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nagito-kissmaeda · 4 years

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Alone at the Edge of a Universe - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: You were in an accident before everything went to hell. You don't remeber how it all started. Now you live in a small apartment with a strange man who seems to be trying his best to look after you, but doesnt know how to take care of himself.

AKA: oh my god they were roommates.....Despair Edition TM

Word count: 7169 Contains: fem reader, no pronouns usage, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, very mild blood/injury, panic attacks, despair era Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

There’s an explosion outside your window, and something huge tumbles to the ground. Everything in the apartment is shaking, Knick-knacks wobble and fall off the mantle, smashing on the floor, the bed frame shakes and lurches underneath you. Your fingers are digging tight into the quilt, trying to find purchase somewhere in the quake.

It is not your first collapsing building, and you fear it will not be your last. The world outside the apartment is dangerous and frightening, layers upon layers of horror folded together into the culmination of true despair. You don’t remember how it happened. It was some time ago (weeks? Months? Years?) that you woke up in a hospital, weak and emancipated, barely able to walk. You had been in some sort of accident, whatever happened to the world, started while you were still comatose and all the doctors were long gone when you finally came to. The fact that your life support was even still running was a stroke of luck.

There’s another thundering outside, but this one doesn’t make the house shake. Another building? You can't be sure, it was too far away to be of any danger to you so there is no reason to think about it. Instead you pull yourself up from the bed, bringing one foot down on the floor and being absolutely sure that there won't be any aftershocks before standing up properly. There are little broken pieces of glass and china all over the wooden floorboards, you cross the room on your tip-toes, careful to avoid any of the more dangerous looking shards. It is as you feared, your favorite knick-knack had also broken. You drop into a crouch, trying your best to gather the shattered pieces of what had once been a small glass jar full of little keepsakes.

Your housemate (if you could call him that) frequently brings back little presents from his adventures out into the fractured city. But this had been your favorite, a blue jar with a cork stopper, full of buttons, beads, marbles. Any pretty trinkets he could find for you. The shattering of this particular gift hurts something terrible, because you know it took him a very long time to collect it all. You manage to find a sturdier jar that survived the quake (it was once holding three stems of lavender, long since dead) and scoop as many of the shards and trinkets that you can inside. It isn't as pretty, but it will do for now.

He’s been gone for a week now, and you are hoping he will be back today.

When he first brought you to the apartment, you couldn't even stand. Confused and scared about what had happened to the world during your coma, and having trouble remembering what your life was like before either. The apartment was a mess when he first found it, but there was a bed and clean sheets in a closet, so it was fine. He sat with you for hours, barely moving, just watching as you slipped in and out of consciousness, as the world finally came into focus. At first you were afraid of him, of his dishevelled appearance, trembling limbs and wide watery eyes. He never made any move to touch you, he sat there and would answer questions if you asked them, but otherwise just watched.

Once you were able to move on your own, he started heading outside for longer stretches of time. He used to just leave for a few hours each week to bring you back enough food until his next trip, but now he is often gone for days at a time. You wonder how long it will be before you can go outside with him. He is strange, but given the state of the world outside, you can’t imagine anyone else is faring much better.

You manage to salvage a decent amount of the broken trinkets and either pour them into a vacant jar or the trash and are in the middle of sweeping away any remaining shards when you hear a shaky knock on the door. He has a key, but he always knocks anyway. You let the broom drop to the ground and dash over to the door to let him in.

“Hey…” you say, pulling the door open. His red striped sweater has more holes in it than it did last you saw him, his hair curled and messy, more grey than white. His disheveled appearance means little, you are thrilled to see him, “Welcome home.”

His eyes are desperate as he looks you over, crossing the threshold of the apartment and closing the door behind him, “The quake...are you okay?”

“I stayed in bed the whole time, I’m fine.” You attempt to take his rucksack from him, to help him carry it to the kitchen. He pulls it away from you and carries it on his own, “A bunch of the gifts you brought me fell off the mantle, though. I should have been keeping them somewhere safer, I’m sorry.”

He wheezes, giggling under his breath as he starts pulling food out from the rucksack and onto the bench, “Don’t waste such sweet apologies on me. I can find more gifts if you want them.”

With you standing in the sitting room, and him unloading groceries in the kitchen. In a different time, this may have been domestic. Your heart warms at the thought, “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Trouble?” He doubles over with laughter, the sound is scratchy in his throat, “You could never cause me any trouble.”

He doesn’t look like he belongs in the nice clean apartment. He stands in the middle of the room, all shaking limbs and wheezy breaths, clutching his own arms like it’s the only thing still keeping him together, but you can tell he is trying, he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, “you were outside when it happened”

He giggles breathlessly, gnawing on the cuff of his sleeve, “you are worried about me?” His knees shake like they're about to give out and he buzzes with manic energy, “Aha! the extent of your hope, it’s incomparable!”

You suddenly notice a line of blood running down from his forehead, curling down past his eyebrow and over his cheekbone. You rush over to him and take his face in your hands. His skin is pallid and sickly, his lips chapped and bleeding. You push his mess of dirty hair away from his forehead and gasp, “you’re really hurt, why didn't you tell me?”

He doesn’t say anything, he’s just staring at you with wet unblinking eyes as a wide smile tugs at his lips. Shuddering under the soft grip of your hands. The gash on his forehead is shallow, but blood is gushing out of it quite quickly and you aren’t really sure what to do. As you look closer at the wound, his eyes flutter shut and you feel him leaning into your palm. Your heart thunders in your chest, he’s cute under all the dirt and grime.

He cares for you a great deal, you aren't sure why. He won't even tell you his name.

“I’ll wash it out for you. Okay?” You say, taking one of his hands in yours and tugging him towards the bathroom. The one gentle tug on his hand is enough that he almost topples over, but he rights himself quickly. His hand is quivering in yours.

“Oh! You don't need to do that!” he protests, but continues obediently following after you, “I’ve dealt with much worse, aha! Don't bother dirtying your hands to fix something that will only break again.”

You grab him by the shoulders and lower him down onto the toilet seat. His big eyes peer up at you from behind the mass of hair now tumbling down over his face, he watches you with a pointed devotion that might make you uncomfortable if you weren't already used to it. He brings his sleeve up to his mouth to chew on it again, you take his hand in yours and lower it before he gets the chance, “I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry.”

His nails dig into the meat of his thighs and he is shivering again. You can feel his legs bouncing as you lean forward to take a better look at the gash on his forehead, he whines when he feels your fingers brush his hair away from his face. You sigh at him, “You know this will get infected if you don't clean it, don't you?”

He whimpers, practically rattling as his tremors get worse, “How kind of you to notice! But I have more important matters to attend to of course.” another bout of laughter boils through him, shaking his bony shoulders,“like you, for instance!”

You drop to a crouch so you can meet his eyes, resting one hand on his shoulder and holding his hair back with the other, “You can't look after me if you’re dead.”

“Oh I won't die.” He breathes, the depths of his eyes shining with a shocking lucidity, “Not yet.”

He really believes that. You can see it on his face, “Either way. I’m going to clean it. Sit tight.”

Sitting tight is not possible. To his credit, he doesn't move on purpose, but he is still shaking intensely as he waits for you. His protruding knees knocking as his legs bounce up and down. You purse your lips and wet a cloth in the sink, the water is a little brown, but all of the water is a little brown so there isn't much you can do about it.

“Okay.” You say, turning back to him and lifting the cloth to his forehead, “Let me know if it stings too much, alright?”

He nods, smiling up at you pleasantly as you bring the cloth down on the gash. There is a lot of blood, the coppery smell is overwhelming but you try your best to seem like it isn't affecting you. If there is any pain, it doesn't seem to be bothering him, his eyes are closed again and he is leaning gently into your touch. Your heart warms for him, and the hand you are using to hold his hair out of his face starts gently scratching his scalp. You hear him gasp, but he makes no move to stop you. His hair is soft, you can feel the grit of dirt and smoke caught up in it, but under that...he is so soft. The blood running down his face is well clean by now, but you don't stop. The washcloth falls from your hand with a splat and his eyes snap open. One of your hands is buried in his hair, combing the mess through your gentle fingers, the other traces the sharp line of his jaw, all the way up to and then down his cheekbone.

“What are you doing?” He asks, you are dimly aware that his shaking has stopped. At least for now.

Your pointer finger runs up the bridge of his nose and over his right eyebrow, now you are the one shaking, “I...don’t know.”

“You’re touching me.” He breathes

Your voice is barely a whisper when you reply, “I am.” you let your hand drop, “I’m sorry. I don't know why i did that.”

He reaches out and takes your hand in his, pressing it firmly to his cheek. His eyes are wild, “You can do whatever you want to me! I don't mind!”

His suggestion raises an unwarranted heat to your cheeks. You gently tug your hand from his grasp, “There’s some vodka in the cupboard. Give me a moment to disinfect you.”

You pick the cloth up off the ground and leave it on the side of the sink as you walk over to the kitchen. All of the food he brought back with him is still strewn about on the countertop, abandoned when you realised how badly hurt he was. You worry about him. Constantly. He was the one who found you half crawling, half stumbling through the desolate remains of the city mere hours after you woke up in the crumbling shell of the hospital. Since then he has been so careful of you, making sure you are well fed, bringing you gifts or clothes, anything he can find out there. He clearly doesn't extend the same olive branch to himself. You stand up on your toes to grab the alcohol from the top shelf, it was already here when he first found the apartment. Half empty. You hope whoever lived here before you had enjoyed it.

“This is going to hurt.” You warn as you step back into the bathroom. He nods loosely and you wring the cloth out as best you can before dousing it in the vodka, “Are you ready?”

“Pain or pleasure,” he starts, looking up at you with a loopy smile, “anything I feel by your hand is exhilarating.”

Oh. You liked that . It made something in the pit of your stomach twist.

You clear your throat and crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair out of the way. His eyes are half lidded, and you can tell he is uncomfortably lucid. He intimidates you a little like this, there is a sharp intellect behind his big green eyes that feels like he is dissecting you with his stare alone. Even though he has stilled quite a bit, his hands are still jittering at his sides. You gently press the alcohol soaked rag to the gash in his forehead, he hisses through his smiling teeth, but the sound teeters dangerously close to being a moan. You swallow, continuing your ministrations.

“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” You ask, purposely focussing on cleaning his wound so you don't have to meet his eyes.

“No.” He says. It doesn't sound like he’s lying.

“Okay.” You reply, “I trust you, but you can't hide these things from me. I have a duty to keep you safe, too.”

A shudder runs through him at your words and his eyes flutter shut. Like he is savoring it, “You are too generous, truly.” his voice is so breathy, and your positioning makes it sound like he is whispering in your ear. You bite your lip.

“It is not generosity.” You laugh a little, your fingers tangling in his hair again, “It’s selfishness. You are all I have and I don't want to lose you.”

He is shaking again, his long fingers grasping at nothing. Like he desperately wants to hold you but knows he can't . His arms wrap around himself instead, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as he rocks back and forth, “Aha! A regular Pylades you are, looking after trash like me!”

You have long since abandoned any pretense. Not even pretending to be tending to his wound anymore, your fingers brush through his hair unhindered, “Pylades?” you ask, twisting a lock of pale hair around your index finger. Surprised with how much classic literature he’s managed to remember through all this tragedy, this is not the first time he has quoted one such piece to you.

“From Euripides!” he’s grinning now, lips curled almost painfully wide, “You need me to jog your memory, hm?” He asks, leaning forward. He is very close to you now, and your hand freezes in his hair, “Orestes says ‘it’s rotten work’ and Pylades replies-”

Oh. You do know this one.

“Not to me.” You breathe, heart thumping in your chest and mouth going dry. Your hand slides down from his hair to cup his cheek, you can feel his pulsepoint racing like a hummingbird under your thumb. He is so close now, you can see flecks of gold in his eyes. You can count his eyelashes. You are shaking, “Not if it’s you.”

For a moment, you think you are going to kiss him. For a moment, you want to kiss him. Instead you let your hand drop from his cheek and stand back up, “It’s um...it’s as clean as im going to get it. Might need stitches, but i dont have the means or the skill to do that for you.”

He brings his arms up in a shrug, “No matter. So long as you’re satisfied.”

“This isn't about my satisfaction.” You say, crossing your arms, “You need to take better care of yourself out there. Look, maybe next time i should come with you and-”

He shoots upright, suddenly towering above you, all quivering limbs and sweaty palms, “Nonononono. You have to-” he sucks in a wheezy breath and shakes his head, “-you have to stay in here. For you to be tainted by the world outside, the despair it would-” a breathy laugh escapes his lips, growing and growing in volume, his hands tanging his hair pulling strands out at the roots, “-It would be glorious .” He growls, shaking and panting as he starts hitting himself in the head with his fist and a crescendo of, “nononononononono” is erupting from the cavern of his mouth.

It is frightening, but you are used to it. He gets in these fits sometimes, but has never attempted to hurt you, it’s more like he’s fighting himself. You wrap both your hands around his wrist, holding his arm still so he can’t use it to hit himself anymore before slowly bringing it back down to his side. He is still shaking with a mania that seeps out through every pore, but at least he isn't hurting himself. His mouth runs a mile a minute, arguing with both himself and people you have never met. He talks to them a lot, these other people, you don't want to ask him about them.

“Hey.” you whisper, “I’m here. It’s okay.”

His big eyes turn to you, but he doesn't calm. He is still muttering and shaking, but this is okay. You start slowly rubbing your hands up and down the length of his forearms, “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

He whines and brings one of his sleeves up to his mouth to gnaw on it. You don't stop him, when he gets like this it’s one of his less destructive habits. It's preferable to scratching. You keep rubbing his free arm, your other hand curled around his hip. His eyes are slowly growing less wild, drool is dripping down his chin, “Alright. We’re going to move to the couch. Nice and slow.”

You loop his arm over your shoulders and tuck your other hand into his back pocket, slowly walking him over to the couch. This is the main reason you haven't left the apartment, the door unlocks from the inside so if you really wanted to, you could leave at any time. You’re scared though, both of what is waiting out in the city, and of what will happen to him if he comes back one day to find you gone. He is finally starting to calm when you lower him down onto the couch, still chewing absently on his sleeve, but his breathing has slowed a little. A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you tuck some of his hair behind his ear.

“Why do you worry about me so much?” You ask, more to yourself than to him. Stroking his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb, “I am no one to you.”

He is tired now after his episode, his arm is slow and shaky as he reaches out to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist. The warmth of his skin seeps in through your shirt, your heart climbs up into your throat when he squeezes , “You are hope. You are everything to me.” his eyes are half lidded, and his smile is soft, “The corruption, the despair it...haahaa...it tainted us all, but you-” he takes a deep, shuddering breath, “-you slept right through it. You’re still hopeful...still perfect…”

“And if I hadn't. What would I be to you then?”

“Dead, most likely.” He sighs and it rattles through his chest, “Is there even a point to talking about what might have been? In my experience it has never helped any.”

He’s right. You hate the idea of a reality where you never meet him. This realisation makes your stomach turn. Familiarity breeds comfort, but when what is familiar is a man who is (under dirt and grime and sweat) incredibly beautiful, you find that it breeds something else as well. You give the hand on your waist a pat, and he lets you go.

“The sun is setting.” You say, trying to distract yourself from how much you want his hand against you again, “I’m going to light some candles before it gets dark.”

“Oh! Before you do.” He manages to pull himself up from the couch and stumbles over to his rucksack, bending over and rummaging through it some, “I hm...i found something for you.”

You stand in the middle of the room, the last dregs of daylight are casting an orange light over his shaking form. He comes back over to you, holding out his offering, for a moment you're not even sure what it is.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, turning it over in your hands. It’s a polaroid camera, a little banged up but it looks like it will still work, “thank you.” you smile up at him, heart melting to nothing in your chest, “thank you so much.”

He laughs a little, shaking as he passes another two objects over to you, “I only found two film cartridges, but i can look for more!”

“No! This is perfect, I'm amazed you even managed to find two.”

“My luck may not be worth much.” He says with a sad smile, “but if i’m able to bring you some happiness with it, then i'm glad!”

“Here, just...give me a second.” Your hands are shaking as you fumble with the first cartridge, popping open the back of the camera and clicking it in. Before he has a chance to protest (because you know he will) you lift the camera up to your eye and snap a photo. For a moment he is dazzled by the flash, but then immediately starts wheezing.

“Wha....What?” His knees are wobbling again, his eyes are wide and unblinking.

The photo slides out of the camera and you grab it between your index finger and thumb, giving it a light shake, “I took a photo of you.”

“Why would you do that?” He’s laughing, but it sounds more confused than it does manic, “You only have two cartridges of film and you would waste a photo on garbage like me?”

“I don't think it was a waste.” The photo has just about finished developing, the light from the flash doesnt do his already pale skin any favors, but you smile all the same, “Sometimes you’re gone for a long time, and if i can't come with you then...i dunno, it’ll be nice to have.”

“You...miss me?”

You see no reason to lie, “I miss you.”

He is just staring at you now, eyes slowly examining every inch of your face. Your heart is racing. He takes a slow, shaky step towards you, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“I shouldn't.” He says, even as his trembling hand rests on your hip, the pads of his fingers slipping up under your shirt to stroke your skin, “I’m disgusting for even thinking about all that I want to do with you.” His grip on your hip grows tighter, and you feel a warmth in your stomach, “If you knew...eheh...if you could see what i was thinking right now.” his breathing has quickened, and the hand on your hip is trembling. So are your legs, “you’d kick me out of this apartment like the...the...haahhaa...the perverted trash that i am.”

Any thoughts within you about resisting or denying him have long dissipated. You do not even hesitate as you loop an arm behind his head, digging your fingers into the back of his hair, “I wouldn't.”

He doesn't say anything, he’s just looking at you and trembling. A whiny moan escaping his lips.

“The things you want to do to me…” You start, fingers slipping under his striped sweater, just enough to feel his skin, “Show me.”

His hand joins its brother on your hips, and he tugs you towards him. Your lips colliding in a desperate kiss, all tangled tongues and nipping teeth. You moan into his open mouth, your fingers tangling even tighter in the mess of hair on the back of his head, he groans when you tug a little harder, slipping one of his hands up the front of your shirt and palming you over your bra. You cling to each other like two lost sailors adrift in the sea, attempting to find purchase in a world long gone. Your kisses open mouthed, wet and sloppy, desperate and needy. He is moaning and shaking, his long fingers tightly squeezing your breast as his other arm wraps around your waist and somehow tugs you even closer. He is so thin, pressed up against him like this you can feel his bones shifting under his skin. You bite his neck so hard you taste copper on your tongue and a moan explodes from his lips.

“Yes... yes! ” He stammers, drooling and shaking. His mouth pulled in such a wide smile that his lips tear and bleed, “hurt me...hng-hahAHA... destroy me !”

Your hands become frantic, grabbing his jacket and tugging it down his arms. His sweatshirt soon follows, ripped up over his head with a tenacity you didn't even know you had. You want to feel his skin, to suck, to bite, to bury your nails in it. Desperation is building inside you, almost ready to overflow. His skin is salty with sweat when you run your tongue over the length of his collarbone, fingers on your left hand running over each jutting rib as you slip your hand down to grasp his hip. The bone is sharp under the soft skin of your palm. Despite all his sweating and panting, his flesh is still cold under your hand, you want to warm him up. You tug your own shirt up over your head, chucking it behind you and unclasping your bra.

A wheezing laugh escapes him, he pushes his hair away from his face but it immediately falls back down again, “You...you’re…” his breath hitches, his pointer finger traces the underside of breast, shaky and cold, “you’re so soft...so warm .” he moans, licking his lips, “my goddess...would you permit me to pleasure you with my mouth?” he purrs. His eyes are swirling with arousal, his hand creeping up to massage your breast in his palm. It feels so good, he feels so good. He looks at you with this endless devotion, like you are something precious to be protected and loved .

“My guardian angel.” you whisper, tucking a wisp of hair behind his ear, “Whatever you want to do to me. Do it.”

His ghostly green eyes are blown wide, and he is wheezing again, “You just...what did you just call me?”

“I would have died out there on my own. You know that right?” You say, leaning in close enough that the tips of your breasts brush against his bare chest and cupping his cheek in your palm, “You saved my life. You are my guardian angel.”

“You are too kind to me, truly.” He whispers, his cold hands moving to your shoulders as he guides you backwards, “I am little more than garbage after all.” the back of your knees hit the couch and you collapse onto it, “Just a bug under the heel of an ultimate’s shoe...but you...hm…” he drops to his knees in front of you, his grin is all sharp teeth and drool. Some people might have been afraid of him, you thought he was the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen, “you deserve to be worshipped .” he breathes against your skin, leaning in and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. His mouth is warm and wet, you throw your head back in a wail, digging your fingers into the mess of hair on his head.

His hand slides up the side of your ribcage, thumb rubbing small practiced circles around your other nipple. A needy moan escapes your lips, and your legs drop open almost instinctively. He scrambles forward to nestle himself between them, the sharp angles of his torso dig into the soft flesh of your thighs and his free arm wraps around your waist to tug to two of you even closer together. A strangled cry rips through you as the bare skin of his chest presses firmly against your sex, hips bucking against him almost involentarily, overcome with a desire to just feel him . He laughs against your breast, sinking his teeth into your flesh as his tongue continues lathing across your pert nipple.

“Mm...you’re so soft…” He whispers, resting his cheek on the plump skin of your breast, “your skin is so smooth…” His other hand is still toying with your nipple, rolling it in between the calloused pads of his thumb and forefinger, “haaAAH...I’m so lucky. You permitting scum like me to pleasure you? Your kindness is...hm, how could I put it?” his tongue darts out to give your nipple a lick, you shiver, “It is inexorable ”

“Wrong again.”, You laugh breathily, carting your fingers through his unruly hair, “This is no kindness. This is desire, unflinching. I want you so badly, selfishly .”

A raspy giggle escapes him, shaking his shoulders as he pulls his arms from you to wrap them around himself instead, “Someone like you getting so riled up over someone like me...eheh…” His hands are shaking when he brings them back down to your waist, gripping the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, “The ideas I have - the things I want to do with my fingers,” he starts pulling your pants down. You lift yourself up a little to help him pull them over your hips, warmth blooming in your cheeks, he moans at the mere sight of your panties, “f-fuck…” he whines, all drool and sweat, “i want to finger you until i die . Oh... oh god… ” he’s kneeling lower down now, you can feel him shaking between your thighs, “you smell so good...i want to eat you until there's nothing left. Like you’re my last meal…” his hands come up and grip your thighs tight, he leans in closer to your center and you can barely hold in a moan when you feel his nose bump against the wet spot on your panties. You don't hold in the moan when you feel his tongue. You aren't sure you could if you tried, it tears out of you, the one swipe of his tongue over your soaked panties is like a bolt of lightning to your cunt.

He continues like this for a while, moaning and shaking as he drags his tongue up and down your panties. Occassionally suckling your clit through the fabric. His bony fingers dig so tight in the soft flesh of your thighs that you swear you’ll have bruises tomorrow morning. After one particularly brutal suck, all you can do is sob, pulling his hair so tight that his lips are torn away from your centre.

“Something wrong?” He asks, playing innocent, but the look in his eye is cool and intelligent.

