#the fly hits the wall and crumples to the ground

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I know that you don't take request right now but I just had to submit this one before I forget it lol. I'm hoping that you'll write it when your requests are open again?

So anyway, reader is ridoc's twin/sister (he's hilarious) and she walks in on someone trying to kill bodhi so she helps bodhi fight him and later takes care of his injury and he falls for her. The following days someone keeps leaving little gifts for her (protective ridoc lol) and reader approaches bodhi to ask what he's doing and he confesses that he likes her

Not exactly like the request but close by and way longer than I thought it would be. So many of you bad missed Bodhi so here we are.

Angel eyes

It truly was luck. Luck and nothing more. You had separated from the girls after your nightly walk. A way you bunch decompressed after a long day of training. It felt better like that. Easier. With no one able to walk in on you chatting. You had stayed out longer after swearing to be careful, simply because the night was warm and you enjoyed nothing more than being able to watch the stars. They reminded you of home. All the people you had left behind.

You had rounded the staircase not longer than an hour later when you heard muffled sounds. Not a lot of cadets followed the curfew hours so at first you brushed it off to someone sneaking around the same way you were. Just the higher you climbed the more it didn’t sound like innocent chatter. No. It sounded as if someone was struggling. The scraping against the rock walls. The pained growls. You pulled the blade from your boot, one that your brother had kindly gifted you. Testing the weight of it in your palm before letting your senses guide you to the noise. It probably wasn’t all that smart to approach something like that alone but something from deep within urged you to.

And there there they were. Two males held Bodhi’s hands while the third one sent punches into his stomach. The sight made you stumble for a moment. Bodhi was a great fighter. You had the honor of being assigned him as a partner on the mats. This felt wrong. They have had to drug him. Used something to weaken his link with Cuir. Blood that soaked the gag now had been the thing that sent you into action.

Using the shadows to your advantage. You crept closer. Sending your brother’s dagger flying. Not stopping to look if it landed the target because you knew that it did. And there was no time to admire your handy work. The less time they had to realize that they weren’t alone anymore the better. Right as the dagger met the guy who’s been punching Bodhi neck, your hands were already around the second male's neck twisting it with a painful crack.

It’s the third guy who instantly backs away from Bodhi, sending his body crumpling to the ground. He’s the one to meet your black eyes. You can feel that he wants to run. That he’s panicking. That he’s petrified because he can’t move. Your power is too deep in his system. “Lucky for you, I need someone to speak about this to”, you step closer to him, “And you will voluntarily do it, won’t you?”, he barely nods, shallow breaths barely hitting his lungs. You smile up at him watching as he tries to do the same but your power seizes his muscles. Making him hit the floor too as he wriggles in soundless spasms.

You turn back to Bodhi, who had crawled to rest against the wall. Hand draped over his middle. You cross the distance in a couple of smooth strides, dropping to your knees. Bodhi instantly flinched trying to pull back. You two weren’t necessarily strangers but you weren’t friends. He was in the ranks up above the group of people you hang out with. But you saw him around, trained at times.

“Let me help”, you muttered, “Can I pull your shirt up?” You caught his gaze, right as he pulled the blood rag from his mouth. His nod was subtle. Easy to miss but you caught it nodding alongside him. Gently pull up the material.

“Shit”, you hissed. The skin was already turned black and blue. They sure didn’t hold back, “You need to… We need to get you to the healers”. A slight panic flickered in your chest. His friends were on patrol tonight too. Meaning you quite literally had no help to call out to. But Bodhi didn’t even nod as he watched you.

“Bodhi, you need to show me that you can hear me, okay?”, you muttered, cupping his cheek with your palm. “I will get you some help”, you nodded at him, looking into the eyes of someone who seemed to look past you now. Cursing beneath your breath you turned around looking at the corridors that stretched out, hoping to find any sort of movement. “Pretty”, the sound was groggy and tired. You halted. “So… pretty”, he breathed out. “What?”, you muttered, your eyes catching his one last time before his body slumped down.

Bodhi felt like his whole body was on fire. At times he was sure that he had died and it was the flames of the underworld liking at his skin. But in flashes of consciousness, there were voices. Muffed ones and unrecognizable. But most importantly there was a girl. One that constantly leaned over him, brushing at his hair. Her cold fingers felt heavenly against Bodhi’s burning skin. And those eyes. Those gorgeous eyes looked down at him. So pretty. So unbelievably pretty.

Quite frankly Bodhi was convinced that whoever his angel was he had dreamed. Hallucinated. Until he had finally been able to get to the main floors. Both Xaden and Garrick were on either side of him. Even if they said that they weren’t worried they had been mother hens to him ever since.

But only a couple of steps in Bodhi halted. A full-body shiver ran through him. It felt like a fever dream all over again. “What is it?”, Garrick gripped Bodhi’s upper arm but he didn’t know. He couldn’t seem to get his words out. “I told you that you should have still stayed in bed, Bodhi, damn”, Xaden stepped in front of his cousin. Bodhi shook his head, pulling at Xaden’s shoulder, “Her”, he breathed.

