakugan seems to only work from close distances- what happened, Boruto?!" Hinata asked, looking down at him.

"I'm not sure, Mitsuki said she woke up but that something was wrong. I-.." Boruto shut his eyes.

"I can feel her, mom. This chakra.. She's in pain. We have to help her!" Boruto began to sprint into a run once more.

"Boruto, wai-" Hinata called after her son-

Only to see him fall to his knees, then flat on his stomach.

Why is this happening now?! Hinata bit down the panic that screamed within burning lungs. The sounds of destruction rung around her-

She moved forward, glaring at the cruelness of fate that afflicted both of her children.

I won't let them suffer like this! Hinata knelt beside Boruto, turning him over-

Boruto's right eye was entirely black, while a glowing white pupil, reminiscent of the Byakugan, seemed to flex to look at her.

For a moment, the world, despite the hell abundant within it, was silent.

PAIN.

Boruto opened his eyes-

He felt himself jump into the air, the ground exploding below. The sky was filled with stars- and a red moon hung amongst them. Boruto landed, sliding backwards across craggy ground that was sprinkled with tufts of dying grass and scattered black flames.

Is this.. a dream?

Boruto felt himself moving, but he wasn't controlling his actions. Further.. while he still remembered his family, remembered Konoha.. speaking with Hinata even..

It all seemed so far away now. And as Boruto moved, it was almost like he was beginning to slowly forget them.

A laugh rose from within the smoke of whatever attack was meant for Boruto. A slim silhouette stood before him, stepping forward with a loud, almost comical clack.

The smoke parted.

The figure bore eyes like Hinata's, and long white hair that was tied behind a slim fitting black tunic. The figure's face-

It's the same one from.. before? The one inside the burning house!

Yes. The figure didn't seem to have the scars over his eyes as he did then, but this was no doubt the same man.

Everyone is dead..

"Disgusting.." the man began.

"Such a corruption of our power. My power!" He sneered.

Boruto felt his mouth open- and a voice came from it that wasn't his.

"You're starting to bore me, Amakushiki. You're not as powerful without your Master toiling ahead of you."

The voice that spoke for Boruto chuckled before finishing.

This should be over quickly, Otsutsuki."

another being spoke beside Boruto. This one was warmer, kinder.

A friend..?

"Don't let your guard down, Ninurta."

That name again! Boruto thought.

"He's buying time. We didn't fully seal Vayushiki. If we lose here, then everyone will be in danger. Make no mistake, Ninurta- they mean to kill us all." The voice cautioned.

A howling, cracking sound suddenly creased into the air. Boruto felt the sensation of falling over.

"Ninurta!" The voice called, Amakushiki's laughter echoing in cruel retort.

Boruto felt hands around his shoulders.

Then he saw blackness.

Then.. that same onyx sea, stars spinning above.

The voice that warned him of Amakushiki was heard over quivering and bloodlike waves now.

"Wait- where are you? Ninurta?!" The voice screamed.

Ninurta!

Ninurta! No!

"Boruto!" Hinata's frantic calls jolted Boruto upright.

Hinata gave Boruto a somewhat relieved expression.

"Boruto.." Hinata looked away from him.

"There's no time right now. Can you stand, Boruto?" Hinata asked.

Boruto nodded, dazed as the memories of his own life came flooding back to him.

"I wish I could sense your Father.. I can't even see him amongst this chakra-!" Hinata spoke as her eyes darted right to left, momentarily distracted by a volley of debris hurtling from above them.

A spinning shield of expanding blue chakra flushed from Hinata. It sloughed off pieces of stone and building, adding to the mounting bedlam of Konoha's destruction.

"We have to keep going mom. This feeling.. it's not just pain she's in.. it's more than that. Something is trying to take her!" Boruto rasped.

Hinata shut her eyes, opening them as tears fell freely down both cheeks. However, she did not scream or yell out in anguish.

"You lead the way, Boruto. You're twins. You'll bring us all back together. You'll be the one who keeps Himawari safe." Hinata nodded towards Boruto.

"I believe in you, Boruto. More than anything." Hinata smiled-

It was a sad one, a smile of a woman who had dealt with a lifetime of loss. But it was also one that inspired Boruto-

Boruto's black hair flashed across blue-silver eyes. He gave Hinata a stern grin.

Stepping forward, Boruto narrowed his eyes across the burning city.

Sirens still blared, while heavy smoke began to obscure Boruto's vision.

Boruto turned to Hinata-

"Yes, I sense it too." She said slowly.

The smoke wasn't just natural-

Some of it was the work of jutsu.

Was it the byproduct of Himawari's condition? Or was it something else?! Someone else?

Boruto shook his head.

I need to find Himawari. Whatever's next comes after.

It was then something sparked across Boruto's mind- through his skin, pulsed within his veins.

It was that strange.. moon again, the moon that hung behind a fog of black mist. It spoke again in that horrid, garbled language that Boruto somehow understood.

Cursed.. Eye!

He saw the field of humans kneeling before a glowing, horned idol, offering sacrifices of their own flesh to it.

But then-

"I know where she is!" Boruto's eyes shot open. He sprinted to the edge of the roof they were on, Hinata following close behind.

Boruto and his mother dashed into the smoke, blind save for Boruto's direction.

As they ran they passed various shinobi- some were running too- others on the ground, coughing up smoke amongst dead and dying civilians.

The damage seemed to be localized to the entertainment district of Konoha.. but still- it was a vast area.

All this from Hima..

Boruto continued.

They peeled down a cramped alley that coughed dying flames and plumes of ash. Himawari's chakra seemed to be roaring within the next belt of buildings ahead.

"Boruto.." Hinata whispered. Boruto grimaced-

This feeling.. it wasn't like anything he had ever experienced before. The chakra carried an immense weight of dread, as if it was beckoning fate itself.

Despite that, they continued, as any family would.

Boruto and Hinata rushed from the alley, then leapt across a series of burning buildings.

They flashed across rooftops, using chakra to supplement their speed so as to appear to the untrained eye as simple strikes of black across a foreboding horizon.

But then-

Boruto saw Naruto.

Hinata gasped.

Naruto was seated within a garden courtyard, the Kyuubi's chakra blazing about him as if he himself were aflame.

His hands were pressed together, while a chain of chakra linked him to..

Himawari.

But if it weren't for whatever sense was directing him, Boruto wouldn't have known the being across from Naruto was actually his sister.

Himawari herself was cloaked within a cruel chakra- it distorted her appearance. The shifting mirage of colors fashioned itself around her head as if a fox's mask. Her once blonde hair was now red, while tassels of chakra flew from the overflowing tendrils that whipped themselves into tails around Himawari's body.

She writhed on the ground, thrashing about as an alien scream emanated from the mask that encapsulated her.

"THIS IS BAD, NARUTO."

Naruto grimaced, sweat beading down his forehead.

"I know it is." He said gruffly, palms aching as chakra drained from his body.

Kurama offered a low, rumbling laugh.

"Do you, boy?"

Naruto was seated upon Kurama's snout. The fox demon dipped its head towards Himawari- or whatever was within her.

The being was comprised of a strange, new chakra. It was almost like..

No, that's impossible.

"This chakra seems to be some mixture of your natural chakra and my own. I'm surprised that woman's seal held for as long as it did."

Naruto frowned, his arms shaking.

It was taking almost all of their power to hold Himawari's own chakra back from taking her over- it's not that her chakra matched Naruto's or Kurama's-

It's just that it was powerful enough that if Naruto misapplied his chakra for even a second, Himawari could die.

But just as Naruto began to lose hope-

Something happened.

It stopped.

Both Kurama and Naruto widened their eyes in surprise as the orange waters of their inner world calmed.

The vortex of chakra that consumed Himawari receded back within her, before finally curling deep into the recesses of her consciousness.

"What.. what happened?" Naruto asked.

Kurama laughed- an almost disarming sound.

"That brat.. she really is like you. It seems.. she subconsciously re-sealed the chakra within herself, using the seal that was already upon her. The difference is.. she used the same chakra attacking her body for the seal."

"But to do that without direct fuinjutsu-"

"Like I said Naruto.. this chakra is a mixture of the both of ours. Due to this.. it's as if it's a much weaker variation of paths chakra. To think a human could be born with the powers like one of us Bijuu.."

KIBA STEPPED BACKWARDS.

The Jonin attendants Naruto had assigned to him both lay dead. One of them was currently being eaten by a large, wolffish black dog with long, shaggy fur. A red eye glowed from this dog's forehead.

But the dog that had his attention and fear was a much quieter one.

Its fur was white, beautiful and snowlike. It had a foxlike face, soft with wide eyes.

But it was the girl stitched to the ninken's body that filled Kiba with dread. That damnable survivor from the Chinoike clan- thought extinct after Sasuke's mission years ago.

Now she was a victim of one of Shota's experiments upon his own partners- an act that was unthinkable amongst the Inuzuka.

It was this very man that lurked past Junban, striding before Kiba as Kiba himself pressed against the wall. A tear fell from his eye-

Akamaru-

Naruto had agreed to keep Akamaru within the Hokage's grounds-

Thank you, Naruto.

I'm sorry. For everything.

Kiba gave a frustrated, despairing chuckle.

After all of that.. all this training, all the war.. this is how I die.

Kiba raised his head.

"Are you responsible for what's going on out there? That chakra?" He said finally.

Shota narrowed dark eyes.

"No. Though it was a providence that I used to my advantage. I'm here for you, of course." Shota whispered.

"Where did I go wrong, Shota?" Kiba asked breathlessly.

A tear fell from Shota's eye as the man formed a jutsu sign.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Kiba Inuzuka." Shota said.

"..Ketsuryugan.." the man's ninken lurched forward, the girl's motions mirroring Shota's own as red and reptile-like eyes glowed from a sheen of scarlet hair.

Kiba opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, a trail of blood dribbled from his teeth and onto his chin.

Kiba staggered backwards, sliding down the wall that became his last and final embrace.

With one more gurgling sigh, Kiba's eyes glossed over in silent, unceremonious death.

LOG rushed to the scent. He pounced from tree to tree, green hair whipping across his forehead.

He had been tracking Shin for nearly a month now- the man seemed to be moving for the land of Rivers.

But now.. something else caught his attention. The sense of a barrier being erupted within the deep woods of Konoha that bordered Rivers.

It only took a whiff of it for Log to tell that this was not only abnormal, but of grave danger.

However the feeling only lasted for a second.

But then, Log heard an explosion. That sound was closely followed by the smell of fire-

And burning bodies.

Log was nearly upon it now. He crashed through a gate of leaves, eyes instantly flexing upon a simple home with its entire second story blown away.

Chunks of charred wood were planted about the house, embers coiling with bright red heat within them.

Log rushed down to the scene. He strode through-

Before his eyes fell upon a young girl. She was burned too, but she was breathing. Half of her face seemed to be raw and beaten, but the other half was fine. Marks of a battle covered her- superficial wounds, but clues as to what happened nonetheless.

He knelt downwards, turning the girl over.

"Can you hear me..? What's your name?" Log asked softly.

The girl's eyes opened, revealing wide purple pupils.

"I'm.."

A tear fell from her eye. She seemed.. confused.

"I'm…no..no..Sh-.. I'm..no..t…Sh-..Sho..still.. Sumire.." she said as more tears fell from her eyes.

For a moment, her expression changed- it shifted from one of a confused, hurt child and to one of a cruel, violent entity.

The girl then fainted- her head softly hitting the ground behind it.

NEXT TIME: JEISHI, SAGE OF ENTROPY! THEN, THE RETURN OF SASUKE AND SARADA

#boruto fanfiction

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katsukikitten · 4 years

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WARNINGS: 18+ DUB CON/ NON CON? WEREWOLF BAKUGOU, THIS IS PURE FILTH JUST PURE SMUT

You were never the best at running, especially not through the woods. So it is no surprise your heel snaps off causing you to trip over a small log. Your pelvis bone connects with the thick trunk, brushing your hip as your dress threatens to expose your underwear.

A howl is heard in the distance paired with something moving through the brush at an ungodly speed, gaining on you much faster than you thought.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself, panting as branches seem to reach out. Their sharp, splintered claws grabbing at you and only catching your body con dress. Tearing it piece by piece, you are unsure if your faux bunny ears are still atop your head.It was unfathomable how wrong tonight had gone and how quickly.

But then again it was Halloween and a full moon at that. They say the full moon has the power to make people act crazy and especially so on a blue moon. Which made your panicked mind wander to the rumors about this town and what happens every blue moon. There were whispers of the older families having dark secrets. Fairy tales of beasts and mating but a second full moon in a month was so rare those murmurs and scoffs were supposed to be just that, rumors, stories.

Not actual werewolves who couldn't control their urges during this magical event. The blue moon either filling them with unchecked rage or undeniable lust should they not take the necessary precautions. Although no one would say what exactly those precautions are.

Your first hint about the rumors being true should have been the local news station. You thought it a Halloween prank when they advised women ages of 20 to 30 to remain indoors for tonight, to lock their windows and doors. To adorn their throats in silver to protect them from unwanted bonding. You had rolled your eyes as you got ready for your daily college classes, jumping into your black skinny jeans and blood red sweater.

Your second hint should have been the absence of your good friend Kirishima. He always walked you to your English class since his history course was in the same building but this morning he was a no show. He didn't even respond to your texts last night asking if he wanted to go to a Halloween party with you.

Your final hint should have been when the normally aloof, irritable and "untouchable of the big three" lab partner you had for biology growled in your direction. This would be the first thing he had said all semester.

"Don't go out tonight, got it extra?" His voice is clipped and he is acting strange, his left hand gripping onto his right forearm so harshly a bruise was beginning to bloom. You chalk it up to nerves for the upcoming exams.

"Oh is someone gonna bite me like the news anchor said?" You giggle, turning your focus back on your work only for the professor to cancel class early. You pack your things as Bakugou sits rigid, still. He fixes you a harsh glare before he stands, pulling the strap of your purse causing you to become a little off balance. His eyes dance over your frame, over your exposed neck but you do not notice, barely see his canines elongate as he snarls.

"You'll wish that's all that they did."

Looking back you wish you had noticed it before, then maybe you wouldn't be in the situation you were in now.

You burst through the trees and find yourself in a clearing. Here you would a sitting duck to whatever the hell was chasing you. Still not believing your eyes and you crossed paths with a giant wolf. Fur golden in the moon light and eyes a haunting, gut wrenching familiar red. It wasn't too long after that did it give chase.

The howl behind you is too close for comfort as you barely have time to jump into a patch of briars and thick prickly bushes that sit on the edge of a creek. By some odd instinct you grab onto the ice cold mud and smear your arms and part of your neck with it, clenching your jaw so your teeth do not chatter.

Suddenly a large beast bursts into the clearing, wet nose sniffing at the air and ground before it shifts in the clearing under the moonlight. It is a haunting sight. Bones snap and grind as features twist into grotesque angels until it finally forms into that handsome familiar face. The ash blonde fur retreats until it is only on the top of his head, faded beneath while the top looks finger brushed and wild. He is shirtless and his pants are torn from the calf down, the only beastly feature he keeps is the glow of his blood red eyes. You swallow, biting your lip to stop from shaking; this is not the Bakugou you knew. Not that you knew him that well in the first place but there was some power in having a crush. You had learned his mannerisms in the first year here at University, somehow always in a class with him, with one of the three legendary "heartthrobs" of the school. He was as hot headed as the rumors said and he was just as handsome if not more so. Itching for a fight and yet oddly quiet when in close proximity to you. An action you took to mean he either hated you or didn't even know you existed.

So it's safe to say you're unfamiliar with this manic, wolfish grin.

Feral incarnate.

He sniffs the air.

"Where are you little ooooonnne?" He calls cruelly, "I can smell you."

His body goes through the motions of tensing and relaxing, another howl breaks through the eerie silence but this time much farther away. Bakugou's ears perk, his grin twisting in such a way it screams malice, unbridled rage and yet excitement.

"You must be in your mortal heat. Guess I'm not the only one who can smell it. Didn't I tell you not to go out tonight?" His voice is dark, haunting as the wind catches down from you, carrying your scent away from him.

"I knew your dumb ass would ignore me, I took a precaution to that and yet you didn't even bring your fucking purse?!"

Your purse?

Is that how that red cloth and weird silver dollar got into the bottom of your purse?

Bakugou shifts his weight, giving his back to you as he prepares for something coming that you cannot hear. In the meantime you allow your eyes to study his physic, following his scarred back, broad shoulders all the way down to his deadly hands. One of his palms is burned in the shape of a perfect circle, you swallow thickly. The sound causes his ears to twitch and look over his shoulder, making eye contact with you through the brush.

But he does not have time to react as a black furred beast with glowing ruby eyes jumps into the clearing. Sniffing the air wildly before baring his teeth towards Bakugou. The beast huffs and growls before finally shifting into his human form, a cold sweat settles in your bones.

"Where the fuck is she?" You have never heard your friend use a tone so dark as Eijiro continues to pace, keeping his eyes glued to Bakugou.

"Fuck off Kirishima, shes mine."

"I don't see a bonding mark on her yet." Its more a feral growl than anything, "You said you didn't waste your time on mortals."

"I fucking changed my mind. And you know why, her smell is…" He inhales deeply, testing to see how much of you can be sensed. The most he can tell is that you're close by but he cannot pinpoint you, he fights to keep his eyes from falling over his shoulders to see you.

He's dying to know how you masked your scent without with an Alpha's pheromones or a silver piece. But that would have to wait, at least if he wanted to ensure it was his seed that stuffed you. He bites his lip, the thought sends a shiver down his spine. First he had to deal with Kirishima then he could take his time making you his.

"Well you know how it is don't ya? Didn't know you were such a pervert, Eiji. Is that why you walked her to class? Hoping she'd make you her boyfriend or some sappy shit?" Bakugou taunts, head tilting in mock question, "Guess you can't hold back anymore can you? Dreaming about giving her your knot?"

Kirishima bares his teeth, fighting the urge to buck at another Alpha, especially one he knows he will have to fight with full force. He opens his sharp toothed mouth to retort but yet another beast finds it's way into the clearing coming from the opposite of Kirishima but to the right of Bakugou.

The beast looks wild, heterochromatic eyes glisten beneath the full moon as white and red fur clash all the way down his spine. A collar around his throat catches the light as a broken chain drags across the ground, there are shackles around his wrists and ankles as well. Bakugou smirks, adrenaline fueling his excitement over what is about to be a damn good fight.

"You watchin little slut? Look at what your scent can do." He changes his stance into that of a fight, "You've got two normally non aggressive Aplahs ready to get their asses handed to them and for fucking what?"

The three of them shift their eyes and bodies this way and that before Bakugou licks his teeth.

"God I can't wait to bury my face in that soaked pussy." He lunges, transforming mid leap into a hauntingly powerful wolf. His teeth are exposed, lip curled up in a snarl as his targets Kirishima first. Kirishima barely shape shifts in time, pearly white teeth sink deep into his shoulder before gnashing at his throat. Deafening growls and yowling surround the clearing. Kirishima attempts to kick Bakugou off of him as they tumble closer to who you assume is Todoroki who bares his teeth. He launches himself at the other Alphas. His teeth find purchase in Bakugou's shoulder, blood staining white and blonde fur a like. There is no yelp or howl, just a stomach churning growl before Bakugou turns his attention towards the two toned wolf. Snapping his jaw as he attempts to get a grip on the chained wolf who dodges. Bakugou's teeth gleam with dripping crimson, a snarl of warning before he propels himself towards Todoroki. Sharp teeth bite at two toned fur as Shoto bares his teeth, growling, snapping his jaw at his opponent. Kirishima begins to get to his feet, limping as he avoid putting weight onto one of his front legs, crimson drips down onto the chilled dirt. He keeps his ruby red eyes on the two dancing wolves.

Bakugou strikes faster than Todoroki can dodge, and angry teeth clamp down at Todoroki's throat. The collar snaps from the force before Bakugou sinks his fangs deep into Todoroki's throat.