You heave a shaky breath, staring down at him, “Take them off. Please! ”

You swear you see his hips twitch at your demand. Eyes glazing over and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he hooks his fingers through the legs of your panties and tugs them down, leaving them to dangle off your left ankle. A whimper escapes you at the feeling of his breath against your wetness, his hands are hovering above you, shaking in the air like he isn't sure what to do with them. He wants to touch everything, he just can't decide where to start.

In the end, his left hand comes to rest at your hip, while his right middle and ring fingers push their way inside you. Your head lolls backward and your mouth drops open with a long moan at the feeling. His fingers are longer than yours are. A lot longer.

“I can feel you... twitching around me.” he makes a strangled noise, half a laugh, half a moan and pistons his fingers slowly in and out of you. The sound it makes is obscene , but it seems to only encourage him further. He leans in, and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently and occasionally flicking it with his tongue. Your hips buck reflexively, trying to get closer to his mouth.

“Ahh - ah! You taste so sweet...” he whispers against you, his breath cold on your burning flesh, “I - mmph...i feel like adam biting the apple...or persephone swallowing the pomegranate seeds...haah…” he removes his fingers, and his tongue slips inside you, swirling around before he returns his attention to your clit, “But which do you think it will be, hm? Will i be forced to leave you, or will i be bound to you for all eternity?” his eyes meet yours, boiling with passion and desire. He looks godlike between your thighs, grinning up at you with sharp teeth and the sheen of your own slick all over his chin. All you can do is shake and moan, quivering for want of him, “Care to try your luck answering the million dollar question, my goddess?”

“Never leave me…” you say, chest heaving. You reach down and cup his face in your hand, “I will never ask you to leave me.”

“Never?” he asks, his smile growing manic and his nails digging into your thighs. You hiss at the pain, “A dangerous promise.” His tongue enters you again and he moans sinfully against your skin, slowly thrusting the wet muscle in and out of you. His hands slip down under you and he lifts you up by you ass, pulling your sex even closer to his face. You whimper and moan and grind against him. Fingers tangled in the mess of his hair as he tongue fucks you into oblivion.

He’s whining and groaning, devouring you like a man starved, and when you feel the couch lurch, you realise he is also desperately grinding his cock into the front of it. You tug on his hair again, weaker than last time as the wobbly feeling of pleasure has overtaken you. He slowly draws back from your sex, licking his lips and staring up at you with his intimidating eyes, “Mm?”

A shaky breath rattles through your lungs and you lean forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, “I want you inside of me. Would that be okay?”

“I was already inside you.” He says, smirking and sticking out his tongue as a reminder.

“You know what i mean.” Your eyes flit down to the tent in his jeans, making what you really want even more obvious than it already is.

“You spoil me.” He breathes, pressing a wet kiss to your jawline, “You couldn’t possibly know how desperately I want to sink myself inside you...but I- haaahh ...I am not worthy of such an intimate act.” His fingers reach out, and slowly begin circling your clit, you choke on a moan, “I am more than happy to pleasure you like this...no need to worry about my satisfaction.”

“But I want to see you come undone.” You hiss as his index finger circles you entrance, “I want you on top of me, inside of me. I-“ his finger pushes inside and your breath catches, “-I want you to fuck me. Please .”

A giggle bursts from his lips that quickly grows into a cackle. His shoulders shaking with its intensity, a line of drool dripping down his chin, he throws his arms wide and shoots you a manic grin. All teeth and gums, “If that is what you truly desire, then it would be pointless to deny you any further!” He clambors up from the floor, stumbling a little as he struggles to remove his jeans, “After all, I want you as well.” He purrs, his jeans and boxers dropping to the floor, “More than that…” he breathes, lowering you by your shoulders until you are lying back on the couch and nestling himself in between your open legs. Your heart is racing, he is hovering over you now. His lips barely a breath from yours, and the head of his cock brushing against your sex. He groans, “My goddess, I hunger for you.”

He hisses a breath in through his teeth as he starts pushing himself into you. Hips shaking as he resists the urge to shove himself in with one long stroke, his eyes roll back into his head and he moans. The feeling of him slowly entering you, combined with watching the strangled ecstasy on his face, it’s the most aroused you’ve ever been. You can feel yourself clenching around him, your own hips quivering as he finally bottoms out inside of you with a raspy groan, “So wet…” he hisses, “You feel so good around me…” he slips one of his hands down between the both of you, rubbing gentle circles around you clit. You keen loudly at the feeling and his hips stutter into yours, “Y-you like that, huh? I felt you tighten around me…”

You nod loosely, struggling to speak through your moans, “Please...move…”

He visibly shudders at your request, slowly inching his hips backward, and then forward again at full force. A moan that shifts to laugh halfway through escapes his lips, and he finally sets his rhythm. His hips snap against yours with a desperate fervor, he whines and mewls above you, his hair bouncing delicately with the movement. Eyes half lidded and drool slowly dripping down his chin. You look up at him in absolute awe, he looks and sounds like an angel . Covered in grime, twisted and tangled, but an angel all the same. His fingers return to your clit and you moan again, digging your nails into the skin of his back, tracing the protruding vertebrae with your fingertips.

A particularly deep thrust causes a choked sob to break forth from his lips, his head lolls forward and he nuzzles into the join between your shoulder and neck, “You’re perfect .” he breathes, hips still pumping, “I’m throbbing...can you feel it? Can you feel what you are doing to me?”

You can . You can feel the warmth of his cock pulsing inside of you. His arms are trembling and his breath is a rapid staccato, he’s trying to maintain his composure, “You feel so good, sweetheart.” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. He breath hitches when you call him sweetheart .

“You are so kind to me…” He wheezes, his breath warm against the column of your throat. You shiver, a strangled moan escaping you as his dexterous fingers circle your clit even faster. Your thighs tighten around his narrow waist, hips grinding against the meat of his palm and deeper onto his cock. All you can do is shake and moan, the muscles in your stomach tight and only growing tighter. He looks at your face, visibly euphoric, “are you close?”

You nod and he drags his tongue up the shell of your ear, “Jeez...I can’t believe trash like me is going to make you cum.” His eyes are wide when they meet yours, lips pulled tight in a grin, “You’re going to cum for me!” His hips move against yours at a frantic pace, his hands groping any part of you he can reach, a laugh in his chest building to a crescendo as he hits deeper and deeper inside of you, “You’re going to cum around me and I’m going to feel it...I-haaaaHAAAAA-“ he can’t speak any more, he’s laughing and moaning and fucking into you with an unbridled desperation.

“You need to...cum...Ah~ I want you to cum too…” you swallow, words catching in your throat when his fingers start working your clit again, “Cum inside me, angel. Please .”

“In-Inside?” He stutters, breath heaving and teeth clenched as he grows closer and closer to climax, “You would permit me to soil your insides with my filthy seed?”

“I don’t just permit you. I’m begging you! ” Your hips are canting up to meet his, wanting to feel him as deep inside you as possible. Drawing yourself tantalisingly close to orgasm, “I want to see you, to feel you. Come undone for me, please.”

His breath hitches, and his eyes grow dark. His fingers begin circling your clit at a brutal pace, his mouth collides with yours in a desperate kiss, all tongue and clicking teeth. You moan loudly into his open mouth, legs twitching underneath his frantic ministrations. His fingers on your clit, his cock pumping in and out of you, his tongue tangled with yours. The heat in the pit of your stomach is boiling, your breath is coming in gasps. It feels so good.

“You’re mine.” He whispers against your lips, and you swear you hear a sob catching in his throat, “accept me, please. Cum for me, my love.”

With those words, he kisses you firmly, thrusting deep and slow inside of you, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps as you cum with a strangled moan. Dragging your nails down his spine and curling your toes, warmth settles through your entire body and it feels like a perfect finality. He whines against your lips, grinding and writhing as you walls clench around him, then his eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open in the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard, and he cums .

His face softens in that moment, and for just a second, he looks normal. Like someone you might pass on the street or sit next to in class. You see him , and your heart turns to butter. You love him. Slowly, the speed of his thrusts peter out and he heaves a breath, eyes half lidded, giving you satisfied (albeit sleepy) smile. You return it, brushing your fingers down his cheekbone.

“Thank you.” He whispers, eyes moist with what will soon be tears.

You curl your hand around the back of his head and tug his forehead down to your lips. His skin tastes like sweat, “No. Thank you .”

He leaves the next morning. Unlike all the other times before, he never comes back.

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda nagito #super danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa x reader #i just keep busting these out huh?

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solohux · 4 years

Note

Hi darling! I adore your omega Kylo content so much, and I know you've written about him a lot but I'd love to see something like hes getting very clingy and needy during the early stages of his pregnancy, not that he knows hes pregnant yet. Hux freaks out a little bit because this relationship between them is supposed to be causal, just a stress reliever (even if Hux thinks Kylo is the most beautiful omega hes ever laid eyes on). Kylo doesn't know why hes suddenly craving being with and around Hux more often but he is, he wants the alpha all to himself. Maybe it comes to a head when Kylo sees an omega officer talking with Hux and gets insanely jealous, going over to yell and start a fight and Hux has to pull him away to calm him down? Only for Kylo to jump on him the moment they're alone before Hux can even ask what the hell that was about. I don't know if that's enough for you to go on, I've never been brave enough to send a prompt before 😅 Thank you so much for your writing, it honestly brightens my day when you post something new 😊

“Uh, Ren?”

“Mmm.”

“Wake up. I need to go to the bridge.”

Kylo pouts, rolling his tongue over his dry lips whilst still in the remnants of a beautiful dream, “Okay.”

The bedchambers descend into glorious silence again so Kylo can doze, snuggling against the warm pillow that he has clutched tightly in his arms. He’s so content that he feels like he’s floating.

“Ren? No, no, don’t fall back asleep. Wake up.”

“Hm?”

The omega does as he’s told and allows himself to emerge gently from his dream about being held in Hux’s arms whilst the pair look down into a pristine white crib where a newborn pup sleeps, blinking away those sweet images to find the real alpha General staring at him with an unamused expression.

“I’m needed on the bridge,” Hux says, shifting beneath the sheets so that Kylo’s pillow moves in his arms. “So I’m going to need you to let go of me, Ren.”

Kylo frowns but when his pillow does a little bit more moving around, he realises that he’s actually clinging on so tightly to Hux—his arms like a vice around his middle—that there’s no way that the alpha can wriggle free on his own. Smiling, Kylo sets his bedmate free and stretches as he watches the fretting alpha get dressed in record time, throwing on his neatly-ironed uniform and smoothing his hair down with greasy product before popping a few mints into his mouth.

“An emergency?” Kylo asks, quickly rolling onto Hux’s side of the bed to claim his pillow, burying his nose in it and drowning in the alpha’s scent.

“No, but we’re expecting problems now that we’re in Hutt-claimed space and they need me up there,” Hux says, sitting on the bed to pull on his boots. “There’s caf in the kitchenette if you want some.”

Kylo turns his nose up, “No, thanks. The smell makes me feel ill.”

“Very well. I’ll see you later.”

Hux stands up to leave, adorning his greatcoat in one swift movement and heading towards the door. Kylo can’t help the quiet mewling sound that leaves his mouth.

“Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?”

The alpha stops dead in his tracks and turns, carrying on fixing his gloves in the elegant yet powerful manner that always makes Kylo’s stomach flutter. As he stares at Hux, part of him can’t believe that he’s just asked the most commanding alpha on the ship for a kiss goodbye, right after making a little keening sound that came from deep in his omega heart.

But instead of Hux scoffing at him like Kylo expects, he smiles devilishly, glancing down to the ground and leaning back over the bed. His gloved hand cups Kylo’s cheek, stroking over his skin with such gentleness that Kylo doesn’t ever want Hux to leave him.

“How can I say no to these lips?” Hux says softly before kissing the omega deeply, longingly. Kylo doesn’t know why this suddenly feels like heaven but it does, as though nothing outside of them exists—or if it does, it’s their world.

Hux breaks away first, though his hand lingers, “You know, you’re best fuck an alpha could ask for.”

Kylo’s heart sinks as Hux walks away and leaves, his greatcoat flapping out behind him like a grand cape. The omega sighs, shrinking back underneath the covers as he feels his mood drop like a cement brick in Kamino’s ocean.

Their arrangement has been labelled as stress relief ever since they fell into bed with each other almost six months ago but recently, Kylo has felt strangely drawn to Hux in a manner that he can’t explain, hating the fact that the alpha has left the safety of their bed—Hux’s bed, Kylo supposes but he spends so much time in it now that it’s become shared—and there are others now who’ll get his attention on the bridge instead of just Kylo.

That thought makes Kylo kick off the covers and grab his clothes, swallowing down a wave of nausea that seems to hit him every morning now but he hasn’t time to think about anything else but the burning jealousy in his gut, the unshakeable need to be in Hux’s arms right now or else. He doesn’t even brush his sleep-tousled hair or adorn his mask before storming through the Finalizer’s corridors, his potent scent and domineering presence sending officers scrambling out of his way.

Not ten minutes after Hux left his chambers for the bridge, Kylo joins him, stepping onto the bridge with high hopes of finding his alpha again and fulfilling his desperate craving.

But Kylo’s heart sinks down into his gut when he finds Hux standing at the helm of the bridge in deep conversation with another officer, another omega.

“No,” Kylo whispers, unconsciously putting a hand on his belly. Hux is his. The alpha has just left Kylo with a goodbye kiss that felt like paradise but now he’s catching gazes of other omegas—pretty little omegas with light brown hair and a lithe body that fits better to the dainty omega stereotype that Kylo has spent his life fighting against.

When the petite omega laughs at Hux’s quip and sets a hand on his arm, Kylo sees red.

He thrusts his hand out and calls the Force to his aid, wrapping tendrils of hate around the officer’s neck, stopping his pathetic, flirtatious giggling and making him choke on it instead. He growls, gritting his teeth and slowly curling his fingers into a fist whilst relishing in being the only one to have Hux’s gaze now, albeit for the wrong reasons.

“I’m his,” Kylo is growling in a low tone, his stomach twisting into knots. “His omega. He’s mine.”

“Ren! Ren, stop!”

Kylo blinks, breathing hard. He freezes when he feels a familiar hand close around his wrist, making him relax his Force-attack on the rival omega and making his fingers go slack. And despite the miniscule height difference between them, the omega feels like a pup beneath Hux’s frustrated gaze.

“Hux…” Kylo exhales, free of his rage but still full of jealousy. “I…”

“With me, now.”

Still holding onto Kylo’s wrist, Hux guides Kylo away from the bridge whilst friends of the fallen officer tend to him and help him to his feet; Kylo resists the urge to pull his tongue at the petite omega in victory.

Kylo allows himself to be led down corridors until they’re in an empty one, alone now instead of being surrounded by spying, demanding members of Hux’s bridge crew.

“I thought we were past strangling my officers,” Hux says, raising an eyebrow. “What happened—”

Kylo doesn’t hesitate in throwing himself into Hux’s arms, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s neck and sighing as soon as their chests are together.

“Don’t leave me,” Kylo says, hating how needy he sounds but accepts it now that he realises how much of his pain are withdrawal symptoms from Hux. “I can’t stand to be apart from you. I don’t want us to be casual anymore. I want to be yours. Just yours.”

“Ren,” Hux replies softly, and Kylo sighs in contentment when the hug is reciprocated. Hux’s arms are better than the warmth of any nest, safer than anywhere else in the galaxy. They pull apart a little to press their foreheads against each other. “You’re the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen. I’ve been waiting for the day where I can ask you to become my mate. I…thought you just wanted my knot.”

“No, no, I want all of you.”

Hux chuckles, smiling, “I should have guessed that you’re not the sharing type.”

“Not when it comes to you,” Kylo says, going in for a kiss but finds that the alpha is already going for his neck, to press open mouthed kisses against his pale throat—something that is forbidden between causal partners.

But the kisses don’t last long.

“Ren,” Hux gasps, pulling away in shock. Kylo feels his stomach sink, afraid. “Your scent…”

“What?”

“I…” Hux is turning red, his eyes filled with excitement. “I think you’re pregnant.”

Kylo faints.

#kylux #mpreg #omega kylo #alpha hux #1.4k!!!!!!!#honestly #anyway! thank you for sending me a prompt darling! i hope you send me more in the future because i loved writing this one <3

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killing-all-joy · 4 years

Note

“Can we stay like this forever?” but angst (analogical, Virgil says this while they're cuddling but when he falls asleep Logan leaves to go do something that might kill him)

virgil is bi in this, fyi. sorry if i wrote this in a way you Did Not Want Me To

cw: homophobia, death threats, guns, violence, injury, graphic murder (no major character death don’t worry), swearing

Logan felt Virgil’s head fall onto his chest. They had been watching a movie together, but it had finished long ago and now they were just cuddling on the sofa.

Logan put an arm around his boyfriend. Virgil made a noise of contentment. His eyes were closed but he still managed to direct a blissful smile up at Logan. Logan looked at him with admiration and love, hand moving to caress Virgil’s cheek and brush his hair out of his eyes. Virgil hummed happily at this, nuzzling into Logan’s touch. He took Logan’s free hand in his.

“Can we stay like this forever?” asked Virgil, running his thumb over Logan’s knuckles.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Virgil replied, moving his head a bit so he could kiss Logan’s hand. “I love you so much, and you’re so comfy.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss on Virgil’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Virgil hummed. “I love you more.”

“Falsehood.”

Virgil giggled. Logan thought it was the most adorable and beautiful sound; he only wished he got to hear it more. Usually Virgil was much more composed and displayed a negative attitude. Right now, though, he was tired and with his boyfriend—two things that lessened his need to have a filter on his words.

“You gonna stay with me, L?” asked Virgil.

Logan hummed.

He didn’t want to verbally confirm and end up lying to his boyfriend, but he also wanted to keep Virgil happy. A noise like a monotonous hum could make Virgil think Logan meant ‘yes’ when he actually didn’t mean that at all.

Logan continued to run his fingers through Virgil’s purple hair. It was soft and beautiful and Logan’s favorite hair in the world since Virgil was his favorite everything. Favorite person, favorite boy, his eyes were Logan’s favorite pair of eyes, he sometimes wore Logan’s favorite smile, etc. Logan constantly thought about how lucky he was to have Virgil.

After ten minutes of silence, Virgil fell asleep. This didn’t surprise Logan; Virgil hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep the night before. Him napping was good.

Logan stayed still for about thirty minutes after Virgil had fallen asleep, wanting to make sure he had entered a deeper sleep before Logan moved. When that had happened, Logan slowly untangled himself from Virgil and moved off the sofa, trying to be as undisturbing as possible. Logan stacked a couple pillows to replace himself so Virgil wouldn’t notice he was gone. He then tiptoed to his room, took a gun from the dresser, and then tiptoed to the door where he took the keys off the keyring and exited the apartment.

He quickly made his way to his car. He drove off and into the downtown area of the city. Parking in the parking lot of a small park, he rechecked his pockets to make sure he had the gun before exiting his car. He locked it, and then started walking to a nearby alley.

Logan wasn’t here for no reason, and that reason was correlated with why Virgil hadn’t slept well the previous night.

At around 4 a.m., Virgil had been awaken by a threatening text from an ex-girlfriend. She didn’t know Virgil was bisexual when they dated. She had learned yesterday, was very disgusted, and threatened to kill Virgil (perhaps worse) for not telling her that she was dating someone who was also into guys. She demonstrated that she had the means to and would strike when least expected. Logan had come over to Virgil’s house at eleven in the morning when Virgil didn’t show for their breakfast date, and Virgil, sleep-deprived and terrified, told Logan everything.

Logan was scared. This ex-girlfriend could clearly kill Virgil—and would, if she got her way. So, Logan had texted her, pretending to be someone with money to give her. They were to meet in this alleyway at 10 p.m.

It was precisely that time now (this was a rare instance where Logan didn’t want to be early), so Logan quickened his pace. He kept the hand on the pocket containing the gun.

He entered the alleyway. It was dimly lit by a streetlight, so he could faintly see the back of a person ahead. He figured it was Virgil’s ex. She had long, fairly straight blonde hair which was clearly dyed, and was wearing a brown leather jacket and light blue jeans. Her boots were dark brown and worn.

When Logan had reached the distance he wanted to be from the woman, he drew his gun. It was clear she heard him, because she started to pivot on her heels to face Logan.

“I don’t see a briefcase,” she called, taking a couple of stalking steps towards him.

“I do not have one with me presently.”

“Where is my money?”

Logan didn’t answer that question. He took a few steps forward of his own. “I did not bring money to this rendezvous.”

Her hand started to drift towards her pocket.

“You will leave Virgil Storm alone forevermore.”

She laughed. “You’re what? His boyfriend? Come to protect him? I bet you’ve never held a gun in your life.”

Logan rolled his eyes. He didn’t answer, though, as any information could give her the upper-hand. He pointed the gun at her head.

“You will not kill Virgil Storm,” he growled, knuckles going white on the gun.

She laughed again. “No.”

“I do not want to use force.”

She took another step towards him, feigning curiosity while still keeping the conceited confidence that gave her the dominating air in the conversation.

“If you don’t want to use force,” she said, running her tongue across her upper lip, “then why do you have a gun?”

“I will use force if necessary.”

She pouted. “But it’s not necessary. You could leave without any harm done to you, and-”

“You will kill Virgil.”

She nodded in consideration. “Yes, I will. But, still. You don’t have to use force. You could just as well let nature run its course.”

“I will not allow you to kill him.”

“You, someone clearly well-read and with a profitable career ahead of him, probably in science, are going to throw away everything you have for your boyfriend? When you have obviously never even come close to committing murder ever before?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he cocked his gun.

“If you promise you will not kill Virgil, I will spare you,” Logan threatened, gritting his teeth.

“Alright, you want to play dirty,” she conceded with a sigh.

Within the second, the gun in her hands was cocked, aimed, and had her hand on the trigger.

Logan fired.

Her eyes widened and her movements stopped, her firing arm slackening. She obviously didn’t think Logan was capable of murder. The bullet soared through the air and landed in her forehead.

Logan watched as her body fell backward. Her head hit the asphalt with a crack of what was likely the breaking of bones in the skull. Logan switched on the safety to his gun and slowly put it down, satisfied.

“LOGAN!” he heard a voice shriek, followed by dashing footsteps.

The voice was loud, terrified, and definitely spoken by someone who was currently crying.

“LOGAN!” There it was again, accompanied by the running footsteps that were getting progressively louder.

Logan frowned. Who could that be? He hadn’t told anyone what he would be doing.

Logan watched the figure round the corner and enter the alleyway. Logan’s eyes widened as he realized that it was Virgil.

Nevermind that Virgil was supposed to be asleep, how did he know he was here?

“LOGAN! Oh god, Logan!” Virgil shouted, running over to him. He stopped three feet in front of Logan.

“Why are you awake?” asked Logan curiously. “And how did you know I was here?”

“The neighbors were loud and you got a text that worried me so I checked it out,” said Virgil dismissively. “What happened?”

His last sentence was frantic, worried.

“Are you bleeding? Do I need to call 911? I heard a gunshot and I got terrified,” Virgil rambled. “Obviously someone fired a gun here and I was so scared they killed you, L, so goddamn scared...what the hell is wrong with you, going to a dark alleyway at night? I thought you said you’d stay.”

“I did not say I would stay, I merely made a noise acknowledging that I had heard your request,” Logan corrected.

Virgil glared at him. “Those were the less important of my questions.”