Both males turned to where Bodhi was pointing, before sharing a look. They had interrogated the one suspect who had been neatly delivered all tied up. But no one knew who had done the handy job because Bodhi’s stories had been well… rather delirious. “What about her?”, Garrick asked, look at the way Bodhi glanced at you as if you had carried the moon and sun. “That’s Ridoc’s sister, Bodhi. Violet’s friend”, Xaden muttered.

Bodhi pulled at their grip, rushing through the crowd. He knew he had seen you before but this. You looked like an angel in his head and now you were here. “You”, he breathed, making you turn your head at the new voice. “Durran, good to see you on your feet”, you shot him a smile. You didn’t want to make a big fuss. No one knew what had happened that night and you preferred it that way. “You were there. I saw you”, he muttered. Your brother raised his eyebrow shooting you a strange look. So much for a secret.

“Come”, you pulled at his hand, wanting to get away from the crowd of people. “Look, I did what I had to”, you breathed as you two rounded the corner of a more secluded area, “If your friend needs help with solving…” but you didn’t get to finish the sentence as two strong arms warped around your shoulder. Your body stiffened for a second. He was hugging you… You slowly raised your arms as well, careful to not hurt him. The bruises on his body still vivid in your head.

“Thank you”, Bodhi breathed, “I thought I had imagined you”. You chuckled, “Most would say that’s quite a nightmare”. Budhi shook his head as he slowly pulled away, “I thought quite the opposite”, he admitted, swallowing thickly, “I thought you were an angel. Your eyes…”, he muttered moving to cup your cheek. You felt your face burning crimson, fighting the urge to look down. “So pretty”, he breathed out.

“Is that what you were referring to back in the corridor when I…”, you frowned. Surely, not. He wouldn’t have noticed that. “Yeah…”, Bodhi breathed, his face growing red as he pulled back, clearing his throat, “Sorry, that’s stupid”. But you caught his wrist, “No, it’s sweet. No had ever thought that they were… well… pretty”. Your eyes locked and for a moment you two just stood in silence. “Can we meet up sometime?”, Bodhi breathed after a moment. You chuckled, “Sure, if you’re not scared that my brother will kill you with a fork”, you nodded towards the table where Ridoc had unfortunately seen you two talk. So much for a secluded spot. Bodhi huffed, “I think, I can handle a fork”.

[in1-nutshell]

Moon streaker snapping and now everythings on fire

I have been waiting for this moment!

I have had several scenarios for this and just had to randomly pick one because I wanted to write them all.

Hope you enjoy!

Moonstreaker snaps

SFW, Platonic, Hinted Romance, Angst, Familial, Mention of injuries, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

Moonstreaker was at Swerve’s talking to the bartender when the alarms sounded.

The alarm for an alien invasion.

As much as she wanted to stay with Swerve, she knew she was needed elsewhere on the ship.

Giving Swerve one last look and a reassuring smile, Moonstreaker ran out of the bar with a couple of bots behind her ready to go.

Getting used as hostage was something that she wasn’t too familiar with. Usually, she was the one who was doing the rescuing, not the other way around.

Even more embarrassing, she was tricked into coming on board the opposite ship after hearing cries for help, only to get knocked out with a pip to the helm.

The space pirates were now back on the ship and actively flying away from the Lost Light.

Moonstreaker glared at each one of the pirates as they spat and slapped her across the face.

The space captain walks in front of Moonstreaker and yanks her up by her chains.

The Bot can only glare at the captain.

“Aw, what’s with the glare little Autobot?”--Captain

She doesn’t respond.

“Fine, be that way. Soon we’ll be rolling in thousands of shanix after we get that transmission working. And, well, we’d defiantly get a lot more if you start pleading for your life.”--Captain

Moonstreaker spits some of the energon from her mouth into his face.

The captain throws her back into the ground and steps on her chassis.

Moonstreaker grunts at the sudden weight before getting kicked into some of the crewmate’s arms.

Wiping his face, the captain turns to the crew.

“Keep an eye on her. The little toaster is a feisty one she is.”--Captain

Meanwhile the captain was setting up the transmission, some of the pirates began talking about pillaging and getting rid of some of the bots on board.

One of them mentioned the captain of the ship.

She tensed hearing some of the details.

Her frame started feeling warmer than usual, but she brushed it off as her system being out of whack after all the beating to the helm.

Unfortunately, they noticed.

The nearest guard grabbed Moonstreaker by the back of her helm.

“Oh? Did we strike a nerve, you overgrown toaster? What? You didn’t like what we were saying? Huh? HUH!”—Crewmate 1

The guard slams her helm repeatedly into the wall next to her.

One of the guards stops him.

“Careful you dummy! You’re gonna damage the fuel tank with another hit like that.”—Crewmate 2

The guard holding her helm dropped her in front of the fuel tank in a crumpled heap.

Part of Moonstreaker’s helm was thoroughly soaked with energon.

Part of her vision color pink and the other is seeing double the amount of guards than before.

“Yeah, but that’s nothing compared to what I’M gonna do to the pipsqueak who shot my knee!”—Crewmate 1

The guard shows the bandaged knee to his friends.