An ear ringing yelp is heard as blood pools into Bakugou's stained muzzle, white fur marred in crimson as Todoroki begins to sway. As the hot head's jaw is locked onto tender flesh, Kirishima attacks. Biting at the nape of Bakugou's neck and yanking him from Todoroki with force, tossing him with ease. The light colored wolf flies into trees snapping the thick oaks as if they were twigs. Buying some time for the two injured wolves, any other alpha would have seen this as a win, knowing the two from rival families would retreat to lick their wounds.

But Bakugou was no normal alpha. This gut clenching fight taught you as much. Todoroki struggles to keep consciousness, his throat dripping an insane amount of blood. He falls to his side huffing almost wheezing before he shifts back into human form, shackles shrinking to readjust to his wrists. Kirishima whines nudging at the unconscious, possibly dead man. All the while crimson red eyes peer through the unsettled dust before soaring through the air, landing on top of the black wolf. Pinning his back onto the ground as dark paws claw at bared teeth. Trying desperately to keep him at bay but with one fucked front paw it is a futile attempt. Quickly Bakugou overpowers him, sinking his teeth too deep into his friend's throat and keeping his muzzle there until the whining and yelping stops. Until he too shifts back to his human form.

You fight to keep your own whimpering in, still hidden in the brush while you hoped, prayed that he somehow got disoriented. That he forgot where you were.

His head snaps towards you, mouth dripping saliva and thick red blood. His eyes glow as his stalks closer. He stops just before the underbrush shifting back into that devilishly handsome face. He is soaked in blood, scratches line his face and chest. He wipes at his mouth but not once does his fist wipe away the cocky smile he holds.

He scares you but what scares you most is how your body is reacting to such a gruesome sight. A muscular man dripping in sticky red, droplets tracing the outline of his abs and a smile of triumph as two people lie wounded, possibly dead behind him. It made your pussy throb, the strength, the raw need and want to win and for what? For you, for your essence and the promise of a futile womb.

He can smell your fear as he yanks you from the bushes and thorns.

"Don't worry, it's not my blood." He grins, pulling you closer to him as you try to push away. Just like you're trying to push away these odd feelings that swirl in your chest, in your stomach; of a weird pride and arousal. It was of no use, like pushing dead weight up a forty five degree hill, this too was a losing battle.

"K..kirishima." Your eyes are glued to his unmoving body, causing a deep rage to form in Bakugou's chest. He grips your chin forcing you to look at him his other hand goes straight for your sex, cupping the underwear allowing his fingers to swipe over the damp fabric.

"Don't you ever say his fucking name while you're wet for me. Got it?" His fingers are causing divots in your cheeks as you whimper from his contrasting touch. Harsh grip, soft strokes. As if reading your mind he takes a deep breath, not meaning to inhale so much of you.

"They ain't dead, you're worth the trouble. But not that much trouble. Now focus on me." He let's go of you, drinking you in smirking when he sees your costume. Or what's left of it anyway.

Thick irony that you would choose to be a bunny of all nights. He fingers the fake ears with earnest.

"Fitting." He purrs before taking both of his hands to the front collar of your dress, ripping the fabric from your torso. He growls audibly mumbling to himself "Much better." As you stand with your tits exposed, your lacy underwear catching his attention beneath fishnet tights. He bites his bottom lip, pulling you to him as he buries his face into your tits. Nipping sucking and biting as he eases your buckling legs towards the ground.

"Fuuuuck." He groans, pressing his cheek harshly against yours, trying to scent you as best he can without claiming you fully. It's hard, fuck is it hard. It always has been, since his first class with you.

You weren't a beta nor an omega. Hell you were of no wolf relation and yet you reeked, oozed of pheromones that drove him and apparently the others mad. He had tried to protect you, he really had, scenting a piece of an old t-shirt and even burning himself on silver.

He wanted you, he needed you, his cock ached for you. Weeping now at your arousal making his canines ache with an even greater pain.

But you were fucking mortal and he was betrothed. Technically all three of the aplahs in that clearing were betrothed to omegas. It was evident your smell seduced them as well.

He brings himself to your shoulder, biting hard enough to draw blood, claws, stuck halfway between human and wolf, rake down your back and ass making ribbons of the flesh. Still you moan and he occasionally swallows those whole as he kisses you. Letting you taste copper as his tongue placates yours, he subconsciously secretes soothing and lustful hormones and they are strong enough to make even you high. His hand finds your nipple and when you arch into him he loses his shit. Breaking the kiss to sniff you, nosing and biting until he finds that sweet spot. He opens his mouth, salivating at the thought as his teeth and cock beg for relief. He freezes, squeezing you to him for a moment. The action causes your ribs to creak in protest and yet you feel warm, safe.

His mouth hovers over your pulse point, the salty sweet taste of you, breaths away from the exact spot he would need to sink his aching teeth into to make you his.

In a quick motion and a test of will he shoves you onto your back, ripping at the fabric between your thighs after he forces your legs open. You do nothing to stop him, not that could.

Not that you would.

He slips his tongue between your folds and licks up, swirling the wet muscle when you buck against him. He hooks his arms around your legs gaining control over your hips and eats.

See Bakugou is a glutton and he will not stop until he is satisfied. It would be a gift and a curse for you.

He works his mouth against you thoroughly as the coil in your stomach snaps over and over again. Your hand fisting his hair as you cry out in hoarse gasps, legs shaking around his head, thighs squeezing his skull as he coaxes another high from you.

Your entire body is shaking, worn out already from however long he sucked, nipped and lapped at your core. Finally he seemed to come up for air but only to watch your sex convulse. He looks up to you causing your heart to skip a beat. His hair is that much more wild, his intense gaze glowing red in the low light and his face glistens with your slick.

"Fuck!" You cry out, letting your head fall back into the ground.

"What's wrong bunny? Can't handle a little head?" He shoves two fingers deeply into you making a come here motion. You ride another body quaking high as he tries to stretch you to accommodate him. His breathing becomes frantic, as he chases a smell you're emitting. Thrusting harshly into you as his other hand abusesyour clit until that deliciously addicting smell he's chasing crescendos. Your scream echoes in the woods as clear liquid shoots over Bakugou's forearms, all the while you held fluttering eye contact, practically melting in his hands. His fangs grow and he cannot hold himself back any longer. He shoves his pants all the way down, even off of his ankles as he sinks his lengthy girth into you in a snap of his hips. A mixture of pain and pleasure shoot through you like a live wire as you begin to mewl, needing him to move.

"More, more." You whine, tears prick your eyes as he smiles a deadly smirk.

"You're such a talkative cock sleeve. You want my knot that bad? Then take it." He thrusts into you setting a deep harsh pace. Alternating between quick succession and slow deep throats. Biting at the skin of your chest and shoulders, torturing you in such a way.

Punishing you for being mortal.

"Why?" It's a guttural growl as your mind is lost on another plane, "Why do you have to be mortal?"

He emphasizes each word with a thrust of his hips earning him a lovely raspy moan from you.

"I want to...to fucking mark you. Make you mine. The thought of any other alpha or even fucking human touching you…." His thoughts have him chasing two very dangerous highs, snapping his hips so he comes closer to your throat.

"Please...please Bakugou." You whimpering encourages him.

He breathes you in, tasting you without even a flicker of his tongue. Your arousal, your damp hair sticking to the column of your throat, the faint scent of your shampoo.

Somehow he reigns himself in again. Teeth elongated enough they almost scrape your skin. His breath comes out hot and heavy as you squirm beneath him for friction, wanting nothing more than to be filled. If he does this, if he makes you his mate, it would surely complicate everything.

"You have to tell me you want it." He's panting, vulnerable as he looks at you, your heart shatters from the look. Deafening reason and logic as it screams how badly you want to be his and he yours.

"Not just because it feels fucking good right now." His voice is husky, rasped as he fights the weight of his instincts, "Not because I'm fucking hot or a novelty to you mortals. If I mark you, you'll always feel something for me and vice versa. We'll be tethered and attracted to one another even if we fucking hate each other."

Slowly you nod, again he grabs onto your chin, sliding it down to your throat as he squeezes.

"This isn't some good acid trip, this isnt some fucking dream. You'll have to meet the elders. You'll have to deal with my ruts." Again he's panting, shaking from holding himself back, having half a mind to just kill you. Still you do not move away from his touch.

"My jealousy. My rage. My need for territory control. I'll come home dripping in blood. I'll kill other Alpahs." He breathes your name in such a way you clench around him. He growls from the sensation. You struggle to speak beneath his grip, head floating but some how in the right spot.

"I...I can handle it. Mark me Bakugou Katsuki. Fucking make me yours, fill me use me. Just…" He stares into your eyes until he can no longer take it. Pounding into you in a harsh pace, finally giving in

"You'll take my knot like a good slut won't you?" His eyes watch you nod before they fall to your breasts. Watching them bounce from the force of his thrusts. His hips turn sloppy as your high builds again. You claw at his back and his smells your high as he tries to time it right. He sinks his teeth into your throat, keeping it just a hair above a marking.

You feel a growing pressure as his tip stretches you even more until he finally sinks his teeth into you with a grown. His thrusts stuttering as hot ropes paint your walls. Your cunt flutters around it as all you can do is become limp in his grip. His arms are fully around you, his mouth still to your throat as he slowly eases up. His body giving off a bonding hormone so strong that even your moral senses can pick up on. It you drown in a high scented in spice caramel and heat. He pants heavily, his arms shaking as he kisses you fiercely, teeth bumping into yours before he pulls back.

Weakly you claw at him to hold him as he whispers praises. He lifts you, pulling you towards his chest to keep you safe as you begin to drift. His mouth is pressed to your ear and you can hear the cocky smile in his voice.

"Get some rest while you still can mate." His hand snakes around to your stomach, his fingers lightly caressing the skin.

"We aren't done until you're carrying my pups."

Tags

@katsukisprincess @avellanagamer100 @bakugotrashpanda my number one fan

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha au #dub con #non con #werewolf bakugou #werewolf bakugo #alpha bakugou #bnha alpha

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belovabelova · 3 years

Text

Little Darling | Part Three

Fanfic Summary: A young girl falls for her stepdad’s best friend, Steve Rogers.

Pairing: dad’s best friend! Steve Rogers x original female character

Word Count: 1075 words

Fanfic Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex and various sexual acts, age gap relationship (16 years), mentions and descriptions of suicide and self-injurious behavior (eating disorders and self-harm), mental illness, death or dying, physical violence, and blood.

Notes: I’m also posting this fanfic on Wattpad. I hope you enjoy!

(Part Two)

Jumping around with excitement, Callie tries to knock Steve over when we step through the front door, but he just chuckles and kneels down to pet her. She immediately takes a liking to him, panting and trying to lick his face. He scratches behind her ear and smiles. "Aren't you a good puppy," he praises. "Such a good girl."

I take my shoes off and watch him carefully. "Do you have a dog?" I ask, considering the way he interacts with her. They both seem to adore each other. It's actually quite cute.

He glances up at me and presses his lips together. "No, I don't. I wish I did, but I work too much to take care of one," he tells me.

I nod my head, realizing he probably has a lot of responsibilities as New York County District Attorney.

Taking his hand off of Callie, he stands up again.

Considering he's so much taller than me, I almost have to step back to look him in the eyes. When I look straight ahead, my gaze is level with his chest, but he's wearing a white t-shirt. He pulled one on before we came inside, and it's covered in filth.

Without thinking too much about it, I rub my thumb gently across one of the dirt stains. "Do you want me to put your clothes in the wash while you're showering? It might take an hour or so, but at least they'll be clean."

"No, it's fine," he says, watching me bring my hand away from his chest. "I'll probably end up putting something of Bucky's on to go home in. I can wash them later tonight when I get back to my place. Thank you, though."

"You're welcome," I tell him, combing my fingers through the ends of my curls.

We stand in silence for a short moment. I stare at him with my big brown Bambi eyes, but he looks around the house with interest. I don't understand why he's so curious because I'm almost positive he's been here before, but I just ignore it and say, "Let me show you to the bathroom."

After I lead Steve upstairs, I grab a book from my room and head back down to the kitchen where I place a kettle of water on the stove. Callie is drinking from her bowl by the refrigerator, so I offer her a few pets before walking into the living room. She follows behind me, practically jumping on the backs of my legs. When I take a seat on the couch, she tries climbing up onto my thighs, but I nudge her away, so she lays at my feet instead. As she starts to relax, I attempt to focus on getting through the first chapter of my book, but I hear the shower running and my mind begins to wander.

The thought of such an attractive man being completely naked while we're alone in a house together makes my stomach flutter. I realize it's massively inappropriate— not only is he my stepfather's best friend, but he's nearly twice my age. Regardless, I can't stop myself from thinking about what he probably looks like under a stream of hot water. The visual is too compelling.

I'm partially convinced Steve is a man trapped inside the body of a god. It's not too often I see someone so handsome, and I start imagining erotic scenarios in my head that could stem from his shower. They're all inspired by scenes from romance novels, so unfortunately, nothing so spontaneous will likely ever happen, but it's fun to think about.

Hoping to distract myself from my arousing thoughts, I set my book down on the coffee table and head back into the kitchen.

As I'm leaving the living room, Callie gets up and plops down on her bed to take a nap.

I'm leaning over the counter and waiting for my water to boil when I hear the shower stop running upstairs. I practically count the minutes until Steve appears in front of me, preparing my herbal tea as I watch the clock.

After ten minutes, he walks into the kitchen in a full-zip hoodie, but the zipper's pulled down, exposing his body. The grey material looks a little tight around his arms, but the athletic shorts fit him fine. Seeing him so exposed would make anyone excited, so I don't exactly feel bad for admiring the muscles in his stomach.

"Were you not able to find a shirt in Bucky's closet that fits you, or are you just trying to show off for me?" I tease, lifting my eyes to scan his perfect face.

The corners of his lips turn up and he averts his gaze, staring down at the floor. "Would it be wrong to admit that it's the latter?" he asks, and I actually think he's joking.

"You're kidding," I try to point out, but he just rubs the back of his neck and glances up at me with a guilty smile on his lips. It's adorable, but I don't know if he realizes he's tempting me.

I notice my heart start to beat a little faster in my chest. "Did you want to watch a movie?" I ask casually, hoping his answer will reveal his intentions.

He chuckles a bit. "You want to watch a movie with me?"

"I do." I pick up my cup of tea and take a small sip. "But only if you do," I add after I swallow, looking at him over the rim of the ceramic mug. "I don't want to make you stick around if you don't want to. I mean, you still have to drive back to Manhattan."

"No, we can watch a movie. I have nowhere to be right now."

"Okay then," I mutter, trying to keep my smile at bay.

He stares at me with an even expression and it's almost intimidating. "Okay," he says.

Turning away from him, I set my entire cup of tea in the sink. "The only thing is— um, we don't have anything like Netflix down here in the living room. We'll have to go up to my bedroom, if that's okay with you."

"That's fine," he tells me.

I turn to face him again. When I notice the small smirk on his lips, I smile. "Okay. Good."

Walking past him, I head into the foyer and start up the stairs. He follows closely behind.

(Part Four)

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razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

Tyrants | Chapter One - Disclosure

A/N: This was supposed to be a Jax x Fem!OC fanfic, but it took a little turn as I started to write more of it. So, it’ll be Tig x Fem!OC, but Jax does play a very important role in this.

SUMMARY: A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of murder, the guy that got his ass shit is in this one. Jax and Tig get their own warnings, too, for obvious reasons.

The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary.

John Teller was always so astute.

His judicious character befell his son, too. Jax had that same perceptive nature as his old man--everyone would comment on that.

To Isla, it was admirable. For Jackson Teller to be a man of such stature--to hold such a reputation--and to remain somewhat level-headed through it all, was only something she could commend.

She'd seen many of her father's friends crumble under the pressure of Samcro, unable to balance the weight of living with the responsibility and commitment to the club, and meet their unfortunate demise--in some not-so extreme cases.

But Jax was different. He'd always been different.

Maybe that wasn't so great, however.

"You're fucking insane, Isla."

"Not insane." She mumbled, sifting through the box of shitty medical supplies that Gemma had left atop the pool table last night.

"Just trying to patch this shit up so Hayes doesn't kick the fucking bucket before Jax gets back here."

Tig snarled. "But it might be infected, and the bullet is still in this dude's ass--"

Isla whipped her head to glare at the man, her eyes wide, forehead slick with sweat--and a little blood, too.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Isla--"

"Tig, with all due respect, unless you're gonna help, please get the fuck outta here."

"That's not gonna suffice," he pointed out, referring to the medical tape, ignoring her scolding.

She wanted to throttle him. Truly, Isla was willing to wrap her crimson-coated fingertips around Tig's neck and squeeze the absolute life out of that man.

"I know." Her lips kneaded together in frustration, watching her father dab an alcohol-infused pad on the wound. "But unless you've got any better ideas, then we're just gonna have to keep reapplying this shit."

"But the infection, Isla."

"But the lack of medical equipment, Tig."

He slapped his palm against the table and glared at her, pointedly. "Why've you gotta be such a bitch all the time, huh?"

"Watch it, Trager." Piqued, Chibs growled.

"I'm not a bitch all the time," she dismissed her father, wiping at her palm with a wet rag. "I'm actually able to control the way I act around other people."

"Oh, fuck you--"

"Christ!"

The Scot's yell was muffled by the cap of his whiskey bottle, his hand pressing against Cameron's skin as the man screamed into the cloth Isla had placed underneath his head.

"God, for fucks sake, both of you just pack it in."

"Chibs--"

"Shut the fuck up. You're a fucking geriatric and you're spending your morning bickering with an almost thirty-year-old. Grow up, Tig."

Despite laughing at his comment, and enjoying the irritation wash over the other man's face, she felt bad.

For riling her father up--who was simply trying to help the innocent Irishman caught in the literal crossfire--she felt fucking awful. Especially because he never seemed to get mad at her all too often.

Tig, though...That was a different story entirely.

"I'm gonna go see if Clay has any more shit lying 'round here." She declared, throwing a damp towel onto the table, backing out of the room.

Her heart was in her throat, stomach in damn knots. Isla wasn't confident that Cameron was going to make it--not with such a deep wound.

And in his ass, too? Jesus. She wasn't confident at all.

Of course, she'd seen men get shot. Her own father, for one. But she hadn't seen somebody have to go so long without actual medical attention.

Chibs was ex-army med, but there was only so much a man could've done with a bottle of liquor, gauze, and a towel.

She was relieved that the bullet hit Cameron and not Clay, though. As sick as it sounded, she was so fucking glad that he'd managed to dodge the line of fire--initially intended for his own skull--and come out completely unscathed.

But for every ounce of relief she'd felt, an even more fervid sense of anger prevailed at the thought of Jax taking so damn long with those medical supplies he'd sought to get last night.

Gemma mentioned something about heading to the hospital--or a friend's house, or something--but Isla wasn't paying any mind to the woman as she, and Chibs, were trying all ways to stop the bleeding coming from Cameron's ass cheek.

It was the most bizarre turn of events she'd ever experienced.

One minute, Isla was sipping on a glass of wine while she eagerly awaited the spirited ping of her tiny microwave oven, ready to spend a rare--though well fucking deserved--night alone.

However, things took a drastic turn when she received a call from Tig--on behalf of a very busy Chibs--casually requesting her assistance because the Mayans had tried to assassinate Clay.

But Tig failed to mention that the man was completely fine.

She'd spent fifteen minutes on the way over mentally preparing herself, wondering what hell she'd walk into when she set foot into the clubhouse. But it was normal--strangely so.

Isla wasn't a professional, she didn't exactly know how to handle such a trauma, but she trusted her father and she just wanted to make sure he had a helping hand.

God knows that Tig wouldn't have been very much use, and Juice was a little nervous--though, he was doing incredibly well throughout the ordeal regardless of his internal apprehension.

"How's it looking?" Gemma threw at Isla, getting to her feet.

"Bloody."

She quickly scanned the room, taking in the uncomfortably sparse bar. It wasn't usually so empty, so quiet.

Clay, Gemma, and Juice. That was it. Not even Piney--not even Epps.

"Is he doing okay?"

It was still early in the day, though. She guessed that they'd pop in once they properly came around.