Logan sighed. “I am unharmed, Virgil. You do not need to call 911.” Logan glanced behind him. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Virgil looked confused. “Then what happened? Did they miss you? Why aren’t you in shock? Where are they?”

Logan took a step to the side and gestured behind him. “No one missed a shot.”

Virgil’s bewilderment did not cease. “I see a dead woman. Who killed her? Were you tending to her?”

“Take a closer look, my love.”

Virgil would have blushed at the pet name if it wasn’t such a dire situation. Virgil took a few cautious steps towards the corpse. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh...oh my god, it’s her,” said Virgil, no longer confused. “Who killed her?”

Virgil turned around to face Logan in time for him to hold up the gun. Virgil’s eyes widened. Logan was scared that it was in fear.

“You...you killed her,” whispered Virgil.

“I did not want to,” said Logan matter-of-factly. “Truly, I didn’t. However, she was aiming to kill me and I had no choice.”

“For me.” Virgil still seemed to be in shock by the news.

Logan blinked. He looked down at the gun thoughtfully. “Yes. She demonstrated the means and the desire to kill you. I confronted her. She tried to kill me and stated that she would kill you in the future. I killed her instead. Simple.”

Virgil shook his head. “You killed someone, risked so much...for me?”

Logan bit his lip, but nodded. There was a moment of silence.

“You idiot!” Virgil suddenly shouted. “You absolute moron! Why would you do that? I told you not to do anything about it, that I would be okay. We could have called the police! But no, you went out here and almost got yourself killed!”

“We fucking hate the police, Virgil!” Logan replied, not matching his boyfriend’s volume but still raising his voice. “Besides, she could have struck at any time! I was unwilling to take any chances! Not when your safety is concerned!”

“I am not worth you risking your life for!”

“Like hell you aren’t!” Logan shot back. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m sorry for yelling. But what’s done is done. She is dead by my hand. You are no longer in danger.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You are much less bothered by that than you should be.”

“About murder?” asked Logan coolly. “You mistake my impressive education for having prosperity in my youth. I grew up in the most dangerous and criminal neighborhood in the city. I have certainly fired a gun before, and I have witnessed murder more times than that.”

“Have you killed before?”

Logan shrugged. He didn’t answer. “Let’s go home.”

“You haven’t.”

“There is always a worthy situation. Protecting your life will forever be one of them.”

Virgil was silent, looking as though he didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking down to his shoes. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, my darling,” replied Logan, putting his arm around Virgil. Virgil blushed at the term of endearment, leaning into his boyfriend’s side. “Now we can stay in each other’s arms without any external interruptions.”

Virgil smiled. “Logan?”

“Yes, V?”

“The authorities have wanted her dead for a couple of years now for a variety of murders. I don’t figure they will investigate someone who finally took her down.”

Logan grinned. “Thank you, Virgil. I was worried about that.”

They walked back to Logan’s car.

“I can’t wait till we get home and I can cuddle the shit out of you,” Virgil said excitedly as he put on his seatbelt.

“Nor can I.”

Taglist (I forgot it for my last one, sorry!): @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

I know I kind of strayed from the prompt (did I?) so I’m sorry for that. It’s not as angsty as you probably wanted it to be, Lila, but at least there was a happy ending (right?). I hope you liked it!

#analogical #ts fanfic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #romantic analogical #sanders sides fanfiction #dark fic #swearing tw #murder tw #guns tw #graphic depictions of violence #homophobia tw #death threats #injury tw #prompt #fic #somehow-i-got-an-account #sanders sides #kill writes

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nerdwaifuu-stories · 3 years

Text

The Proposal

Happy (belated) Ninjago Oc Day! Ik I haven’t posted much on this account, but I figured it would be the perfect time to post something about my OCs.

Ig some basic info:

Word count: 4,966

Oc basics: the main two are Hisashi and Emon. Hisashi was a samurai/soldier who I have made Ronin’s (dead) uncle. Emon was a criminal who worked for Chen (although Hisashi doesn’t know about that. He just knows that Emon has previously done crime in his youth), but started to lose interest over time due to several factors. Another oc that’s mentioned is Lex. They are a friend of Hisashi and Emon’s, and they are actually an Oni.

Summary: Taking place roughly 25-30ish years before the Ninjago series, Hisashi is coming home from a mission. Since he and Emon have been together for some time, he figures it’s time to take it to the next step. He is one ring purchase and a ship and train ride away from trying to reach that next step.

If you want to know more about these characters, there’s some stuff on my art account @nerdwaifuu-art.

Hope you enjoy!

Cheers rang through the village as they saw the group in green armor entering the village. The soldiers marched through the middle, many with a look of victory on their faces contrasting the scuff, dirt, wounds, and exhaustion their bodies presented: all a worthy cost for a village's safety. Eventually their march and the cheering stopped as the chief approached the group.

"Oh great heroes, thank you! Thank you for saving us from those fiends! We will never forget what you have done for us! May the Creator bring you prosperity!" The chief cheered. Once he spoke his last word, the crowd of villagers' cheer erupted again, echoing the chief's message. From there, the chief and the captain went off to chat and the rest dispersed throughout the village. Some made their way back to the ship either to rest or prepare for the journey back to the city. Others remained in the village to chat or to explore. Amongst those exploring were two young men: a stout, short dark brown haired chatterbox and a long dark copper haired, silent listener. The two strolled through the village as one chatted away and the other listened while glancing at everything they passed.

"I wonder if the captain saw our hard work out there."

"Mhm."

"I mean we were kicking butt out there."

"Mhm."

"We should probably go to the medics to get our backs checked from how much carrying we were doing..."

"Mhm."

The stout man slowed his walk as he placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, "Hisashi, you good? You're quieter than usual, and it’s hard for you to be quieter than you already are..." He paused before he threw himself on track to a ramble, "Anyways, you just seem out of it."

"Yeah... Uh, yes, yes I'm fine, Shiro," Hisashi stumbled, "My mind's just on, uh, other things."

"Oh? Other things? What kind of other things?" Shiro questioned.

"You know... other things..." Hisashi kept scanning the surrounding stands and buildings.

"No, I don't know other things. How about you introduce me to them?" Shiro coaxed.

With a sigh, Hisashi stopped his mini search and said, "I'm just looking for some gifts..."

"Forrrr?"

Hisashi paused for a second, then said, "For my nephew-"

"Ah, why didn't you say so? No need to be so secretive with me," Shiro smirked, "C'mon, let's go find him something. One of these shops should have something he'll like" Shiro kept his hand on Hisashi's shoulder as he started to lead him. Hisashi resisted the push and said, "Actually, I know what shop I want to go to... I just need to find it again..." He looked around once more and then there it was: a small wooden stand run by a middle aged woman. The stand was covered with an assortment of items: jewelry, weapons, metal decorations, toys, metal sculptures, etc. He saw it the first time he arrived at the village and knew he had to stop by it.

"There it is," Hisashi took the lead and pulled Shiro with him as he approached the stand.

"Ah, hello boys~ Do you see anything you like?" The woman greeted them.

"My friend here is just looking, but I do see something I like," Shiro said, shooting a smoldering look towards the woman. The woman giggled and the two continued to chat (or Shiro commanded the conversation and continually bragged about himself). Meanwhile, Hisashi looked at the items. His eyes kept being pulled towards the actual reason that he wanted to come to the stand in the first place—a set of two matching rings sitting in a wooden ring box. Both were made up of a thick metal band that had a space cut in the middle where the gem was, making it appear as if the gem was floating. On the band, on either side of the gem, was a dragon carving colored gold. One ring had a black tinted band with a white gem while the other had a polished, silver finish and a black gem.

The woman noticed his interest in the rings and, once Shiro had taken a short pause, she shifted her focus, "I see that you've found something you like." She picked up the ring box and placed it in the middle of the table. Shiro shot a confused look at the woman and then at Hisashi.

"Oh, sorry, I was just looking at them. They're very beautiful," Hisashi admitted.

"Haha, no need to apologize for looking at what I'm selling, but thank you. My husband's... well, my late husband's father made them," the woman sighed, "Honestly the story is quite sweet. He came to this village and set up a blacksmith shop. A woman came into the shop one day and he fell deeply in love with her. He expanded his skills from weapon making to making small metal trinkets to give to her—" the woman glanced down at some of the other items at her stand before continuing, "She loved every single one and returned his love. Eventually, he decided it was time. He went into his workshop and began on his favorite project. The next time anyone saw him leave his shop, he went directly to the woman, took her somewhere nice, and proposed with these rings. She wore one and he wore the other..." A small smile formed on her face as she looked back at the rings, "Then they passed it down to my husband to use with me, and now here I am trying to sell them," she sighed, "I have no use for them now, and, even though I'm probably making some people roll in their graves, I need the money..."

"Awww, yeah that is really sweet. It's a shame you don't have a lady friend back at home, unless you and that Lexi girl have something~" Shiro teased Hisashi. Hisashi rolled his eyes. 'That Lexi girl' he referred to was Lex, but Hisashi only saw them as a friend. Instead, he had his eyes on someone else; someone else that he deeply cared about; someone else that he actually had something with.

"Plus we're here for your nephew. I don't think he'll have any use for these rings," Shiro reminded him.

"Um, right, of course..." Hisashi watched as the woman placed the rings back to their original spot.

"Oh, a nephew? Is he into metal work? Or I'm assuming he'll like the toys if he's young or the weapons perhaps?" The woman asked.

"Ah yes, a 5 year old who's into metal work-" Shiro quietly snickered. Hisashi shot a quick glare at him.

"Oh, he's quite young, scratch the weapons then," she chuckled.

Hisashi looked around the table some more and decided on one of the small metal figures and an old pocket watch.

"Ah, I'm sure he'll enjoy that," Shiro muttered sarcastically when he noticed the pocket watch was no longer ticking.

"He likes taking things apart and making new things, so yes, he'll probably enjoy this," Hisashi defended his choice.

"Is he trying to be an inventor?" the woman asked.

"I believe he does have an interest in becoming one. He's been fascinated with all the technological changes going on in the city. I don't understand it, but at least he's getting prepared for the future," Hisashi answered, starting to take out his money for his purchase.

"I forgot Ninjago City was going through all that. All the beautiful wood and clay buildings being replaced with tall metal buildings... It's insane."

"Yeah..." Hisashi and Shiro nodded along. While Hisashi searched for the right amount of money, he noticed that the remaining soldiers started to make their way back to the ship. He glanced back at the rings and turned to Shiro, "How about you head back to the ship while I finish up here?"

Shiro nodded, said his goodbye to the shop owner and left. As soon as he was out of earshot, Hisashi turned back to the stand and asked, "How much are the rings?"

The woman stated the price and said, "So you are interested in them after all?" Hisashi nodded as he took out the right amount of money for the rings, the figure, and the pocket watch.

"So is this for someone or just keeping it for yourself?" The woman wondered.

"I have someone at home waiting for me—"

The woman leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest. Before she could ask any questions, with a soft smile, Hisashi whispered, "I met h- uh, this person a while back and now we've been together for 5-6 years now... I figured I should do something special..."

"And decided it was time?" The woman asked at the same volume as him, with a large grin on her face. He nodded.

"Well, I hope the Creator blesses you both," she said, exchanging the items for Hisashi's money. He said his thanks and started to head off to the ship.

"Goodbye, may the Creator bring you prosperity and may the Great Serpent protect you on your journey!" The woman called out.

Hisashi turned around and asked "Great Serpent?"

"Oh, do people in the city not know this story?" Hisashi shook his head, so she explained, "According to some stories I've heard, there's a serpent that sleeps deep in the sea. She apparently used to rule the sea and was the reason for the waves and the storms, so people used to pray to her and give her offerings to keep her happy. Unfortunately that's all I know from the top of my head, and it's all probably just a story."

"Huh, sounds interesting. Thank you," Hisashi said before departing.

Laying his bed, Hisashi could feel the ship rock back and forth and hear his roommates chatting instead of sleeping, excited to be one step closer to home in the morning. But none of it blocked his focus on reading. His brain refused to let him sleep as the nerves have finally got to him. He had a ring in his possession, and he was hopefully going to give it away once he got to the city. To try to calm himself down in the safety of his bed, he took out some letters he got in the past few weeks. Each one started with "My Dearest Sai," and ended with "I can't wait to see you again. Love, Emon Sharma."

It was odd to think that these letters used to be closed off with a "Sincerely" or a simple "From," and "Love" was never a closing he had seen until 5 years ago. Even though it's been years, Hisashi's heart still flutters when he sees the word in Emon's handwriting. It still feels like such a new feeling, especially when he never acknowledged that such feelings could exist in him when he was growing up. Even when his brother tried to describe them when referring to himself and his now wife during high school, Hisashi never understood. Now he did.

After rereading each of the letters, he held the paper close to his chest. He tried picturing everything that Emon described. He tried remembering each random ramble that he sent him that Emon responded to. He silently laughed at the idea of him trying to make sense of everything Hisashi tried telling him. If he tried sending similar letters to anyone else he knows, they would just skim through everything and ask about how he is and how's work, avoiding to say "please tell me more about this random thing you learned ." Emon would be one of the only people who would say that.

The chatter in the room quieted down and the remaining lights started to disappear. With a sigh, Hisashi caught one more glimpse of the contents of the letters before it went completely dark.

"I can't wait to see you again. Love, Emon Sharma."

He softly smiled, folded the letters, and placed them under his pillow.

"I can't wait either..."

"Ah finally, land!" Shiro exclaimed once he and Hisashi got off the ship. Carrying their stuff (armor, weapons, supplies, letters, etc.), the two swerved their way through the crowds of people. Fellow soldiers were pouring out of the boat, being welcomed by their loved ones, going to a nearby inn or bar, or already beginning their ways home. Hisashi looked around at who was there, but he knew that his loved ones were in the city, which was a train ride away. He smiled at the thought of coming off the train to them, and clutched the ring box that hid in his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want to stop for a drink? Or even for a snack?" Shiro asked, following his 6 foot friend to avoid getting lost.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Gotta make sure I catch the train," he said, glancing back to make sure Shiro wasn't too far behind.

"But the train's not going to leave for a bit," Shiro said, puzzled.

"I know, I just..." Hisashi trailed off and stopped in his tracks, leading to Shiro bumping into him.

"Oof- what's going on?" He asked, but got no answer. Shiro looked past Hisashi to see what was ahead, but it didn't click due to so many people being around. It wasn't until he saw two people: a short, medium tanned, black haired man with a scruffy beard and a towering, brown-skinned, short brown haired (hidden under a hat), female presenting person. The man noticed them and started to wave, then stopped and started approaching quickly while dragging his companion with him. Hisashi gripped the hidden ring box tighter as he started walking to lessen the distance. Once he was within a foot of the man, the man threw his arms around Hisashi and nearly lifted him off his feet within the first few seconds of the hug while saying, "It's so good to see you, Sai!"

"Woah, easy Emon. No need to break me," Hisashi chuckled, wiggling a bit to loosen Emon's grip and free his arms. Once they were free, Hisashi returned the hug and pulled Emon close while Emon buried his face into Hisashi's shoulder. Hisashi wished he could stay in this hug forever. He also wished he could just give Emon a big kiss, but he had to wait until they were in private; until they were in the city...

"Wait a minute—" Hisashi pushed Emon out in front of him, keeping his hands on Emon's shoulders—"What are you guys doing here?"

"Lex and I just figured that you deserved a welcome party as soon as you arrived," Emon confessed.

"And Emon really missed you and wanted to see you as soon as possible," Lex added.

"Yeah, that too," Emon chuckled, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. A smile stretched across Hisashi's face as he tried to hold in a laugh. His hand left Emon's shoulder and almost caressed his cheek, but he then remembered Shiro was watching from behind and they were surrounded by other people. He slowly pulled his hand back and hid it back in his pocket, trying to ignore the longing look in Emon's eyes. He then said, "Thank you, I missed you so much too. I couldn't wait to see you again..." Emon responded with a soft smile.

"Well, I missed you guys too," Shiro barged in, now standing next to Hisashi.

"Yes, it's good to see you, Shiro," Lex mumbled.

"I thought you would be much happier, Lexi," Shiro snickered. Lex's eyes were shooting daggers, but they tried to hide their gaze behind the brim of their hat as they said, "We best be going now. Don't want to miss the train." Before anyone could say anything, Lex had already turned around and started towards the train station.

"Ah what a shame. I wanted to talk with y'all more," Shiro sighed, "Well, see y'all back in the city tomorrow!" After an exchange of goodbyes, Shiro disappeared into the crowd.

"Well then, let's go," Emon said, linking his arm with Hisashi's. The two then followed behind Lex, trying to keep up.

"What was all the hurry about Lex?" Emon asked them.

Lex turned their head away from the train window and said, "Just didn't want to get stuck in one of his rambles. You get him talking and you'll probably end up hearing too much about what happened during the mission. I'm just not in the mood to hear how he 'sliced one man's head off' or whatever."

"That's fair," Hisashi said, also looking at the passing land outside the window. He was there when all of it happened, and he didn't need to hear about it again. He only wanted his mind on one thing and one thing only.

"Speaking of which, how was the mission?" Emon asked.

"Oh, just a typical mission. The thugs were playing hard to get for some time. Fortunately, we stopped them before anything too bad happened, and we didn't have many major injuries this time around. Just some scratches here and there," Hisashi answered quickly. He took one last look out of the window before sitting up and facing Lex and Emon on the other side of the table, saying, "But, despite the mission, the place we were at was very lovely." Emon leaned closer, interested to hear more.

"It was a small village by the ocean. Whenever we had a break, it was so calming to be on the white beach and just listen to the calm waves. And the village was really lovely too. It was filled with small shops and stands, and the people there seemed nice. They were very welcoming and always closed the conversations with something about 'the Creator' blessing you." Hisashi said. Lex perked up to full attention towards the end.

"The Creator? Like the creator of the town?" Emon asked.

"Or the Realm..." Lex muttered quietly, but, when they got confused looks from the two men, they said, "World. I mean world."

"Oh right, that makes more sense," Emon chuckled.

"Yeah, they often referenced them, but I guess they have plenty of other stories too. Before I was leaving, a nice woman at a shop said something about a Great Serpent—" Hisashi then recited what the woman had told him. Both Emon and Lex were leaning in close to hear every word. When Hisashi finished, Emon, with excitement in his eyes, and Lex, looking like they wanted to say something but decided against it, looked at each other, then back at Hisashi.

"Woah, that's so cool! Bet that was fun to hear about right before getting on a ship," Emon snickered.

"Yeah, but it's merely just a story," Lex uttered, leaning back against the seat, "Nothing to worry about."

"Have you ever heard of it?" Hisashi asked them. Lex hesitantly nodded, "All I know about it is the same as what the woman told you..." Hisashi could tell that they knew more, but he didn't want to force anything out of them. He could probably try finding a scroll or a book with more information.

"Anyways, overall the place was really nice. If we didn't have work and other stuff to deal with, I would say we should go there sometime," Hisashi said, mainly glancing over to Emon when talking. The idea of just leaving the city, getting on a ship, and sailing somewhere to explore sounded so pleasant, especially if it was with Emon and even Lex. He would even want to take his nephew once in a while. Just the 3 and sometimes 4 of them on a ship, seeing what the world offered. But their lives didn't allow for that. Hisashi had soldier duties to take care of while Emon and Lex had their own responsibilities, and there was just too much they would be leaving behind. Maybe one day in the future it could become a reality.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Emon said, smiling. Then the table went silent. Lex went back to looking out the window while the other two sat silently. Hisashi started to fidget with the ring box in his pocket, only bringing back the nerves. He looked up at Emon and could see he was shifting in his seat, shooting glances at both him and Lex. He wondered what Emon could be so nervous about.

Lex turned their head and sensed the nervousness sitting next to them and across from them. They shot a "say something and get it over with" look at both Hisashi and Emon.

"Sai—"

"Emon—"

They both paused and tried continuing, only further interrupting each other, "Sorry, go ahead—no you go ahead—no I didn't have anything to say—no please, I interrupted you—"

With a sigh, Lex barged in, "So, do you guys have any plans for today?" The two paused and looked at each other, waiting for the other to say something.

"I heard the weather is going to be super nice today. Maybe you guys can go to the park," Lex suggested.

"You are such a mind reader. That was what I was going to suggest," Emon said.

"I was actually going to recommend the same thing," Hisashi nervously laughed. He's so glad that he wrote Lex about what his plans were, or he would've just chickened out and waited to do it.

"Hah, perfect. Maybe we can get some lunch too. You're probably starving. I know I am," Emon said with a grin.

"Sounds good," Hisashi replied with a soft smile. He turned to Lex and mouthed the words "Thank you."

They smirked and mouthed back the words "You're welcome."

"Man, no matter how many times I come here, I always forget how good the food is," Emon exclaimed as he finished paying for the food. In defeat, Hisashi watched the check and the money leave. Him and Emon literally went back and forth about who would pay the bill only to find out that Hisashi had left his wallet at home due to him rushing to get ready and look nice for the day, so Emon came out victorious.

"I claim to pay the next check," Hisashi uttered while they got up and left the café.

"Haha, we'll see if you remember your wallet next time," Emon snickered, "Although it's not like you to forget it at all. Are you feeling well?"

"Yes yes, I'm fine," Hisashi chuckled, "Just adjusting to being home that's all..."

And just being a big ball of nerves, he thought to himself. At least he had the ring with him, or his whole plan would have gone down the drain because of one silly mistake.

"How about you though? You seemed nervous on the train," he asked Emon.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Um, yeah I'm good now. It was just being on a train. Y'know I don't really go on them," Emon said. Hisashi raised an eyebrow, but decided not to further question him.

The two continued to chat as they walked towards and into the park. Circled by the new skyscrapers, the park sat at the center of the entire city. Full of green hills and growing trees, it was one of the few areas of nature in the city. It was still a work in progress as workers were busy with putting in new buildings, benches, and pathways, but it was still a nice place for a stroll and a proposal.

The two walked through the park, chatting and enjoying the scenery. While listening to Emon, Hisashi scanned the area, trying to find the best area. It needed to be a private area with no one around, but also needed to be a beautiful area.

All of a sudden, Emon grasped Hisashi's hand and said, "Come with me, I know a good place you need to see." He then started leading him up one of the hills, looked around, and then continued pulling him along. Down the hill, across some of the grass, and up a slightly taller hill. Once they reached the top, Emon stopped and tightened his hand around Hisashi's, looking out at the view of the entire park.

"Wow," Hisashi marveled at the view. It was beautiful... and there wasn't anyone else around... it was perfect.

"I know right. I came here all the time when I was younger. When I had no where else to go, I would just come here..." Emon's grip loosened, so Hisashi gently pulled his hand away and backed up slightly. He pulled the ring box out of his pocket and took a deep breath as he went down on a knee. This was it. It was time.

"It's crazy to think that I've come all this way," Emon continued, still looking at the view, "I used to come here as a young thief just trying to survive. That's all I thought my life would be until the day I died. But you've changed that..." Hisashi watched Emon go grab something from inside his jacket, but he couldn't see what. "...You've shown me that there's more to my life. Life is not just about trying to get by. It's about learning and experiencing new things. It's about love. It's about so much more than I know, So, I took you here in hopes that I can leave the lonely, barely living thief behind and enter a new chapter of our lives. Hisashi Arima, will y—" Emon turned around, about to kneel down, but he stopped halfway. In his hands was a long, wooden box with a black finish, kept shut with a golden latch. He quickly stood up and hid the box back in his jacket, his eyes not leaving Hisashi. He ran one of his hands through his hair as his face started to flush red. "Sai, I— oh my god..." was all he could say.