“I swear, when I get my hands on that little red bot I’m gonna—”—Crewmate 1

“You…”--Moonstreaker

The guards turn back to Moonstreaker, who was shakingly trying to sit back up.

“Will Not…”--Moonstreaker

She nearly falls again but leans more against the fuel tank’s wall.

“Touch…”--Moonstreaker

She is now sitting on her knees, optics blazing with anger.

“Him… or anyone on that ship… that… I promise.”--Moonstreaker

Meanwhile on the Lost Light…

The pirate’s transmission had just been connected.

Rodimus glares daggers at the smug face of the captain.

“Why, hello—”--Captain

“Where’s Moonstreaker!”--Rodimus

“Rodimus, please, calm down.”--Magnus

Rodimus shoots daggers at Magnus.

“Roddy, you’re going to set something on fire if you don’t calm down.”--Drift

Rodimus looks down at his literal smoldering servos and tries to calm down.

“Where’s our crewmate?”--Megatron

The captain was about to talk when it was interrupted by screaming.

“What in the—”--Captain

“Admiral! What in the blazes is—”--Captain

“FIRE! FIRE NEAR THE FUEL TANKS! FIRE NEAR THE—”--Crewmate

BOO—BBBBBEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPP!

Magnus and Megatron had never seen the look of horror that fell across Rodimus’s face when the transmission abruptly ended.

Drift had to drag him back to his chair before he fell to the ground and called Ratchet in.

The Co-captain hadn’t made any movement or sound.

Just clutching his chassis with a shaking servo.

Magnus and Megatron took charge while Ratchet were checking on Rodimus.

It didn’t take long for the Lost Light to find the pirate’s ship.

Not when they could see where the fiery blast came from.

The ship makes it to the location in record time.

Except there was no ship.

Or one intact at least.

It was just burnt pieces of wreckage and parts floating around.

And one Autobot’s frame floating limply amongst it.

A team was sent out to get Moonstreaker’s body.

Rodimus wanted to go but was ruled out when he nearly collapsed again trying to stand up.

Ratchet ran to the med bay hearing over the coms that Moonstreaker was still alive.

Rodimus nearly bursted out of the room if Drift hadn’t talked him into waiting.

What good was he in the medbay if she was in critical condition?

The news of Moonstreaker’s return to the Lost Light quickly spread like wildfire.

More specifically, to a red minibot how looked like he was going to cry at any moment.

Swerve cursed and cursed for being small and having the others hold him back from running to the med bay.

He already felt awful for not doing more in the invasion and then hearing that Moonstreaker had been kidnapped by them.

Skids and some of the others helped close the bar early for Swerve.

The moment that Ratchet had given the clear for visitors after getting her stable, Rodimus and Swerve were one in line.

Swerve was in the room when Moonstreaker woke up.

Moonstreaker slowly opens her optics to see a surprised Swerve.

“’werve?”—Moonstreaker

The minibot gasps and the tears start rolling down his face.

“Moonie!”--Swerve

She winces at the sudden noise.

“Oh, Primus sorry!”--Swerve

Moonstreaker smiles at him, tears and all.

She carefully wipes them.

Swerve cries even harder holding both of his servos on the servo on his cheek.

“How? Where is—”—Moonstreaker

Harsh pede steps start getting louder.

Swerve instinctively holds her servo tighter.

“Rodimus calm down!”--Velocity

BANG!

Rodimus suddenly appears in front of the pair looking just as shocked Swerve had been.

Swerve slowly puts her servo back down, much to the pairs want.

“I’ll leave you two alone. Nice to see you online and all Moonie.”--Swerve

Moonstreaker has her servo extended a bit longer as Swerve leaves the med bay.

Rodimus takes her servo and lets out a vent of relief before the tears start prickling.

She squeezes her brother’s servo in comfort.

“Hey Roddy.”--Moonstreaker

He smiles letting a couple of stray tears fall.

“Hey Moonie.”--Rodimus

[mouwrites]

Wrote this as a sort-of-sequel to my "How You Met" headcanons! :]

Word count: 1k

Creepypasta/MH - What Should I Draw? ("Ticci" Toby)

You still thought about him sometimes. That boy; the one you sat next to way back in high school. When your mind returned to those little compartments in your memories, the ones filled with noisy hallways and cardboard pizza and hours spent dozing while teachers droned on, there you’d find glimpses of Tobias Rogers.

You remembered the day he first spoke to you, that stupid drawing you made at his request. He had smiled when you showed it to him. It was the most genuine smile you’d seen on any of your peers. Ever. It had struck you.

You weren’t sure how you felt about him. On the one hand, he was authentic; he was unapologetically him. Sarcastic, crass, at times even mean, but real. That quality had always enchanted you. You looked forward to your interactions. But on the other hand, those interactions were scarce. You weren’t close. Your memories of him were minimal in comparison to those of your other friends, or even your teachers. Yet those few memories you did have were enrapturing.

You didn’t think of him all that often, really. Sometimes you’d go months without him crossing your mind. But when you did think of him, it would immobilize you as you slipped into deep thought, gazing blankly as you pondered the curious boy from your past.