"He's better than he was last night." The brunette nodded. "Dad is certain the laceration is gonna get infected if we leave it any longer without trying to get the bullet out--"

"You've gotta wait 'til Jax gets back here, Isla, we can't risk Hayes dying on us."

"I know, Clay. He's just fucking tired--he's been up all night. We need a real medic on the scene before something bad happens. It's only a matter of time."

He mumbled something to himself that only Gemma seemed to catch, but Isla didn't particularly give a damn at that point. Like Chibs, she was exhausted.

The tattered and torn plaid shirt she had thrown over a random tank top--now smeared with another man's blood--was wrenched between her fingers as she pulled it off, folding it not-so-neatly.

She hadn't dealt with such a bloody wound in a while. Not since her mother's palm, decorated with shards of glass, was in dire need of stitches and her father was across the country, unable to offer his medical assistance.

"I'll grab one of Jax's shirts for you--"

"No, Gemma, it's okay," she smiled, taking a seat on one of the couches opposite her.

The older woman pinched her eyebrows together skeptically, watching Isla shift. "I insist."

"It's fine." Isla was adamant. "I'm gonna head home as soon as Jax gets back here--if he gets back here--so, really, it's fine."

A minimal amount of already dried blood was spread over her wrists and fingers, and the excess had been rubbed off on her crimson flannel, so she didn't particularly feel bad about making any mess.

Though, she shouldn't have felt bad. Not after she'd been coerced into helping and eventually receiving that shitty reception from Tig.

"Aren't you cold?" She questioned, waiting for Isla to capitulate, but she never did.

The thought of wearing one of Jax's shirts--after it being given to her by his fucking mother--didn't sit right with her for some reason. Plus, she didn't particularly feel like walking out of that building wearing the damn reaper on her back.

She didn't want to flaunt their patch. Not any more than she already had been for the last ten years.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Clay glared at the clock on the wall, realizing they'd been without the Vice President for hours. In an attempt to put him at ease, Gemma ran a hand along his shoulder.

Isla could only watch them--admire, perhaps.

"He told us he was gonna swing by Tara's place for the equipment. But that was last night, man." Juice shrugged, circling the lip of his beer bottle with his thumb.

She felt her throat thicken with a sick sense of trepidation. She hadn't heard that name in years.

"Tara?" She stuttered, feeling Gemma's piercing glare.

The woman hated Jax's first love, though she never said it aloud. Isla knew her perception of her, however, and she'd started to feel the exact same as the years went on.

Bitch.

"Yeah, y'know, Tara Knowles--"

Her heart sank--fuck that, it dove straight to the deep caverns of her chest, throbbing away into nothing. Until she felt completely void of all emotion. Completely fucking numb.

"I know her, Juice." Her response came hastily, snappy. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to say that."

He shrugged it off. "It's alright. I wasn't expecting her to be back in town, either. I thought you already knew."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Isla's head shook.

The crow situated at the bottom of her spine began to smolder, blistering away at her skin until she physically flinched.

It was a brilliant idea at the time, getting a matching tattoo with Jax's old lady--the one woman she truly adored and trusted, never once feeling an ounce of malice toward.

Because that was a rare thing for Isla, and she wanted their friendship--and relation to Samcro--to prevail for eternity, she supposed.

But as time went on and Tara decided to distance, and eventually alienate, herself from the club, an ample sense of regret persisted for fucking months.

Isla loathed her ink. She hated the negative connotation of the crow she once lauded, and the mere idea of that thing being slapped above her ass forever churned her stomach.

It wasn't one of her finest moments, she had to admit. But she was young and extremely fucking dumb. She'd bet top dollar that Tara felt the same--if she hadn't gotten the crow covered up already.

"Jesus, Jax, where were you?!"

Her eyes flicked upward, attention on the blonde as he sauntered across the wooden floor of the bar.

She hadn't even noticed his presence until Clay spoke, but she soon started to heed how Jax was trembling a bit with every step that he took.

It wasn't obvious. To most people, the slight shake of his wrist would've gone completely unnoticed. But to Isla--to the most observant woman in Charming--his discomfort was striking.

Jax ignored him, stomping his way toward the back room. His line of sight never satisfied Isla's. It didn't even come close to it, either.

Something had happened. It was obvious that, in the time he had been with Tara, he'd encountered something grizzly enough to chill him to the bone.

Which was saying something, what with the horrific shit that he'd already seen in his time.

"Jax!" Clay yelled, following closely behind him. "Hey, asshole, where the fuck did you put the bag--"

"I've got it."

If she had the option, Isla would've allowed the floor to swallow her fucking whole.

"Tara." Pissed, Gemma acknowledged. "You're here because?"

"I asked her to help, mom."

"But Chibs had it covered. He just needed some actual instruments--"

"Gemma, quit it."

She simply nodded at her son, not wanting to cause another problem that she'd have to fix later--which, honestly, Isla was shocked to see.

"He's in there--"

"I know." Jax cut her short, ushering Tara to the back of the clubhouse--striving to get her into the room before she heeded Isla.

But she did.

The first person she clocked--aside from Clay--was Isla Telford, the woman she had purposely alienated herself from ten fucking years ago.

It wasn't anything that she'd particularly done to Tara, more like the crowd she ran with--and the way her loyalties never seemed to lay very closely to her friends, or anything outside of the club.

Isla wasn't a part of Samcro--she didn't want to be a part of Samcro--but her coalition was strong enough to convince anybody that she was more than merely a daughter of a Sgt. at Arms.

She had been brought up around the Sons--her father's choice, of course--and when her mother passed, she had no choice but to dive a little bit deeper into that world. But, as expected, it was constantly under the watchful eye of her old man.

She was dedicated to them. They were, essentially, family, and she was an honorary member.

"Isla." Jax mumbled, nodding his head toward the entrance of the clubhouse as he closed the back-door. "Outside."

He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his leather vest, shaking the box as he strived to seem a little less suspicious to Clay and his mother.

The blonde wobbled to her feet--knees weak after hours of standing--while simultaneously pulling her bloodied flannel back onto svelte, freckled arms, recognizing that the chill was to hit her the second she stepped onto the gravel.

Jax was casual while he strutted ahead, taking long strides that Isla found fucking impossible to keep up with.

He pushed the door to close behind her, offering a cigarette that she hastily declined.

"What's she doing here?" Was how she decided to break the silence, her eyes searching for a hint of something written on his face.

But there was nothing. Not an ounce of emotion--scarily so.

"She's fixing Cameron up--"

"Not at the clubhouse, Jax. I meant back in Charming."

He ran a thumb across his lower lip, trying to soften his gaze on Isla, but it was futile. He looked discomposed--unsettled.

"She's uh--she's workin' at the hospital now." She started to nod, waiting for his elaboration. It never came, however.

"Oh, that's nice. I wonder what happened in Chicago...Do you know why she's back here? Or how long she's gonna be staying in town--"

"You sound like my fucking mother--give it a break with the thirty-seven questions about Tara, damnit."

He snarled, heeding the distaste of his words the second she glowered at him.

"Excuse you?"

"I didn't call you out here for a sweet little conversation, Isla, I called you 'cause I need your help--"

"With what?"

Jax's hand hooked onto the back of his neck while he tilted his head to look upward, thinking of a way--any fucking way--to explain just what damn mess he'd found himself entwined with over the course of the last twenty-four hours.

He didn't know what to say or how to say it--if he should've fucking said it. He trusted Isla with his life--always had--but sometimes he appreciated that she mightn't have appreciated finding herself tangled within Jax's boisterous, at times frightening, life.

But it was too late for that. She'd been dragged through the deepest shit and wasn't crumbling that easily.

"Jax--"

"Kohn." He stated simply, waiting for the cogs of her brain to begin turning.

"What about him? You got in trouble with the ATF or something? Because we can handle that--"

"I already did." Jax laughed humorlessly, finally meeting Isla's line of sight.

The skin underneath his eyes was red raw, blotchy and irritated after he had used the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away the tears he'd shed.

The tears he hadn't wanted to shed, but had fallen freely--uncontrollably--from those cerulean hues Isla never tired of looking at.

"What do you mean by that?" Nervously, she quizzed.

He didn't even have to say anything. She fucking knew. She knew exactly what he meant by that, but there was a tiny morsel of something within her that hoped and prayed that he'd declare that her gut feeling was wrong.

But he couldn't. Because it was right. Like always, Isla's intuition didn't fail her.

"Jax, honey, what did you do--"

"I killed Kohn."

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #tig trager x oc #jax teller #jax teller x oc #jax teller fanfiction

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kylosgenesis · 3 years

Text

Teardrops on Fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

Chapter warnings : descriptions of death, abuse, blood, and mentions of miscarriage.

Chapter 2: Honey I tried

“When did it start?” Bucky was holding on to the edge of his kitchen table.He felt nauseated with the thought of her, sick and yearning, He couldn't even picture what she had grown up to look like, A part of him was scared of his own emotions.

“It hasn’t yet!”

“ At least not as of this morning.” her mother was breaking apart! Bucky could tell she was very scared and exhausted! He knew that her daughter's well being must've weighed heavily on her, he could see the physical manifestation of her pain. In just a few hours her nails had been bit to the core, and her tears streaks had left vivid and raw tracks around her cheeks.

“Buck! I know this is a lot to ask, but you have to tell Steve! Were worried she wouldn't make it otherwise. This will be her first heat”

He’d almost forgotten his mothers presence in the room, cause he turned around and met her eyes, tears streaming down her face. She'd grown fond of her friend's daughter over the years. After her own kids had left to form their own lives, she could still go to her and relive some memories of her little ones' younger days.

“I know! I'm still wrapping my head around it, but I know what I have to do” agitation surrounded his voice. He didn't know when his heart started to feel like it wanted to jump out of his chest or when he gripped the glass of water that was left on the table so hard it shattered, but it was evident that he wasn't going to be getting any rest that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky parked his pickup in front of Steve's house. It was the largest house in the village, it wasn't Steve's choice, but he'd inherited it from his father, and his father had inherited it from his father before him. Being the house farthest away from the city limits, but right in the middle of the village meant Steve was protected, but could also be easily accessed.

Looking back at his passenger seat he saw Winnifred with her mom cradled upon her shoulder, comforting her best friend through the probably the second hardest day of her life.

“You should stay here Ma, I'll go get Steve” I know he’ll be happy to see you, but I still don't know how he'll react to her'' He opened his tool box on the bed of his truck and pulled out a large fleece blanket. Neatly folded he handed it over to his mother.

“Just keep her company till I come back”

The lights in Steve's house were on, but Buck could hear the sound of wood being shopped and Steve's grunts coming from the back of the property. As he reached his best friend's view, he took a deep breath. It was all gonna be different now, for all of them.

Steve had a large pair of headphones in, and was clearly a few songs deep into his playlist because when Bucky came around the corner; Steve almost lost a hold of the axe he was holding! Lookin at Buck he lowered his bulky headphones and stabbed the axe to the soft moody ground next to the small uncut piece of wood he was about to turn into lumber.

Steve's hair was not as long as Bucky's, and he had taken a liking to a neatly kept beard.

He grew it out as a joke at first! Clint dared him to grow it for a month, and after a month he'd grown fond of the style.So for the past year now, Steve looked less like a young soldier, and more like those lumberjacks from the cheesy romance novel covers his sister Rebecca loved to read.

“Hey Buck, didn't expect you around so late” Steve combed his hair back with his fingers. A nervous habit Bucky had noticed since childhood, especially when he had a lot on his mind.

“Couldn't sleep?”

Bucky was concerned for his friend, momentarily forgetting the reason for his sudden visit.

“ Banner called! Wanda was there earlier today, she wasn't feeling well. Turns out she was pregnant, and didn't know it!

“Steves that's awesome, when is she due ? we need to celebra…” as he looked into his best friend's eyes he saw the pain behind his look.

“She was miscarrying at the same time she found out she was pregnant, Buck. That's the third pup we've lost this year.I don't know how we're gonna get through this, It's getting harder and harder to keep everyone safe, and pretend we're not gonna be extinct in 50 years”

“Steve…” Steve's gaze was filled with a mixture of tears and rage. He took everyone's pain personally. And hearing about Wanda had awoken an unease within his soul. He couldn't fight the problem! How could a man used to protecting and fighting, deal with a problem that didn't require a fight?

“There’s an omega! She presented this morning!

“Who is she?”

“Remember Katerina? She … uhh … after she was exiled from the pack, she had a daughter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 20 years ago

“We can't just let him die! We have to take him outside the walls! Someone out there can help him”

Joseph was the second in command to Benjamin Rogers. Two of the strongest alphas the entire western district had ever known. Both feared together, but explosive apart.

Benjamin had fathered a son 7 years earlier, a frail boy. He was often sickly and his future wasn’t promised! He wasn't meant to live much longer, the boy had once again woken up sick. A high fever overcoming his small body.

Benjamin had changed after his wife's death, he blamed the boy for Sarah’s death. A man that was once kind, and dedicated to his family, now lived like a wandering dark shadow inflicting cruelty against anyone that disagreed and crossed his path. His pack was strong! But there was no harmony, only fear.

Sarah had been a beautiful alpha as well as Benjamin. She had a hard time carrying Steve to term, at 7 months she fell bedridden and two weeks later, she had a seizure that compromised her pregnancy. Benjamin himself had to cut the boy out of his dying wife. That choice, as his wife laid there lifeless , covered in blood, and cut open like an animal awoke a demon in Benjamin. He saw death in his son's eyes, that is why he could never love him. He could never care!

Katerina took care of his young baby like her own, she had struggled to have a baby of her own so when Joseph came home holding a still bloody wailing baby, she fell madly in love with the small bundle in his arms.

The boy was small, but smart! He picked up words as young as a few months, and as a toddler he was incredibly gifted. Steve excelled in art, and even knees bit of music. Katerina loved to sit down and play piano! A young Steve would lean into her side and follow suit to her fingers on the side of the pano with his small hands. Joseph and Katerina watched him grow up, and took care of him.

Steve got sick often, but nothing too serious!

One day as she prepared breakfast she had a feeling of dread on the pit of her stomach, she ran upstairs to check on Steve and found him comatose on the bed!she wailed as she held her adopted infant son to her chest. Joseph came running to her after hearing her screams. He picked up the boy from her hands and loaded him into the car, with Katerina at his side he headed to Benjamin's house.

That was the first time Benjamin had seen his son since his wife died, his son himself nearly dead!

"Please Ben! He needs help! There's another pack two hours away, they have a doctor that can help him. She can heal him for good, please open up the walls so we can go to her! They both pleaded with Ben for hours, but to no avail!

The man was already covered in anger and reeking of alcohol, “Don't you dare challenge your alpha Joe! If I find out you defied me and left this territory you will never be allowed back”

Katerina couldn't let her boy die! With that warning in heart, she and her husband plotted to get little Stevie outside the pack territory, and to that doctor.

Behind Ben’s back, and knowing the consequences in his heart Joe called the Alpha from the neighboring pack, the other alpha had the resources ready for them to arrive in the morning. His doctor, a witch, was ready to give little Steve the life he deserved.

In the early morning of the night they sped their way through the woods. Once they reached the border a car awaited Rina, a beta from the fury pack was ready to take them to their pack.

Ben had closed the pack off to treaties when his wife died, he believed the world was dangerous and the pack was better off without interruptions, he couldn't even save his wife! His pack did not deserve to be mercied, they didn't deserve to live if she couldn't. So Ben slowly watched his pack become secluded and lost.

In the morning Ben, even drunker than the night before, had shown up at Joe's doorstep demanding to see the boy. Fully convinced he'd be dead by now, when Joe failed to produce an explanation as to why his wife was gone and so was Steve.

Ben lost it!

He called a pack meeting on which he publicly executed Joe, whether it was a display of power or just pure psychopathic joy. Joe’s death left the town broken, when Katerina came back with a healed Steve, she found herself widowed and exiled.

As a last sick jab into Joe’s heart even after his death, Ben took Steve!

As the years went by Steve forgot his early years, he forgot Joe and Katerina!

Steve remembered stories of his betrayal, her exile! How their actions forever changed a pack. He grew up kind, giving, and strong! Even if Steve didn't experience or know much love from his father, he was full of it!

And thanks to that witch both Katerina’s little growing heartbeat and Steve were stronger than ever!

Tags:

@austynparksandpizza @exposition-belongs-somewhere

#alpha steve x omega reader #alpha bucky x omega reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o fic #a/b/o verse #steve rogers #bucky barnes #alpha steve rogers #alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes

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megsironthrone · 3 years

Text

Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 8

*Familiar characters are NOT mine! The original story of "The Swan Princess" is actually pretty muddled as far as origin, but it appears to be based off a Swedish or German fairy-tale*

Warnings: Swan Princess AU, angst, violence?, a little fluff. Kind of long.

Pairings: Viserys Targaryen x fem!reader

"Are you excited, Brother?" a young Daenerys asked Viserys as they waited once more for the yearly visit from your family. "For what? Another summer with that little brat? Not exactly my idea of fun, Little Sister." Daenerys rolled her eyes. Viserys was always like this when the summer rolled around. He hated not getting his way and never once had he gotten his way when it came to you and your family.

"Well I like Y/N. I can't wait for her to become my sister." A frown made its way to Viserys' face. He despised being reminded of the arrangement between your kingdoms. You and Viserys had been arranged to wed practically from birth. In order to make the idea more "bearable", your parents along with Viserys' decided that you and Viserys would spend EVERY SINGLE SUMMER together. And this particular summer would be the last before the wedding planning would begin. Needless to say, Viserys was not looking forward to it at all.

Growing up, Viserys had found you annoying. You were always trying inject yourself into everything he did. No matter what Viserys was doing outside of his own bedroom/bath chambers, you were there. He never knew if you were simply trying to bother him or if you were trying to get to know him the way your parents wanted you to. And as you grew older, you became close to the guards and other servants in the palace. You were constantly talking to them when Viserys wouldn't talk to you. It was almost like you were flirting with them. Viserys hated it and he grew to hate summers.

The sound of trotting horses reached Viserys' ears and soon enough, the carriage appeared. After a soft scolding from his mother, Viserys straightened up to his full height and he tried not to run as far away as possible. That usual feeling of annoyance and dread began to fill up his stomach while Daenerys chatted away. If she kept it up, Viserys was certain he'd box her ears.

When the carriage pulled to a stop, Viserys held his breath. Your father was the first to step out, offering his hand to someone inside. Viserys was struck dumb when he saw you step down from the carriage, smiling at your father. There was absolutely no way this was the same person that visited him every summer. How had he not noticed how beautiful you'd become?

Your eyes met his and you held your head high as you approached on your father's arm. Your gaze never wavered while you greeted Viserys' family. "Good day, Prince Viserys. It is lovely to see you again," you told him softly with a curtsy. Viserys barely managed to bow before you were all swept up into the castle for preparations for the welcoming feast for the evening.

The feast was, as always, a beautiful and probably over-done affair. But Viserys made it through, his gaze often making its way over to where you were sitting. Whenever you caught him looking, you'd given him a soft smile before going back to your meal. Viserys wanted to speak to you, but he had to wait. When it was finally time to begin the traditional after-feast dance, Viserys couldn't get to you quickly enough.

"Princess," he greeted before sweeping you up in his arms as the music started. For a moment, the two of you were quiet and then began making small talk. All-in-all, things were going well until Viserys made a comment about how beautiful you were. "Thank you, though I suppose that isn't a good enough reason to suddenly be happy about our arrangement."

"And why not? Why should my future queen not be beautiful?" You rolled your eyes. "Beauty isn't what makes a queen, Viserys." Viserys' brows furrowed. "Well, what else is there?" You suddenly stopped dancing and shook your head. "You are an idiot, Viserys. A complete and utter idiot."

With that, you ran off and no one saw you the rest of the evening. In fact, no one saw you the entirety of the next day either. It wasn't until evening that it was discovered that you were missing. The state of your chambers indicated that you had not gone willingly. Viserys instantly saw red. Someone had the audacity to sneak into your chambers and take you from him?! And where the hells were the guards when this happened?! Viserys was livid, executing the two guards that were supposed to be guarding you and your chambers. When he anger was finally spent, Viserys set out to find you.