Hisashi sat there frozen, unsure what to do. He had planned this for weeks, but now everything just jumped out of his brain.

"Were you about to propose..."

Emon lips formed an embarrassed smile as he quickly nodded. Hisashi's mouth hung open and he looked down at the ring box, unsure what to say. Should he just try to stick to his plan or let Emon continue?

"Forget about me, go ahead," Emon whispered, gently pulling Hisashi's chin back up.

"Um, well," Hisashi cleared his throat and took a deep breath in, looking into Emon's eyes. They had a sort of calming aura about them now. Hisashi's lip curled up slightly as he gathered his words.

"I guess to play off what you've said, you have changed my life as well. Before I really got to know you, I probably seemed like a stone cold guy whose only purpose was to work until he no longer could. You have added more purpose to my life... so much more purpose. And, despite trying to understand everything, love was never one I could get a grasp of. Now I feel like I know at least a tiny bit about it from the past few years, and I'm willing to learn more with you. Emon, I love you so much. I will love you until the day I die. Even beyond death, I will always love you..." Hisashi took a pause, trying to catch his breath from speeding up towards the end without taking a moment to breathe. During the pause, he decided to open the ring box, resulting in a quiet gasp from Emon. He glanced up at him to see the reaction. His smile was bigger, but was being slightly hidden behind one of his hands. His calming eyes started to tear up as he looked up from the ring to Hisashi.

"Will you... would you... uh..." Hisashi started, but his mind was back to blanking out. Improvising clearly took all his brain power. It was his turn to blush red.

Emon chuckled, took Hisashi's one hand that wasn't holding the box, and asked "Will you marry me?" Hisashi couldn't help but laugh along as he quickly nodded. Emon then took the polished silver ring and slipped it onto one of Hisashi's fingers, and Hisashi put the other one on Emon.

"By the way, that was my line," Hisashi joked as he gave Emon his ring.

"Technically it was supposed to be mine," Emon said before pulling Hisashi up and into a kiss with his arms around his neck. Once they both pulled away, Emon held Hisashi close and rested his head against his shoulder.

"I love you so much Sai, and thank you for the ring. It's absolutely as beautiful as you are..." Emon said, then remembered his proposal gift. He let go of Hisashi, grabbed the box, went down on his knees, and held the box up.

"This is what I was going to give you... I hope you don't mind it not being a ring..."

Hisashi took the box from him and unlocked the latch. He lifted the lid to find a ornate dagger inside. It had a pale green jade hilt with silver sheath decorated with floral motifs and pale green and red gemstones. He gently picked up the dagger and unsheathed it to reveal a silver, double edged blade.

"This is beautiful," he said in awe, sheathing the blade and placing it carefully back into the box.

"I'm glad you think so. As soon as I saw it, I figured it would be a perfect gift," Emon said, smiling.

"It definitely is. Thank you," Hisashi said, giving Emon a quick peck on the lips.

"Well, should we get out of here and start the next chapter of our lives?" Hisashi asked.

Emon took a hold of Hisashi's hand and said, "I'm ready whenever you are."

They took one more look at the view, and Hisashi started to lead Emon.

"Let's go."

#ninjago oc day 2021 #ninjagoocday2021 #ninjago oc #ninjago oc fanfic #my oc writing #oc: hisashi #oc: emon

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notfeelingthyaster · 4 years

Text

Imagine (based on the incomplete fanfic Son of the Underworld) (4/5) (Son of Hades! Percy AU)

Before you read it, check the masterpost - I continue into HOO. Check the warnings before proceeding :)) Good reading!

Percy stalls to see his father while he can. He doesn't want to see other demigods nor his mother until he is better. Until he can protect them. He won't see any of them die because of the gods again. But his father hurt him. So he stalls.

Eventually, he wanders to Persephone's garden. Ripe pomegranates tempt him, and he just wants to lay his head upon the soft grass and stay.

There's where the goddess of Spring finds him: basking in the beauty of her garden.

She smiles. That's not only her husband's bastard: that's Sally's son. And while Hades loved the woman, like he loved many, Kore adored her.

She wasn't Persephone or Proserpina with Sally. There was no destruction in their love. Kore smiles, and she remembers the fields of flowers they walked together.

Then, Perseus wakes up, and she is Persephone again. Kore is her past, her innocence that she gave up willingly when she followed her husband to the darkness.

"Lady Persephone" It's the first time he treats a god with true respect.

Persephone hesitates. He has green eyes - he is Hades' son but he is her champion, the closest she can have to a son after her mother cursed her with barrenness.

Perseus smiles.

"Call me Kore"

"My name is Kore, and I bring the spring"

They walk together. Plants turn to look at them, but Perseus doesn't leave a trail of death in his wake. He isn't his father. He is not a destroyer - he is a protector.

She talks to him. About the blessing she put on him, about the flowers she plants in her garden, about her childhood.

He talks back. He tells her about Sally, about the hobbit hole. Perseus tells her how he doesn't belong anywhere.

Kore shows him Gabe's statue. She kisses his forehead, and tells him he doesn't need to fear her touch - he can't hurt her.

They stick together for two weeks before crossing paths with Hades. The Underworld is vast, and Kore had many gardens to show him.

Stepmother and stepson walk barefoot and bare-chested throughout the trails of stone and grass and sleep under the shade of trees, the part of the land of the dead that was now full of life.

Kore shows him how to weave crowns of flowers and how to grow vines under his feet. She teaches him patience, and the flowers glow in his presence.

Persephone teaches him how to make the soil sing. She teaches him control, and the earth purrs under their fingertips.

Proserpina trains him to make the shadows obey. She teaches him resilience, and the darkness is his to command.

They go to the palace together, hand in hand. Percy doesn't question her many facades - he adapts to it. To her skin being green or brown or black, to her ever-changing eye color, to her hair made of vines.

He doesn't dare voice it - but he thinks her more beautiful than Aphrodite.

Perseus is happy here. He leaves his human clothes behind - there's no need for them - and put on togas and chitons.

He stands tall before his father, and the god apologizes with an ax made of stygian iron. Hades says it's a prize for his last three successful quests.

He doesn't let the grudge go, but accepts the bribe anyways.

They dine together. Perseus loves it here - but eventually, he has to go back to his mother and his human life.

His school has one more week of break, and he is spending it with his father. Persephone, Kore, and Proserpina taught him much - but only his father can hone him.

It's against the old laws for godly parents to spend time with their children - Hades is in his own dominion and he doesn't give a damn.

Hades teach him how to call for the Underworld. Teaches him how to curve metal around his arms like water, and teaches him politics the best he can in a week.

Perseus goes back home. He soothes his mother - who, swarmed by calls of Annabeth and Thalia and Chiron, is too worried - and tells her to not visit this year - he'll come home by himself at least once a month and will be spending the rest of his time in the Underworld.

He pleads for her to not tell anyone. Percy needs space.

Sally understands, kisses the crown of his head, and tells him to be safe. He bundles himself up in sweaters instead of togas, and go back to Yancy.

His grades continue to be awesome in Math and awful in English. He keeps getting tutored - and when he gets a B- in Language Arts, it's enough to boost his GPA for the scholarship in Phillip's Academy.

He goes back to the Underworld every weekend. Ghosts teach him how to kill best with his hammer and ax, and some say he would do better with a shield instead of with double weapons, but he doesn't care.

Percy gets muscle - he is a soon to be fourteen years old, and his godly blood helps. He fills his sweaters now, and his new roommate tells him that he looks like a bodyguard. A wall of intimidation - Perseus likes it.

He perfects shadow travel. He gets tired if he goes further than his mother's house and back, and more than one person is still a little off, but he is getting there. Blackjack helps a lot - he is like a shadow charger.

He bends metal and he tries to summon green fire - he only gets sparks, but it's okay - he'll get there.

He uses more white and stronger shades of green and blue - they remind him of Persephone.

Once, he takes his mom to see his stepmom - it's teary, and they spend the whole evening in each other's arms, talking. Mom tells him this goodbye is for real - she tells him she met someone new, and he rejoices.

He starts to differentiate Persephone from Kore and Proserpina - and they are all amazing in their own right.

He takes his finals earlier because of the scholarship. Percy finally says goodbye to Yancy Academy.

This summer, he doesn't go back to Camp - he has no reason to. Everyone is fine, he is not having nightmares, there have been no monster sightings nearby.

He spends half his time in the Underworld. The other half, he spends with Luke.

After two years of taking care of half his friends, it's time to care for the other side.

He doesn't meet Kronos - he doesn't want a master - but he sits down in San Francisco with Luke and Ethan and Alabaster, and they ignore the war that rages around them.

Ethan and Alabaster are dating - Percy is happy for them. They look at him and Luke, and they know Percy loves him.

But Luke is twenty to Percy's fourteen, and he tells himself it's just infatuation, a teacher's crush.

Percy bakes with his Mom and walks Blackjack, and spends most of his weeks with Persephone in new gardens everywhere - it's summer, her time with her mother - but his Tuesdays and Thursdays are reserved for his friends.

Luke asks him only once if he'll join them. Percy says someone has to protect Annabeth, and Luke is clearly incapable of doing it. They don't talk about it again.

Soon, it's September. He takes a road trip with his newly graduated Mom to see the school - and learns that his mother's new beau is a teacher named Paola Blofis.

In the freshman introduction he meets her - Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She sticks to him like glue.

She is a fiery little girl, and Perseus had crushes before - Annabeth, Luke - but he has never been flustered. It's funny for Rachel, seeing the solid wall of sophomore muscles in her front stutter like a middle schooler.

They become friends. He explains the vision to her - she barely believes him, until one day they're out on town and Percy has to kill three empousai. Blackjack shows - and Rachel makes fast friends with the hellhound.

He moves in with a boy named Matt Sloan, and they don't talk at all - they have their own space, and don't ask questions.

Percy keeps visiting the Underworld. He tries to keep contact with Luke - but the boy gets erratic and his humor floats between exhilaration and blind rage.

When Luke punches him in the face two months into the school year after he denies knowing where Annabeth lives, he says his goodbyes to Ethan and Alabaster and leaves.

Perseus worries for Rachel. She is fiery and strong - but she is not a fighter. He teaches her how to stab with a dagger - he has no idea if Celestial Bronze works for her, but the Minotaur horn should.

He is the only black freshman in the whole Academy.

But people don't mess with him nor with Rachel. Percy looks like he could break someone in half like a twig, he disappears for a number of hours for who knows where he is a math genius even though he barely studies. He was involved with shady things three years ago. He barely talks with anyone but the strange girl - and never smiles in public.

Racist people call him a thug and drug trafficker. Persephone gives him a very realistic cherry earring - and rumors grow.

Perseus has to deal with much worse. So he keeps his facade, and sits with the other people of color of this place: It's segregation all over again, and Rachel is the only one who ever approaches them.

And the fact there's only fifteen people of color in the whole Academy? It says a lot about this country.

There are three black boys (including him), four black girls, two desi girls, three boys of oriental descent (mixed Japanese, Korean and Chinese), one Native-American boy and two Latinos, one with a black mom and a Cuban dad and another with all grandparents from French Guyana.

Most of them have scholarships, and just some of the girls interact with the white people - and he with his constant redhead attachment - racism is in an all-time high for such a northern state.

Percy starts paying attention in other minorities - and is not surprised when he finds almost nothing in this nazi paradise. If there's anyone anything other than cis straight, they're in the closet.

He rarely sees any of the girls in the pants version of the uniform if it's not for sports. There are one or two rebels - but it's mostly emo rich kids with no significant problems.

Rachel tells him she's not sure if she likes boys or girls. Six months into their friendship, they kiss - It's weird and wet. They try again - it gets better.

Rachel is still not sure if she likes anything at all. Everyone thinks they're dating - they don't deny it.

Most of them are catholic or protestant, Jewish people live in silence, and there's not one Muslim person in this whole school.

It's 2007, but it feels like 1940. Percy is fourteen - fifteen next August - but he feels like a hundred.

He meets Demeter in the Underworld twice. He is not impressed, and really happy they didn't cross during summertime.

Demeter is like most gods, a super-powered being throwing a tantrum. She is not happy that Hades married her daughter - even though it has been a thousand years and she cursed their marriage with barrenness. She looks at Perseus once - and force-feeds cereal to him.

He hates cereal.

But she doesn't tell any of the other gods Perseus and his father are meeting - so props for her.

He ignores any Iris Messaging that doesn't come from Persephone or Hades. He has no idea what's happening with the war - and right now, he doesn't care.

Perseus receives two calls from Yancy saying that weird people were there, after him - he doesn't care.

He isn't having visions - so everyone is just fine. They'll deal.

His powers grow. Hellish fire, earth, stone, skeletons, metal, gems, shadows - he does it all. Some better than others, and he is always tired, but he is managing.

Rachel and he grow closer and closer. She meets Persephone once. He hasn't heard from Camp in a year and a half now. It's been six months since he talked to Luke.

Persephone and Rachel start weaning him off the gloves. He still uses his sweaters, but his hands are freer now. He has control, and his touch isn't poisonous - he isn't a bringer of death.

Percy has a vision of Luke talking to Kronos about preparing his body and the Labyrinth. He can't lose Luke for an all-powerful being.

A month before his finals, he finds the entrance to the Labyrinth. Persephone tells him about Ariadne - but he can't risk Rachel with Luke. Luke is unstable, he might kill her.

He passes all his classes. Some with A+, some with C-, but it's okay. He'll be on AP Maths next year. It's going to be just fine.

Perseus goes home - he hugs his mother, eats some cookies, packs a bag and goes to the Labyrinth - if anyone can navigate it, it's him - Percy Jackson, son of Hades.

He wanders. Perseus passes by Alcatraz - and there's nothing he hates more than people who can do something and do nothing, and he isn't powerful enough to free Briares alone. So he goes back to the Labyrinth.

Perseus meets Hermes. He has no idea what the god is trying to do. He pleads for Percy to save Luke, he tells him he'll find help in the way, and points him the direction to a place connected to the Titan's war effort.

He pays Geryon a lot of money. Perseus knows he is being double-crossed, but whatever - he has a Stygian Iron ax, a Warhammer, could win in a wrestling match against Eurytion - probably - and has a giant hellhound at his beck and call.

Perseus asks about Luke. They tell him what they can - or else, the basic of the basic. He learns Luke has an army, that he is marching to CHB and that he is recruiting.

Percy lies - he says he is after Luke to join him. No one doubts him - not Geryon, not Eurytion, not some of Luke's minions who are loitering there - after all, he is lying low since December of 2006 - and it's summer of 2008. He is fifteen in August - he was thirteen and a half when he left.

No one knows that he hasn't talked with Luke since November of 2007, except Ethan and Alabaster. And they're not here, so it doesn't matter.

Perseus is not vain - but he is a child of the Big Three, the oldest mortal one. He is realistic: They know who he is. They keep tabs on him.

He is in Triple G Ranch for two weeks - still trying to pry where the hell is Luke - when Annabeth, Nico, Grover, and a freaking cyclops appear from the same entrance he did.

Percy is not there when they come out - he is talking to a son of Morpheus about Alabaster.

He is having lunch - Sun Cows hamburgers, because he really couldn't care less - when Eurytion brings them in.

They don't recognize him at first - he has his back turned to them, he is taller and larger, his gloves are gone, and his hair is fuller. Persephone says he looks a lot like his father now.

"Long time, no see," He thinks Annabeth is going to punch him. She comes to hug him - but it's been a long time, and he is not ready for it yet, so she just sits near him.

She tells him that they looked everywhere for him, that their hope lied on Grover's empathy bond, that Percy didn't even know existed. Nico doesn't look at him - Perseus thinks he still blames him for Bianca's death.

Percy doesn't trust the cyclops. They tell him Tyson - because the monster has a name - is Thalia's brother. He can't judge much, because he has a hellhound, but he does it anyway.

And the fact that most cyclops answer to Poseidon? Explains a lot.

Grover is the one to kill Geryon this time - they don't clean any stables. Annabeth pleads Percy to come with them since they have the same mission.

Oh, how he missed the way she assumes.

"I'm not after Daedalus Workshop"

And she just keeps on assuming. She can't blame her - it's her mother's curse.

"Luke is alive" She tells him.

"I know, I'm here for him" It feels like a betrayal, but he lets them think what they will think.

Nico tries. It's cute - Percy thinks - how he starts by saying he doesn't blame Percy, and that the Camp misses him, but a second later is using his sister to try and guilt him into complying.

Grover asks him how could he, after everything Luke has done.

"He is my friend"

"So was I"

They think he is going to join Luke - he doesn't disagree. They barely know him anymore.

And he loves them, but Luke needs him.

They go back to the Labyrinth. Percy does too - alone. He follows a group of demigods to Antaeus' arena.

Luke isn't Luke anymore, not where it matters. He welcomes Percy with open arms - but he isn't the Luke that Percy loves.

He says that he has to prove himself. The son of Hermes caresses his cheek and calls him Perseus - Percy hates him.

Ethan and Alabaster are there too. They are never together - Ethan tells him he is afraid the monsters will discover they matter to each other.

Luke Castellan - Lucas Castellan, one of his oldest friends, his first mentor, his first love - makes him fight for his life. Against monsters, like the gods that he fights against do.

And Percy does. Percy kills cyclops, dracaenas, empousai, hellhounds - anything Luke throws at him. He is tired when he meets Annabeth again - her little quest has fallen into their hands.

Luke pits them against each other - and Percy hates him. Something festers inside him - this time, it's not guilt.

Annabeth cuts him - but he doesn't care. He wins quickly enough - and instead of killing her, helps the four of them escape.

"Why did you do it?!"

"I thought I could save him" He confides in her.

They sit somewhere in the mess that is the Labyrinth, and they talk. He tells her about the Underworld and Rachel - somehow avoiding any details about the nature of their relationship - and she tells him about Chris Rodriguez and Tyson, and he still doesn't like the cyclops - but what can he do.

Nico apologizes, but Percy's heart was made for holding grudges, and Nico's throat was full of pride. It doesn't seem like conciliation - but it feels like a start.

Nico tells him about Lotus Hotel. Tells him that he discovered that Hera killed his mother in 1942 - and Zeus hid him and Bianca from her ever since. He talks about meeting her in the Labyrinth - and the way he hates Hera but doesn't blame Percy anymore for Bianca - his sister made her own choices.

Annabeth says they have an automaton that can take them to Hephaestus Forge, but they were unable to follow it. She tells him that they need his help to navigate the Labyrinth.

He can only do so much. They go in circles for a while before they reach the Forge, and then they separate - Grover and Tyson go one way; Nico, Annabeth, and Percy go to Mt. Etna.

Everything goes the same - Percy is mildly resistant to flames - he has his own. The telekhines try to kill them.

Percy feels it in his gut - the strength of this mountain, the earth beneath him. He sends Annabeth and Nico away.

Annabeth kisses him. It's weird - he doesn't have anything with Rachel, not for real, and he has been tong-tied around Annabeth for a long time now - but it's still weird. He has just lost any hope on Luke, they're about to die, it's a very adrenaline-fueled situation.

Nico looks strangely forlorn, he notices, as the two of them leave. It's weird because they barely know each other and every single one of their interactions is filled with resentment.

He doesn't have time to think about it. Percy gives them fifteen minutes - and then the world explodes around him.

Being dead never hurt so much. He wakes up for a second - and there's a beautiful girl there. Oh, Persephone must be visiting him in Elysium.

He wakes up again - that girl is not Persephone. She tells him to rest - and rest he does.

Perseus wakes up in Ogygia. The first thing he notices is that his chest is almost bare - the only thing covering him at all is a loose chiton.

He panics until the girl touches him softly and tells him she is immortal - he can't hurt her. She tells him her name, and she tells him she can feel death in him - but also life.

He knows the story - he knows Calypso.

Calypso is a Titaness. She touches and touches and touches him - they roll in the soft grass and they play on the mud like kids.

Their connection is above Annabeth, Rachel, Grover, Charles, Clarisse, Connor - these are his friends, no matter how much time has passed, but he didn't trust him with touch - he thinks he should start to.

It's above Ethan, Alabaster, and Luke - these are also his friends, even if they betrayed him. It pains him to think of them, even if he understands somehow their motives.

Calypso teaches him to trust. It's a very difficult thing to teach to a son of Hades, but he is more open now - there are still grudges pressing at his heart, but he trusts now.

Hephaestus come, and he can't stay. He loves Calypso (although not in a romantic way), and he has stayed for a month.

She gives him moonshade and kisses his forehead. He can't take her now - but he'll be back for her, gods be damned.

He doesn't bother to cover up when he takes the raft - Perseus still hates the ocean, by the way.

Percy shows up at Camp Half-Blood with no sweaters, no gloves, no barriers. He knows which side of the war he is on, and it's time for him to trust.

Camp is empty. He sees smoke curling out of the amphitheater - and Perseus walks to it. It's a bit earlier for a bonfire, did someone die?

He fears it was Annabeth or Nico. Or both. Percy runs to the amphitheater.

There's a black burial shroud. Something is warm at the bottom of his stomach.

Nico is crying on Will Solace's shoulder. Clarisse and Connor are holding hands. Annabeth is sobbing. Charles is hugging her - and finishing a eulogy for him. Percy is in the door, semi-naked, and really confused.

"He was my mentee and an amazing friend to all of those who knew him. He was-" Charles doesn't finish it.

"Don't bother with my presence, continue please" And Percy chooses this moment to be cheeky.

Everyone gapes at him for a second. He is almost Charles height, he is as muscular as Clarisse, he is wearing only a chiton and his weapons. There's a flower crown in his head.

Then, he is tackled by a very furious Charles Beckendorf.

"TWO YEARS"

"NO PHONECALLS, NO LETTERS, NOT A GODDAMNED SMOKE SIGNAL"

"AND THEN YOU DIE"

"AND COME HERE WITH THAT CHEEK"

Percy has no sense of self-preservation.

"It was only a year and a half"

Clarisse punches his arm, and Connor slaps him upside the head. Nico looks like he is about to murder him.

"Where were you?" Asks Annabeth, but he just shakes his head. He is not ready to talk about Calypso.

Will Solace manhandles him to the infirmary - his touch still startles Percy. The boy didn't really talk with him since he was claimed, after the whole Golden Fleece situation.

The son of Apollo apologizes. Perseus is surprised it still hurts - but keeping grudges is his specialty.

People keep looking at his bare chest and the flower crown he doesn't get off the whole week he is in Camp. They tell him they didn't tell his mother - and for that, he is grateful.

They go back to the Labyrinth with Rachel, who looks really cool in gold. It's weird. It was pretty easy to convince her, but there's this tension between Annabeth, Rachel, and Nico that he doesn't care about right now, and doesn't want for it to inflict on his mission.

They're all teenagers - Nico is thirteen (or eighty, buy who is counting) and the rest of them are fourteen - Drama is expected, but not welcome.

He has no idea the reason for it either.

Perseus has his own drama going on - or at least, there's a lot of drama being directed at him - and he is still confused why.

Annabeth stole a kiss from him - big deal, if she didn't mention until now, he was not going to - and is now acting like a headless deer every time they talk.