When you ventured on these musings, you always landed at the same place: what became of him. You couldn’t decide if you were surprised or not. Why shouldn’t he become a murderer? He was bullied, his home life wasn’t all that great (from rumors you heard; Toby never spoke of his family to you), and he always did seem a little… unstable. But then, there was that smile. That peculiar light that shone when you spoke to him. The way he’d giggle at your jokes and silly drawings. 

But that didn’t change what happened. He became what he became, regardless of what you thought. Regardless of your memories, which were small and scattered like dandelions on a lawn.

But you knew you’d never see him again—so did it really even matter?

It was an impulse. Most things he did these days were impulsive, so that really shouldn’t have been a surprise. It was an impulse that got him rummaging through old boxes in the first place. When he found that wrinkled piece of notebook paper… he decided he needed to go. It couldn’t wait.

And now he found himself perched on your windowsill, easing your window open silently and creeping inside. He locked the door first. Then he made his way to your bedside, letting his hatchet slide towards the ground as he loosened his grip. He let it drop to the floor.

You woke up with a start. After blinking sleepily at the ceiling a few times, your eyes flicked over to the dark figure beside your bed.

You inhaled sharply, flying into a sitting position and backing up against the wall. You opened your mouth to scream, but the man lunged at you. You ducked, rolling off your mattress onto the floor. You saw a hatchet—dirty with something brownish that certainly wasn’t rust—on the ground a few inches from your face. You wanted to scream, but your throat had tightened with fear. 

You scrambled to your feet, stumbling towards your door. You slipped and landed harshly against the wall, your shoulder slamming into the hard surface before you slumped down to the floor.

“Y/n!”

You froze. Blinked a few times at the floor. Then you looked up at the intruder, who was standing awkwardly with one knee still on your bed. He was looking at you through yellow goggles. The rest of his face was covered with a mask. There was nothing to recognize; and yet that muffled voice had seemed… familiar.

He jammed his hand into his pocket, as if suddenly remembering something. You tensed, flinching when he threw something small and white at you.

You yelped when it hit you, but you didn’t need to; you hardly even felt it. When you opened your eyes again you saw a crumpled piece of paper in your lap.

You straightened it out, breathing heavily, sending fearful glances at the stranger five feet away.

Your breathing stopped when you saw what was on the page.

“Toby,” you whispered, looking up once more, this time with whimsy. There was still fear tensing your limbs, but now there was an entire ocean of feelings churning inside you, each fighting for dominance: curiosity, enchantment, excitement, anxiety, and a hundred other things that didn’t have names.

The man removed his goggles and mask with excitement, his shaggy locks getting pulled back for a moment with the motion. You saw his face—but you couldn’t believe what you saw.

You found yourself standing up slowly, making your way over to him. Was it a stupid idea? Probably. But he was smiling that smile, the one that had haunted you for years. It was like a fishing lure twinkling in the sunlight, and you were a foolish bass in the pond.

He didn’t move. He let you bring your hands up to his face. Your fingers hovered over the scars on his cheeks, and you felt nauseous the closer you got.

You suddenly retracted your hands, taking a step back. “What are you doing here?” Your eyes drifted to the hatchet on the floor.

“I wanted to see you again.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.

There was silence. Your heart began to hammer in your ears, and you kept looking at the hatchet. 

Toby eventually noticed this pattern, and with an exasperated sigh he kicked the weapon across the floor. “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

“Then why did you come?”

He shrugged again, a little shyly this time. “I dunno. Maybe… you could draw something for me again?”

You let out a breath. Was it a sigh of relief? Was it a huff of breathless enchantment? Was it a pant of excitement?

You nodded slowly, sinking to the floor to pick up the piece of paper. You turned it to the blank side, finding a pen on your nightstand. 

Toby plopped down next to you. He was sitting to your right, just as he had sat back in high school.

You couldn’t help the mischievous smile—the same one you’d given him all those years ago—which came to your lips as you asked:

“What should I draw?”

Thanks so much for reading! Take care my lovelies <33

(divider by saradika)

[a-french-coconut]

Will Solace loves Star Wars

Nico has seen a lot of weird things in his life.

It's included in the demigod packaged he received upon birth.

Got upgraded to premium after he spent eighty years in a casino where he met tons and tons of unique people.

But seeing his boyfriend and Cecil Markowitz dressed up in some kind of robes, Will in beige and the son of Hermes in black, facing each other on the top of the lava climbing wall is at least earning third place on the podium.

They circling each other when Cecil starts talking.

"I have brought peace, freedom, justice and security to my new empire !"

What is this doofus talking about ?

"Your new empire ?"

"Don't make me kill you."

Nico frowns. He's used by now to his boyfriend's antics but Cecil is sounding really serious.

"Anakin, my allegiance is to the republic, to democracy !", Will screams at Cecil.

Anakin ?

Who in his father's name is Anakin ?

"If you're not with me, then you are my enemy."

"Only a Sith deals in absolute."