*time skip*

Viserys spent weeks looking for you. Weeks! And there was nary a sign of you. Viserys was beginning to lose hope and when Viserys lost hope, people suffered. As he searched, Viserys realized why his family and yours had insisted on this arrangement and the summers spent together. You were the only one able to calm Viserys' temper. You could make him see sense. You were the compassionate one. You were everything a queen needed to be. Not just beautiful.

After another long day of searching, Viserys came to a clearing with a lake sitting in the middle. The moon was reflecting off the lake as Viserys sat down on a nearby bench. "Where are you, Y/N?" As expected, no answer came to him. Just a lone swan swooping in and landing on the lake. The swan stared at Viserys, making him a little nervous. That wasn't normal behavior for birds. Was it? Viserys didn't have a chance to think about it when a faint light hit his eyes.

The light grew brighter. So bright that Viserys had to shield his eyes. When he brought his hand down, Viserys was once again speechless. "You came for me," your voice was soft and tears welled up in your eyes. There you were, in the place the swan had just been. Viserys whispered your name and stood up. He barely had time to brace himself before you crashed into him.

"Y/N? What happened to you? Are you hurt?" You pulled away a little and Viserys missed the warmth of having you close. "H-He took me. And awful sorcerer used magic to get into the palace and took me. He's trying to force me to marry him so he can take my father's throne. When I refused, he turned me into a swan. I can become human again when the moonlight hits the lake. That's when he comes to ask me for my hand again."

"He cast a spell on you? Where is he? I'll tear him apart with my bare hands if I have to!" You placed your hand over his mouth and shushed him. "He'll hear you. You can't take him, Viserys. He's too powerful. You'll need the element of surprise. He may have magic but he is not a strong fighter like you." A voice calling your name had suddenly had you jumping away from him.

"You have to go. Go back to the castle and come up with a plan. Any plan. The spell should break if he's dead. Go now. Before he sees you." Viserys wanted to argue, but seeing the fear in your eyes made him do what you said. It was the first time Viserys had ever seen you afraid and that was enough to scare even him a little bit. So he did what you said and returned to the castle to plan a strategy. He would save you. He had to save you.

A few days later, Viserys had his plan and he made his way back through the forest to the clearing with the lake. However, as soon as he set foot in the dark wood, something felt wrong. There was something heavy in the air and a feeling of dread came over him.

Viserys tried to brush it off, but as he pushed forward, the feeling grew. Without even seeing you, Viserys knew you were in danger. He picked up his pace only to stop short when he heard a voice, raspy and eerily calm, calling through the air. "Hurry, little prince. Hurry and I might let you see her one last time." Viserys shook his head to rid himself of the voice, but it simply kept calling to him.

"You thought you could outwit me, but I cannot be so easily defeated. Your princess is dying because of your foolishness." Viserys felt his heart beginning to race and he forced his feet to carry him onward toward the lake. He could feel tree branches cutting at his face and nearly getting tangled in his hair, but he paid it no mind. He would worry about his vanity later. You were his priority. Well, you and making the sorcerer pay dearly for taking you. You were Viserys' and NO ONE took what was his. At least that's how he viewed it in his head. He'd never say that out loud to you. You'd probably slap him.

Finally, just as Viserys was about to give up hope, he broke through the trees to the clearing. Your captor was there, a gloating smile on his face. He didn't look like much. In a physical match, Viserys could easily overpower him. Still, he radiated power like Viserys had never felt before. But the dragon was never one to back down from a fight and this time, the stakes were higher than ever.

"Where is she?" he growled out. The sorcerer simply laughed before stepping to the side slightly. The lone swan laid on the ground, breath hitching more and more every second. You were really dying. "What did you do?!" Viserys shrieked and the sorcerer's disgusting grin grew. "You did this. You and the princess. You could have simply given me what I wanted and this wouldn't have happened. But no. You had to go behind my back. Now, she is dying and there is nothing you can do."

If there was one thing Viserys could not standing, it was losing. The only thing worse than defeat in his eyes was his enemy gloating about the fact. Rage consumed him. Viserys felt hot. Fire welled within him and he was not aware of what was happening until it was too late. The sorcerer screamed in fear as Viserys screamed in agony. His bones were shifting. His skin was changing. Sharp talons grew where nails once were. Wings sprouted from his back. A dragon. A true dragon.

The sorcerer was quicker to react the changes in Viserys, firing some magic spell or other at him. It hit Viserys and the dragon let out a screech of pain. He glanced down at your still form. Fueled on by his need to save you, Viserys steeled his nerves and did the only thing he could think of. He blew fire and before he knew it, the sorcerer was gone. Nothing but a pile of ash.

Once his enemy was gone, Viserys looked at you. No longer a swan, your body was still not moving. Where there was once anger, grief hit Viserys like a sudden storm. His wings and scales disappeared, his limbs shrank back, and the fire in his belly was gone.

As soon as he was back on the ground in his human form, Viserys was at your side. "Y/N?" He scooped you up in his arms and held you to him. For the first time in his life, Viserys felt his eyes filling with tears at the thought of losing you for good.

"You were right," he whispered though it was difficult for him, "There is so much more to marriage and being queen than being beautiful. And you are more than just beautiful. You are everything I ever wanted. Come back to me. As your future king and your husband-to-be, I demand you come back to me." He held you closer to him.

"Who gave you permission to order me around?" your voice rasped out. Viserys let his arms drop a little and he looked at your face to see your beautiful eyes staring back up at him. "You're alive." You nodded and smiled as you tried to sit up a little. "Thanks to you. I guess you really are a dragon." Viserys chuckled. You wrapped your arms around him.

"I love you, Viserys. So much." He didn't reply, but held you more tightly as if he were afraid to let you go. After a moment, you released him so you could look at him again. This time, your face was stern. "But seriously, don't think that just because we're to be married that it means you can order me around!" Viserys shook his head fondly and then captured your lips in a bruising kiss.

(a/n: Okay, so I had this ready over the weekend and just completely forgot to post it because I'm silly. That means you'll get 2 tales this week. These will be the only things I post during my hiatus since they're for a celebration. Anyway, I hope you liked it!)

#meg's game of tales #game of thrones #fairytale au #the swan princess au #viserys targaryen #viserys targaryen x reader #viserys x reader

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alovesthis · 4 years

Text

Safe (Sam Winchester x Reader)

Summary: You go missing one night after leaving the bunker for some errands, and the boys try their best to find you. After being held by demons for a few days, you find your way out and suddenly you show up back at the bunker safe and sound. The boys arrive back and they find you. This makes Sam realize that he can't hide his feelings forever.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Little Angst, Friends To Lovers, Fluff

There wasn't many things you hated in this world, you never hated anyone or anything because that wasn't who you were. Even as a hunter you tried your best not to let hatred consume you but those damn demons were something else.

Two nights ago you were out grabbing things for the bunker for yourself and the guys. Normally Sam would join you, his way to get some alone time with you and maybe try to admit his growing feelings he's been feeling for you for quite some time now. But you told him you needed alone time for the day, explaining that when you get back the two of you could find something to do. You were out all day and Sam started to get anxious until Dean tried to tell him you were probably just driving around taking some time off.

You held on that night you escaped and killed some of the demons the best you could considering all the damage they caused. Bruises almost everywhere from the fights, cuts from their knives on your face and neck everything hurt. The words they said to you hit right home and the thought of them finding the boys -- hurting Sam? You couldn't stomach having Sam being torn away from you. It made you angry that you didn't let Sam come with you that day because maybe if he did you wouldn't be in this mess.

But Dean was totally wrong. You ran into some trouble with two demons which at first you thought you could handle, but that was until till a dozen had attacked you. They did awful things to you to try and get to the Winchesters but you wouldn't budge, they were your family now and nothing could ever make you risk their safety. You did and said this confidently as you knew that they would do anything for you, Sam would do anything and everything to keep you safe.

After running far enough from wherever you were, you found a car and stole it - thanks to Sam teaching you how to hot wire one. Figuring out where you last were you then made it back to the bunker, but once you walked down those steel steps you called out for Sam but no one answered. No Dean and no Cas either.

For those two days that felt never ending to Sam, he never stopped looking and neither did Dean. His fear was slowly becoming real and to lose you meant that he would never get the chance to tell you he's in love with you. To lose you meant he'd never be okay with himself knowing he couldn't save you. This weight he was carrying now wasn't doing him good and Dean had to try and console him and get his head back right and focus on finding you safe.

You hated the fact that they were probably doing everything they could to try and save you during a time where so much was going on. Before you were taken that night, the boys and you were trying to solve yet another major issues along with going on hunts. Dealing with Metaron, the fall of Angels and helping Cas all while making sure Sam was okay after his death and being possessed by Gadreel.

The issues you and the boys encountered the last five years together was endless, but the thing you noticed is that no one was ever alone and you all tried your best to keep each other safe.

Between you and Sam there were constant promises and reassurances that went further than just friends -- it meant something deeper to the both of you, but telling yourselves that and trying to communicate those feelings with actual words were hard.

There was nothing, thanks to the demons who cleaned and cover their tracks, to be able to track you down. Cas answered Sam, but his strength was not good lately considering he didn't have much grace in him. Dean convinced Sam to get back to the bunker for the night and get his head together before going back out to find you, but when they returned Sam was relieved.

The night you came back after escaping the demons your strength was at a low for the first time in a while. It was exhausting being a hunter, but now practically being a Winchester it meant no sleep especially dealing with the Angels hunting Cas down after they fell.

You tried to walk to one of the chairs in the library but failed and ended up falling into a wall and sliding down, sitting restlessly against it trying to hold yourself up. After what felt like hours of antagonizing pain and going in and out, the bunker door opens and heavy footsteps come down the steel steps.

You hear Sam call out your name and you slowly lift your head, eyes still clenched close in pain as you tried to call out for him but instead let out a wincing groan filled with your cries.

"Hey, hey what happened?" Dean voice echos through the bunker in a panic as he follows Sam in the library.

"Dean go get the first aid, I got her."

Sam falls the ground and carefully engulfs you into his arms as he places a hand on your face, tears beginning to from in his eyes. He observes your body to check for any life threatening wounds, but only finds the bruises and cuts. His hand slides up your face gently as it stops by your jawline, his thumb softly rubbing a part of your cheek that doesn't have a cut.

"We were looking everywhere for you, we were trying our best."

"It's okay," you speak softly. "I'm here now and I'm so damn exhuasted."

"What happened," he stutters, "who did this?"

You stare up at him and notice his face scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed in and a tear trailing down his cheek.

"Those," you begin to tremble, "those fucking demons. They knew everything about you and Dean and somehow me too. The things they said and did to try and get me to turn on you, I wouldn't let them come here."

"You should've told them-"

"And then what? Get you and your brother killed?"

"They could've tried." Sam sadly chuckles. "You're hurt and this is because-"

"Don't you dare say because of you. That's the oldest excuse in the book."

"I know but if I lost you, I don't know what I'd do with myself. I can't imagine you not being here anymore."

"If you did, you'd have to let me go. That's how are life is, that's what happens."

"Stop."

Sam leans forward and lets his lips linger on your forehead for what felt like forever. You crack a smile as you begin to think how worried he was for you, how he was sorry that he wasn't there for you that day. His hand rests on the side of your neck and he sighs.

"Sam, I'm not dying." You grip his hand and squeeze. "Just a little hurt. Nothing can stop me as you can tell."

You try to lighten the mood even though you were in pain both physically and mentally. His lips lift up in a smile but quickly turns into a frown as he pulls you more into his arms, not wanting to let you go just yet. He stares into your eye then flashes to all the wounds you had got from the last two days. Out of all the cases you've been on this was different. He'd seen you hurt before and vice versa, but this time it wasn't on a case and this was the first time you'd ever been taken by someone -- by demons.

"Everything just hurts." You look into his eyes. "I want to kill them all for what they did to me, what they tried to do."

"It's okay you're back home now." Sam whispers. "You're here with me, you're safe. We'll get you fixed up then Dean and I will find them."

You reach out to stop him from moving as you move your hand on top of his to reach up to his face. For a moment your glossy eyes focus on each others as if you both wanted to say something more after a life threatening moment you had. But the words you wanted to say didn't come out as you were struck with nerves running through your stomach. Sam tilts his head in wonder as your thumb swipes from his cheek and just runs over the corners of his lip.

"Not yet," you reply. "Can we just stay here like this for a little longer?"

Sam lets out a laugh as he furrows his brows, "I gotta get you fixed up."

"Just... hold me for a sec."

"Yeah," Sam says.

Sam adjusts himself so that his back leans against the wall with you in his lap, the two of you resting together as Dean is off getting the medical supplies and other things for him and Sam to take care of you. You were beginning to think that maybe Dean had been purposely taking time to get the medical supplies to leave the two of you alone, but you shrugged it off with thinking that Dean (and even Sam) had no clue about your feelings for Sam.

"Yeah," he repeats, "we can stay here for a sec." He leans down and kisses your forehead that is currently pounding with a headache and you close tour eyes at the warmth that begins to spread in your body.

Two days had gone by and the boys had left you to rest as they checked in on you from time to time. Cas had came by to apologize for you and offered to help find those damn demons and hunt them down. Dean had popped in now and then to make sure you were alright, and to let you know that Sam was too. But you noticed, in just the two days, he started coming to your room less and less. And today, you hadn't seen him at all.

“Dean?”

"You alright?"

"Where's Sam?" You furrow your brows as you sit up in your bed. "I haven't seen him since yesterday...please don't tell me he went to hunt down-"

"No, no," dean shakes his head, "he's here. I think he just blames himself for what happened to you. He cares a whole damn lot for you."

"He does?"

"Have you not noticed the way he stares at you every time you walk in a room? All the time you two nerds hang out together with a pile of books?"

You start to blush and think back to all the times Sam and you would be alone in the bunker. Obviously the moment since you met these boys, there was something about Sam that made you feel all giddy inside with butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach and your mind going a mile a minute with thinking about him.

You didn't realize that Sam could possibly have those feelings for you, but you also didn't think that Sam could blame himself for things that can go wrong with things he has no control over. But here you were listening to Dean tell you things that should be obvious to you about Sam.

"Where is he?"

Dean raises his brows and smirks, "Ah so you're gonna be the one to tell him how you feel?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you try to hide your smile as you stand up from your bed. "I'm going to tell him that none of this is his fault and he should't be hiding from me."

Dean just laughs and leans against your wall in your room.

"So, are you going to tell me where he is?"

"His room, kid."

"Thank you, ass."

You roll your eyes and chuckle as you leave your room with Dean following behind, then telling you he'd be drinking away and stuffing his pie hole with some food. As you walk to Sam's room you stop for a moment and breathe through some of the pain you feel along with the butterflies that spark within your body. Raising your hand to his door you knock lightly a few times and walk in slowly.

Sam sits on his bed with his laptop on his legs, squinting at the screen in front of him before he lifts his head up and straightening out his back once he notices you're the one who knocked.

"Hey," you enter his room after knocking, "can I come sit?"

He nods his head and moves his legs off his bed to make room for you.

"How are you feeling?"

"The painkillers Dean gave me worked like magic, but I think they're wearing off. Still feeling eh."

Sam looks glances away from you and to the floor trying to avoid your eyes.

"Sam, it's not your fault what happened to me." You grab his hand and hold it, making sure he knows you're being serious. "This life we live, shit like this is bound to happen. And don't you go ahead and start saying it's because of you being a Winchester. I live here with you guys, I feel like I'm practically one."

Sam's head tilts in your direction and smiles with empathy as he nods.

"I know you're telling me it's not my fault but please believe me when I say I do everything I can to keep you safe because I really do care about you."

"I know Sam, I care about you and Dean too. Caring isn't a crime."

"No, no more than what you think." He stutters as he looks away again like he's nervous. His hand pulls away from yours and you start to think you over stepped despite what he just said. It stays quiet between you and him as you wait patiently for Sam to sort out his thoughts. His eyebrows are pulled as if he's struggling with something.

"Sam?"

"I've been trying...I've just," Sam continues to stutter over his words and you realize he's not focusing on what he's trying to talk to you, his nerves are starting to get the best of him.

Before he continues to talk, you reach over to his hand again and hold it as your other hand gently glides back and forth the other side of his hand.

"It's okay." You reassure him. "Are you...okay?"

He takes a deep breath and still keeps his eyes on the floor, "for a long time now every time you walk in a room, my heart stops at how beautiful you are...my friend. And that scares me so much to feel the way I do about someone I care a lot for and those feelings could easily mess everything we have all up."

You heart begins to thump harder against your chest as you listen.

Sam lets out a breath, "and to have lost you the other day, I thought I might've lost you forever. I thought I'd never get the chance to tell you how much I want to keep you safe. How much- how much I..."

He pauses and suddenly turns his body so that it's almost completely facing you on his bed, trying to muster the courage to tell you everything he feels for you.

"Look," he whispers your name and takes a gulp of air, "I thought you were gone forever and I thought about how I never got the chance to tell you how I much I love you."

"Oh..." You stare in awe as he looks up at you, trying to take his hand away from you as he starts to think this was a mistake. Flickering your eyes down at Sam trying to pull away, you pull on them and make him look at you.

"I can't believe you're telling me this." You admit.

"It's okay if you don't-"

"And what if I do?" You question as your left hand raises to rest on the side of his face as he closes his eyes and lets a hopeful smile form. "Sam, I've fallen in love with you a long time ago."

His ears perk up as he moves closer to you again as his thigh sits dangerously close to yours, his arm awkwardly wrapping around your waist. He lets out a scoff as he pulls his arm away from you, not sure how this was going to go. After all, he was so damn nervous even if you did just tell him you felt the same way. In this life, neither of you were lucky or fortunate enough to really go for it -- for love.

"You do?"

"Yeah I do, I love you Sam."

You watch him move his arm around you then quickly retracts as he rests it back into his lap, making you smile at his awkwardness. He just made a move on you with telling you how he felt and now he tried to make another, but his nerves got the best of him. So you decided to make the move for him, it was the least you could do despite being just as nervous as him.

Reaching out to him your hand lands on his jaw and the other on his neck, pulling him forward eagerly. The two of you stare at each other, Sam is surprised by your movements but follows along as you place your lips right on his, forcing both of your eyes shut. He moves into the kiss as he finally uses his arm to wrap around your waist and pulls you closer to him, wanting to kiss you longer as he becomes infatuated by the invisible sparks going off.

Kissing him had made it feel like the things around you were starting to blur into oblivion, and that the only things that were existing in the moment were you and Sam. Your hand on his face leaves to join the one that's wrapped around his neck as you kiss him deeper, your tongue swiping across his bottom lip to make another move.

You hear a low moan coming from Sam as he practically pulls you into him on his lap but not quite, as his mouth opens and now his tongue is the one to swipe across your lip. In sync both of your mouths open and your tongues begin to dance with and against each other.

Before it would go any further you pull your tongue away and he follows and you move away off his lips, still lingering just centimeters away. Your eyes open and you stare at each other for a few seconds until you kiss him once more.

You pull away and breathlessly chuckle, "well damn, if this is how I knew you felt I would've let demons take me much sooner."

You try and joke until Sam's arms wrap around your waist and practically pulls you onto his lap. His forehead rests on yours and he bites his lip.

"Don't joke like that." You hear him say.

"I'm sorry." You breathlessly laugh. "I'm here now, safe. It's all going to be fine as long as I'm here with you."

Sam pulls you into him as he leans back embracing you into his side as you both fall onto his bed cuddling into each other.

“I thought you were gone for good," Sam begins to speak. "I know this life isn't easy and we can't protect everyone, but I would do anything for you because I love you."

“You know I'd do anything for you too." You lean up and kiss him on his cheek right on the corner of his mouth. "Now come on big guy, let's get going. We've got a lot of work do."

You try and get up but his arms pull you back into him and you let out a laugh. He looks at you lovingly as his hand reaches down to the side of your face and smiles.

"Can we just stay here like this for a little longer?" He repeats your words from a few days ago, making your heart swell up and blush as your cheeks heat up.