He and Rachel kiss sometimes - but she said she was still confused about her sexuality. Percy researched a bit - he thinks she might be ace, but that's a realization she has to make herself.

Nico and he have a lot of bad blood between them and very few interactions to drawn upon. The boy is an oyster - but Percy thinks he might like Annabeth. He seems a little envious of Percy's arms - it's really strange the way he looks at them sometimes.

They get caught in Antaeus' arena again. This time, there's no chance they can escape - there's a dagger pressed very close to Rachel's throat.

Luke says his champion is back, full of mockery. Something rages inside of Percy - he hates the blonde, even if he also loves him more than he can explain.

Luke pits him against Ethan. Percy can't kill one of his best friends.

He does kill Antaeus though. The giant has a lot of power over the earth, but Percy sends him straight to the Underworld.

Perseus calls for Blackjack, Nico calls for his own hellhound (Perseus had no idea he had one), and then he shadow travels them as far as he can. They find Grover and Tyson - and Pan. Percy loves the feeling of life all around him this time because it reminds him of Persephone.

They eventually find Daedalus Workshop. Annabeth recognizes the man: she says he is Quintus, that his body is metal, that she has been dreaming about him.

Daedalus betrays them, the Workshop explodes, Rachel, Grover, Tyson, and Annabeth fly in mechanic wings. Nico flies without any help, and takes Percy with him - Percy thinks Zeus will be less prone to kill him if he is with his son.

He feels a little like a damsel in distress - and they have to land quickly, because Percy is twice Nico's weight, even if the boy says the wind drafts help.

Turns out Rachel is richer than Perseus' first thought. She basically clicks her fingers and they have a limo. It's weird, but he is grateful.

Percy kisses Rachel cheek and promises her that he'll call her if he survives - he knows her number by heart after a year of knowing her.

Annabeth and Nico keep being weird - he doesn't even try and understand anymore.

In the middle of battle preparations, he sends two Iris Messages - one for his mom, one for Persephone. They cry, but - for very different reasons - can't interfere.

Perseus thinks it's wrong the gods can't help with their battle. It's their war the demigods are fighting - this battle is in their name.

He uses his drachma in the bare privacy of the empty Cabin 11, the drachma, their drachma. He still has faith - the last summer, when they all held hands and walked in the suburbs of San Francisco, it's burning in his mind - in Luke, in his protection of other demigods. He wants to convince him that his enemies are the gods - CHB has only half-bloods, pawns, children.

The rainbow shows what it seems like a horror movie. Ethan pledges his loyalty to a golden sarcophagus. Luke isn't anywhere to be seen - and when he is, it's not Luke anymore. It's Kronos.

Kronos desecrated the body of his friend. Kronos took pieces of Ethan's and Alabaster's souls. Kronos is making children fight his battles, just like the gods. Kronos is going to kill his friends.

Percy knows, right there, that he has chosen the right side.

They draw their battle lines. Percy raises skeleton armies from all centuries and all sides - Clarisse helps. He gets extra happy when he raises his half-brother soldiers - and they have to answer to a black person.

The fist of Zeus opens - and hundreds of monsters come through. Percy is mounting Blackjack - the ground shakes and stone spikes kill the first round of empousai. People rally behind him.

Nico flies around, thunder brimming in his hands. Sometimes, a monster dies and there's no one there - it's either Annabeth or one of Hermes children able to run faster than the wind.

Tyson saves him from another cyclops - Percy thinks there's an exception for every rule.

Everyone on their side has earplugs made by Cabin 9 - they filter the dangerous sound waves the Apollo children are making. Dryads and naiads defend the forest together - The river nymphs protecting the trees from damage.

Both the Demeter's and the Dionysus' kids use vines to keep the monsters at bay - only a few can come at a time. The Aphrodite Cabin rallies together with the best strategy ever: The stronger lure the monsters with their mother's charm, and then make them turn around and impale themselves in the spears and daggers of those whose charms are weaker.

Not all undetermined children deserted - He sees Lou Ellen kill a monster with a burst of fire magic, most of her siblings right beside her. Clovis is half asleep - no monster can get within five meters of him without falling asleep.

Briares comes and fights alongside Tyson - and they kill Kampe. Grover screams - it's the worst thing Percy has ever felt, and he has seen his father's Helm.

The monsters flee. This time around they had more time to prepare - and more time to rally. Fewer people die. Some are inevitable: Castor is gone, killed by Ethan's hand - something in Percy is filled with guilt - If he had killed Ethan, Castor might be alive.

He would never be able to kill Ethan.

Lee Fletcher is not dead - but he is missing an arm now. He is in shock - but the Hephaestus Cabin is rallying around to build him one.

Quintus - Daedalus - is there. He should be dead - it's disgusting to be near him. Percy isn't good with the spirit/ghostly part of it - but he picks up the last of his energy and sends - banishes - Quintus to the Underworld.

Nico and Percy can now bond over having hellhounds - well, they could. But Percy is not staying. He just listened to the Prophecy. He still has one more year before he is sixteen, and he wants to live.

"You have a place in camp, you know" Nico says, but Perseus shakes his head.

"I have school"

Annabeth, Nico, Clarisse, everyone thinks he is joking. He is very much not. He stays for the burning of the shrouds, and leaves.

This summer, he was a leader. Perseus Jackson, son of Hades, it's the leader of Camp Half-Blood - and he'll lead them to victory when the time comes.

Until then, he has sophomore year, a summer road trip with Rachel, garden visits with Persephone, training with his father, and movie nights with his mom and Paola.

And, of course, now he has to come to Camp once a month so everyone knows he is alive. One would think you can't disappear for a year and a half without everyone on his ass about it.

His birthday is a blast. Charles, Connor, Nico, Annabeth, Grover, Tyson, Rachel, and even Travis, Will, Lou, and Silena are there.

Percy sees a hole that no one else does, one filled by Alabaster, Ethan and Calypso, and Luke - but he doesn't complain. Moonshade grows at his windowsill, and the others made their own choices.

Percy eats blue cake and wonders - Four years ago, he had no friends. Now, he has a dozen - a dozen people who care about him, who care about his well-being. A dozen people who touch him, because he doesn't have the plague.

He is a leader, and a friend, and a hero. And it's totally awesome.

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silverypurple-rosedlions · 4 years

Text

The Ring | T.P.R

Annual September Mafia Gathering

12.9.20 - 7:00 PM

The Gathering Has Begun

"Jeonghan?"

Jeonghan looked up from his hands, being greeted by a shape he didn't recognize. They towered over him, casting their shadow over him as his eyes strained. But something in him clicked, the urge to protect himself as he whipped out his butterfly knife. He flicked it open, the blade shining as the light reflected off from it as his grip tightened. But someone placed their hand on his, a touch he recognized too well as he relaxes, his vision obscured.

"Hannie, it's Mingyu and me," Jeonghan closed his eyes, recognizing the smooth and comforting voice of his partner, flicking his knife closed.

"I don't think you should be here with us tonight," Mingyu sighed.

Jeonghan shook his head in denial, feeling Joshua draping himself over him. Jeonghan leaned his head against Joshua's gently, feeling secured within his embrace. "Don't speak nonsense, Mingyu. I have to do it tonight, and my condition won't stop me from doing so,"

"Listen to me, Hannie," Jeonghan opened his eyes, shifting his gaze towards Joshua. The two locked eyes and the minute Jeonghan could register that it was Joshua, Jeonghan noticed the look of worry fogging his lover's dark brown orbs and the anxiety hidden behind that fog. "You haven't been able to pull yourself together after you talked to Seungcheol..." Jeonghan sighed, turning his head away from Joshua. "What did he say to you, Hannie?"

"Seungcheol..."

══════◄••❀••►══════

"Everyone's lives are on the table, Jeonghan," Seungcheol said, his head dropping into hands in despair. "We thought we had it under control, and that our plans were perfect, almost impeccable... But we were too desperate and naive, thinking too highly of our plan. We made numerous mistakes because we didn't calculate it and because we didn't prepare ourselves for the unimaginable, and I'm the one to blame."

Jeonghan's chest tightened as he listened, his brows furrowed as his leg bounced vigorously under the table, but never causing it to rock with him.

"We were forced to cut ties with you and your group and to leave you all behind. Not because we had our differences, because even then, we found ground between each other. But if we defied them, then too many were going to be slaughtered like lambs for being "disobedient." Even your own, Jeonghan," Seungcheol explained. "So we left. Others understood, and others misunderstood, believing that it was the time to turn away from people "who were far from grace and were guided by Satan," Seungcheol shook his head.

"Believe me, Jeonghan." Seungcheol looked into Jeonghan's eyes, conflicting the other who was unfamiliar with a man he saw as strong and stern, to now being a pitiful and regretful man before him. "I wanted to send supplies. I wanted to send members one by one to help without being detected, but the stakes were too high. We had already crossed territory we had attempted to avoid for years, and if we pushed farther, then you wouldn't see us today. Not a single one of us,"

Jeonghan leaned back, his expression void of emotion as his mind spiraled. "And so you did it anyway... What you would gain was another day to live, and another, and further on until now. But to do so, you were forced to abandon us..."

With a solemn expression, Seungcheol nodded to The Purple Rose leader, who was contemplating.

"So we continued as usual, but there were times that things were changed, and not by us... No. We had to fulfill what "they" requested unless another disappeared, and another. It was excruciating." Seungcheol sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest. "Every day, I had to wait for something, anything, to ensure that it wouldn't contain anything that would hint of a member dying. And sometimes, they did arrive. One disappeared, and then we found them already buried. Another was kidnapped and left for dead after being brutally attacked, and then another,"

"Has anyone else experienced this?" Jeonghan questioned, studying the older's expressions and movement. "Anyone else tugged like puppets by this group?"

"I haven't the slightest clue. We couldn't speak to anyone about this till now," Seungcheol said. "This is the only opportunity we have to converse with each other about this ordeal because of the proposal,"

"So, they still abide by some rules, huh? No one can touch two Bosses and their group if they are to be engaged. What a joke." Jeonghan scoffed, leaning his head back. But when he looked towards the ceiling, a figure greeted him. Their face loomed over his, faint and black. But their smile, her smile, was the most distinguishable. It was mocking, big and white, stretching from ear to ear while her hair was in a messy bun.

"Someone's watching, Jeonghan," She mouthed, her hands moving to his shoulders. "They're listening, Jeonghan. Don't you see it? They're here,"

Jeonghan closed his eyes, lifting his head and looking back to Seungcheol. She was still there too, nothing but a foggy figure that was unable to stay together, their legs like smoke engulfing the floor. While she petted Seungcheol's head, shaking her head, Seungcheol was talking, but his voice was too far, too static. Static. Static.

"You may not trust him, Jeonghan. But you know better. Oh, yes, you do," The woman giggled, draping herself over the other Boss, who took a sip of his drink, brows furrowed. "But who cares if they'll die. They deserve it, don't they? Don't they deserve to feel the pain and abandonment you and your group bear?" She said with a sly voice, but Jeonghan tsked in response. He took his cup and downed the entire glass. The woman scoffed in response, and the static noise became bearable, slowly subsiding as Jeonghan consumed every drop of the drink. So when he looked back at Seungcheol, it was only him. Just him. Just him.

"I don't have any interest in you, Jeonghan," Seungcheol said, finally breaking the remaining whispers of noise, of unbearable static noise. "This proposal has no other meaning but to ensure the safety of my group, and to ensure your groups' safety if they attempt to conduct this again. Just like anyone here, they won't be able to do a single thing to us if we're combined, no matter if they affected one group and not the other."

"That's a brilliant idea, you know?" Jeonghan mocked, his lip curling. "Do you hear yourself, Seungcheol? Relying on this to think it will silence this group? Have you lost your mind within two years?"

"Probably," Seungcheol responded with slight amusement, causing Jeonghan to laugh. "And yet it took you three months to lose yours," Jeonghan could be offended, reaching over the table and grabbing the Boss by the sweater, but he didn't. Instead, he smiled to himself. He smiled a wicked smile.

"Indeed. Three months and I was creating massacres after another," Jeonghan said, relishing the memories of his cruel nature.

"But tell me, Jeonghan," Seungcheol began, becoming stern. "Do you think I'm lying now?"

Jeonghan tilted his head, leaning back in his chair with a faint smile. His eyes narrowed on Seungcheol, taking one last look before his eyes darted to the left, his smile fading.

"Perhaps..." Jeonghan responded calmly, but then a smirk blossomed on his face. "Perhaps not,"

"At least find it in yourself to spare my group. Spare them, and not me. You may do as you like to me, make me go through unbearable pain, make me a fool in front of everyone, or remove me, permanently. Whatever you want from me, you may do, but in exchange, have mercy on my group," Seungcheol said, causing Jeonghan to sigh softly. "That's all I ask. Protection for the thousands of members I lead,"

"Seungcheol-"

══════◄••❀••►══════

"He explained to me everything," Jeonghan finished. Listening as people clanked their glass cups together, laughing and gossiping.

"And it able to justify his actions?" Joshua asked, pulling a chair over and sitting in front of Jeonghan.

"Well... It certainly made me think deeply about it," Jeonghan sighed, running his free hand through his hair before gently tugging his hair with irritation, feeling as if something was crawling inside him, making his insides itch.

"Don't do that, Jeonghan," Joshua said, taking Jeonghan's other hand gently from his hair and holding both in his. "But... Does it change anything? Anything we all agreed on?"

"...In some ways, yes," Jeonghan answered reluctantly, someone letting out a laugh of dismay.

"Is that so?" Jihoon interrupted, causing the three to look towards the Consigliere, his arms crossed over his chest. "Then explain to us what in the world he said-"

But Jihoon didn't finish as the gathering commenced, mafias shuffling to their tables and sitting down. Jihoon glared towards the host, snapping his head back towards Jeonghan, mouthing to him, "You need to explain," before moving towards his assigned seat and sat down. Jeonghan looked towards Mingyu, who shook his head, patting Jeonghan's shoulder and wheeling to his assigned seat. As for Joshua, he sighed, turning his chair and holding Jeonghan's hand under the table.

"You won't explain it to us until afterward, won't you?" Joshua whispered. But before Jeonghan could respond, Joshua shook his head, squeezing his hand. "That's fine."

As usual, the gathering began with a welcome from the numerous staff members of the Worldwide International Mafia Organization, the very people who documented everything and everyone within the mafia community. It was a boring introduction, many of them introducing themselves for new members and groups, going into depth of rules, and so on. The essentials that the groups needed to understand, to be specific. From there, they transitioned into the recognition of new groups and members, welcoming them. Afterward, having them take oaths to their superiors within their groups and accept the rules that all mafias needed to follow. And of course, Jeonghan and various Bosses of each group stood together in their rankings, congratulating the new groups.

Jeonghan was among the first ranks, the first that the groups would see. And it was no surprise that all were hesitant to approach him, some trembling as they took his hand and shook it, giving forced smiles, some shocked when they held his icy, cold hand, immediately jerking away. Others looked towards him as a role model, but when they walked away from him, their legs were weak and appeared like mush as they attempted to continue down the line of Bosses. It was always an amusing sight for Jeonghan, but his thoughts and voices plagued him, making his presence seem as if anyone approaching such a stoic and deranged man like him would die from a deathly plague that he emitted.

Luckily, there weren't that many new groups but various members to greet. But it wasn't long before Jeonghan was seated beside Joshua, wanting nothing more but to be intoxicated with Joshua, embracing him as he slipped into slumber. But that wouldn't happen any time soon as the Organizations' leader lifted the microphone to his lips, addressing the three heads of each group to move to the meeting rooms.

From there, Jeonghan, Joshua, and Jihoon listened to all present and exchanged their updates, their achievements, and so forth. Jeonghan sat through it, listening towards Bosses accusing one another, others cursing and spitting malice, some mocking the other, and those who spoke calmly despite the turmoil within the room. It was long, longer than the previous meeting they had in August before they closed it, moving back into the prior space the rest were residing, waiting.

But before Jeonghan could sit down, massaging his temples as he grumbled in agitation about the nonsense with the groups, the moment they had been waiting for came.

"And before we proceed with the rest of the gathering, we must recognize and congratulate two mafias this year," A plump man said, looking towards Jeonghan and nodding towards him with a bright, toothy grin. Jeonghan breathed in, standing straight as the man continued. "After many years, it appears that these two mafias have finally agreed to become one in unity! Please congratulate The Purple Rose Boss, Yoon Jeonghan, and The Purple Rose Underboss, Hong Joshua Jisoo!" The room filled with cheers and the thunderous sounds of claps, bouncing off the walls and causing Jeonghan's head to pound. But he didn't comment about it, seeing the plump man gesture for Joshua and him to walk onto the platform he stood with the staff.

Jeonghan then turned to Joshua, seeing him look down to his lap. Taking Joshua's hand, Jeonghan gently helped his partner from his seat, giving a reassuring smile towards Joshua, who looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, relaxing. Together, accompanied by Jihoon and Wonwoo, walked towards the platform.

But instead, Jeonghan handed Joshua to Wonwoo, stopping at the steps as whispers of confusion filled the room, the sounds of cheers and congratulations subsided. Wonwoo took Joshua to the side of the platform, patting his back gently while Jeonghan turned his head towards Seungcheol, Jihoon waiting at his side with his eyes narrowed with dissatisfaction.

Jeonghan watched as Seungcheol stood up, followed by his Consigliere, Vernon, fixing his coat as he maneuvered around the tables and walked towards Jeonghan. Suddenly, gasps filled the room, people exclaiming and whispering as Seungcheol stood beside Jeonghan, stepping onto the platform together. Following them was Jihoon and Vernon, refusing to look at each other as the staff exchanged baffled looks with one another. But Jeonghan could hear the mafias whispering, and even those who shouted.

"Since when did the two agree upon this?"

"Disgusting!"

"Did Joshua and Jeonghan break up?"

"When did this happen?!"

"Talk about being greedy for power,"

"Absolutely not!"

"Typical,"

"Is it possible Jeonghan cheated?"

But nothing was done about it despite the angered voices that clashed against those who proposed absurd suggestions, and Jeonghan noticed Joshua beginning to turn red with rage, and if Wonwoo hadn't been there at his side, he'd lose it.

"You mean to say-... Oh my," The man had said, looking flustered and confused.

"FORTUNATELY OR NOT," Jeonghan bellowed, his voice loud and silencing the chaos within the room, startling various groups that shrank, others grumbling, "I haven't given my answer to the proposal,"

Jeonghan turned from the people, facing Seungcheol, who's shoulders were straight and brought back, portraying that familiar sophisticated and dominating appearance that many recognized. But he was nervous, and Jeonghan didn't need to see it in his eyes or have the need to study his body movements.

"Although it isn't an ideal proposal, we have gone through the following agreements if I accept, isn't that right?" Jeonghan said, making sure all heard him as the air became thick with anticipation.

"That's right," Seungcheol responded calmly.

"If I were to accept, our groups will conjoin and share the burden we both carry individually. Both will receive an equal share, protection for all members, and to work together as one. No feelings will be involved, as this is for business reasons. And from then on, no longer will The Purple Rose exist, and no longer will The Silver Lions exist, but one invincible group," Jeonghan said, addressing the agreed terms as the staff rushed to write down these terms. "Not only will both gain this, but Choi Seungcheol will submit himself to my group, unable to refuse what will become of him as his group will continue from then on,"

"So it's revenge that he may be accepting this?"

"He's risking himself? How foolish,"

"Shush!"

"With this accounted, have you both considered this? Are you both willing to accept these terms, and what will become of your group?" The plump man questioned, stepping forward towards the two.

TW: This will contain mentioning of blood and self-harm, but it is nothing severe. But I still warn you in advance in case this may be triggering to anyone reading this.

"I have," Seungcheol answered, keeping his eyes on Jeonghan, who didn't waver. "But I am not the one who has the choice to deny this proposal, or to accept it, establishing this,"

Jeonghan didn't respond, his eyes shifting towards his group that was on the edge of their seats, some nervously biting their nails, others twitching and whispering among each other. When he changed his gaze towards The Silver Lions, he could easily spot the familiar face of a boy he once called his own, looking towards him with desperation. And finally, he looked towards Joshua, who looked back at him with trust.

"I..." Jeonghan began, looking into Seungcheol's eyes.

"Deny," Jeonghan said with a devilish smile on his ghostly face, the room going into an uproar.

Seungcheol's eyes widened, his mouth slightly open, but no words came out. The Silver Lions exclaimed in dismay, some standing up while others held their heads down in their hands. The Purple Rose remained silent, but they were smiling wickedly, relishing the despair The Silver Lions' were under as Jeonghan took the ring off his finger, taking Seungcheol's hand and placing the jewelry on his palm, closing it and patting his hand.

"Whether feelings are involved or not, beneficial gain from one another or not, it will be HELL marrying you. To accept and take your name as mine, following terms and accepting vows, you weren't able to stay true the first time we established it? How silly," Jeonghan growled, standing tall as Seungcheol stumbled backward, clenching the ring in his hand while Vernon took hold of him.

"You-... You're risking my members' lives! Do you understand that?!" Seungcheol exclaimed, looking at Jeonghan in disbelief and distress while the mafia Boss pulled out his butterfly knife, raising his other hand to silence Seungcheol.

"Ah, ah, ah. I didn't finish," Jeonghan flicked his wrist, the weapon opening to reveal the sharp and long blade. Some gasped, others readying themselves for a possible massacre, but instead, Jeonghan calmly brought his knife to his hand, pushing it into his palm and cutting a large cut, blood oozing from the wound, trickling down his wrist. Many looked at him in repulse as he only smiled his devilish smile softly, and he then pointed his weapon towards Seungcheol, his blood dripping from the blade, slowly. "Rather than making the mistake of marrying, let's create a NEW alliance. The same terms applied from before, and the terms now aside from becoming one group,"

And that was enough to cause outbursts of disagreements from his group, even Jihoon and Joshua took a step forward in disbelief.

The mafias within the room were astonished, all conversing with each other about the predicament before them. Not even the staff of the organization could piece together the situation, who were unsure. But Jeonghan was indifferent, turning his knife so that he held the blade, offering it to Seungcheol, who was looking at him with an indescribable expression. Perhaps astonishment and a mixture of rage? Or was he lost?

But Seungcheol took the knife, stuffing the ring into his pocket, and doing the same as Jeonghan after wiping off Jeonghan's blood from the blade. Both of their palms cut, blood dripping as the staff rushed a table over with the following materials for ensuring the alliance and an agreement paper between them.

"This will be the only time you will ever have the chance to redeem your sorry ass, Seungcheol. If you dare, ordered or not, to do the same thing again, then you will be removed permanently. Understood?" Jeonghan said, dropping his blood onto the paper and wrapping his hand with bandages, and Seungcheol followed.

"Of course, Jeonghan,"

With their hand bandaged, their Consiglieres moved forward, conflicted as they took a red cloth from the table, allowing the Bosses to hold each other's bandaged hand, wrapping the silky fabric around their hands before taking a step back, waiting.

And in unison, the two proceeded with the alliance ceremony, the staff creating a half-circle around them, performing the ceremony as everyone went silent, some boiling with anger, others too shocked to process, and those who were unable to differ what they felt. But one thing was for sure. . .

"You better step up your level if you want your strings cut from the group, Seungcheol. I can't be doing all the work here,"

Things were going to become complicated, but interesting.