Nico figures it's some kind of pop culture he missed on. He has no idea of what a Sith is.

"I will do what I must."

He boyfriend reaches for something in his robes, face deadly serious and golden curls flying around his face.

"You will try"

At his bewilderment, they both ignite some kind of light sword. Cecil does a backflip Nico had no idea the scrawny little thief could do and he attacks his boyfriend.

Music fills his ears, he sees Austin, Kayla, Yan, Gracie and Jerry playing a somber tune as Will and Cecil clash their sword in a practiced dance, their movements swift and graceful.

He watches, a little awed he'll admit, Will doing a backflip to escape Cecil's attack, the two boys using all the place they have in top of the lava wall.

The combat continues for a while, Nico suffering from a heart attack when Cecil almost chokes Will to death, until the music gets faster and more tense, a chore of voices now joining.

They fucking jump on the lava wall.

It occurs now to Nico that the wall has been modified, flying platforms turning around it, sometimes getting splashed by molten lava.

Will and Cecil continue to fight while they jump platforms to platforms, narrowly dodging droplets of lava.

"I have failed you Anakin, I have failed you," Will says with sadness in his voice, hands tightening around his sword.

"I should have knows the Jedi were planning to take over !"

"Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil !"

"From my point of view the Jedi are evil !"

"Then you are lost !"

Nico has never seen such tension between those two. They facing each other, both with grim determination.

"This is the end for you my master.", Cecil says darkly and jump onto Will's platform.

They exchange blows and parries, the platform getting close enough to the ground for Will to kick out Cecil that lands on the ground.

"It's over Anakin, I have the high ground !"

"You underestimate my power !"

"Don't try it", warns Will.

Cecil jumps from the ground towards Will that swings his sword and hit the son of Hermes's both legs.

Nico has to say he is little disappointed when the legs don't get cut off. He's sure his boyfriend is skilled to reattach them. It can't be more hard than arms.

Cecil crumples on the ground, sliding towards the lava pit while Will looks at him.

"You were the Chosen One ! It was said that you would destroy the Sith not join them ! Bring balance to the Force not leaving it in darkness !"

Will is screaming at Cecil, despair echoing in his voice.

"I HATE YOU !" yells back the son of Hermes as Will leaves him.

His boyfriend turns to Cecil, voice broken :

"You were my brother Anakin. I loved you."

Nico has never seen Will like this. Shoulders dropped, grim face with sadness written on it.

Maybe he isn't acting and Cecil really did something to him.

And he just stood there looking like an idiot while his boyfriend fought his ex best friend.

"Hey Will, everything's alright ?"

At the sound of his voice, Will's entire demeanor changes.

"Hello there !"

His face lightens up, a smile graces his features. Gone is the sad boyfriend he was looking at a second ago. In his place stands his goofy boyfriend in beige robes with what Nico can now see is a plastic tube.

"Yes, hi-"

"Breakup material !", Cecil screams from where he is laying the ground, lopsided unconcerned grin like he wasn't chilling one meter away from a pit of lava.

"Nah don't worry Neeks, this one I can forgive due to your special childhood."

"What on earth are you talking about ?"

"The cinematic masterpiece, the magnificent oeuvre d'art, a cultural revolution-"

"Star Wars. He's talking about Star Wars", Kayla cuts her brother off with an amused smile.

"Yes, that exactly. Star Wars."

"What is Star Wars ?"

Will lets out a long sigh.

"I see I have failed you too young Padawan !"

Kayla stifles a laugh at his expression whereas Cecil has no such survival instinct.

His laugh transforms into screams when skeletons hands erupts from the ground to catch him.

"Neeks we talked about using your underworld powers on Cecil", his boyfriends scolds him slightly.

"He deserves it. Now what is Star Wars ?"

"Come tonight at Apollo Cabin ! It's time for the Star Wars marathon !"

Kayla groans and shoots him a glare.

"Good job Nico ! It's going to be my fifth one ! I can only endure so much !"

"Nonsense ! Of Star Wars getting tired you cannot !".

Kayla notches an arrow and Will bolts out snickering :

"See you later Neeks !"

"Come back here you little green gremlin !"

"Yoda is not a gremlin ! He is a wise Jedi master that lived for hundred of- Kayla no ! You can't shoot your head counsellor !"

Austin and the rest start playing a lively tune as Kayla chases around her older brother.

A night cuddling his boyfriend watching movie seems like a great plan. But for now he'll just appreciate the view of Will running like a headless chicken, robes flowing in the wind.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Oh my goodness, welcome back! I just recently dives into Tumblr and find one of your posts of RoR and One Piece. Instantly, I got hooked! Can I request? A Sakura Haruno! Reader in joined the Ragnarok as a Human Fighter and shocked everyone with her strength and abilities. If you don't watched Naruto or Boruto, Sakura have superhuman strength by building chakra (or mana) in her fists or feet, she have vast knowledge on medical matters, 100 Healing Mark, a diamond shaped like mark on reader's forehead-which allows herto force a jutsu/technique/skills/spells into a state that can't be broken, as with regeneration, she able to summons slugs which able to heals others and herself... Just that because I think reader might get too overpower if I continues 😂

Anyway, how will the Gods Fighters(all romantic expect Zeus); Thor, Poseidon, Zeus, Odin, Beelzebub and Hades and the Human Fighters (romantic except for Adam); Lu Bu, Sasaki, Adam, Nikola, Raiden, Qin Shi Huang, and Jack, react to a reader so powerful that she can shatters the ground with one punch and have the ability to regenerate?