"Yeah," you nod and kiss his lips gently then resting your head on his chest, "yeah we can."

There is not enough sam love in the world of fanfics and I'm a Dean girl LOL hope you enjoyed 🥺

my works like this one can be found on:

AO3- womanwhowritesformany

Wattpad- A-TWDSPN-Love

and this tumblr!

#supernatural #SPN #SPN 9 #supernatural season 9 #one shot #SPN oneshot #SPN one shot #Sam winchester #Sam #sam oneshot #Sam winchester one shot #Sam x reader #Sam winchester x reader #reader #fanfic

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sugarydolli · 4 years

Text

Orange Juice | [REPOST]

Title ~ Orange Juice

Word Count ~ 2k

Pairings ~ Leon x Chubby!reader

Warnings ~ Body shaming, Bullying

Okay but do y'all see my new icon like 🥰

Repost from my wattpad storie lulz lemme send link 🖇️ https://my.w.tt/KjSStSQYkbb

"Come on Y/N," junko smirked "hes never gonna like you if your fat, keep throwing it up." You pushed slightly on your stomach to trigger more vomit.

With Junko standing behind you, taunting you as your breakfast pushed passed your lips.

You could see Mukuro start gather tissue for you to wipe your mouth off with.

You sat in class one day as the teacher rambled about nothing you cared about. The sun ran over the curve of your cheeks and lit up your (E/C) eyes as you were deep in thought.

"What if I was smaller"

"Would I be prettier?"

"Would he notice me?"

Not even noticing that class was over until two particular known sisters made their way over to you.

Junko slapped her hand down on your desk taking you out of your thoughts. Her sinister smile was a clear warning of her intentions which were obvious to you.

You expected nothing but harsh words, more things to make you regret your weight. But she unexpectedly had other plans.

Junko came to you as if she wanted to help you. She said she could make you look pretty. In your desperate state of mind you accepted.

Ever since then her way of making "pretty" was meeting her outside of the bathroom every 2-3 hours, practically shoving you face into a toilet and forcing you to gag your meals.

"Hey Junko.." you said weakly, your stomach aching being the 5th week you skipped lunch. "Did you ever find out what type of girls Leon is into?"

She thought about it while she chewed her food. "Why of course I did, and you know what he told me?"

You were practically leaning over the table, dying to know what the baseball player told her. "He said and I quote, "tight waisted bimbos with huge tits" end quote."

It felt like a spear ran threw your heart as you sunk into deep thought. "I'm sure he'll like you for who you are rather than what your physical appearance is Y/N."

"You filthy liar! I told her exactly what he told me."

"But Junko I was right ther-"

"Shut up!"

The thoughts in your head shut you out from the twins bickering. Your mind festering on the idea of fitting into Leon's type.

The sadness you felt turned into determination. Thinking about how you can cut out a few more meals, and exercise even more times a day. Wearing extremely heavy hoodies in raging hot weather to shed.

You were determined by the end of this month you'd fit his standards.

"Junko,"

Standing up, you caught her attention before she shot another insult to Mukuro. "I think I'm ready now."

A large malicious smirk panned across her face, rising up from her seat. "Let's go."

You shoved two fingers down your throat, nearly missing your uvula. Not much at first shot out but as you progressed more and more came out as your throat burned.

Beginning to feel dizzy, you leaned against the bathroom stall. Not having the energy to continue the assault on your throat. Once you gained your composure you restarted, plunging fingering back into your throat. Murkuro held your hair back away from your face as Junko unbeknownst to you recorded your gagging.

You finished up rather quickly, wiping spit from the corner of your mouth. You rummaged through your backpack looking for your tooth brush.

You walked over to the sink ignoring a few girls who just walked in stares of confusion. The first thing you noticed was your cheeks, usually a soft looking round was now turning hallow.

Your body over all seemed to be getting slimmer over the past few weeks. So much so you'd start to get compliments and praised.

For once you've felt good about yourself, Confident.

...

Until, from an anonymous account you were exposed. Several videos of you forcing yourself to barf was posted on this account.

"This you?"

Mukuro texted you while you got dressed in your uniform. Sending the account.

As if the multiple videos weren't enough, pictures of your dazed expression began circulating. Tears threatened your eyes, you reported each video and picture one by one.

-/-

You went into school, head hung low as whispers and giggles could be heard around you.

You would look up to see several faces looking at you with disgust, some occasionally with pity.

Ultimately, you decided that you weren't gonna let this stop you from reaching your goal. Even if it was draining you.

Today being mile day in PE made you teensy bit woozy, but still you convinced yourself of the "benefits"

The long track taunted you, seeming like it stretched for miles. "You've never seen any interest in mile before, Y/N..are you sure." Your PE teacher placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a understanding look.

You nodded gulping slowly before starting to sprint. At first it wasn't as bad (you told yourself) as you got about half way down the long course.

Your eyes were starting to get a bit heavy as you tried regulating your breath. The temperature only seemed to get hotter as you tried to block out the feelings.

"Was this a heat wave?" You asked your as you tried to push through. Darkness seemed to be clouding over your vision rather quickly.

And surely you passed out.

Condensation slid down your face making you wince. You blinked a few times before taking in the bright light on the ceiling.

You rose up quickly only to be pushed right back down. The school nurse, Mikan, giving a frighten shriek from your sudden movement.

"Please let me help you get up." Her worried tone, placing a hand on your back while you rose. "You passed out on the field." A quiver still in her voice.

Panic started to rise in your gut. "I..I did?" You didn't want to believe her words, seeing it more as an embarrassment than an health concern.

"A teacher carried you here with the help of a student." Mikan tried calming you down to prevent any other health problems.

Sadly her efforts wasted as you began to worry yourself on who the student was. Your nightmares only coming true when Leon suddenly walked through the door.

"Mikan is she alright? I heard talkin' and" Your eyes met sending a rush of pink to your cheeks. His pale blue orbs gazed into your F/C ones.

"Are you... alright?" Leon's gaze never leaving your eyes. Lips quivering to much for a verbal answer, you nodded.

Tears brimmed your eye line, you didn't want to met like this. This wasn't supposed to be this way. But his next words caught you off guard.

"Good. hate to see a pretty girl like yourself hurt." He followed up with a wink before sliding out of the office.

Awe casted on your face causing you jaw to open slightly. You were in shock, not even hearing Mikan rambling.

Once you were released from Mikan's office you headed to your locker. You managed to pick your jaw up off the floor but shock and awe still lingered.

You opened your locker open-mindedly. A small blush colored envelope fell out, you practically tore it open to see in somewhat messy handwriting:

A actual compliment..did I hit my head that hard? Am I in a coma?

Hey cutie ;), I'd call myself a hero for saving you today. How about you reward me with a little date later today?

- Leon

A squeal errupted from your mouth causing whoever around you a confused look. You were to caught up in your joy to even realize Junko and Mukuro making their way over.

A hand placed firmly onto your shoulder, turning you around to face them forcefully.

"Whaddya got there Y/N?"

Junko's tone too sweet for her own good, you held the letter up slowly in which she snatched it. "This has to be a fake." She said without looking.

Eyes widening, you look the letter back reading it over for any indications. The thought of this being some prank didn't even register to you.

"Well if you are going you know what you have to do" Her tone lowering to something darker. You have her a nod before once again walking to the dreadful bathroom.

You've grown tired of these plain walls as you stick a few fingers once again down your throat. Your senses activated causing you to hurl.

Junko chuckled, getting a sick sort of kick out your suffering. Mukuro narrowing her eyes at her sister, quickly sending a text to someone.

About five minutes later the sound of the bathroom door being slammed open caused you to rip your fingers out of your mouth.

Various shouts coming from behind the stall door as it was suddenly swung open. Leon stood in the frame with ishimaru not far behind.

The sudden appearance caught Junko off guard, almost dropping her phone. "Leon you can't just-" The short haired male turned his attention to the scene.

"Y/N...what are you doing?" Leon's face in confusion, you quickly wiped any remaining spittle off your chin before turning around completely.

Leon bent down, wiping your cheeks with his thumb. "I don't give a shit about your body, I like you just the way you are." He lifts you up, giving you a hug.

"Nothing, just a-" Junko was quick to cut you off. "A hard case of bulimia." Your hair fell down into your face, Junko continued to laugh.

She spoke in a bragging fashion as she told the two men of your dirty secret. Tears brimmed your lash line seeing Leon's eyebrows furrowed in disgust.

"And the funny part about it is...she it did all for you!" Leon's eyes widened, his mouth almost fell open as he quietly repeated her last few words.

"You told me that he likes small waisted girls and I-" a sob breaking your sentence, you fell down onto the bathroom floor sobbing uncontrollably. You felt hands gently pry your hands off your face.

Your usual small pink envelope fell right into your hands, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

You snuggle into his neck, now happy tears rolling down your cheeks.

- timeskip brought to you by the iconic cheez duo -

- about a month later

"You know, Princesses are usually found in castles. How'd I meet you here?"

Cheesy. You smirk to yourself before feeling large arms wrapped around you. Leon placed a kiss to your temple, filling spinning you around for a kiss to the lips.

"I guess the answer to your question would be, sometimes princesses get bored for waiting on their prince." Leon chuckled, sneaking in another kiss. "Well, it's not easy finding the right princess."

His hand instinctively latched onto your as you two walked down the hall to your first period.

Leon doesn't like you cause of your skin, your weight, or your face. He likes you because of you.

Uhh I know the themes in this got like really fucking dark and usually I don't like to to talk about these topics cause all around this is supposed to be a happier book and shit like that but it was actually requested of me once before.

I thought it was time to get out of my comfort zone and address this. You all are beautiful no matter what you look like, your body doesn't define you!! Your beauty inside and out. And if anyone tells you otherwise me and cheez will beat the- I mean kindly slap them around with kindness.

Anyways I love you all and everyone around you should to! You don't have to fit into what someone wants you to for them to love you. If they really love you, they'd love you for you! Appearance doesn't matter in love!! ((Praying I'm saying the right things))

And it is okay if you do wanna change how look. Just use the reader as an example not to do, please don't hurt yourself or take the easy route. Please choose healthy and non harmful ways to improve on your already beautiful self.

I'm really not good at this so I hope this little message didn't offend, comfort is nawt my strong suit BUT I love you all tremendously and I'll always be here no matter what.

- Cheez it chan & Cheez <3

#leon kuwata x reader #danganronpa leon kuwata #dr1 #leon kuwata #leon #danganronpa kuwata #kuwata #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa 1 #danganronpa #tw ed mention #tw ed content #tw bulemia #tw eating disorder #tw bullying #tw vomit

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yzkhr · 4 years

Text

For the entirety of his 20 years of existence, Kudo Shinichi finds himself in one of the most difficult situations.

Everything was going so smoothly. He already had enough clues to figure out who the suspect was. All he needed was evidence to prove his surmises. It was all according to his plans.

Not until the suspect kidnapped Ran.

He should have seen that coming. After all, when the Conan incident ended with his name plastered all over Japanese Television for defeating one of the most notorious criminal organizations in the world, stuff like this happened afterwards.

If they can't target him to shut him up, they'll target the ones he care for. It happened more than once already, but everyone Shinichi knows can defend themselves(he's actually the easiest one to attack).

Hattori Heiji is a fellow detective who can swing a sword really well, Tooyama Kazuha knows Aikido, Masumi Sera is a Jeet Kune Do specialist, his parents are out of the question—or out of the country—, professor Agasa has his inventions, Ai with her scary scientific knowledge, the detective boys' unbeatable luck, Suzuki Sonoko with her boyfriend being the world's strongest security, the FBI and first division are a no go, and even the british detective Hakuba Saguru and phantom thief Kaito Kid can easily fend attackers off.

But the one who's always been the primary victim would be his girlfriend, Mouri Ran. Most of time, he doesn't worry one bit. After all, he knew more than anyone else just how much impact she can do with her karate—the Conan aftermath was proof of his girlfriend's ridiculous strength— and would even be afraid for the criminal, feeling sorry for their battered bodies afterwards. But today was a different matter. Ran was sick and couldn't possibly defend herself in her bad condition.

He believed himself to be a forgiving and understanding man. Being Edogawa Conan taught him a lot of things, including little compassion and sympathy towards even to the most horrible of culprits.

But this man was different. Not only did he involved Ran who had no idea of what's going on, he didn't hesitate, even after knowing she was sick and defenseless.

Shinichi was a kind man through and through, but concerning his innocent and ill girlfriend was a different matter.

Now, he stood on the rooftop of the criminal's twenty floor apartment building, anger barely contained. The man was grinning in that deranged way of his, while holding his girlfriend with a small but clearly sharp knife at her neck. What makes matters worse, was that they're at the very edge, one wrong move and both of them could be flat at the ground, bones broken.

Just from that alone, Shinichi was itching to shoot the man with his pistol but restrained himself. What almost pushed him to doing so however was his girlfriend's tired and pained expression, from her fever and the current predicament.

With the wind blowing furiously, it doesn't take a genius to know that Ran was freezing, specially with her condition.

He blocked out his primitive reaction of shooting the man for now, and willed himself to finish the issue faster, for Ran's sake.

"Listen, you can still go back from this! Just drop the knife and walk away from the edge!"

He shouted, taking two steps towards the two of them. The man only grinned even wider, as if finding something funny about his words.

"Why would I go back there? To just go in jail!? I'd rather die!"

'If you wanna die, then die. Don't take my girl with you!', were the words he wanted to say but decided against it.

Instead, he treaded nearer, trying to look as innocent as possible to not alarm his target.

"You knew what you did was wrong! You'll just have to repent it in prison for a few years! You can't go back from dying!"

The man wasn't having it. He gripped tighter against Ran's neck with his knife getting dangerously close. Shinichi's initial thought was to sprint, but managed to catch himself on time.

"That bitch deserved it you know! She cheated on me when I gave her my everything! I only did what was right for her! What she deserved!"

The man was going crazier by the second. Not that Shinichi could blame him. For all he knew, the suspect was a respectable man who loved his wife very much but it turned out she was cheating on him with another man.

Shinichi couldn't even imagine that happening to him. Even back then as Conan, Ran's faithfulness was so strong that something like cheating or attraction to other men didn't even cross his mind(except with Araide's case, Okita's case and many others).

Still, murder is murder. The husband could have dealt with it in a more rational way but he didn't, causing him to spiral downwards to madness.

Well, Shinichi will most likely go towards the same path as well if he would be unable to save Ran.

"You shouldn't have killed her! She was wrong! Cheating on your partner is stupid and unforgivable! But what you're doing right now is the same! You're only commiting murder! So please, turn yourself in. You can still change."

It seemed to have worked, with the culprit's grin dissipating and his hold on Ran loosening. Shinichi fasten his pace, while the man was still contemplating. But before he can even reach his end goal, the suspect looked at him with vicious but hurt eyes, tears forming.

"You're right. I shouldn't have done something so terrible. But I can't go back now. I can't go to jail."

All the detective could do was to stand there, disheartened by this man's irrationality. He was so close, just a few more steps and it would had been over.

Seeing as the suspect's humanity slipping away, Shinichi tried to take one tentative step at a time.

Before he can even put his right foot in front of him, the man violently shakes Ran, causing Shinichi to froze at his spot.

All his girlfriend could do was slightly whimper, still weak from her fever. The wind wasn't getting any calmer and it was bad for Ran.

"Stop this! Please! Give Ran back to me!"

The desperation was leaking but he didn't care. He was too worried for her to even think of something like pride right now. It wasn't helping that the man was slightly getting unstable from their spot at the edge.

"I'll give your girlfriend back to you in one condition."

The man eyed Shinichi with determined eyes and he didn't like it one bit.

"Call the police right now and tell them that the culprit is my wife's other man."

The detective thought he didn't hear him correctly but the expression on the culprit's face was telling him otherwise.

"Why would I even do that? I'm a detective, my job is to reveal the truth!"

The suspect laughed and the tip of his weapon was now touching his girlfriend's neck. Ran tried to wiggle out from the pain but the man kept her still. Shinichi couldn't do anything but widen his eyes and tried to run at her, only to be stopped by their culprit's daring looks.

"Don't come any closer or I'll slit your girl's throat!"

Seeing his pursuer's conflicted reaction, the suspect's smile was back, even more disturbing than before, lacking of any human compassion he might have had left of him.

"If you know the truth, then you can easily twist it right? You're the great detective Kudo Shinichi! Everyone will believe you!"

"I can't possibly do that!"

Hearing his resolute answer, the culprit slowly averted his eyes towards Ran.

"Not even for you lover?"

He couldn't answer. Because how could he? Choosing between the truth he valued and his most precious person was impossible.

Seconds passed but Shinichi didn't let a word out. He only stared at his girlfriend, with contrast beliefs and emotions swirling in them. The man was getting impatient but before he could speak, a new voice entered.

"Don't do it."

For the first time, Ran spoke. Her voice was hoarse and guttural, but she made sur eit can be heard.

Everything in her body hurts. From her legs that's been almost dangling down the edge, her arms weakly flailing on her side, her stomach wanting to throw up, her entire being physically burning and being cold at the same time. She felt horrible and wanted nothing but to karate chop her kidnapper.

But right now, her focus was on Shinichi, like it has always been whenever they were together. He looked tired, running all the way here from her house where he found out about her disappearance.

He was in deep thought and his eyes were conflicted on what to choose. She knew just how important she was to him, specially after knowing the lengths he had gone through as Conan to protect her. But, she's also aware of his morals and love for the truth.

Ever since they were kids, being a the greatest detective in the world like his idol, Sherlock Holmes had always been Shinichi's biggest dream. It started off as something silly but as they grew older, his dream didn't looked so far away. From all his struggles and successes, Ran was there. She knew all the hard work he put in his job just so he can achieved his childhood wish. She was present in all the steps he took to be this great. To be the Sherlock Holmes of the modern era.

Now, that dream was on the danger of being crushed. If he were to do what the culprit wanted, Shinichi would also lose his chance to achieve his goal. And Ran didn't want that.

"Don't do it."

She said, line more vivid than before.

He didn't know what to say. He wanted to asked her if she was fine, but she clearly wasn't.

"Ran, I-"

"Don't. Please, Shinichi."

He wanted to apologize, because he'll disappoint her with his answer. Yet, he wasn't able to, with Ran not letting him.

She wanted him to choose his morals, but he would lose her. He don't want to—can't—lose her.

However, her next words were what really made his decisions clear.

"Don't lose your dream for me. Please."

Ran wanted to cry but held it in. She needed all her energy for her last move and crying won't save her or anyone.

The man was getting more and more impatient. He waved the knife around blindly, making Shinichi stepped back a little.

Ran wished from the bottom of her heart a distraction could come for her plan to work. But since she didn't have any time, she'll just make one herself.

"You're trying to kill someone innocent. You're not right about anything at all. You're just a killer."

The culprit's attention went to her almost in an instant, fury present in his eyes.

"Silence, woman! Girls like you are all the same with your pretty faces thinking you can get any man! Not being contented with one man who would give his all! Vile! That's what women are! They're vile!"

She wanted to protest, because she's not the same. She'll never be the same. Just the thought of cheating on her lover already makes her want to puke. She would never cheat. After all, Shinichi was enough.

But she had to pretend he wasn't.

"That's right! We're cheaters! Vile people! We never cared about you men at all!"

'What is she doing?'

Shinichi was extremely confused. Ran was obviously lying, trying to provoke the man holding her at a knife point.

'Why would she even try to make someone aggressive when they're in the literal--'

As his mind reached it's conclusion, Shinichi didn't waste any time to move. However, it was a little too late.

The man was already losing his balance himself, making him vulnerable. Ran, with her remaining strength, wished to all gods her plan would work.

Albeit her left arm was tired, she steeled it with everything she got, elbowing the man's stomach and making him instinctively let go of her.

He stumbled forward, while she inevitably stumbled on the opposite direction. Down.

She closed her eyes, succumbing herself to the fall. However, a familiar presence force it to open, and she did.

There, falling with her was the love of her life, who was supposed to be at the rooftop arresting the man. Instead, he was reaching out to her, ready to die.

Suddenly feeling all the pain and tiredness, against her mental protest, she blacked out.