Admin Moon: I'm not attempting to do the "keep reading" shenanigan again. That was a pain in the ass, so deal with this- 🤧😂

🥀// @yourlocal-babybear @aikihades @sophie-svt-13 @waitingwhispers60 @seventeen-chatbot @kpop-shelter @yangomangos @m00n-nim96 @ghoulxbaekhyun @moonlit-jaemin @empress-jiaqi @time-for-confession @xash-axx @fnafnctdream-chatbot @split-jiu @artsydahyun @softdommechungha @princess-yeji [DM for +/-]

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producingtrashycontent · 4 years

Note

You got me into Mereoleona x William XD. May I request they're in the wild, maybe Mereoleona drags William along? Then he gets them out of some... wild things? Though William strikes me as a gentle and elegant man, he seems to have good survivor skill. Besides, he may be a plant/flora nerd and it's confirmed that animals like him.

I got you into this ship? I'm gonna cry anon😭. I had huge writers block while writing this, so I hope it's not as bad as I think it is.

A Guide On How Not to Spend A Day In the Forest

Paperwork was never fun, but at least it was peaceful. In a way, it was relaxing. Filling out the same papers with the same information. There was really no thinking involved. That's why William never complained when he had to do it. Granted, it was, well, horribly boring, but it was never exhausting or difficult. Being a magic knight meant William's life was filled with stress and nerves. Besides the paperwork and stress, William loved being a magic knight. Although, as of recently, being a magic knight hadn't been the only stress factor in his life.

A loud knocking on William's office window startled him. Spotting a familiar lioness outside, William opened the window to let her in. Assuming that Mereoleona would show up like any normal person was asking too much. William knew he had set the bar too high when he hoped Mereoleona wouldn't tackle him today. Here he was on the floor, pinned down by an eager lioness.

"Nice day today, huh Vangeance?"

Craning his neck to look Mereoleona in the eyes, William strained a smile. "Hello, Mereoleona."

"If you want me to get off you, just ask." Mereoleona muttered, eyeing the fake smile William had put on.

"Could you please get off me?"

"Tch, fine." Mereoleona rolled off William and sat on the nearby couch. William came to sit beside her a moment later. Removing William's mask, Mereoleona pulled him in close. Mereoleona still never failed to make William's heart skip a beat.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, I was very thrown off being tackled like that without warning."

"I just want you to be ready for anything, you tree nerd." Mereoleona acted dismissive, but her arm resting on William's shoulders said otherwise.

"I appreciate the thought, my love." William smiled softly.

"Anyway, you doing anything today?"

William stole a glance at the stack of papers on his desk. "Well, I have paperwork, but that's it."

"Can you do the paperwork tomorrow?"

"Technically, yes."

Mereoleona smirked. "Wonderful, now come with me."

"Alright. As long as it doesn't take too long."

Mereoleona lifted William bridal-style and hopped out the window. William clung to Mereoleona as she grabbed a broom from outside and sped off.

"Where are you taking me?" William asked as Mereoleona distanced herself further from the Golden Dawn's base.

"Don't you want to spend a day with me? It'll be just the two of us."

William wasn't sure he could be alone with Mereoleona for too long without doing something idiotic or engaging in other...frisky activities, so he wasn't too sure how this little expedition would go. Eventually Mereoleona slowed down at what looked like a small campsite.

Putting William down, Mereoleona smiled. "Well, how about this? Spend a relaxing night by the fire with me, and I'll bring you home early tomorrow morning."

"Oh, how nice. I thought you were taking me to that volcano again. This is lovely, thank you."

William sat on a log by the campsite. Mereoleona sat beside him and slung her arm around his shoulders. As William sat in silence with his eyes closed, something fuzzy rubbed itself against William's hand. Opening his eyes, William's gaze landed on a white rabbit. The rabbit's nose twitched before it hopped to Mereoleona. When Mereoleona opened her eyes, she immediately lunged for the rabbit. The rabbit sped over to a bush as Mereoleona chased it. Just as the rabbit ran into a bush, Mereoleona was yanked backwards, ending her chase.

"What the hell, William?"

"You need to be more careful, my love. Look," William pointed to some vines overhanging the bush. "Those are poison oak leaves. Adhering to their namesake, they are poisonous to humans. You almost ran into them."

Mereoleona glanced back at the vines. They looked like any old plant to her, but William was the plant geek here. He knew what was best. She knew more about the animals nearby here than she did the plants.

"Um, thanks, Will."

"You're welcome."

Eventually, Mereoleona left and came back with a large boar. She cut off the meaty parts and made a fire to roast them over. William looked a little pale at the sight of the dead boar. She wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him from falling over.

"You ok?"

"I've...I've been better."

"Alright alright. I'll get rid of the carcass."

William leaned into Mereoleona as he felt his head spin again. "Thank you. That would be very much appreciated."

Mereoleona disappeared with the boar carcass. Now that there wasn't a corpse by their campfire, William felt himself relax. He loved animals, and he couldn't stand seeing dead ones. It made him sad and sick. He didn't even know why he was thinking these morbid thoughts anymore. Turning his attention to his surroundings, William took note of all the chirping birds and colorful flowers in the surrounding area. The grass appeared freshly trimmed. There was also a small tent behind him big enough for two people. William was now grateful that he had chosen to go with Mereoleona instead of staying in the base and doing paperwork. She was very thoughtful. As the breeze blew the scent of cooked meat to William's nose, Mereoleona appeared out of the place she dragged the boar earlier. She carried a small fuzzy brown thing over her shoulder.

"Um, Mereoleona, my love? What do you have there?"

Mereoleona's eyes darted back and forth a few times. "A-um, fur coat?"

The fuzzy thing on Mereoleona's shoulder let out a small grunt and wiggled. Mereoleona put it down a moment later.

"Why do you have a grizzly bear cub?"

"I found it. It looks chunky enough to eat. And it was alone. No mother in sight."

"The mother will come back for it. Even if you didn't see her, that doesn't mean she won't be back." William let out a heavy breath.

Mereoleona rolled her eyes. "What do you want me to do? Take it back?"

William nodded. "I'll go with you to make sure you don't pick up anything else."

"You really don't trust me, do you Vangeance?"

William walked over to Mereoleona and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. Mereoleona uncharacteristically blushed. "It's because I love you that I'm going. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Alright, I get it. Let me take you to where I found the cub."

•~•~•~•

A ways away from their little campsite, there was a large meadow. Mereoleona pulled the cub off her shoulder and placed it on the ground. She gestured for it to run away, but it simply sat there and stared at her.

"Well that's creepy." Mereoleona gave the cub a few side glances. "Hey fuzzface, go run to your mother."

The cub let out a few noises before rolling on the ground and rubbing its face in the grass.

"He's adorable." William smiled as the cub rolled around. "I can't believe you wanted to eat it."

"Tch." As Mereoleona shrugged off William's comment, she heard something large approaching from the forest behind them. Pointing a shaky finger at something behind them, William slowly backed away. Mereoleona turned to find herself face to face with a large grizzly bear. When the bear spotted Mereoleona, it stood up on its hind limbs and took a step towards her. Mereoleona smirked as she pulled her grimoire out.

"If it wants a fight, it's going to get one."

William grabbed Mereoleona's left hand and tugged it. "Don't fight it. If we slowly back away from the cub, she will leave us alone."

"And how do you know that will work?"

"I had an encounter with this type of bear before, and this method worked. Also, we have the cub between us. A mother bear would do anything to rescue her cub, even if it means killing us. If we give her what she wants, we can make it out alive. Worst case scenario, you can fight her."

Mereoleona couldn't counter William's logic, so she put her grimoire away and assumed a less aggressive stance. As the two slowly backed away from the cub, the bear dropped down on all fours and made her way over to the cub. She let out one last growl at Mereoleona and William before happily nuzzling her cub. Once William and Mereoleona were far enough away, they sprinted for their campsite.

"W-wow. That was rather frightening."

"Ha! That was nothing! I could flatten bears 20 times her size."

William sat on a log as Mereoleona handed him a piece of the boar meat. "Well, you're fearless, Mereoleona. I was terrified."

"Well, let's just say that someone convinced me to use my head a little more before resorting to violence." Mereoleona smiled as she wrapped an arm around the shaking William.

"I convinced you?"

"I never said it was you." Mereoleona muttered between bites.

After they finished their meal they laid down in the tent that Mereoleona had set up. It was just large enough for two people cuddling each other. It was likely designed for one, but Mereoleona and William fit just fine. Mereoleona pulled William in closer and rested her forehead against the back of his head. Feeling his heart rate pick up, William shifted in around a few times before finding a spot he was comfortable with. Mereoleona assumed their previous positions as soon as he settled down.

"Thank you for this, my love."

"I was going to drag you here either way, Will."

William let out a chuckle. "I'm sure."

After a rather terrifying day of saving Mereoleona from the flora and fauna in the area, William was exhausted. He fell asleep in Mereoleona's arms, unaware that an even larger stack of paperwork would greet his eyes the next morning.

#black clover #mereoleona vermillion #william vangeance #william x mereoleona #mereoleona x william #merilliam

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arcadequeerz · 5 years

Text

Zeno |Non Fandom OC|

tHIS Is zeno! Another of my v early Oc’s his info mentions another of my OC, Bloodloss, aka: piece of fucking shit(He’ll be posted next.)

Zeno stands just a Little under 5ft tall. Body type is quite frail and skinny. Body is covered in pure white, soft feathers. A few light grey feathers are mixed in with the white. They have a dragon like Muzzle, and the feathers down their muzzle have a very slight red tint to them. Has bandages on their muzzle that covers holes in the flesh that show bone. Muzzle ends in a rabbits like nose.

Left eye is a very dark purple, right eye is a very bright purple color. Pupils are like goats pupils. Atop their head they have a long cockatiel style crest of feathers. The feathers are a mix of white and light silver, and much like a cockatiel they are able to flip the crest up, or lay it flat against their head. The tip of the crest ends in a curl. On either side of their head they have two long feathered ears, the ears are wide towards the base, and are thin towards the tips, the ears are covered in soft, long feathers, the ones at the ears tips end in black. Their mouth is full of long, sharp teeth, and they have a long forked tongue thats red. On the back of their head, and down their neck they have fluffier feathers. These fluffy feathers go down along their spine and stop right before their tail.

!!Light Body Horror Warning!!

Tail is completely void of flesh, and is just white bone. Their tail is long, and at the tip of it it ends in a canine like skull with a longish muzzle. It has no Eye sockets and its jaws are filled with very sharp teeth. Moving their tail it makes a rattling like sound. Tail at times can have a mind of its own, likes to loudly snap its jaws shut making a loud CRACK like noise.

Like their tail, their feet are nothing but bone. Feet are paw like and have long, sharp talons on them.

!!Light Body Horror Warning end!!

Hands had rotten away at One point so they were replaced with metal hands, the fingers on these hands end in sharp claws.

!!Needles/Syringe Ment!!

Has a second set of hand they can switch the other out with, these hands are made of kinda rusted metal, and fingers are syringes that have long, sharp needles. Usually has very brightly colored liquid in the syringes vials. Able to pull out the viles from the fingers to replace them. Simply able to stab one into someone to inject whatever is in the vile into them.

!!Needles/Syringe Ment end!!

Zeno is in a constant state of rotting. They’re Constantly rotting and falling apart, their flesh tears and rips occasionally, usually along their spine and on their neck first.

They created a serum to use that delays the rotting but if they go too long without taking it they’ll start to rot and fall apart again. If they Do not keep taking the serum, they would rot away till they were nothing but bone.

Zeno is usually prettysickly, or generally very tired/not feeling well due to them constantly being in a state of decay. They hide how they feel really well though. Usually has a tired look to themselves. They also have a Awful memory, and are really Really bad at memorizing names,

Overall Zeno is a very energetic person, having transitioned from: so exhausted that they can’t stay awake, to being so tired their Awake as all hell. They’re a tad odd, very talkative but overall are quite friendly. Likes to crack jokes at people and could be described as ‘eccentric’. Hyper and rarely ever stops Moving.

They live currently with another one of my OCs, Matora, in their cabin. They care and love Matora very much.

For Zeno’s backstory I’ve been having trouble with thinking up one, I do have a idea for it, its not fully Fleshed out though.

Zeno used to be a very well known Doctor, best in the area they lived in. They saved Many people who were on 'deaths doorstep’ many times. They cheat death out of Many, many souls, and Death doesn’t like to be cheated, so Death visits Zeno, and curses them, cursing then to be eternally Decaying/rotting.

Death tells them if they kill, every single person they saved from their grasp, they’ll lift the curse.

In the beginning Zeno is so desperate not to rot away, they manage to kill a few of their past patients. But eventually, the guilt starts to eat away at them, and they no longer want to keep Killing innocent people. They can't bring themselves to keep doing it. They start to accept their fate, of simply decaying into nothing, and go back to their home, and lock themselves inside of the house to wait out until they've rotted away and die.

But instead of that happening, Bloodloss learns about the once doctor, turned rotten monster, and grows interested, they visit Zeno and offer them a opportunity to work for them, Zeno accepts.

Then Eventually, years later, Zeno’s usefulness to him runs out, and Bloodloss nearly beats Zeno to death, and leaves them for dead in the middle of the forest(Darkwood) where Matora lives. Instead of dying, Matora finds Zeno and takes them back to their home, where they fix Zeno up as best they can. After that he lets Zeno stay with him and the two become close.

Zenos a cliche character, I’ll admit that, doctor becomes Monster trope kind of thing, but their one of my First OCs i ever made (Matora being the first) and this whole 'rotting doctor Dude’ has been their Basic idea from start when i first created em

So I don’t rlly wanna change it honestly, their story might be changed up a lil later on if I figure it out better, but Thts the gist of it.

Zeno is Genderfluid, and their pronouns are they/them only. Their also very queer! Zeno loves wearing pretty clothing, they like wearing skirts and dresses, and also like to wear high heels. They usually wear a brown turtle neck sweater and pair of black pants though because they don’t always feel confident in wearing other clothing. Also Most of the time doesn’t wear shoes to cover their skeletal feet, unless they plan on going out in public.

Zeno has pretty bad anxiety at times, flares up randomly and makes them go quiet usually. They also have bad body image issues, and often see themselves as ugly, and nasty.

Both sets of their hands were made when they worked for Bloodloss.

Since their in a constant state of decay they usually feel cold, and also sometimes cant feel touch. These times happen randomly, they used to get real freaked out when they happened, but their used to it now. Since their usually cold, they love Warm things, likes wrapping themselves up in a heating blanket.

Zeno can make all kinds of bird like noises and can even mimic certain sounds, like cell phone ringtones, running water, and can make a laser beam noise (that they like to use to annoy Matora.). They can also make Really Loud bird like noises. Also like most parrots, they can make themselves look Really puffy, or v skinny.

Skinny zeno, with crest stood up = alerted/scared Zeno.

Puffy, fluffy, round Zeno = happy, content, comfortable Zeno! Also can sometimes mean their sleepy.

!!Abuse Ment!!

Zeno is Really scared of Bloodloss. Their relationship was..really Bad. and Bloodloss used and treated Zeno horribly, and they were to scared to say no to Bloodloss or try and get away cus if they tried, Bloodloss would get Real angry. Cus of this they have a hard time telling people No, or letting people know when they're uncomfortable or not ok with something. They also flinch a Lot with sudden movements, or when people raise their hands real fast.

The feathers on their chest, and upper stomach are a bit shorter then the rest, and look kinda messed up. This was from they were beaten by Bloodloss, who burned them on their stomach and chest. Under the feathers n down on their skin they have a large, burn scar. The feathers are very Slowly healing, but will always look a tad shorter/noticeable different then the rest of the feathers on their body. They also have Pyrophobia and hate the smell of things burning.

!!Abuse Ment End!!

If they hadn't worked with Bloodloss they’d never of been able to create the serum that delays their decaying.

#Cade's Characterz #I like. legot dont kno wht zeno even is HTRUEWAAHG I call em a birb dragon #thyre....v good.#Zeno is: CHAOTIC