Hello my darling, I don’t know Naruto, that wasn’t one of the series I grew up with, but I can do this request based on your description of this character. I will do my best to write this for you. I hope you enjoy!

-Unlike the previous fighters for humanity who walked out, you didn’t look like a warrior, you were soft and delicate looking, pretty as well, which gained you quite a bit of attention.

-Brunnhilde didn’t look worried, which was concerning for the human fighters, many who were bandaged and recovering from their own fights (as it wasn’t a fight to the death- no death allowed!) while the gods looked amused, many nursing their own wounds.

-You didn’t look bothered as your opponent, a massive god of earth, came out, looking annoyed that his opponent was a little girl, in his eyes.

-You cracked your knuckles, realizing you were being underestimated again, something you hated, but seeing the shock on the faces of others was something you did enjoy as the god kneeled down, tapping his cheek, “Go ahead sweetheart- I’ll give you the first hit.”

-Brunnhilde sighed almost sadly, holding her cheek, “Oh my- this will be over quickly.” Her words stunned everyone as they all looked back out to the arena as you pulled back and instantly rocked him, sending him flying into the arena wall, causing it to crumple easily.

-Wide eyes and gaping mouths all turned to you as you were brushing your hands off like they were dusty before they went to your hips, a smile on your face.

-HOW WERE YOU SO STRONG?!?!

-The crowd was instantly in an uproar, demanding to know who you were, as many had never heard of you before, while others were laughing, seeing this ‘little girl’ handling business so easily!!

-When your opponent managed to drag himself out, he was furious as you had embarrassed him, holding large boulders from the crumpled wall.

-You moved so gracefully, dodging the thrown boulders, almost like you were dancing with him, but for a big guy, he moves pretty fast, as he managed to get behind you as you dodged and threw his own punch down at you.

-Your arms lifted in an X shape to block, the ground beneath you shattering but you stunned everyone again by remaining on your feet, your calves shaking lightly from the strain before you managed to throw him back.

-The match was very one-sided, with you easily picking up the win, but not before he managed to get a couple of good shots in, however you never looked phased.

-Jaws dropped as you lifted your left hand to your right arm, that he managed to grab and break, and began to heal it with ease- how were you doing this?!

-You emerged the victor and you only had to spend a few minutes in the infirmary, walking out completely fine before you heard running footsteps coming towards you.

-Wanted to know how you did everything in your match, how you were so strong, how you were able to heal yourself, your fighting techniques, and that strange energy that was surrounding you as you fought- he wanted to know everything! When he realized that he came on pretty strong, when you took a step back, he was quick to apologize to you. You could see his curiosity, and you offered him a warm smile, which surprised him before asking him to join you for tea, so the two of you could discuss everything, as you needed a bit of a break.

            -Nikola, Beelzebub, Qin Shi Huang, and Kojiro

-You could tell by his stance that he was looking for a fight, wanting to test himself against you. He had never seen someone so strong before and he wanted to fight you. You greeted him with a warm smile, showing him that you were a nice person, radiating warmth, which didn’t match your earlier actions in your showcase of strength. You confused him a little, as his earlier drive was calming down, seeing that you weren’t a warrior like he was. You could see his disappointment which did make you giggle, as you knew what he wanted before you smiled again, “I need a snack before I fight again. You’re welcome to join me if you want to.” His eyes immediately lit up and was quick to come after you, wanting to know more about that strange healing skill you had, wanting to know how it worked, which you were happy to give.

            -Lu Bu, Thor, Raiden, and Zeus

-Was glad that he caught you, as he wanted to make sure that you were alright, as you were a lady, despite being a warrior and easily winning your match, which you did find heartwarming. He was very kind to you, asking you questions as the two of you walked down the hallway to your own waiting room, where tea and snacks were prepared, as you needed to replenish your energy. He found you to be not only powerful, but very smart as well, as you were able to tell him the answers to his questions in great detail on how your healing skill worked, in a way that he was able to understand it.

            -Adam and Jack

-Was stunned that a mortal was so powerful! When he was watching the fight he felt like he couldn’t believe it, from the first powerful hit to you using your healing abilities, they had no idea something like this existed in humanity! He approached you, wanting to know about the magic you had within you, as humans shouldn’t have magic or skills like you, as you were unnaturally strong. They were stunned to learn your strength came from years of training, honing your skills and your body, turning it into a weapon. When it came to the topic of your magic, you explained what it actually was, the flow of energy within all living creatures, and you harnessed it to speed up your cell regeneration (I tried my best describing this). He was curious, wanting to know more and asked you out for tea, which you smiled warmly at, agreeing. It was only then did he realize he basically asked you out on a date.