It was a good thing Hattori was there when he went back at the office temporarily. His best friend noticed his strange actions and decided to follow him.

Knowing that they were in a pretty tight spot and seeing Ran and the culprit at the edge, the Osakan detective dashed to find a trampoline, in case of the worst case scenario. Fortunately, he managed to hugged Ran's unconscious form and guide her through the unexpected trampoline while falling down.

Shinichi truly owed Hattori this time.

As they walked out the police station hand in hand, Ran looked uneasy. She managed to regain conciousness when they were already at the station, making a witness report. He didn't wanna do it in Ran's condition but he knew he caused enough trouble at them already.

He squeezed her hand, letting her look at his direction.

"Is there something wrong? Don't worry we'll get home soon and you can get some rest."

Ran's eyes slightly widened at his words. She then smiled, but it was strained.

Worry taking over him, he put his forehead on hers, feeling her hot one.

Ran instinctively blushed and tried to pushed him away. However, being stubborn had always been Shinichi's strongest points, so he didn't backed down. Instead, he asked.

"What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

With such a soft and gentle way of questioning, Ran couldn't help but give in and let her hands go to both sides of his handsome face,feeling his skin under her warm—felt cold to her—fingertips. Then, she breathed heavily before speaking.

"What you did was reckless. You shouldn't have jumped after me."

Shinichi regarded her a confused look.

"What wouldn't I? I didn't know Hattori was there. So I thought you would really--"

"Still, you shouldn't have done that. What if Hattori-kun wasn't there?"

"Then we would both die."

He spoke in such a calm and nonchalant manner making Ran annoyed at him not getting her point. She bunped him lightly,making Shinichi backed a little bit away.

"Ouch! What did you that for?"

"Because you were being dumb! You could have died back there Shinichi!"

He returned his forehead against her, leaning again. He closed his eyes this time, looking peaceful, like they weren't in the brink of death just a while ago.

"I could have. But so were you."

His voice was laced with pain, specially at the last part. Tears gathered around her violet irises but she willed for them not fall.

"You have a dream Shinichi. You had it since you were little."

He nodded at her words, still looking unbothered even with the confirmation. Frustrated, she continued on.

"You would have killed yourself back there. Why didn't you listen to me? I told you didn't I? Don't give up your dream for me."

He smiled, catching her off guard. It was so sincere and bright that Ran wanted to step away. When she was about to do so however, he encircled his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as much as possible.

She opened her mouth, ready to reason out but was beaten by his answer.

"You told me to not give up my dream for you but,"

His next words left her breathless, tears finally cascading down her soft cheek.

"You are my dream, Ran."

I wrote this instead of sleeping, forgive me for its lameness.

#detective conan #shinran #one-shot

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gremlinbehaviour · 3 years

Text

Let Me Go

For @febuwhump day 28: "you have to let me go"

Fandom: Merlin

Wordcount: 2737

Lancelot gets cursed by a witch with a spell that will not only kill him, but make him kill one of his friends. In a desperate attempt to avoid hurting people, Lancelot isolates himself, but his friends aren't about to let him go without a fight.

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This was Lancelot's worst nightmare. Since he was a child, his only goal in life had been to protect others. Once he made friends, his focus was obviously on them, though he retained his desire to care for everyone. So, to not only be unable to protect them, but to actively be putting them in danger was almost physically painful. Though, perhaps the gnawing feeling in his stomach was just the spell eating deeper.

Arthur, Merlin, and the knights had ridden out of the city to investigate a series of murders in the villages. Though the perpetrator was different in each one, it was clear they were somehow linked. Each time, a man or woman killed someone that by all accounts they got along with or even loved, including husbands, wives, parents, and children. They could never be questioned about their motive, because they passed away soon after committing the murder. From what cause exactly was unclear. Sorcery had been the suspected culprit, and it was confirmed when the knights caught up to the witch behind all the deaths. Before they'd managed to kill her, she'd cursed Lancelot like she had the other victims. In the next few hours, he was destined to kill one of his friends and die himself, unless they could somehow stop it.

"Merlin, Merlin, please, you can't let me hurt anyone," he begged, already desperate. His hands fumbled with his belt, trying to get his sword and scabbard off. He threw them away from himself as soon as he managed it and his eyes pleaded with Leon for him to pick the weapon up and take it further from him. "You have to tie me up. Tie me up and leave me. I can't- I can't, I can't hurt any of you. I couldn't bear it."

"You're not going to hurt anyone, Lancelot," Merlin tried to reassure him. "And we are not leaving you."

"You have to, please. You have to let me go."

" No . The spell would kill you. I will not allow that to happen."

"I would rather die than hurt any of you."

"You don't have to do either," Merlin tried to insist. Lancelot wasn't seeing sense however and simply presented his wrists, pressed tightly together, forward in a clear plea for them to be bound. The warlock should have known that his friend wouldn't be rational about this. Not when the spell seemed tailor-made to cause him as much grief as possible.

"We can tie you up, Lance, if that's what you want," Arthur said, nodding for Elyan to retrieve the rope from his saddle bags. "But we are not going to leave you. It is only a few hours' ride to Camelot, and there we can find a cure for this spell." He had no way of knowing that Gaius and Merlin actually could find a solution, still ignorant of their frequent use of magic, but he had faith nonetheless. Merlin felt his heart swell with both pride and responsibility. Lancelot looked similarly caught between emotions, his being anguish and relief. He was terrified of hurting his friends and terrified of dying alone. Percival helped him to his feet after Arthur had finished tying his hands together and assisted him with the challenge of getting up onto his horse.

"Take the reins away from me," the cursed knight asked. "I shouldn't be able to control my horse. I could ride off or try to knock you down should the spell take hold."

Though he thought it was a bit of an overreaction, Arthur looped the reins over in front of Lancelot's mare's head and tied them with a rope to the pommel of his own saddle so he could lead both horse and rider. Once everyone was mounted and had taken up a position arrayed around Lancelot at a safe distance, they began to make their way as fast as they dared towards Camelot, and the promise of salvation for their friend.

By the time they arrived in the castle's courtyard, Lancelot was pale and shaking. Evidently the part of the spell that eventually killed the one cursed with it, rather than their loved ones, was taking hold. He needed help dismounting from his horse, and not just because of the awkwardness of bound hands. His body was clearly weakened and his legs almost went out from under him, but he still had enough strength to resist being moved towards the stairs that led up to Gaius's chambers.

"No, it's not safe for me to be up there," he insisted. "The dungeon, you should put me in the dungeon." They tried to argue with him, but he was uncompromising, and the attempts were just making him more agitated. With his already weakened state, Merlin wondered if they were doing more harm than good by fighting with him, and reluctantly consented to putting him in a cell. Elyan was sent to get him something warm to eat, however, and Gwaine to fetch the blanket from Merlin's bed, which he hoped could be there for the knight and provide him some measure of calm when he wouldn't allow the warlock himself to do so.

Leaving Lancelot down in the dungeons was one of the hardest things Merlin had ever done, but he couldn't very well read his book of magic in public without being imprisoned himself. Fortunately, the knights had already come up with a rotation where one of them always sat on the outside of their friend's cell. They reported to Gaius on his condition every time the shift changed, which was every half hour. Though it wasn't easy to get an accurate assessment from the knight, who was intent on hiding his pain so as not to make the others worry, he seemed to be getting worse. He'd struggled to take his own armor off, which was to, quote, "make it easier for you to kill me if you need to defend yourself," and paced back and forth across the cell with Merlin's blanket clutched around his shoulders. He'd even taken his gambeson off, despite the warmth the padded shirt could provide.

"How is he?" Merlin asked Gwaine when he came down to the dungeon himself. He had found a spell he thought might be able to save Lancelot, and had it written out on a scrap of paper and tucked into his pocket. Before he could use it, though, he had to get any other witnesses to leave. Lancelot being in the dungeon made using magic far harder, and the warlock wondered that if given a moment to speak alone, he would have been able to convince him to come to his own room instead, to help protect the magic user's secret.

"He won't speak to us much, or come close enough for us to get a good look at him, but it's clear he's terrified and in pain," Gwaine whispered back, glancing towards the cell. Lancelot had stopped pacing, and now was just huddled in the back corner with his back turned towards the door. The bowl of soup sat near him, untouched and probably cold at this point.

"I've brought some herbs Gaius thinks might help," Merlin lied. "Could you get some hot water for him to wash them down with?"

Gwaine gave him a skeptical look, and Merlin realized his cover story wasn't the best, since most herbs were prepared as a tea and anyway, if he’d known he was going to need the water, why wouldn’t he have just brought it down with him? The knight must've understood on some level, though, that his friend was really asking for privacy, or else he was just too worried to argue, because he nodded and left.

"Lance?" Merlin called when he was gone, approaching the cell door slowly and crouching down, as if trying not to startle an injured animal. "I think I can help you, but I need you to come over here."

"Merlin, I can't," came the pitiful reply. "I can't risk hurting you."

"What, and you think I can't defend myself? I'm far from helpless, as you of all people should know," he tried to reassure his friend. Normally Lancelot reacted strongly, even violently, to any insult about his friend’s strength or competence, but now, it seemed that even accusing the knight himself of underestimating the servant couldn’t prompt a reaction. Merlin switched to begging. "Please, Lancelot. Losing you would hurt me more than you yourself ever could. Don't make me go through that knowing I could have helped you. Come here ."

Slowly and reluctantly, the knight unfolded himself from the corner. Keeping Merlin's blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders, he shuffled over to the bars and knelt down on the other side from his friend. His hands stayed clenched so tightly around the edges of the blanket that his knuckles were white. Maybe he thought that if his hands stayed occupied, he wouldn't be able to reach through the bars and strangle anyone, or whatever other homicidal instinct the spell was creating in him.

"I'm going to reach through and touch your forehead now, alright?" he asked. Lancelot nodded, and when the servant's hand connected with the knight's forehead, he seemed incapable of resisting the urge to lean forward and press his head further into the contact. He may have been terrified of human touch at the moment, but that didn't mean he didn't need it. Merlin forced himself not to flinch at the unexpected movement and instead reached out with his magic to search for the spell plaguing his friend.

"There's something wrong," he said after a minute, his brows furrowing in confusion. Lancelot jolted at the statement and started to pull away before he reassured him. "No no no, not like that," he said. "Neither you or I are in any danger. In fact, I don't know if we ever were."

"What does that mean?" Lancelot asked. His eyes were wide: terrified and hopeful all in one.

"You aren't cursed." Merlin couldn't feel a trace of malevolent magic anywhere in his friend's soul. He realized he hadn't touched Lancelot since they'd run into the witch. The knight hadn't let him; only Percival and Arthur, the two physically strongest members of their group, had been allowed to even get near him, and that was only to tie him up. Merlin fiercely regretted not insisting on examining Lancelot earlier; he could have saved all of them so much fear and time if he had only felt this earlier.

"I don't think you ever were. Did you ever feel like you were cursed? Have any urges to harm anyone?" After a second's pause to consider it, he shook his head.

"I was scared of it, terrified, because hurting you is the last thing in the world that I wanted to do."

"I thought that there might be something different after it had been hours and you still seemed like yourself," Merlin admitted. He wouldn't say that the knight seemed normal, exactly, but he hadn't been acting like the warlock himself had acted under the effects of the fomorrah or as Elyan had when he'd been possessed. His fear and the instinct to isolate himself and protect his friends at every turn was a very Lancelot reaction. "All of the other victims had succumbed to apparent homicidal rages within a few hours; I knew the fact that yours was taking longer had to mean something. And when Gaius and I looked up the spell to find a cure, there was a word written down in it that I’m pretty sure the witch didn’t get a chance to say, and the spell cut off when she was killed. I don't think she finished the curse. You were never going to hurt any of us."

This statement, of all things, was the one to cause Lancelot to burst into tears. He released his death grip on the blanket to raise both hands to his face, covering his mouth and nose as he pressed his eyes closed. Merlin reached through the bars to hold him, deeply regretting not practicing that lock picking spell he'd found. Perhaps it was for the best, though, as Gwaine still held the key and would have found it suspicious for the door to be open when he returned with the hot water, which he did after just a minute. His reaction, however, to seeing Lancelot returning Merlin's grip on him through the bars, was unfortunate.

"Let go of him!" The knight, who was always over-protective of Merlin, shouted fiercely, drawing his sword with one hand while the other grabbed the back of the servant's collar to drag him away. Only letting go because he was startled, he tumbled backwards to the floor as Lancelot slumped against the bars of the cell.

"I wasn't hurting him, I swear," the imprisoned knight sobbed. Gwaine looked to Merlin, who was already scrambling to his feet, for confirmation.

"He wasn't. He's fine, he's not cursed anymore. Give me the keys."

"Are you sure?" Gwaine asked hesitantly, even as he handed the key over.

"Does it look like he's trying to kill me?" Merlin asked as he unlocked the cell door. Lancelot made no attempt to stand up and didn't even turn to face his friend when he dropped down to his knees next to him.

"It could be a ruse," the other knight suggested. "Trying to get us to let our guard down."

"It's not," Lancelot replied, choked up.

The emotion in his voice was such an odd combination of fear, relief, and simply being overwhelmed that it couldn't be faked, Gwaine decided. And he trusted Merlin, so he followed him into the cell and knelt down on Lancelot's other side. The knight grabbed the arm that he put around his chest as he hugged him, doing the same to Merlin's arm. Between the two of them, they practically hid him from the world as he cried in pure relief and residual fear. Admittedly, their eyes weren't exactly dry either. He exhausted himself quickly, and by the time Percival arrived for his shift to keep Lancelot company, he was slumped in their arms, though still awake.

"Is he-" the big knight asked, unable to finish his question for fear.

"I'm okay, Percy," Lance reassured him, struggling to sit up. Gwaine and Merlin helped him, and once standing he managed to stay that way, though he was still shaky from the relief. "It's over."

"Over?" Percival ducked in to help him when he stumbled.

"It's over," Merlin confirmed. Lancelot was thankful that he didn't explain that it had never actually been an issue. He knew his friends would be thankful that he was okay, as well as the fact that they hadn't been in danger from him, but he would be embarrassed for them to know that all the 'symptoms' of the curse, the weakness and shaking and aching stomach and crying, had just been caused by his anxiety over it. "Come on, let's get you up to my room where you can rest. It may be small, but it's still a lot more comfortable than this cell!"

Gwaine left to go inform the others of the development while Percival helped Lancelot up to Merlin's room. The big knight hugged his friend tightly and for a long time before finally letting him go so he could get some rest. Despite the fact that the bed should not have been big enough for both of them, Merlin crawled under the covers with Lancelot so he could hold him and stroke his hair.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked gently.

"A little," Lancelot admitted, murmuring the answer against the taller man's chest. Merlin was the only person that he wasn’t embarrassed to show how afraid he was, and how terrible he still felt.

“That’s good. I’m sure a nap will help too, and then we can talk?”

Lancelot grimaced, but he knew he wasn’t going to escape his friend wanting to have a conversation about what had happened, and that he was probably going to get called out on his self-destructive isolating behaviour. Hopefully after some rest he would feel more ready to face that. For now though, he was relieved that Merlin stayed with him, pulling him in close against his chest and stroking his hair until he managed to calm down enough to sleep.

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday28 #you have to let me go #bbc merlin #fanfic #hurt lancelot #angst #friendship/love

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janekfan · 4 years

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aah i just sent this prompt but tumblr told me it didn't send so if it sent twice ignore this!! so prompt: how about early s2, where jon is pulling away a bit but the others are concerned about it more than angry, getting a horrific migraine. like "has to leave a team meeting early" horrific. and the others know he wants to be left alone and try to respect it, but eventually they can't just ignore it anymore. <3 if you don't like this i can try again!

Oof, migraines. Amiright??? This is based on a personal experience of mine I had in college :D

My whole floor thought I was dying and almost dragged me to the hospital.

Thank you @taylortut as always for giving me such great ideas! :D

Looking back, Jon felt incredibly foolish.

Insisting that he could persist through his day without taking medication for headaches when it resulted in the same outcome every time was the very definition of insanity.

But, in his flimsy defense, they never started out badly and he got so caught up in his work that by the time he realized what was happening, it was far, far too late to do anything but suffer it out until it ended. Which is how he found himself here, now, nearly completely blind in his right eye while Elias droned on about workplace safety and considering recent events it seemed laughably mundane because yes, back strain from lifting incorrectly certainly outweighed a sentient worm queen trying to devour your assistants.

Filled with a desperate desire to rub away the disorientating blind spot, Jon let his focus slip over his employees.

Tim: bored. Not doing anything to hide it and Jon supposed he was at fault for that too, because he was certainly not paying Elias any mind.

Sasha: attentive. Most likely thinking of something else entirely while she nodded along to the lecture notes at the appropriate places.

Martin: engrossed. Despite his suspicions, mostly due to the constant checking in with him about how he was feeling, and really, maybe that was on him because maybe that’s what coworkers did after bravely surviving an onslaught of supernatural entities together. Despite them, he found it. Pleasant? Pleasant. That he would commit the effort to pay such careful attention.

Jon: quickly realizing this meeting would not be finished by the time the majority of the pain struck him like an oncoming lorry. By his estimations, based on when he first noticed the aura as a funny spot in his peripheral he tried to see around, he had roughly three minutes left.

Elias continued to endlessly intone while the buzzing lights continued to beat down on him and Jon fought against closing his eyes against them both and their ceaseless stabbing. Two minutes. Probably less and the anxiety which accompanied knowing almost exactly when he was about to be incapacitated rose like a tide and threatened to drag him under. Jon began to shake minutely as the agony manifested like an icepick in the back of his head and spread its grasping, greedy fingers. It took the rest of his very limited restraint to stay silent and keep breathing; shallow and slow, controlled and careful because the nausea was beginning to set in and throwing up during a staff meeting was at the very least, unwise.

But oh he needed somewhere silent, somewhere he could hide in total darkness and not move until he was able to force himself to sleep, to sleep, to sleep because that was the only way he’d found to make it through to the other side.

“Jon?” He was standing, blinking unevenly, fighting with himself and his desire to shield his face with both hands. The sound of his name was too loud. So loud and the murmuring of the others in the room created a beautiful sensory nightmare and if they knew his head was about to split open would they really be speaking so loudly? Doubtful. Martin. Martin wouldn’t at least.

“I’m leaving.” Inadequate, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to elaborate even if in his right mind he wouldn’t. And this wasn’t even the worst of it.

Each step was a rung up the ladder of agony and he’d taken to trailing a hand against the wall, not trusting his quickly dwindling balance and equilibrium. Rudely, without his express permission, a sob snuck past his clenched teeth and he just had to make it down the stairs, into the archives. Into the dark. The cot was still in document storage and the room would be dim and quiet and he could sleep. Please, let him sleep. Trembling so badly he could barely work the door handle, desperation doing its level best to claw its way through his ribcage, Jon began to panic. Gently, gently, gently, he closed the door behind him, trying to breathe because not breathing would make it worse. The buttons at his throat were so tight, the vest, while comfortable this morning was strangling him and he fought his way out of it like a tiger before all but tearing open his collar.

Sh. Shh. You’re alright. Shaky. Ill. But alright and you will be alright. Jon collapsed to the cot, sighing at the momentary relief laying down provided but there was still so much light and it was like glass behind his eyes even though they were closed as tightly as he dared close them. The blanket that had been left behind was very contradictory, too much and not nearly enough, and when it brushed the bare skin of his arms it felt like sandpaper but he wanted more of it. More weight so he could relax without feeling as though he was going to drift away because who even knew which way was up anymore? If he hadn’t left the meeting, he could’ve asked.

Don’t cry. Do. Not. Jonathan Sims. It made it worse, so much worse so he kept his tears trapped behind a false calm. Each time he’d thought he would die from one of these or at the very least prefer it and each time he woke the next day groggy and sore and exhausted, useless for anything except more sleep. He dropped his glasses on the floor, hugged his middle with one arm and threw the other over his face.

Please, please, please.

Just go to sleep.

“I’ll thank the rest of you for continued attention.” Martin nodded absently, worried. Jon didn’t just walk out of meetings. And he’d been so pale, rubbing his temple and wincing. A bad headache? He got those sometimes.