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aaronlandon1 · 4 years

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Panic on Melody Lane There wasn’t a lot of room in our car. My roommate, Eric, and I packed the vehicle to its maximum capacity. A tent, a cooler, duffle bags, sleeping bags, and a black stash box in a sedan of which we still had to fit one more person and his belongings. I left the apartment and drove to pick up our friend, Jerry, who was an athletic son-of-a-bitch with long hair and piercing blue eyes. He never seemed to break contact with you. We pulled into the parking lot of his dorm-room at the university down the street from our apartment. Jerry walked out carrying a dirty mattress topper which we shoved into the back of the car. “Out of the front seat. I call shotgun,” Jerry said as he opened the door and pulled Eric out of the front seat leaving him fumbling on the ground. Eric struggled to shove his giant gut in between all the boxes, and the cooler, and the tents in the backseat. “Let’s get going,” I said. I was in a rush. “What’s the hurry?” asked Jerry. “We got all weekend.” “I just want to get there.” We picked up the final tent and stuffed it into the back of the car which packed to the brim of its roof. “We can’t drive like this guys.” “Why? What’s the problem,” asked Jerry. “I can’t even see out the back window.” “Who gives a shit!? Let’s just get going!” “Look, I ain’t about to drive four hours with this shit blocking my rear view.” Now Jerry’s smile turned sour. One could never know what to expect with Jerry. J a little crazy. He rarely blinked and rarely ate. He must have weighed 145 pounds, had crooked teeth, and long dirty blonde hair. We’d been in the car all of 30 minutes, and you could already see his leg was starting to twitch and move up-n-down rapidly. “Fine, we’ll have to drop some stuff off at sam’s,” he said. “I bet they'll have room.” We drove to Sam’s. He lived in a house not too far from the university. It had a lawn and a white picket fence and looked like it was transported from a 1950s TV show. Leave it to that beaver, Sam, to find a quaint little spot amid a loud and obnoxious town. I knocked on the door. Jerry brought a cooler, duffle bags, and a mattress topper to the stoop. “Uhh. Hello. Can I help you,” said a voice behind the metal security door. An old man answered. He wore fuzzy pink slippers with bunns, a checkered collared shirt tucked into jean shorts, and a raggedy baseball cap. He was accompanied by another older gentleman. “Who are you,” asked Jerry, who pulled open the door and dropped everything in the middle of their floor. “Look you better get out of here,” said the man in the slippers. “Yeah,” said the other man. He was smaller, and bald. “You guys aren’t gonna be having one of your wild little parties like last weekend. I don’t know who threw up in my closet, but I mean, come on guys. Get some sense, that type of drinking will kill―” “Look, I’m sorry about what happened here a week ago,” Jerry said. “The mess, the noise, the puddles of beer on the living room floor; it’s not gonna happen again I promise. We just need to leave a few things here for Sam to take with him when he meets us out there. We’re going camping this weekend and we can’t fit everything in our car, it would mean the world to us if you could help us out.” By then Sam had sauntered into the living room walking toe-heel instead of heel-toe. His hair was bedraggled. He must have come from a bender of online poker, facebook, and smash bros. “Hi, how are you gents doing,” Sam asked. He was smiling, but his face was blank. He had a strong jaw which jutted out, and a symmetrical face. He could have been an Abercrombie model if his life hadn’t spiraled out of control after the excessive use of Nintendo and marijuana. Often, concurrently. We all stared at Sam and there was a moment of silence. He stood up straight. This man always retained good posture. “What seems to be the issue,” he asked. “Well your buddy seems to—” “Wait, wait, wait wait wait.” Jerry interrupted the old man “There’s no problem here at all Sam. We just wanna leave some stuff here for you to take with you on the way up to the desert.” “That may work,” Sam said. “Provided, we have enough room.” “You’re only riding with Tom,” said Jerry. “You’ll have enough room.” Jerry took the cooler and shoved it against Sam’s torso, pushing him back. “Y-you guys should probably leave now. “I’ll see you guys up there. He led us out of the metal security door onto the front lawn. “Sorry to kick you out, but my landlord’s here and I don’t think he really appreciates you coming by.” “But isn’t he always here,” I asked. “Doesn't the guy live in the house?” “No he lives with his friend in the silver trailer in the backyard.” We looked back at his landlord who was now staring at us through the blinds of the window. “There’s a trailer in the back?” asked Jerry. “Yes! You don’t remember running in there intoxicated last Saturday night, screaming ‘Gahahahaha What’re y'all hiding in here for?’ do you?” “Uh, no. I don’t.” Jerry took a long swig from his water bottle. “Well, anyway,” said Sam. “I’m pretty sure the guy in the slippers is my landlord’s boyfriend―” Jerry spit out the water from his mouth. “They live there all alone in that little trailer,” said Sam. “Hahahaha, Now why would he stay back there when he owns the place?” “I don’t know man, but they are definitely a thing, if you know what I mean.” “Oh my god, I could just picture it… ” The landlord with the fuzzy pink slippers climbing up the schlong of Mt. Baldy. It was a match made in heaven. His landlord came to the doorway. “Hey Sam, are you going to move your car,” he asked. I looked over and his Nissan Altima was blocking his landlord’s blue Fiat. Sam looked at the small man dead in the face. His eyes told the landlord there was no way in hell that he would move that car. With a breath, Sam calmly said, “Alright. Just, allow me to have lunch first, is that okay?” His landlord said nothing and retreated back inside the house, a defeated man. “Hahahah, Oh my god, what was that Sam?” We laughed, got back inside the car, and drove off down the street playing music. “Did we just see what I think we saw,” asked Eric. “I don’t know, what did we see?” “Bro, Sam just big-dicked his landlord.” “You can see why he likes living there, they're the only ones who’d ever let Sam jerk them around like that,” I said. “Yeah,” Jerry said in agreement. “You can really see who wears the pants in that house.” “Agreed,” said Eric. We continued driving along the city-road and then pulled into a gas station to refuel. I sat in the car and watched Eric come out of the convenience store with a brown hot dog, a bag of pork-rinds, and a giant big-gulp of root beer. “Jesus, my guy, you stocking up for the winter, or what?” “No, I just like food,” said Jerry as he shoved the dog in his mouth. In a muffled tone, with a full mouth, he said, “Besides, It’s a long drive.” “How long,” asked Jerry. “About four hours,” I said. “Ahhh shit. This sucks!” Twentynine Palms was on the other side of the state, and with the amount of traffic we faced, the drive became even longer. We drove through one small town after another, inching along the freeway. We passed mountains in the distance. On the left-hand side of the road was an Indian reservation. Several Mexican restaurants and a booze run later, we came across thousands of windmills on the right side of the road. Then it was just a short ride to the city of Twentynine Palms. And they weren’t lying. There really were an abundance of palm trees that lined the main street of this desert-hipster dump. Liquor stores, palm trees, air-b-and b’s, and restaurants seemed to make up the majority of the town. The main street seemed to have undergone serious gentrification. We continued down the road as it began to narrow out. One home had an array of lawn gnomes and odds and ends in the front yard. Pink flamingos and animal sculptures were spread out on the lawn. There was a sculpture of a dog holding up a pizza, and a Tyrannosaurus Rex head mounted in the center of a mansard roof. Another house had lights strung across its yard, surrounded by a fence entirely covered in bottle caps. Another house had pieces of glass and transparent stones with blue tints deep-seated in the smooth green stucco. A minaret sprouted up from the roof like Taj Mahal. We made a sharp left turn onto an even narrower dirt road. We were close. We passed by multiple cars ditched on the side of the dirt road. Some had been stripped for parts. One had a missing bumper and the grill was exposed. Another had busted out windows. And one was missing its hood, doors, and had only one wheel left on its well. They all had one thing in common; no one was in them. It was now dark. We made a right turn into a plot of land. “This is where the directions lead us.” “Let me see that,” I said. I grabbed the iphone out of Jerry’s hands and tried to make out where we were on the map. I couldn’t. We were lost. “Fuck Apple Maps.” Suddenly a light appeared in the distance. We drove toward it. Then there was another light. And another. Three beams of light flashed us, waving back-n-forth from left to right. “Follow it! Follow it,” said Jerry. Driving through the dark, all I could see were the lights.Everything was pitch-black. We drove over some bushes and tumbleweed before we reached the lights. Then they went dim all of a sudden. A horn sounded at us, as we all jumped up in our seats. We heard laughter as the brights of a pickup truck flashed at us. “See, I knew it was them,” said Jerry. “We’re here.” We got out of the car to greet the boys: Tom and Sam. They seemed to have arrived before us. Too many stops. We built a fire together, pitched a couple tents, cooked some hotdogs, and told stories around the circle of the firepit of the rustic desert getaway. It was the kind of place desert locals steer clear from, but the type of place to be praised by privileged hipsters from the city for its novelty and character. “Can you believe they rent this place out? It’s a dump.” I said. “Yeah,” said Sam. “But it’s got character.” Tin bells hung from the framing of the window frame, which overlooked a vast mountain range. There was no ceiling, exposing the entire night sky. I’d never seen so many stars before. We drank beer, red wine, and vodka before passing out underneath the stars. Around 10 a.m. we all woke up. Sam and Jerry cooked the leftover hot-dogs for breakfast. I ate nothing. “I looked off in the direction of old structures in the distance. I think I’m gonna take a little walk,” I said. “I’ll go with you,” said Tom. “Me too.” Tom, Eric, and I left, as Jerry and Sam stayed behind. We walked in the opposite direction of the mountains toward the only man-made structures in sight, until we came across an abandoned home. Its windows had been broken, and a decaying wall contained a mural with a pair of blue eyes, and white circles in the middle of the pupils. The white circles gave the eyes a twinkling effect, meant to look like light glistening off of the retina. There were also yellow polka dots painted around the perimeter of the eyes, like a mask. “I wonder what happened here,” I said. I looked on the ground and picked up a purple shotgun shell and put it in my pocket. “Look at this. A little souvenir,” I said. We climbed in through the window. The house was empty and filthy. Floor boards were missing, and the ones that remained had faded in color. There was a toilet which wouldn’t flush. God only knew how long the excrement had been sitting in the bowl. There was a giant doggie bed that looked like it was made for an animal the size of a bear, and in the middle of the main-room was a wooden table. SItting on it was a fork, a knife with a serrated edge, a plate, and a bib that had ‘Get ready for spaghetti,’ printed on the front. On the stovetop, was a large silver cooking pot for stew. There was also a 1950s fridge. We opened it up and found a leather shoe that was falling apart, and an old tire iron with what looked like the remains of blood on the tip. There was one more room that we couldn’t access. We tried kicking the door down. We took turns ramming it with our shoulders. We even picked up the bed frame, flipped it on its side, lifted it, and tried using it as a battery ram― still, nothing― the door wouldn’t budge. “Guys, this ain’t working,” said Tom. “Let’s just get out of here,” said Eric. We must have been a few miles from the campsite. We knew we had to go in the direction of the mountains. Along the way, we tried to look for any recognizable landmarks, but weren’t seeing any, and the fact that we drove there in the dark didn’t help us familiarize ourselves with the landscape whatsoever. “This place is totally deserted.” I said. “Crazy. Whose idea was it to come here anyway?” “Oh,” Tom said. “It was Jerry’s.” “Jerry’s?” “Yeah. He said he’s been coming here since he was a kid.” We passed a few more gutted homes and trailers and came across a large plot of land with an old metal mailbox that had the name Jenkins painted in white letters on its left side. It was the only place we had seen within a few mile radius that looked inhabited. I hopped over the fence. “C’mon guys what’re you waiting for?” They both stood there dumbfounded. “C’mon!” “Jack,” said Eric. “This is crazy. We can’t just waltz through this guy’s land, he could be a fuckin serial killer for all we know.” “I don’t like this one bit,” said Tom. “Me neither.” “Guys. We need directions back to camp. We don’t know the area, this guy might just be our only hope. Trust me.” “You know what,” Tom said. “Jack is right. We could be wandering out here for hours. We have no water and no directions. I say we go and at least see if the man is home. Who’s with me?” Tom hopped over the fence and stood by my side. “But guys,” Eric said. “The signs on the fence clearly say ‘No trespassing and no soliciting: violators may be shot.” “Ahhhh,” I said. “Keyword: ‘maybe.’ That doesn't mean he will definitely shoot us. Just cause he’s got that sign doesn't make him a man of malice intent, he could just be exercising his constitutional right to keep his land— maybe his family, his livestock even― safe. But how are kids like us in any threat to those things?” “He’s got a point,” said Tom. “Oh really, Tom? He’s got a point? Okay, fine, if you wanna call methamphetamine livestock.” Eric took a few more steps back.” “You know what,” I said. “Suit yourself. But I’m going over there to figure out where the hell we are.” “I’m going too,” said Tom. ` We headed toward the front porch of the house. Eric waited for a minute, heard the shaking of a rattlesnake tail in the brush, and screamed. “Hold on, fellas. Wait for me,” he cried. He tried to hop over the fence, but the leg to his pants hooked the fence post. He fell forward over the fence and landed on the ground. Tom and I turned around to look at him. “I’m okay,” he said. He gave us a thumbs up and we continued walking toward the porch. Michael rolled over, got up, and followed behind us. As we walked to the porch down the dirt driveway, the path narrowed out as I focused on the front door. The house was old and unkempt. The white paint on the wooden planks was peeling off. The hip-roof was dried out from the sun and missing a few shingles. A couple of windows were boarded up and there was an American flag flowing in the wind, held up by a pole on the right side of the yard. Along the driveway, were tires and bales of hay. In the distance to the right, you could see a field of wheat. On the other side of the yard was an old blue pickup truck from the 1970s with one red door. Strolling up the driveway, a figure seemed to appear out of nowhere. He stood on the porch. It wrapped around the entire house, and there were bells that chimed in the wind, hanging from the framing. The man watched us. He was a skinny man, had dirty-blonde hair, and a long and scruffy goatee. He wore a straw hat and his hair was shoulder length. He had blue overalls on, but was shirtless underneath, and he was chewing on a blade of wheat which stuck out of his mouth. He was barefoot and had long yellow toenails. He spoke out. “Whut is yo’ kids doin’ wan’erin’ about these parts hyar?” “Sir, we were lost and need directions,” I said. “Can you point us to Melody Lane?” “Wal, sho'nuff ah can he'p yo' fellas out. Yo' look tired. Yo' need ennythin', a jack, a Coky Cola, mebbe a rin' aroun' th' old rosie wif ol’ rosie back thar? The man spoke out with the blade of wheat still dangling out of the side of his mouth. He pointed to the shed on the side of the yard. It looked like an outhouse with a moon-shaped opening on the top of the front door. Chains were wrapped around the shed, keeping the door locked. “Uhhm, you know what,” I looked around and said. “I think we’re good on the old ring. Maybe we’ll just retrace our steps. Sorry to bother you. We’ll be going now.” “Come on let’s get out of here,” said Eric under his breath. We all began to step back, when the old man said: “Wait now, yo' come onto mah propuhty. Then yo' disrespeck me by turnin' yer backs on an old man!? O' ah knows whar Melody Lane is an' ah can hell all yo' fellers out.” I stopped walking, took a breath, turned around, and listened. "Fust yo' hoof it straight on down thet road thar, yo' make a lef' at th' old hangin' tree, then yo' foller down thet road thar about ha'f a mile until yo' see th' old ram skull layin' about. Make t'other lef' an' about an'other mile down yo'll see a sign post thet reads ol’ Melody Lane.” “Wow, thanks mister,” Eric said. “Yeah, thank yo' mister,” said Tom sarcastically.. “Wal shoot, yer sho'nuff welcome! Yo' kids take care now. Goo'bye.” “Let’s go guys,” I said. “Wait,” said Eric. “I have some questions for the guy.” “So,” he said. “What can you tell me about the history of this place?” “Eric, it’s time to go.” “Now hold on, I’m curious.” I rolled my eyes at the sonofabitch. “Continue,” he said. “Wal, thar's not much t'know. Th' place was foun'ed in 1927 when ol’ colonel Henry Warshin'ton was surveyin' th' San Bernadino Baseline, he was. Cor'din' t'lejun, th' origeenal oasis down hyar corntained 29 palm trees planted by th' Serrano varmints fum native Mor'ongo an' Yuhaviatam, dawgone it. Thar's an ol’ lake down at th' basin of th' mountains on over yan'er, but thet done dry up a long time ago. Since then, they fimed th' technicolo' movie, Tell Them Willie Fella is Hyar, aroun' these parts, an' even Robert Billy Bob Plant, fo'mer singer of a li'l ban' called Led Zeppelin, had a hit sin'le called 29 Palms, fum his solo album, Fate of Nashuns, back in nineteen hundred an' ninety three! Yup, this ol’ town hyar has got a lot of histo'y, it sho'nuff does!” “Wow,” I said. “Thanks for the history lesson. Now I think it’s time we―” “In fact,” interrupted the onld man. “I can recall on noomrous occasshuns city fellers a-comin' hyar reckonin' they own th' place, but yo' seem like nice a’yo’ng boy. Now whut in god's name is yo' doin' in place like this ol’ town hyar'?” “We’re camping,” Michael Said. “Campin'?” “Ahh-yep,” I said in a sneering voice. “Down on ol’ Melody Lane, yer campin’?” “Yup.” “Oh Wow. Yo' kids bess be careful now, yep. They say thar's a kinnibal wif a pet mountain lion named roamin aroun' down thar. “What?” I said. “That’s crazy talk.” “Yep,” he said. “The th' ol’ mountain lion's name is Timothy.” “Timothy?” “Yep! Ol’ Timmy-Boy is a real stellar hunter when it comes t'yo'ng fellas sech as yournelves. In fack, ah w'dn't be surprised eff'n he's watchin' yo' all fum a distance right now as we speak.” We all stared at the old man, dumbfounded. He smiled at us revealing his rotten teeth. He hacked up a ball of phlegm and spit at one of the bells hanging on his porch. The bell chimed from the impact of the glob of spit. “On that note,” I said. “I think we’re gonna get going. Thanks for the directions, and you have yourself a fine day, Mister.” I waved to him, turned around, and started walking to the front gate. He proceeded to warn us as we were walking back. “No problem at all. Yo' fellas stay safe out thar, an' remember, eff'n yo' hear ol’ Timothy callin', bess be on yer toes, b’cuz his old master might not be too far, an' eff'n he git yo', well, yo' might as fine beg th' old lo'd t'take yer life right then an' thar, on account o' when he takes yo' back, an' yo' see them blue eyes he got up thar, yer gonna knows thet life’s was a precious gift t'be treasured, in all t' tarnation.” He raised his voice. “Like hay! Fry mah hide! Now make it while th' sun still a’shine! Fry mah hide!” I turned around and looked at the old man one last time as he let out a diabolical laugh, turning into an intense series of coughs. I turned back around at my friends, who both gave me nervous looks. “Ah, nice boys,” I heard him say under his breath. We left the house and never looked back. “Crazy old hermit.” I mocked him, “Ju guys hear thar's a kinnibal on over yan'er?” Pshhhh, give me break.” Eric looked at me, concerned. “You guys don’t think there’s actually a―” “What,” I said. “A cannibal? With a pet mountain lion?” He looked back at me anxiously. “No,” I said. “It’s a silly story the guy’s just using to scare us. He probably just doesn’t like us, coming from the city, and disrupting his isolated little world. But you know what? We have just as much of a right to be here as he does. Now c’mon. Let's get back to camp.” We exited the campsite. I looked back at the old gutted house and could still make out the pair of painted blue eyes from afar. We took the hermit’s directions. We made a left at the old hanging tree and followed the road until we saw the ramskull lying on the corner of the intersection of two dirt roads. I looked back at the wall and saw someone walking from up the road ahead. It was the first person we’d seen walking out there. He walked off in the other direction. We made another left and continued along the road until we saw the signpost that read Melody Ln. “I see it,” said Michael. “I see it.” Smoke was rising from the boys’ barbeque and we could see our camp in the distance. We walked toward it. “Where did you guys run off to,” asked Jerry. “Oh. Nowhere special,” I said. Jerry shrugged and sat down by the fire pit. He went to the car, and dug through the trunk. He pulled out the black brief-case and took it over to the homespun shack. “Guys, check this out.” He entered the briefcase’s combination and put on a pair of rubber gloves as everyone gathered around. Sam turned on a song I’d heared on the radio. “Overthinking’s got me drinking. Messin’ with my heaeaeaead. Tell me what you hate about me. Whatever it is I’m sorry. Yeah ayeee, yeah, ayee yeaaahh. Yeah ayeee, yeah, ayeee yeahhhh. “I’m coming to terms with a broken heart, I guess that sometimes good things fall apart.” I hated the verses but (in the moment) the chorus gave me goosebumps as I sat and listened to the music. I saw the mountains in the distance, and with the sun shining on our campsite, I thought the world is beautiful. “Guys, do you see this,” I asked. “What man? What is it,” asked Jerry. “This. All of this. Do you see?” “It’s a great spot.” said Eric. “It's amazing.” We stared off into the distance. There wasn’t a road in sight. There were no cars, or buildings, and aside from a few old farmhouses and trailers, there weren’t any people. The only thing in front of us was a vast mountain range overlooking a dried up lake. From where I was standing, it was hard to tell how far the mountains actually were. “I think I’m gonna go out there,” I said. Sam looked at me in disbelief. “Out there?” he said. “Yeah. I’m going out there.” I walked toward the mountains. They looked to be a least a few miles off. I stared back atTom, Eric, Sam, and Jerry. “Come on guys,” I called out. “Let's explore.” “You know,” Sam said. “There isn’t anything out there besides barren land and desert trash. Now, if you wanna make the best of this experience, sit down, and just listen to the music. It’s hot out and if you go out there alone, you’re just going to get severely dehydrated.” I kept walking. I wanted to make it to the mountains and I was also wondering who was willing to follow. I saw some power lines in the distance. If I could make it to the power lines, I’d have a clearer sense of how far away the mountains were. I walked through the basin. There were some plants scattered around, but it was mostly just rocks and dirt. I stepped in a tiny mound with black ants crawling about. It was an anthill. My body tensed up as I scurried away, shaking my foot around. It was another twenty minutes or so before I reached the power lines. I thought once I had reached them, I’d have a better sense of the distance to the mountains. But it looked like the mountains were about twenty times the distance I had just traversed. Suddenly I felt a breeze and heard footsteps from behind me. Someone grabbed me by the shoulder. I turned around and it was Eric. “Eric.” I shook my head. “ It’s not smart to sneak up on somebody, especially when there's no one else around.” “Bro,” he said. “This place is beautiful.” “Yeah it is.” I looked out at the mountain. “I can’t tell how far those mountains are. I thought once I got to these power lines they wouldn’t feel so far, but now they seem even further.” “Some kind of optical illusion,” he said. “You know, I run track laps at school and here I am trying to quantify the distance between me and these mountains― wondering how many track laps it would take to reach those mountains, but out here in the wild,” I said. “There are no measurements, no track laps, and all these numbers…”, we shared a look and both started laughing. “They don’t mean shit,” he said. “Exactly,” I said. “It doesn't matter out here. It’s just endless land.” “Do you see how the mountain’s are at different distances? It looks like they’re stacked on top of each other.” “I feel like Mosses, wandering around this desert.” “What are you on about?” “You know all these biblical guys who wandered around the desert who say they spoke to god?” “Yeah,” I said. “What about them?” “Do you ever wonder if maybe all they did was exactly what we’re doing right now? You always hear stories of the burning bush and, well, who knows? Maybe Moses just took a whiff of something he shouldn’t have, and had a vision.” “Could be true,” he said. “I know I’m definitely feeling some type of way right now. Out here, looking at all of this, I could see how someone could feel connected to a higher power.” He had black sunglasses covering his eyes, and a smile was brewing on his face. “You know you don’t have to follow me out here,” I said. “In fact, you probably shouldn’t. I’m a fool. I'm the type to wander alone out here and get lost.” “It’s okay fam, I wanna be out here the same as you.” He took a deep breath of air and let it out. He walked ahead of me looking as though he were ready to conquer the mountains ahead. After a few more steps he collapsed to the ground and vomited. Then he sat on the ground and looked up at the sky. He kept vomiting as I patted him on the back. He then made his way into a meditative position as the wind passed through his body. You gonna be okay?” I asked him. “Oh, I’m fine,” he said. “You go on.” “I won’t go far,” I said. I walked out into the basin. The landscape shifted purely to desert. There were no plants or animals. There weren’t even any bugs on the ground. Just reddish soil and rocks. It looked like Mars. I came across an old rusted out Volkswagen Bug. There were bullet holes on the driver’s-side door, but there were no remains of a body to be seen. I figured the scene had to have been from a while ago, so I kept walking. I found an old refrigerator with more bullet holes, except these bullet holes were tiny and clumped together in concentrated areas. I looked around the refrigerator and found a purple shotgun shell. My heart skipped a beat and I dug through my pocket. I pulled out the other purple shell I had found, and held the identical shells side-by-side up to the light. They were exactly the same. There was a lump in my throat. I took a deep breath, counted to three, and opened the door. A skeleton plopped onto the ground in front of me. The arms and legs had been removed and the breastplate on the upper left quadrant of the torso had been broken. Someone had gone for its heart. On the inside of the refrigerator door ―just where the shells had hit― was a painting of two eyes; the same two eyes as the wall of the empty house. I slammed the refrigerator door, and saw a figure in the distance coming towards me. I was able to make out its silhouette. It was a brooding man with long hair and he held an iron in his right hand. I sprinted to the mountains as fast as I could, but felt a hand on my left shoulder pulling my body back around. I couldn’t fight it. Then I heard his voice. “Hey Jack, what’s the problem?” I rubbed my eyes and blinked a few times. “Jerry?” I said. “Why do you have a tire iron?” “Protection,” he said. “You never know what you’ll run into out here.” “You sure don’t.” He laughed, relieved that he had found me. “You've been out here a while, man, I was worried. C’mon I’ll take you back to camp.” He gave me a pat on the back and we headed off together. The sun beginning to set.

#my writing #short story #modernfiction #fiction #fuckcorona2020

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littlemissvincentvega · 5 years

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First of all, I always love catching up on your fics cause they're amazing. Second, do you think you could do a bit of a fic with the dogs and reader going on a camping trip? I feel like these idiots would fucking nearly die out in the wilderness alone 🙃🙃🙃🤣

first of all i adore u thank u odojdosdlaskj ♥♥

and yes i can!!! thats amazing LOL also i’m so so sorry this took so long!! i hope u like it bb :DDDD lots of love xxx

“Where’s the cigs? Where are my fuckin’ cigs?!” spits Mr. Pink, twisting and turning in the backseat, fumbling around trying to find the pack.

“Would you sit still?” sighs White from the driver’s seat, glancing at him through the lopsided rear view mirror. “Thought you quit, anyways?”

“I did.” He glares at Brown, who is squinting at his Gameboy. “Are you quite finished?”

…

Nothing. “Hello? Am I fuckin’ invisible?”

“Huh?” Brown mumbles, eyes fixated on the screen.

Slightly disgruntled, Mr. White turns to Pink, hands clamped on the wheel. “Can you just leave him to play on his video game and stop bein’ a little shit about it? Please?”

“A half hour. A half hour of that shitty Tetris playin’ over and over, so ex-fuckin-scuse me if it starts to grate!” Pink scowls, crossing his arms and rolling the window down. Sighing dramatically, he stares out of it, not a word more.

“I beat my high score!” exclaims Brown, a few minutes later.

Orange turns around to him, his head between the two front seats. “Nice one, man. Gimme a turn now?”

“Sure,” he says, passing it over. Pink watches this from the corner of his eye, secretly wanting a turn, but he isn’t prepared to swallow his pride– not now, not ever.

“Hey, White, how long till we get there?” Brown asks.

“Uh… ‘bout an hour or so? Ain’t so sure, how long we been on the road?”

Brown checks his watch. “Forty-six minutes exactly.”

“Yeah, ‘bout an hour then, if the traffic treats us well.”

“How d’ya think Pink’s copin’ with Brown, then?” Blonde asks, a smirk present on his lips. He’s driving the other car accompanied by Mr. Blue and Nice Guy Eddie, and it’s a million times less drama-filled than White’s.

Eddie scoffs. “Fuck knows. Probably strangled him by now,” he says, and the three guys share a chuckle.

“You should give ‘em a call, I could use some entertainment.”

Eddie grins mischievously and pulls out his clunky-ass cellphone, dialling Mr. Pink’s number. “Hello??”

“Pink, it’s Ed. How’s it with you guys?” he asks, sharing a smirk with Blonde.

“It’s fuckin’ impeccable.”

“Less of the attitude, motherfucker.”

“Ask him how Mr. Brown is,” whispers Blonde, nudging Eddie.

“How’s Brown?” Ed sniggers.

“Don’t talk to me about that– that little retard!” Pink splutters, eyeballing Brown.

Eddie tuts loudly. “What did I say about the attitude? How far away are you guys, anyway?”

“I dunno, like an hour, White said earlier?”

“A’ight. Sive drafely, man.”

“What?”

Eddie sighs, smiling at Blonde. “Just don’t fuckin’ crash the car, okay? I’ll see you guys later.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

At least an hour and a half later, White pulls over, the wheels crumbling over the gravel. Mr. Orange flings the door open and jumps out, looking up at the trees towering over them. Rather than staying at a family-friendly campsite type of place, Eddie had opted for a slightly dangerous forest that a friend of Joe’s had recommended. There’s no sound of human civilisation to be heard, only the rustling of leaves and sweet birdsong, though White suspects that it wouldn’t be quite so uneventful when dusk arrives. “It’s so warm,” says Orange, taking off his leather jacket and chucking it on the passenger seat.

“It’s too warm,” Pink groans. “Christ, even my asscrack is sweaty.”

“Do you have to?” asks White, screwing his nose up in disgust. “We’re surrounded by all this beautiful nature and you’re talkin’ about your asscrack?” He places his hands on his hips waiting for Pink’s response.

“What do you expect me to do? Not tell you?”

White chuckles, defeated, and opens the trunk. “Jesus Christ. C’mon, help me get the tent out.” Despite Mr. Pink’s concerted effort in trying to convince Eddie to let him have his own tent (”I need fuckin’ privacy, come on!”), he had been unsuccessful. “I’ll share with Mr. Blonde, you share with Mr. Blue and Mr. Brown, White can share with Orange,” he had decided.

“Can’t he help instead? It’s boiling,” complains Pink, nodding at Brown– he’s slumped in the backseat with his head leaning against the car door and his mouth wide open, fast asleep.

“Nah, he’s sleepin’, leave him to it for a bit. I’m not havin’ you two bickering while we set up the tent.”