-Poseidon, Odin, and Hades

[ladelinee]

Authors note: I thought I was going to finish the series with this episode, but I wanted to go into more detail, so I’m adding one more episode 🥰 I’m not sure if it will meet your expectations since I had writer’s block, but at least it’s out now. Enjoy!🖤

Word count: 3,4K

Warnings: 18+ angst, lots of blood, insults.

All shook up

Part 9

The deafening roar of the gunshot filled the room, the sound reverberated violently. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Beside me, the police officer standing behind Angelica suddenly crumpled to the ground. To my horror, a pool of blood began to form underneath him.

Suddenly, the room filled with a chorus of gunfire, echoing and bouncing off the walls in a violent symphony. Bullets rained down like a metallic storm, sparks flying as they hit the ground. People scattered, diving behind whatever furniture they could find, their faces filled with the primal instinct to fight or die.

Angelica flashed a sly smile as she let out a mocking comment about Elvis' failure to hit her. "Great at singing," she purred, "but let's say your aim isn’t your thing huh?" Despite her jesting tone, her eyes were deadly serious as she fired towards Elvis.

Elvis' expression was grave as he cautiously moved towards me, “Next time I promise ya I won’t miss the shot” he said while shooting and ducking behind a pillar momentarily to reload his weapon. Despite the danger around him, his focus was solely on reaching me, firing sporadically in Angelica's direction as he edged closer.

Two men began to flank Elvis, intending to take him down. But he was prepared, and quickly began to defend himself.

Using both fists, he pounded the man on his left, while simultaneously delivering a harsh kick to the man on his right. With a swift motion, he twisted the left man's arms, disarming him before turning and firing both guns at the man on the right, followed by another quickly approaching foe.

Elvis moved through the chaos with a grace that seemed almost surreal. It was as if the battlefield was his natural habitat, and his movements were like a well-practised dance, his reflexes lightning-fast. I watched in awe, having never expected to see such elegance amid violence.

The entire Memphis Mafia was in action, working in tandem to rescue Alex and me. On one hand, Joe and Red fought side by side, with a knowing smile playing on their faces as they took down anyone who dared to come near. On the other hand, Billy was struggling, sporting a cut on his eyebrow and an increasingly swollen face, but Sonny was there to cover for him, taking out several more adversaries. Meanwhile, Jerry fired from the car window with a more powerful weapon, while Charlie skillfully drove the car, running over anyone who stood in their way.

Guilt weighed heavily on me as I took in the situation around me. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Elvis, none of this would have occurred. No one would be hurt, and Elvis himself would be safe, rather than dodging bullets. The weight of my actions was impossible to ignore.

The newspaper pages on the floor began to get wet and puddle. The white color of the walls gradually tinged red, and the room started to have that acidic and metallic smell characteristic of blood.

Angelica's frustration and rage intensified as she scanned the room, seeing her men falling one by one. Gasping with hatred, she began firing at Elvis without pausing, quickly switching to a new firearm each time hers ran out of bullets, grabbing them from the corpses around her.

"Elvis, watch out!" My voice rang out, warning him.

But my cry barely left my mouth before Angélica turned in my direction, her eyes ablaze with anger. "SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!" she roared, her fist connecting hard with my face.

The distress and helplessness in Elvis's eyes was palpable as he watched Angelica strike me. Suddenly, another man unleashed a powerful blow to Elvis's stomach, leaving him gasping and fighting to stay on his feet.

Taking advantage of Elvis's vulnerability, Angelica quickly moved towards him and without a moment of hesitation, she lifted her weapon, aiming for his head.

Everything happened so quickly that I could hardly take it in. All I saw was Elvis' glasses flying through the air as he fell back to the ground.

My heart seemed to stop. This couldn't be real.

I trembled as I heard Elvis' men shouting his name. The worst part was that from where I was, I couldn't see his face. All I could make out was his feet and his motionless body.

“Did-Did I blow his brains out?” Angelica asked, her gaze lost on his body, a crazed smile on her face.

Angelica's expression grew more and more frustrated. She was at a loss about how to proceed, desperate to get rid of everyone around her. It didn't matter if Priscilla got angry with her later; she just wanted this chaos to end.

A collective gasp of disbelief filled the room as Elvis suddenly stirred. Sitting up, he instinctively covered one side of his face with his hand. Removing it, he looked at his bloody palm, realizing that the bullet had only grazed his temple.

Breathing heavily, Elvis wiped the blood from his temple with a quick motion, and a manic smile spread across his face.

With his expression dark and sinister, he slowly approached Angelica, each step taken with cold determination. "And you wanna talk ‘bout aim?" he said, his voice dripping with menace, his lips curled in a wicked smile.

Angelica froze in place. Joe and Red started shooting in her direction, and she tried to quickly take cover, moving away from me.

Elvis’s expression at that moment was unlike anything I had ever seen. It sent chills down my spine. Several men moved in to tackle him, but Elvis began to fight them hand-to-hand in a relentless manner. He quickly dispatched them. One. Two. Three men eliminated in one go. He glanced right, then left, and struck. It seemed like his strength had increased; he trembled with adrenaline and at that moment resembled a beast ready to rip their heads off. His karate movements were precise and lethal.