Didn’t like to be bothered about them either.

He caught Tim staring at him over the table, done with his paperclip sculpture for now it seemed, and he nodded just slightly toward the door with a questioning look. Martin just shrugged discreetly, now too distracted to pay attention to whatever Elias deemed important enough to waste their time with after an attack on the archives. Needless to say, the rest of the hour passed excruciatingly slow and as soon as they were released, Martin headed straight for Jon’s office, momentarily confused when it was empty.

“Not there?” Martin shook his head and Tim frowned in concern. “The cot? Maybe he needed a lie down?”

“You’re probably right.”

“Still strange.” He nodded in agreement, already headed to check, knocking quietly on the worn wood.

“Jon?” Martin swore he heard something suspiciously like a whimper before his voice floated through the door.

“Yes, Martin?” It was strange, off, wavery? The tail end of a gasping breath.

“You just, you left in such a hurry.” He’d give anything to open the door and see for himself. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m. Yes, Martin, I’m, I’m alright.” Jon was many things, a good liar was not one of them, but he was the type to lick his wounds alone, preferring not to show any vulnerability and Martin would respect it. “Bit tired.”

“Okay, I’ll. Check on you in a bit then. Bring some tea.”

“Yes, alright.” Despite his worry, Martin smiled at the tiny familiar spark of frustration.

When Martin spoke his voice seemed to echo in the hollows of Jon’s bones, reverberating into his head and only exacerbating the throbbing pain, not even really aware of what he was saying, just trying to get him to go away so he could be as still as possible in silence. The more he moved, the more it felt like his stomach was trying to turn inside out and the fear of moving, of being sick, of causing himself more hurt, made tears sting at the corners of his eyes, made him itch where they slipped down his face.

If it would just stop for a moment. If he could just fall asleep. Calm down. Stand to have anything against his skin right now.

He wanted to be alone and not be alone. Wanted Martin or Tim or Sasha to, to, he didn’t know, just wanted. The strange disconnect from his physical body was maddening, confusing, and he wanted so badly for it to please stop.

When Martin looked up, Sasha was so close to his desk he startled. He hadn’t heard her but she looked worried.

“I don’t think Jon is feeling very well.”

“I don’t think so either.”

“He’s been in there all day.” Tim joined them. “Maybe we should check on him again?” Martin looked at the clock. It had been hours since he’d talked to him and he had yet to reappear.

“You’re probably right.” This time, it was definitely a hurting sound and Martin decided it was for Jon’s own good to let himself in. He’d only just recovered from Prentiss, what if the stress had made him ill? “Jon?” He was curled into himself on the cot, clothes in disarray, vest discarded and half the blanket piled atop his face. When the door closed, Jon clapped his hand over his ear, the other tangled into his button down so tight Martin was afraid he’d pop the buttons. “You’re shaking.”

“Mmartin…” the barest exhale, pleading. “S’loud…so...so loud…”

“Okay, okay, what’s wrong?” He knelt beside him, resting his hand over Jon’s. “How can I help?”

“Jus’...jus’ need t’sleep.” Shuddering, his breath caught, was released, uneven, fast, gasping. “Can’t.” He decided at that moment that sound should never come from Jon again, not if ever he could help it and the fingers that had been digging into his greying hair were now clutching Martin’s.

“Okay. I’m coming back.” Jon seemed to collapse inward like a star and it was hard to leave him but he’d seen migraines before and it had been hours since what he guessed was the onset. “Tim, do you have any paracetamol?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Jon’s not well, of course.”

“Figures.”

“This time I really think it wasn’t his fault. These things sometimes come on suddenly.” Tim grumbled, digging through his desk and heading with Martin to the breakroom for some water, waiting while he brewed a strong black tea.

“He gets a pass. One time, Martin. This one time.” While the tea cooled Martin retrieved a few cloths from the drawer and a bowl of water.

“He needs quiet. Everything is really overwhelming right now. A lot of input and nowhere for it to go.”

“You’re the boss, Marto.” With a jaunty salute, Tim followed, staying calm and quiet, kneeling down to Jon’s level before whispering a greeting. “Hey. Gonna get you fixed right up.”

“Nnng…okay.”

“Jon? We’re going to help you sit up.” With no refusal forthcoming, Tim and Martin shared a look of alarm before lifting him as though he were made of spun glass and he buried his face in Martin’s soft, well worn jumper. “Good, Jon.” Martin pressed his palm against his forehead and found it cold and a little clammy, his clothes clung slightly with sweat and it seemed like he had trouble coordinating his limbs.

“Hur’s…” trembling, his muscles spasmed randomly, and Tim had to help hold his hand steady enough for a dose of paracetamol while Martin followed quickly with the bitter tea, washing the taste away with a sip of water.

“Okay, love. Doing such a good job. Almost done.” More tears. He went to nod, instead ending up with his head hanging, neck too tired to hold it up any longer and Martin eased him back down onto the pillow. “Let me know if this is too much.” He wrung out a flannel and smoothed it over his eyes, pleased when Jon groaned in slight relief. Tim stroked his hair, soft and slow, and together they waited, watched his shivering gradually stop and his breath deepen into sleep.

Sasha met them outside the door and Martin stepped further down the hall, just in case they were loud enough to wake him.

“Well?”

“He’s asleep, bad migraine.” Martin winced in sympathy, “and hopefully he’ll sleep through until morning.”

“That’s a relief.” Collectively, they agreed. Jon had been under a lot of pressure lately and while he’d never been one to confide in them often even those moments were becoming rare

Jon felt heavy, tired and slow, and when Martin opened the door with a mug of tea in one hand and a plate of toast in the other, he reasoned that he hadn’t dreamt the entirety of the day previous. Which meant he did sit through most of Elias’ dry speech about safety.

Embarrassing. To have walked out like that.

“Martin.” The memory of gentle hands and a soft voice made him flush.

“Jon, how’re you feeling?”

“Better, uh, much better. Thank you.” Sitting up was only somewhat a chore, the dizziness faded into the background for the most part. The fogginess was expected and would last a few days but for now he accepted the tea graciously, eyed the toast suspiciously, and settled on another round of painkillers and a few mouthfuls until he thought he might be pushing it. “Thank you, Martin.” He’d been in a bad way and at his wit’s end before he and Tim essentially rescued him. Passing back the empty mug and setting the remaining toast aside, Jon decided he deserved a lie in especially considering he was in that fragile inbetween where turning his head too fast would trigger another one. “If you see Tim before me, would you pass on my gratitude?”

“‘Course I will” Martin retrieved the dishes and turned back before closing the door. “Sleep well, Jon.”

#TMA #The magnus Archives #Jon sims #Tim stoker #not sasha #migraine #nausea #caretaking

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bloody-hearts-lane · 4 years

Text

Taking Care of The Slashers When They're Sick

(minus jason because. i dont think he gets sick?)

muse version here

Brahms Heelshire

OH you thought he was needy before?

You're hilarious.

He's VERY picky about what kind of soup you make him, and he probably won't even want to eat at all– but you inform him that he NEEDS to, or else he won't start to feel better.

He will NOT eat microwaved soup out of a can. You don't know HOW he knows the difference, even when he's sick and totally delirious, but he will always know.

He'll get extra mopey and sad about things too.

Why aren't you giving him forehead kisses? Or rubbing his back? Or reading to him? How else is he supposed to get better?!

If he thinks he can get away with it, he might pretend to be sick for a day or two longer so he can soak up all the extra attention.

Bo Sinclair

Absolutely the kind of person to pretend that he isn't sick. Unless he's on his death bed, and physically unable to get out of bed? He's FINE, don't TOUCH him.

If you're really worried about it, though, all you have to do is ask him REALLY nicely– maybe throw in some puppy dog eyes– and he can't say no. He'll take it easy for a day, maybe two if he's really bad.

Since you made him stay home, he will expect you to sit with him, though. "What kind of nurse would you be if left me all alone, hmm?"

And, if you wanted to be a little more doting and affectionate, he might not be totally angry about it...

HOWEVER. If he is sick enough that even HE can't lie his way out of it?

You bet your ASS that beneath all that grumpy 'get away from me' bullshit is someone who secretly does NOT want you to go away.

Call it a sick day! Put on a movie that he won't complain about, lower the volume, let him take a nap with his head on your lap.

If you make him soup or something, he'll probably scoff at it, but you bet your ass he'll eat it. Give him a little bit at a time or he'll just make himself feel worse.

Take his temperature if he tells you he's fine, especially if you already know he's sick. He'll grumble, but if you catch him in the lie, he'll concede and chill out for awhile again.

Billy Loomis

Bold of you to assume he gets sick.

Really though, he's probably one of those people that just never gets sick, and it's mildly infuriating.

Unfortunately, that means when he DOES get sick, he probably gets it BAD.

You won't hear from him for a whole day– Stu is probably the one to tell you he's sick, or you come home, and he's wrapped in a pillow caccoon, shaking and burning up and looking like the dead.

He's so out of it that he can barely say anything to you if you do stay to take care of him.

Stu Macher

The SECOND he even gets the SNIFFLES, he cries to you that he's dying.

While you're covering him with a blanket, setting the TV remote close to him, he's grabbing at your shirt and whining, "I'm too young to die like thissssssss."

And heaven forbid he get a stomach bug, or a terrible cold, or anything that makes him feel ACTUALLY miserable.

He will get you in that bed with him, and you will not be getting back up until he feels better.

You better get some good movies lined up, bring some extra fluffy blankets, and make enough soup to feed an army, because not only will he be whiny, and clingy, he will be needy.

The only reason he's so needy, though, is because he loves when you take care of him, and because you LET him get away with being all cute and needy.

Call it a win-win situation.

Carrie White

Carrie is adorable when she gets sick.

It happens so rarely, too, and she usually doesn't get INSANELY sick, so you don't feel too bad about thinking that she's adorable when it does happen.

She probably doesn't want to relax or rest up– she feels bad, leaving the household chores to you, or falling behind on things she wanted to do.

And heaven FORBID she gets sick on a date night or a birthday or a holiday.

You'll have to assure her, multiple times, that you care about her health WAY more than going out; you can always reschedule!

Carrie definitely has the best, most delicious home made chicken soup recipe in the world. She's made it for you before, so you're determined to make it for her when she comes down with something.

Jennifer Check

For awhile, you really only thought she would start getting sick if she wasn't eating for awhile.

That is, until she apparently ate some 'bad meat.'

You get home, and shes somehow waiting for you in your room- it scares the shit out of you for a second, until she sits up, and you realize how awful she looks.

She switches between getting sick, violently, and coming back to wrap herself around you so you can rub her back and kiss her on the forehead. Hope you're not a sympathetic puker.

Complains about everything when she's sick. Soup won't make it better, medicine doesn't help, she can barely sleep– why the fuck shouldn't she be pissed?

Unfortunately, there probably isn't much that you can do to help her out in this situation– it's like the demonic version of food poisoning.

Pet her hair, keep a trash can close by (or stay with her near the bathroom), and don't mind the chills or the sweat.

Hum or sing to her while she curls up into you.

And don't be surprised if she's VERY hungry the second she feels better.

The Man

It's no secret– with you, he is all bark and no bite. and that may be one of the only reasons that he even allows you to see him when he's so sick and vulnerable, but SOMEONE has to take care of the big baby, so it may as well be you.

He's totally miserable, and will make sure you know it.

When you sit next to him to feel his forehead or take his temperature, he bends forward until his head is in your lap and his arms are around your waist and refuses to let go.

The only way he lets go is if you sit and run your fingers through his hair for a bit, and promise that you're just going to get him some medicine and make him some soup.

He'll probably make you promise to come back, and then he'll promise that if he gets you sick, that he'll take care of you, too.

Vincent Sinclair

Unfortunately, he probably won't say anything if he feels sick or starts coming down with something, so you might not even notice right away, if you notice at all.

Depending on how sick he gets, maybe you notice that he's slower or more tired than usual; maybe he's a little weaker, or has shaky fingers.

Either way, you'll have to be upfront about it– he CAN'T work, especially not this hard, if he's getting sick. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Bring him lots of water; he probably needs to be drinking more of it anyway.

Remind that even if he has problems falling asleep, that laying down and resting is extremely beneficial, especially when he's sick.

You could always offer to lay down with him, and see if that helps.

He's probably very worried about getting you sick too, though.

#brahms heelshire #{ ch; yours to care for }#bo sinclair #{ ch; runs in the family }#billy loomis #{ ch; we all go a little mad sometimes }#stu macher #{ ch; im a dead man }#carrie white #{ ch; you will know her name }#jennifer check #{ ch; i swing both ways }#the man (hush)#{ ch; only one option }#vincent sinclair #{ ch; the weight of the world }#slashers #slasher fandom #slasher headcanons

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outoftimewriting · 4 years

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Imagine (Son of Hades! Percy; Godswapped! Big Three's kids (5/7) or (10/12)

House of Hades AU Pt.1 - Perseus' Journey

Hello! Before reading this, check on the masterpost - it's essential for the understanding of this. Read the warnings before proceeding. Leave reviews, suggestions, and good reading :))

Perseus falls for what it feels like hours - but he counts thirty minutes inside his head - it gives him time to think and plan.

He has his ax - his warhammer left behind in the ship, unfortunately - no food, an empty canteen, his very drained powers, and absolutely no way to get to the Doors. If all the monsters are leaving through the Doors, he could follow them. But how? Would they be able to smell him? How quick would the story of a demigod in Tartarus get to the ears of Gaea's army?

He would be hunted all the way through - and how many obstacles could he really cross?

Nothing in his body was broken - but, every few moments, he could feel himself flicker - absolutely drained. His priority should find somewhere to rest, if he even survives the fall.

Perseus doesn't want to think that way, but he can calculate it: he was falling for about thirty minutes now. 30min x 60 = 1800s; 1800s x 10 m/s² = 18000 m/s. Or 64800 km/h. Simple physics = he shall be a smudge at the bottom of Tartarus.

In fact, the free-fall itself should be enough to at least dislodge his internal organs. Why is Perseus still breathing anyway? Is his godly blood maintaining him alive?

If he survives this nasty fall, he can go to the river of fire - he spent enough time in the Underworld to know that the Phlegethon shall keep him alive - perhaps at a horrible price. It might stop him from ever speaking - the dead keep screaming in the Fields of Punishment forever - but he is not dead is he?

Perseus sees a river approaching - he can't summon the shadows to cushion his fall - these shadows are rebelling and he is too weak. He doesn't want to drown, but between the sharp stones and the water, he chooses the water.

Perseus curves himself into a ball and hopes his heritage will protect him. It still hurts - he probably broke at least five ribs and his right leg feels weird - but he is alive.

The voices in the river are tempting - and Perseus is weak. But his fear of drowning and the sheer willpower of getting the fuck back to his friends is enough. He'll get back to the earth. He will get to his mother. The gods don't get to take this from him.

They took enough.

He goes after the fire river - the Phlegethon is never too far from the Cocytus, Dante was mightily wrong in his self-insert fanfiction - and everything hurts.

Percy cannot walk properly - his right leg is really messed up, all of it - and each breath he takes, he wishes he never fallen down this hole.

A selfish part of his mind wishes he had just... let Annabeth fall. But he knows that his heart wouldn't let it happen - he would die for any of his friends. For any demigods - this was never for the gods.

Everything is trying to kill him. The air is poisonous, the earth is shards of glass, the stones are scaly, the ground is too hot, but he still feels cold - like everything in this place is draining him. There's a giant infinite of nothing stretching over him - no sun, no ceiling, nothing.

The pit feels alive somehow. There's a weird pulsing every time he takes a step, and sometimes he trips on weird purple purulent bubbles. Everything is also so humid and slippery - it's like walking on dead fish.

He shivers - is the beginning of sickness and intoxication settling onto him. Perseus doesn't have the luxury to vomit - not here, not now. He doesn't have nutrients to waste. Perseus stop thinking about the place he is in - the less he knows, the best.

Perseus is half pushing himself through, before getting into the margins of the lava river and just drinking huge mouthfuls. It's awful - it burns his hands, his chapped lips, and all the way down to his stomach. He can feel the taste of ash and blood in his tongue, and wonders if his voice will be the same after this.

It's such a capricious thought that it makes him chuckle mutely. He is lucky if he survives to destroy the doors. It's a miracle if Perseus ever reunites with his friends - he would gladly do it without his voice.

The lava heals most of his injuries - the scars never leave. His leg is still a little wobbly - like he might fall any second.

After he fills his canteen, Arachne appears in all of her dastardly glory - and Perseus hates her. It's her fault he is stuck in this mix between the ninth circle of hell and Mordor. Another immortal being with a sense of superiority and a grudge against the gods. It's her fault, and Perseus wants her to suffer.

She deserves it - Perseus doesn't blame her for her grudge in the gods, but she took it out in them, in the demigods, in his people. At least he could take this opportunity to take this blight from the world for a while.

He kills her - slowly. He starts by cutting her legs - every time one reaches for him, he racks it off. Then, when it tries to run away - or better, roll away - he beheads it.

Because it's not a she. It's not a girl of Athens with a bad case of hubris - it's a monster. A monster created by Athena - and how fitting that the goddess created the monster who stomped her children for centuries in a search the goddess send them in. Wise, indeed.

He keeps limping to safety - is there even safety in this hellhole? Damn Arachne, damn Athena, damn Annabeth for wanting to prove herself to the bitch.

He loves Annabeth - not the way she possibly wants him to, but love nonetheless - but this. This is her fault. If not for her misplaced want for approval and immensurable hubris, they might as well be all in the ship now. But that was always his destiny, wasn't it?

Child of Hades - might as well die in the depths of hell for those ungrateful bastards. Wasn't that what they did to his father? Cast him into hell - and isolate him forever from earth and heaven. They must be so happy, so glad that he is here, again dying for immortal beings that don't care.

He is going to get out. And then, he is going to punch every single god that he ever restrained himself from doing so: Dionysus, Mars Ultor, Venus Verticordia, Aphrodite, Bacchus, Juno, Hera, Ceres, Zeus, Jupiter, his father, Nemesis, Invidia, Athena. Every single one of them. He has a growing list.

He keeps limping - most of the time, he borders the stones that litter the margins of the fire river. Sometimes, he hides in the shadows of the cliffs - Perseus cannot waste his strength, and the more that he stalls the monsters to know he is here, the most he lives.He can't keep hiding for long.

Three cyclops pass through him - the exact ones who tried to kill him in his first quest after the Bolt. They attack him - Perseus kills all three of them. It’s their fault too - they should’ve killed him before.

Ugly #1 tries to attack him alone - his hubris is his downfall. Perseus cuts both his arms before finally spilling his guts on the fiery ground. Ugly #2 and #3 go down together - both with their heads split open under his ax.

Perseus has no need for mercy. He has an objective - and no obstacle will stay in his way. He does meet Bob/Iapetus in the way - and is sad, because he has no space for morals here - righteousness will only get him dead in this wasteland.

The titan wants to join him - after he destroyed his life. He can't remember anything - not even here, on the motherland. How much of a dick can he be?

A big one, apparently, because he decides not to tell Bob anything. He doesn't have the raw strength to fight a Titan. He doesn't have his powers - not even his warhammer. It's just him, his ax, and a lot of firewater. And now, Bob and his war shovel. Perseus is not telling a titan that he helped murder two of his brothers and wiped his memory.

Bob tells him they are far from the Doors - that time passes differently inside Tartarus. When Perseus tells him, in a raspy voice that he barely recognizes, that he's been here for almost a day, the Titan disagrees - he might've been here for an hour or a week, maybe more, maybe less. There's no way to know.

They keep walking. The titan's aura is almost enough to keep them safe, but some monsters don't care. Perseus kills two empousai, four carnivorous sheep, and a spartoi - what wonderful flashbacks. Bob kills thrice as much.

They stop to rest in a cave at a secluded part of a cliff. Perseus is unable to sleep - what if Bob remembers that he is not Bob and decides to kill Percy in his sleep? What if they are attacked? What if this poisonous ground swallows him when he closes his eyes?