Pink huffs, scowling at White when he has his back turned, but helps heave the tent out of the trunk while Orange gets everyone’s belongings out of the car. White looks up at him with a smile. “Thanks, kid, just leave ‘em there.”

“Sure.” Just as he says this, the other car pulls up a little too close to Pink, who screeches when he almost gets run over. “What the fuck was that, man?!” he splutters, waving his arms about at Mr. Blonde.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see ya there,” Blonde sniggers, stepping out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath his cowboy boots. Pink throws a dirty look and continues to help lay out the tent. “Where’s Brown?”

“Asleep,” Orange mutters.

“What’s up, fuckers?” bellows Eddie, striding out of the car and stretching. “Woah, fuckin’ beautiful here, huh?” he adds, admiring the scenery.

Blue emerges from the backseat, his hair a little fluffed up– presumably, he had been asleep for some of the journey. “Not bad here,” he remarks, whipping out his cigar and lighting it, his moustache furrowing.

It’s almost as if Mr. Brown has spidey-senses or something– at that moment, he had stirred, taking a minute to fully wake up. “Oh, hey guys!” he beams, knocking on the car window and waving at the other Dogs.

“Christ, here we go…” Pink mutters under his breath.

Yawning, Brown jumps out of the car. “How can I help? I wanna help!”

“By gettin’ back in the car?”

“Huh?” asks Brown, not catching what Pink says and marching over to White & Orange. After a LOT of bickering and arguing about how to put up the tents, the boys finally stand back and admire their handiwork. By now, the sky has turned a beautiful honey shade, the warm colours melting into one another.

“Where’s the damn food?” Eddie asks. All of the guys are sitting around a campfire that Blonde had managed to light (after a good round of arguing, obviously).

Blonde shrugs. “Thought Brown was s’posed to bring it?”

“Was I?”

If looks could kill, Brown would have been laying dead right then and there. Pink glares at him, not even blinking. “Yes,” he says through gritted teeth, “you were.”

Brown laughs nervously, six pairs of eyes on him. “No I wasn’t– you guys put me in charge of snacks.”

“Kid, we put you in charge of food. Y’know, as in the shit we’d hafta cook up & eat?” answers White, keeping his cool. “But what snacks did you bring?”

Brown jumps up and fetches his bag of food while the guys share pitiful glances with one another. “Uhh… Oreos, potato chips, some Wonka candy, Dunkaroos, cheese balls and… Hubba Bubba.”

“Hubba Bubba? You brought gum? That ain’t a fuckin’ snack,” Eddie scoffs, chuckling.

“I know, but it tastes good.”

“So what you’re sayin’ is you brought fuckin’ kiddie food,” Pink scowls. Although pissed off (it doesn’t take much let’s be honest), he snatches the cheese balls off of Brown and crams a few in his mouth.

Orange shrugs, leaning over and taking the Wonka candy. “I don’t care, this shit’s pretty good. S’better than nothin’.”

“Yeah. Pass me some balls, Mr. Pussy,” Eddie smirks.

To make things easier, Brown lays down a scarf of his (he had packed three, just in case) and carefully places all of the snacks on it. It’s a strange concoction, admittedly, but like Orange had said, better than nothing.

As dusk approaches, the sky is a deep purple and the wind rustles through the trees. It’s slightly eerie, but the atmosphere is light, so none of them really mind. They’re all still around the fire, now lying on blankets Brown had packed, sharing stories and having the occasional bicker. “Do you guys believe in werewolves?”

“What?”

The guys blink at Brown, who’s gazing up at the moon. He’s laying wrapped in his blankets with his hands behind his head. “I was just thinkin’ about An American Werewolf In L–”

“No, hold up. What the fuck does that have to do with our damn conversation?” Blonde demands, chuckling. He takes a drag of his cigarette and exchanges a smirk with Eddie.

“It doesn’t.”

“Christ, that’s my cue to leave. I’m tired,” Blue sighs, smiling to himself. “You guys are too much.”

“If you’re sure. Night, man,” Ed smiles. The other guys say goodnight and watch Mr. Blue disappear into the biggest tent (which, to be honest, isn’t so big). Blonde flicks the ash from his cig into the fire, his baby blue eyes lit up from the gentle flames.

Fidgeting slightly, Brown flops onto his back, putting his hands behind his head. “Camping is boring.”

“No, it’s fuckin’ dangerous is what it is,” Pink huffs.

White looks at him, nudging Orange with a smug smile. “Alright Mr. Expert, why’s it so dangerous?”

Pink sits upright and glares at him. “Well… well– what if a fuckin’ bear mauls us?”

“Be a fuckin’ miracle if he mauls you, that’s just about the only thing that’d shut your goddamn mouth.”

“Fuck you, man! I gotta take a squirt, where’s the bathroom?”

Pink looks across at Eddie, who shrugs. “How the fuck should I know?”

“Well where am I supposed to piss?”

“Blonde’s hair. Could use a wash.”

Vic drops his cigarette at the sound of this. A perfect opportunity to play-fight. “You’re a little bitch, anyone ever told you that?” he chuckles, pouncing on his chubby friend and tackling him to the ground, soiling that violently blurple windbreaker jacket of his. “I’ll piss in your fuckin’ mouth, ya little bastard!”

Eddie breaks into laughter, struggling to get Vic in a headlock as they tumble around. Meanwhile, the other guys are sat blinking at one another– it’s safe to say that random outbreaks of play-fighting between those two are a regular occurrence. “Brown, you come with me, I can’t deal with all this gayness. You need a piss too?” Pink sighs, grabbing a flashlight from his bag.

“Yeah, I guess we can do it on a tree.”

With that, the two saunter off to go find a spot away from the other guys, leaving Orange and White to deal with Ed & Vic. “You two fuckasses finished yet?” White pipes up, running a hand through his hair and earning a snicker from Orange.

Panting, Eddie breaks away from Vic, shoving him back down and taking a seat himself. He wipes his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, his cheeks rosy. “Think so. Think I won there, don’cha agree, Blondie?”

“I think I fuckin’ won, Edward.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“Bunch a queers, you guys,” Orange sniggers, nudging White.

“Oh yeah? What are you two then? You’re practically White’s twink!” Eddie retorts. He throws a couple of cheeseballs at them both as they all share a chuckle, the fire still crackling and throwing white-hot lashes at their skin. Sighing in contentment, he lays down (not bothered in the least about the dirty ground), gazing up at the sky– upon seeing this, the other Dogs do the same, admiring the masses of tiny stars.

“HEEEELP!!”

…

“HELLO? AM I FUCKIN’ INVISIBLE? HEEEEELP!!”

Pink looks around in a panic, his head whipping from one direction to another. How the hell did they even manage to do this? ‘I swear,’ he thinks, ‘if I die here tonight I’ll make it fuckin’ known it was Brown’s fault.’

“Uh, Pink?”

“What?”

“Uh, technically if you were invisible they could still hear you, like, it’s in the name, man. Invisible? Like vision? So they’d still be able–”

Pink cuts brown off with one of his deadly glares. He’s impatient at the best of times, but they’d managed to get lost in the middle of a pitch-black forest at night-time with no cellphone, no way of contacting the others and, worse of all, stuck with Mr. Brown. Trying to keep calm, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Just help me yell for them, alright?”

“They should be able to hear, I mean, it’s not like we’re that far away.”

He scoffs, marching in what they assume is the direction they came in. “We wouldn’t have to yell if you’d have just listened to me.”

“Fuck you, man, I didn’t do anything!”

“‘Ooh, let’s take this fuckin’ turn,’” Pink mocks in a higher-pitched voice, waving his hands around,��“‘Yeah, that’s really fuckin’ safe, why don’t we just get our dicks out and stick a sign there sayin’ ‘FREE FOOD’ for the bears to see?’”

Frowning to himself, Brown quietens down, trailing behind him like an ashamed puppy. He kicks a few twigs as he saunters behind Pink, wishing they could just get back already. After a couple of silent minutes (aside from the sound of wet leaves beneath their feet, the swishing of leaves in the night’s winds and the very distant smell of the smoke from their campfire), he speaks. “What if somethin’ bad happened to ‘em?”

“Shut up, nothin’ bad’ll’ve happened. Even if it has, they’ve got their guns. So shut up, they’re fine.” Although it’s in a snappy manner, it’s Pink’s best effort at showing a smidge of reassurance.

“If you say so, man. Sorry if I, uh, y’know, pissed you off back there.”

“Whatever, it’s nothin’. Just help me yell for ‘em, knowing those queer bastards they’re probably in the tents fuckin’ each other or some shit,” Pink scoffs, a slight smirk present on his face. It’s barely visible, but it’s there. A little more at ease, Brown manages a nervous chuckle and precedes to help his colleague holler for the other boys.

“Hey, what the fuck is this?! An orgy? We were fuckin’ stranded out there, didn’t you hear us yelling?”

Pink emerges from a few trees and stomps over to the campfire, a subtle shiver about him. Whether it’s from the temperature or the situation, the others can tell he’s shaken up. After a few seconds, Brown follows, looking equally as uneasy. “We yelled and yelled and none of you motherfuckers responded!” spits Pink, glaring at them all lying on their backs.

“Why are you guys lying like that?” Brown asks.

“Didn’t hear ya,” says Blonde. “Well, we did, but we thought it wasn’t important. You only went for a piss. A piss is a piss.”

White rests his head on his elbow, looking up at the two. “Did you get mauled by a bear?”

Pink scowls. “No.”

“So what’s the fuckin’ problem?”

“Fuck you guys, I’m goin’ to bed. Rather listen to Blue have a fuckin’ wet dream than be around you pieces’a shit. G’night,” he huffs, disappearing into the tent without another word.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed too, I’m tired,” Brown sighs. “And it was pretty scary out there. But it’s been a good night, thanks you guys.”

White smiles at him. “Thanks, kid. Have a good sleep.”

“Night, man,” adds Orange.

After exchanging a lot of goodnights with the other dogs, Brown crawls into the tent and, soon enough, the guys can hear him sleeping soundly– and by that I mean quietly snoring. “Don’t hafta see him to know his mouth’s wide fuckin’ open,” Orange jokes, looking across at the tent. He yawns, stretching out on his blanket. “I could sleep right here.”

“Yeah, me too, man,” Ed agrees.

“You guys are fuckin’ gay,” smirks Blonde, earning a slap on his cheek from Eddie.

“Says the guy who tried to fuck me in Daddy’s office.”

“You little bastard–” Vic begins, a smile full of mischief appearing on his face. Two seconds later and they’re tumbling on the ground in a tangle of arms & legs while Mr. White & Orange sit watching, chowing down on some potato chips.

Orange leans in to speak to White, “I wish I’d have brought my camera, Joe’s reaction to this would’a been priceless.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re in luck, my friend,” White smirks, reaching over for his bag, “because I just so happened to bring my little Polaroid. Thought I’d never use it but I grabbed it on the way out just in case.” He hands it to Orange, who promptly squints into the viewfinder and snaps a picture. The second the flash goes off, both Ed and Vic’s heads snap round to look at the two laughing guys, utterly confused.

“What the fuck are you two doin’? Did you just take a fuckin’ picture of us?” Eddie asks, eyes wide and curious.

“Might have done.”

“Give it here, I wanna see if I look like a fatass.” Eddie scrambles for the camera, but Orange holds it out of his reach. Besides, White has the polaroid in his pocket. “Give it, motherfucker!”

Mr. Blonde is lying on his back now, hands behind his head and watching them squabble. “Forget it, Ed,” he says suavely, “you’ll look like a fatass either way.”

“Queer.”

“Asshole.”

The four share a chuckle, obviously not meaning anything by the bickering. With a yawn, Orange grabs a blanket and begins to stand up. “I’m fuckin’ exhausted, I’m going to bed. See you assholes tomorrow,” he snickers.

“I’ll join you,” White replies. “G’night, you two.” His laughter lines showing a little more after the night’s dumb escapades. He and Orange disappear into their tent as Vic & Eddie insult them goodnight. It’s quiet after that, the two remaining guys lying looking up at the stars, utterly mesmerised. The campfire crackles scarcely and, after hoisting blankets over themselves, the boys accidentally fall asleep in the midst of the night.

OK RIGHT i’ve just finished writing this post but i think i’mma do it as a 2 part thing bc i feel like this is pretty long for one of my fics. like the next morning/travelling home etc will be in part 2 :) \DKLASJLKDA I WANNA GO CAMPING W THESE PRICKS NOW LOL

#reservoir dogs fanfic

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hiyo-silver · 6 years

Text

Behind Blindfolds

summary: Nobody expected the world to end the way it does until it starts. It was always thought to happen all in one go but instead it drags on for years of feigning really living when all they're doing is surviving. In this situation maybe, surviving is really losing.

taglist: @fuckboykaspbrak @thesquidliesthuman @rachi0964 @beepbeep-losers @bigbilliamdenbro @jalenrose11 @sleepygaybrough @itandstrangerthingsfanfic @boopboopbichie @peachywyatt @aizeninlefox @sockwantstodie @ahoybyeler @yooonbum @coffeekaspbrak @sedanleystanley

read it on ao3!

The end of the world is always expected to come sudden, unexpected, and uncontrollable. That much is true, but it doesn’t come with a bang, really just screams turning into strangled cries and the sounds of people dropping one after another. It came without warning at possibly the worst time. But isn’t any time a bad time for humanity to end?

Beverly had been in the car, another driver swerved at her, sending the car flying off to the side like it was weightless. Surreal. She has to climb out of the car when it’s turned upside down, gripping her pregnant stomach. She never felt much attachment to the fetus inside, now isn’t any different. It just makes it worse that she’s doing this on her own.

The baby has a father somewhere technically. Tom Rogan, the idea of him makes her goddamn blood boil. She could sometimes handle him when it was just the two of them, but she made the choice to up and leave the moment the pregnancy test revealed a cross to her on that dim night. He just can’t raise a child, he really thinks he could, but with how he treats her, like her own father, makes his lack of paternal instinct clear.

She reflects on all of this now, sitting on the wood floors of this unfamiliar home as she tries to catch her breath, tries to wrap her head around what she’d seen out there, some of the most unseeable things anyone could see. But it’s not over yet. She brushes a reddish strand of hair behind her ear with a scratched up hand, finally studying the faces of the people around her.

The one standing over her looks angry with her, showing his dominance, filling her with a hope that she’s not already on his bad side just being here. The next one is in the red vest she can only attribute to the local supermarket, she doesn’t recognize the man though. The next one she tries to read is standing near the stern looking dark-haired man, he has skin of a deep brown, his face set similarly, though more determined than angry, an undertone of warmth coming through. It’s hard for her gaze not to snap to the next one, an ashy blond man, gripping an inhaler and taking a puff from it, he’s thin and nervous, though he holds a similar determined energy.

What makes her most curious is a man in a bright pink button up, tossing a ball at the wall to catch it, over and over, like he’s just trying to keep his sanity. Suddenly one who wasn’t there before appears in the archway, crossing his arms over his chest, his hair having almost the same copper tones as Beverly’s own. “Another one? G-good, this thing doesn’t work as fast as we thought it did.”

Bev just nods to the group, “Who are you all? And who- who was that woman who tried to get me here?” she asks, having a habit to be automatically suspicious of people after all she’s been through, especially strange groups of men she’s never met before. She pulls herself to her feet, a bit difficult with her center of gravity so drastically changed by the child growing within her.

The intimidating man of the dark hair and olive-y toned skin looks her up and down before speaking. “I think considering this is my home I hold the right to ask that question first, who are you?” he asks, wrapping his arms across his chest. It’s obvious he’s trying to be an authoritative presence, but really he just seems bossy and largely insecure.

She nods and sighs out, she should have known she would be asked that. “I’m Beverly Marsh, I live a couple blocks down, now can I know who you and that woman are?” she asks, feeling unsafe and impatient, who could blame her?

“Call ourselves the survivors for now. I’m Stanley, the one in the red is Ben, not to be confused with Richie, the one in the eye bleeding bright pink. Eddie’s the one that looks like a shaking chihuahua. Bill is the blunt asshole in the archway there. The one next to me is Mike, he’s about the only other sane one here. And that woman who saved you? That was my wife. Patricia. Much rather her over you,” the last sentence is spit out bitterly like a stab to the chest. The man keeps his arms crossed across his chest, swiftly turning around to leave the foyer, it’s as if he can’t even look at her without thinking of Patty and making his green eyes swim with tears. Too fresh.

She looks at the others, her own green eyes pulling in everything around her, the room is dimly lit so it’s hard to catch all their features, but besides Stan they don’t seem too upset to have her around. The next one to talk is the one he’d gestured to calling him Richie. The man doesn’t look away from his game of ball, his eyes trained on the bouncing and the wall. “Don’t worry about the bitch boy, he’s just an elderly man in a young adult man’s body, but he couldn’t hurt a fly, bet he’s got the joints of one too,” the man runs a big hand through his brown hair, snorting at his own playful insult. Whatever keeps them sane, for Richie it’s quite obvious that it’s his humor.

Eddie isn’t so much entertained by Richie’s rudeness and vulgarity, he’s been dealing with it for more consecutive hours than the others, they’re sure to get fed up too. The two of them are in police training, they were in the same carpool at the time everything outside started to go awry. Richie would call them buddies, Eddie, not so much. He takes his inhaler and slips his backpack off his shoulders, hastily unzipping it and putting the asthma medicine away, not wanting to seem even weaker than their pregnant newbie. He’ll have to pretend he’s not wheezing every breath he takes out of sheer anxiety.

Bill seems the most stable of them all, standing taller than everyone except for Mike, he seems to be constantly scanning every bit of everything happening as it does. The observer, quite useful to have around, but maybe not in a situation plagued by a monster who can only hurt you once you’ve seen It. they haven’t come up with a name for it yet, so it’s simply It. Or the shadow, but once you’ve seen it you don’t call it anything, all you can do is cry for mercy.

“You w-want a glass of water?” he asks, also seemingly the warmest to the newbies. He’s cautious yes, but he’s not cold and uncaring by any means. She nods at his offer, trying not to be so timid. Be a big girl, Beverly, be strong, she tells herself, she’s been telling herself that since her childhood years. It’s sung by a harsher voice in her head now that she’s going to be a mother, she hopes that voice stays in there and never has the need to spring from her own mouth.

She follows him to the kitchen, sitting on a stool at the island in the center, looking around, it really is a nice home. The counters are marble, the chandelier is modern, the appliances all stainless steel. Stan maybe be an asshole, but either he or his wife are excellent interior decorators, or at least know how to hire one. “How long do you think this will last? Like how long do you think we’ll be stuck staying here?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the cold counter, she’s not sure if the shiver that goes down her spine is because the temperature or the grave look that Bill returns her with.

She’ll never forget the way he says it. “I’m n-not so sure, we don’t know exactly when it b-began. The news can’t p-pinpoint it. We aren’t s-sure what causes it either. It’s i-indefinite. Hopefully you can go home soon, though,” he talks with words on unconfidence but his tone is unwavering. “It always could be worse though, a-at least it hasn’t gotten you,” he says as he stops the tap and passes her the glass. A nice cool glass of water is about the only method he knows to calm people down, his own methods of self soothing are to ignore the problem, and he can’t exactly ignore people’s problems for them without being some level of rude.

She nods slowly. She doesn’t know how to respond, of course the idea of it terrifies her. She watched person after person on the street just fall dead. A glassy look grows in their eyes, they go bloodshot for a moment before anything else happens, a sign It’s hit. She’ll never forget the look. That woman, Patty, she had these beautiful golden brown eyes before they shifted. She had kind eyes, she can understand why Stan cared about her so deeply. She gave her life to help a stranger, there’s about no greater sacrifice than that.

“How’d you end up here?” she asks, her voice soft, he seems to be able to hold his own, she wonders why he hadn’t been hiding out at his own residence, he seems fully capable of it. His expression changes, a little less so sure, less full of determination and hope. One more of… grief.

“Was at the h-high school tennis team’s m-match at the park. S-supporting my brother, George. We were f-far from home, he got injured d-during the match, can’t run a-as fast as I can,” Bill says, chewing the inside of his cheek and letting his eyes trace discernable patterns in the swirls of the black and white marble. There it his, his reason to bottle this all up. He looks early ready to cry but instead looks up. “But it’s l-like all you are m-my siblings now. G-gonna protect you guys, if you’re o-okay with that,” he says, it’s like he can snap back into his role any time, like he’s had practice.

“Bill? You know it’s not your fault, right?” she asks, she doesn’t know him but she feels her heart pound with pain for him. She watched people die, but nobody she cares about. As morbid and evil as that may sound, she lives alone and she’s never cared much for anyone in this goddamn town. Derry is supposed to be a pit stop between her shitty life before and the greatness she knows she’s destined to become.

“Moving on,” he says, walking around the counter, “You’re gonna have a baby? Do y-you know where the dad is? M-maybe we can help find him for you i-if he’s still alive?” he asks, his God complex and need to save everyone around him becoming increasingly evident. It’s endearing.

“Oh God no I hope he’s dead, if he’s not could you do me a favor and make him look into the light? He could use a fucking lesson,” she grumbles, smacking her hand on the counter in front of her in emphasis. She may have loved him sometime, at some point, when he was someone else. But the man she left wasn’t the man she loved, she wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

“Understood,” he says, the conversation getting cut short with Ben coming in and settling himself on the couch with a beat up notebook, dozens of post-its sticking out, the frilly edges of paper sticking out at several angles from the spiral spine of it. Obviously well loved and constantly used, Bill knows what it is already, but Bev is curious.

“Whatcha got there, supermarket guy?” she asks, not even minding to check his nametag, still in his work clothes. She gets up and squats herself on the couch next to him, even eyeing coffee stains and ribs on the pages, it’s almost like he takes that ratty old thing everywhere with him.

“First draft of my novel” the man says distractedly, running his hand over the scruffy beard starting on his chin and jawline. If he were to even look over he knows he’d be intimidated by her beauty like he had been in the hall, so now he simply refuses. “It’s about the end of the world. Won’t market well now,” he jokes with bitterness in every undertone of his words.

She smiles just as dryly as his words had come out, “Good talk,” she says, patting him on the shoulder and standing up. She feels like a character in a video game, walking around the room and speaking to all the different people she’ll be stuck with. It’s for the best after all, probably. She sees Mike, she knows she hasn’t spoken to him yet, he seems to be another one of the quiet ones.

“Mike, that’s your name, right?” she asks as she taps him on the shoulder carefully. Not a good time and environment to sneak up on someone, but she doesn’t know how else to get his attention. Like Stan and Bill, he seems to be a leader, she likes that about him. He’s the quiet leader, not too stern and not too soft.

“Yeah, Beverly you said?” he says after his shoulder twitches and he whips around, sighing in relief at the sight of something actually human. “You know, I’m glad we saved you, the idea of a dead pregnant woman would haunt me forever if we hadn’t. My sister is pregnant, she’s up in Canada though, moved for college,” he says, revealing his own flaw, he rambles when he’s nervous.

Stan is the quick wit. Richie is the jokester. Eddie is the anxious one. Ben keeps to himself. Bill feigns a bravery he doesn’t truly have to make the others feel safer. Mike is the rambly handsome one who seems to know the place as well as Stan does. And Bev? Beverly is so far just here for the ride, but she’ll find her place.

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