So he curls around his ax, with his back to the wall, and keeps his eye on Bob. Bob ends up talking to him - even if Perseus doesn’t think he can talk back - about Persephone's garden and the bloom of pomegranates on the cold of winter nights.

It’s wishful thinking, but Perseus wants to be thirteen again, scrolling through the underworld gardens barefoot, hand in hand with Kore. He remembers the smell of her hair and the curve of her lips, and the way the flowers purred under their joined fingertips. She was the first to touch him - besides his mother - and that he didn’t fear destroying.

The walls are covered with some viscous substance. He doesn't think much about it - the more he thinks, the more he sees. And he doesn't want to see.

They leave when a caravan of monsters pass - and Percy muses if he was able to close his eyes for even ten minutes. They crawl through small passageways and climb walls that feel like ice and fire for what it feels like a week - it's impossible to know.

Perseus is collecting scars - the river of punishment heals him, but he can feel them under the rags he is using to cover himself. A hellhound left a cut across his face, and he wonders if he'll look like Luke now. His right leg is still acting up.

Seconds could be millenniums and centuries could be hours. The two of them rest five times - it’s how Percy is counting the time.

The war hasn't been won. But the monsters keep reforming and walking in the same direction as them, so they also haven't lost yet.

They find a cat - a skeleton saber-tooth tiger, because this is the place for happy memories - and it just keep following them. It reminds him of Blackjack - and he doesn't have the heart to kill it.

Percy wonders if any of his friends are dead. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to fight for his friendship with Annabeth, if he’ll ever joke with Leo, mess Hazel’s curls, get scolded by Will, or teach Piper math.

He wonders if he’ll ever ask Jason to teach him how to swim to get over his fear of drowning, ask Nico the rules of Mythomagic or simply talk quietly with Frank again.

He wonders if he’ll ever get to choose a college, if he’ll ever see his friends and tell them how much he loves them again. Percy wonders if he’ll ever go on a date, see cheesy movies, have his first kiss with a boy.

He wonders if he’ll ever taste his mother’s cookies again. He misses the warm touch of the sun in his skin, and the days he didn’t survive on lava and sheer stubbornness.

They meet the Arai in a cliff - and Perseus cannot stop killing them. The first curse that falls upon him it’s dust, choking and strangling him - like so many enemies that he let the earth devour. Then the blindness - the same he inflicted in Hyperion with his shadows - and his feet turn to lead - Hercules. One after the other, all the monsters that he killed get their comeuppance - Perseus does not regret any of them.

One of the curses, however, doesn’t come from a monster or an enemy - it’s from Lee Fletcher. His heart aches with loss, a suffering Perseus doesn’t feel in a long time - depression, his punishment for killing Michael Yew.

Perseus regrets it - he also regrets Bob, who stands aside and does nothing to interrupt his suffering. Perseus doesn’t blame him - perhaps he would have done the same, have their positions been reversed.

He feels his blood boil - his body hurts with the pains of the injuries he inflicted through the years - and he knows Phineas’ curse will be the one which finally takes him.

Suddenly, Bob helps. It’s Kore who interceded in his name - the only deity who never failed him. But it’s too late - he doesn’t feel pain anymore. It’s a sign - a sign that he is going.

He is glad Bob wiped the Arai - at least now, he can go in peace. In the middle of his haze, he looks around and finally understands what he is blocking and denying since this journey started.

Tartarus is not a place. Tartarus is the personification of everything bad - and it’s horrifying in such a level he closes his eyes - he doesn’t need his last moments to be a nightmarish landscape.

Percy can feel himself flicker. Since coming here, he wasn't able to use his powers well. Now he knows is probably because the "ground" is no ground, and he can't travel in the shadows, because the shadows are corrupted. Because this is beyond his father's domain, beyond the gods.

He closes his eyes and imagines Elysium - the children that fell in the first war. The soldiers of the Twelfth Legion that died to protect their home. Michael Yew, Castor, Silena, Bianca, Ethan, Charles. They are waiting for him on the other side.

If he dies here, does he even get to go there? What happens to demigods that die in the dark lands of monsters? Did he get to die? Or was he a part of this now? Would he reform eventually?

Bob is carrying him somewhere. He tried to force-feed him lava - but Perseus could have told him it wouldn’t work. There’s a limit even to magic rivers.

He must have passed out, because when he opens his eyes, he is in a gigantic bed, in a place he doesn’t recognize. Percy looks through the window. It’s not Camp, not Nova Roma, not Argo II - and definitively not Elysium.

The air is red and green and he can see the fires burning at a distance, the mountains of the body he is walking. He is still stuck in Tartarus.

Did he reform? Was Iapetus able to save him? How much time did he stay asleep? Where are they? Percy is pretty sure a house is not part of the Tartarus package.

The demigod tries to sit up, but something is weird. He looks down, and where his full right leg once was, now lies a half-metal one.

Perseus can see gears turning, the places where the bronze meets black. When he tried to lift it, it answered as if that is his own - even the same weight. His mid-thigh is still meat and bone - but the rest isn’t his.

He touches his knee - knocks into it, twice. It's hollow and clangs like metal, but somehow, he can feel it. Perseus tries to detach it: impossible. Little tubes seen to stick in his upper tight.

Bob is outside - he is talking to someone. He enters the room, but Perseus doesn't see who is.

Bob - or, well, Iapetus - tells him that the weight of his earth-related curses, plus the sheer blood that he lost, was too much for his already damaged leg, the bone broken in at least five or six parts and an infection settling in. He wouldn't survive the fever - so the titan had to cut it off.

"When the Labyrinth fell, it fell here, leaving junkyards everywhere. There's one that is too close to the Mansion of the Night, so almost no monster goes there. Me and our host, we are no monsters - so we go there sometimes. We found a leg for you - from a mechanic body marked as Sextus."

Sextus - where had Perseus heard something similar? Oh, that's right. Quintus. He was wearing the prototype of Daedalus next body, that he never got to use because Percy freed - banished - him to the Underworld.

He says he adapted it a little - it was too short for Perseus, so they needed to bastardize an arm to make the socket a little bigger - and connected into his thigh.

"It was a pretty simple process - this version is advanced enough that the tubes connected themselves, we just had to put a little fuel. It will be like your own leg."

Percy wants to scream. This is not his leg. He wants this leg out, now, and his leg back. It feels wrong. Dead - he can see little tubes not unlike veins, but there's just lava running on them.

So this is what Daedalus used to fuel himself - the waters of Phlegethon, damned waters to fuel his damned life.

This is just a nightmare - how is he going to survive this without a limb? Will he be able to walk? Fight? Run?

But his voice escapes him - Percy is still too damaged from the lava. His scars itch - they are of a pale red, and he has all kinds of them. He must be a terrible person to attract such curses - the weight of Lee's curse was removed from his chest, but not his mind.

The neural connections in this must be pretty good, because he is able to feel when his "foot" touches the ground. It takes him a few minutes to readjust - bit it's just like nothing happened.

But it did. That's not his leg. That's not his limb - that's alien. It feels and it walks and it works even better than his old messed up right leg - but at least the messed up right leg was his.

Perseus has no need for limping now - but as he looks at his first mirror since this started, he staggers.

His whole body is mapped by white and red scars that mix with keloids - a jumbled mess of raised patches and ugly patterns. In his face, there's a scar just like Luke's - from his forehead to his jaw, crossing his left eye.

Perseus puts on his ragged shirt - he hates the scars on his chest - but he looks at his eye, and thinks it suits him - it's a mark of betrayal, of the gods' abandonment.

His hair is no longer the short curls he gained while in Nova Roma - now it's a big dirty mess that Percy can't cut or do anything about, so he just bundles it up on the top of his head, out of the way.

Jeez. He is a mess.

Everytime Percy takes a step, his "foot" clangs against the floor. He tugs his semi-destroyed shoes in, and goes with Iapetus - to meet their misterious host.

It turns out not all giants are bad - of course, Perseus thought that Damasen shouldn't be the only exception - Porphyrion, the one Jason fought, should've been so different. Enceladus too - wasn't Athena a goddess of war?

If they are supposed to be their complete opposite, why Ephialtes and Otis were all for parties? Why was Porphyrion just as arrogant as Zeus, why was Polybotes able to raise tides and shake the ground?

Perseus doesn't trust Damasen. He might be the "gentle" giant. But he could - easily - kill a drakon everyday. Maybe he first killed the drakon to help a girl - Moira was her name - but doesn't change the fact that he is able to kill a drakon.

He is grateful for the leg - grateful, even if a grudge is clawing it's way to his heart with the force of a thousand suns - so Perseus thanks the giant, drinks the broth of drakon meat, and rests.

They stay there for a while - Perseus doesn't count time well. Damasen does not seem really happy to let him stay - but Iapetus has some hold over him. He tries to convince the giant to fight for them, but for no result.

Damasen tells him that, while Gaea locked him here, he would never get accepted by either side - the gods would never let him live between them. He has no reason to pledge his loyalty to anyone.

Iapetus/Bob and him sit together. It doesn't feel like forgiveness when the titan finally talks to him. They talk about Zoe Nightshade and Calypso of Ogygia, and the stars above. The titan tells he misses it - his family, his granddaughters - he calls them little stars, because of their father.

Perseus doesn't talk much about their sorrows - he focuses on the way Zoe was determined on doing everything for what she believed on, and Calypso's cunning mind and sweet words.

Iapetus doesn't forgive him - But he does tell Perseus he has a plan.

Apparently, he cannot cross the army of monsters being a demigod - he would be dead in seconds. He only survived up until this point because of his connection to the Underworld.

So Perseus needs to find Akhlys - the goddess of misery - and get the Death Mist, something to shroud him from everything trying to kill him.

Even Damasen's helpfulness has an ending - when Polybotes comes after vengeance, Iapetus helps Perseus run away - with just his rags, a canteen of firewate, his ax and his new leg.

He hates his leg. It answers almost like it's his, and he can walk almost perfectly with it, and when they had to stop and fight a cyclops, it didn't stop Perseus.

But he hates it. Percy wants himself back. He wants out of this desert and doesn't think there's a single good feeling inside him anymore.

But he has to keep going, keep walking. For Nova Roma. For the Camp. For Reyna, Malcolm, Will, Frank, Jason, Piper, Hazel, Leo, Nico, Connor, Alabaster, Grover, Bob, Clarisse, Paola, Annabeth, Rachel, Persephone, Kore, his mom.

Perseus' stomach rumbles with hunger - he grew too comfortable with the drakon's meat stew in his stomach and the rough blankets beneath him. He got too pampered - time to go back to the hot shards of something beneath his cheek and the taste of fire in his tongue.

Now, at least, he can sleep a little - when he is not plagued by nightmarish visions of what he can now see, or of his friends dying because he is stuck here and unable to help. If Iapetus hasn't killed him until now, it's very improbable that he will.

He keeps muttering to himself - Reyna, Malcolm, Will, Frank, Jason, Piper, Hazel, Leo, Nico, Connor, Alabaster, Grover, Bob, Clarisse, Paola, Annabeth, Rachel, Persephone, Kore, Sally - a chant for hope that never stops. Their names sound bad in his tongue - like he is corrupting them.

The closest they get to the goddess house, the more miserable he gets - Hazel, Leo, Nico, Connor, Alabaster, Grover, Bob, Clarisse, Paola, Annabeth, Rachel, Persephone, Kore, Sally - as if he should just stop hoping, stop yearning.

He'll never leave this Pit - Alabaster, Grover, Clarisse, Paola, Annabeth, Rachel, Persephone, Kore, Sally - he'll die here. If not for the names that keep him going, Percy would just drop down. Stay there, become part of this forest of desolation.

Iapetus can't follow him into misery's lair. The titan has no need for death mist - he can take the direct path to the monsters that wait in the Doors.

So they part ways - Iapetus goes back through the Central Wasteland, and Perseus goes forward - into the Poison Meadows of Akhlys.

Perseus sees the goddess of misery - and thinks she looks the part. She and her shield - Hercules' shield - crying eternally.

She denies his request - but he taunts her. Is she just a minor goddess? Wouldn't she want the Tartarus to be filled with wails of the monsters, unable to go out for decades at a time?

Akhlys agreed - but Perseus wasn't sure. She was a little too eager - not something you want from a primordial goddess based on feelings. Elemental gods are so much easier.

And she was too poison-happy for Percy's liking. The way she smiled, fat tears and snot running down her face didn't impress him though: every time he looks around he sees this convoluted primordial of hell and was two minutes off snapping, so.

Rachel, Persephone, Kore, Sally.

Everything around him was wet and disgusting - like most of Tartarus. Maybe being the habitat for thousands of your children isn't the highest of body care.

They stopped near the void, the emptiness stretching beyond him as sure as nothing was above him. He could feel it pulling at his soul - did he even have a body? Or was he just smoke now?

Somehow, his metal leg clung onto him. His ax didn't fall from his hand, although he felt like the weight of the sky was again in his shoulders - he felt at the same time, eighty years older and as if he was nothing at all.

Death always clung at him - he was a spawn of Hades, a hellish being. Perseus always ran cold - and some people, the ones that thrived on life, couldn't get close to him without shivering. But this - this is what death felt like.

Not being dead - being dead can be either peaceful or eternal torment - this is the permanent state of death. Like he is just about to die, but there wouldn't ever be a release.

Persephone, Kore, Sally

Under him, there was Chaos and Nyx - the two primordials that formed the world. How many of those never leave this pit, never got their cults advanced, and were reborn in between the gods above?

Hecate, Nemesis, Eros, Eris, Morpheus, Hypnos, Geras, the Moirai, all of them, dwindling between the Olympians. Did they laugh at their stupid dominions over physical mattters - while they manipulated the world like puppeteers?

For how many times the arrows of love touched the immortals? How many decisions were made under the influence of dreams or vengeance? How many fates did the Fates decide in the strings of their tapestries?

Erebus - the eternal darkness. That is what is lurking above them. Perseus sneaks a lookup - and he can see curves of a person where should be nothing, the points of sharp teeth - it scares him far more than Tartarus.

Akhlys wants to kill him - Percy is not actually shocked. Everything in this Pit is trying. He tried to slash at her with his ax - but his ax was smoke, and Perseus has a very bad control over spirits, so it's to no surprise he was awful at controlling his own spiritual form.

Akhlys advances on him - and, conveniently, she can hurt him. He dodges as much as he can, but inevitably, she caught up to him.

She gives a swipe at his metal leg, her hands are around his neck - the goddess of misery is trying to suffocate him with her poisonous claws. Perseus hates suffocating.

"Stop... P-Please..."

Kore, Sally.

"Misery doesn't stop, misery is everything you'll ever know"

Perseus can't do much, but as he fights back, he feels it - in the bottom of his stomach, a pulling. The same pulling he uses to open the earth and to summon skeletons, coming from Akhlys.

Then, he touches her.

And Akhlys screams.

Perseus can feel the pulling, the way her immortal life is trying to stay in her body - but he pulls harder and harder.

"Please... Please stop."

She is aging under his eyes - he can take everything from her. Perseus is death - and life has touched him. He wants her to suffer. He wants to see how miserable Misery can be.

"Decay is inevitable, decay is everything you'll ever know."

Around him, the poisonous plants thrive, bloom to full beauty. Under him, Akhlys never dies - she shrivels, wailing as he begs him to stop.

But Perseus is death and life. Perseus is decay - he can take and take and take, and leave only an empty husk behind. He would never stop - he would destroy everything in his path, in this wasteland that he was sent to die by Fate.

Sally.

It's his mom's name that brings him back to reality. He jumps off the shriveled corpse-looking goddess and scrambles backward as she scampers away.

Perseus doesn't know how much time he passes there, in between the garden of poison, looking at his hands and shivering. He became what he feared the most: his touch is poison.

It's been many years, but Percy wants his sweaters and his gloves back. He wants to be covered, so no one will ever touch him again - he wants to cut his hands off. He is dangerous.

A deep, dark part of him wants to kill - what is the difference if he kills them by decay or with a stone spike? They would be dead either way.

Maybe he belongs here - he muses - maybe he became a monster, just like the ones he killed. Maybe he would just die and reform here, eventually.

Is he even a person anymore? With his metal leg and destructive skin - how much of him is god? Can he decide the fate of life - is this his heritage?

He hates himself, this situation, this life. The poisonous flowers flourish under his fingertips - and he wonders if he touches a daisy, it'll shrivel and die just like Akhlys.

But he traded a goddess for another, for who would appear other than Nyx. Perseus tricks her - says that he is making a map of Tartarus, for his father, but that she isn't really in the itinerary.

Nyx doesn't believe in his lie - she is a primordial goddess, not an imbecile. He calls her minor goddess, however, and that's enough to get her mad: hubris is a failing of most deities.

She gets mad, invokes her children to kill him - of which Perseus knows quite a few and would prefer if he didn't. So he starts talking - a way of stalling them - and promptly proceeds to try and make her tell him which one of them is the worst.

The children of Nyx - all with terrifying metaphysical dominions - start an enormous fight - which is enough for him to slip through with closed eyes - one is not supposed to look at the Mansion of Night.

He runs - and he feels them behind him. Their powers can't affect him - he is almost dead after all - but they are gods - stronger and quicker than him.

But Perseus prays and he runs, using the stone under him to propel his feet. He feels like he is running for years when he finally reaches the end of the hallway - finally on the margins of the Acheron.

The son of Hades hates water. But worse of all, he hates water that remembers him of his failures. Michael Yew, Silena, Charles, Ethan, Luke - his fault. Their blood is in his hands. He made Misery miserable - he should jump.

He doesn't. The Nyx cavalry wakes him up from this display of guilt and regret - it's a breakdown he had way too many times in Tartarus, and he is not doing this now.

Perseus uses a stone to propel himself over the River - his adrenaline making him soar through the air. He falls on the other side of the water - and doesn't break anything. He can't - he is made of smoke.

Bob - definitely Iapetus now - has his memories back. When they meet again, it's closer to the doors - who are being watched by glowing Hyperion and Krios - the titan Jason killed.

By the time they reach the Doors, all the Gigantes have returned to the mortal world - or at least, it's what Bob tells him. Even the giants they already killed - here they are again, making a mess.

Perseus tries to be sneaky - but there's no sneaky way to subtly destroy the chains that hold the Doors in hell. The monsters almost don't notice him.

But Tartarus centainly does.

And if he thought seeing Tartarus was bad - well, actually seeing him in his interim is way worse.

Tartarus has the skin he's been walking for who knows how long - slimy and greyish - with red eyes and a vacuum-like face - he seemed to suck the life out of them.

He attacks Perseus - calls him an intruder, tells him that he cannot freely walk him. Perseus wants to scream - He didn't want to be here either! This wasteland took his voice, his leg, his humanity. It took everything from him!

Unexpectedly, Damasen comes to his rescue, having tamed the Maeonian drakon. Bob uses his shovel to do the same - while Small Bob stays around Perseus' heels.

"It's your time to save the world, demigod. This is not the last sacrifice in the war you're raging against Gaea."

Percy enters the elevator. Bob stays to hold the button - he can't take him upside like they talked about. Damasen can't come - they'll die so Perseus can go save the world.

"Twelve minutes. Take Small Bob with you. Don't let them kill him - tell the stars I said hello."

So he starts going up. Perseus holds the Doors firmly shut as he looks at himself - a mechanical leg, a skeleton tiger in his ankles. He wonders if he'll make it upside. If part of him won't ever leave Tartarus - if when he dies, is there he'll appear.

The Elevator shakes - once, twice. Maybe he'll die here. Maybe it's better than what he is going to face when the doors open - it's definitely better than what he left behind.

He doesn't think about Bob and Damasen dying behind him, for him - he doesn't think about it at all.

The doors finally stop. He is not sure twelve minutes have passed - maybe it was less, maybe it was more. Perseus thinks this is it. He is not ever coming out. He walked the whole Tartarus, faced horrors far beyond any mortal ever had to, to now die because of doors.

Then he sees the light, and just let the doors go. Perseus takes one look at them - he can see at least two people and a giant - and takes one step out.

He breathes - ozone, oxygen, pure air - and then passes out, crushed under the sheer pain of life.

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