I felt a surge of relief upon seeing Elvis very much alive. I was so relieved that when I heard a gunshot near me, I was taken by surprise. It was Jerry, breaking my handcuffs with a shot and swiftly putting me in the car with Alex, taking advantage of the fact that Angelica was far away.

As I sat inside the car, I noticed that Alex was beginning to stir and regain consciousness. But things took a turn for the worse as Angelica realized what was happening and began shooting at Jerry, trying to prevent us from escaping in the car.

One of the bullets hit Jerry's shoulder, causing Joe and Red to come to their senses in shock and order a hasty retreat. It was clear they were outnumbered now and without Jerry, things were looking dire.

"Elvis! Elvis! We've got them! Time to go!" Joe called out with urgency.

But Elvis didn't seem to hear anything. He continued to fight with a ferocious rage that consumed him, completely focused on ending this once and for all. His once-black clothes were now saturated with blood, and half of his face was stained a deep red.

Red moved closer to Elvis, ready to lead him to the car, but Elvis lashed out with a punch, which Red swiftly dodged.

"Elvis, we have to go!" Red implored as he fired shots to cover Elvis. "Jerry's been shot. Staying here is a death sentence."

Elvis snapped back to reality upon hearing Red's words. His expression shifted from a slasher's fierce determination to one of immediate concern. After a brief moment of hesitation, he decided to run with Red and the others towards the car.

Everyone quickly jumped into the car, taking their places. I did my best to apply pressure to Jerry's gunshot wound on his shoulder, trying to stem the bleeding. When Sonny got into the car, he immediately checked on me, and took over the task of caring for Jerry.

Elvis was the last to enter the car, dodging bullets as he made his way in. Charlie wasted no time; he had already slammed his foot on the gas pedal, and the car shot off in a hurry to escape the crossfire.

"Dammit!" Elvis exhaled, his breath shaky and labored, as he looked at Jerry's injury. His hands were slick with sweat, and he clenched his fists tightly in frustration. Elvis wanted nothing more than to catch Angelica and make her pay for the chaos and pain she had caused.

A moment of silence fell over us as Elvis looked ahead and our eyes met. The sounds of gunshots, shouts, and the screeching of tires all faded into the background. Without hesitation, we quickly embraced tightly as if years had passed since we last saw each other. I was completely enveloped by him, smeared with blood and sweat, but it didn’t matter in the slightest. He held me firmly against his chest in a tight hug, and I could feel his heart thumping rapidly, as if it might burst from his chest at any moment.

"Oh God, darlin’, ya okay? Are you hurt?" Elvis said with a tone of desperation as he grabbed my face in his trembling hands.

As I started to sob, I managed to say through tears, "I'm okay. I'm just so glad you're here and you're alive."

Elvis started to kiss me urgently, covering my face in kisses, as if he was trying to convince himself that I was truly there and unharmed.

The car fell into a nervous silence as everyone tried to catch their breath, exchanging anxious glances. They were happy to see Elvis and me together, but the adrenaline and tension hadn't dissipated just yet. Joe sported fresh cuts on his face; Red was drenched in sweat, checking out some bruises on his arm; and poor Billy looked as though he had been hit by a truck, his face swollen and battered. Elvis held me tightly, his grip firm as we continued on our journey, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine.

Sonny looked at Jerry as he finished bandaging his shoulder, concern etched in his features.

"How ya holdin' up?" he asked, his voice steady yet empathetic.

"I'll live," Jerry grunted, wincing as Sonny tightened the bandage. "Just gotta get that damn bullet out and some stitches, and I'll be right as rain."

Alex began to stir again, his senses slowly returning, but his speech was still somewhat incoherent. He seemed disoriented and not quite fully conscious.

"Shhh, it's okay, buddy. You're safe now," Elvis whispered, patting Alex's cheek. The rest of the guys glanced over worriedly as Alex mumbled incoherently, struggling to regain full awareness.

Red noticed my concerned expression and the way my eyes lingered on Alex. "We should make sure they get medical attention. I can handle that" he said, addressing Elvis.

"Headin' to the only hospital in Las Vegas would be a risky move. Angelica could find us there in a heartbeat. Not to mention, innocent folks' lives would be on the line. It's just too dangerous, we’re back at the International and call in some surgeons" Elvis replied firmly.

"Are you outta your damn mind?" Joe chimed in, his scepticism was evident. "You think Angelica doesn't know every inch of the International like the back of her hand? She ain't gonna let us walk in there without causin' a helluva lotta trouble."

"We've still got the cops up our asses, the whole place is crawling with investigators. With a little help from the Colonel and the police force, we can lock down that building tight if we have to." Elvis retorted.

Red voiced a suggestion "We could always head out to Memphis on the Lisa Marie. We'd be much safer there."

"But Jerry's been shot in the damn shoulder. How long will it take us to get there?" Elvis pointed out, considering the urgency of the situation.

Sonny nodded in agreement, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "He's right" he said quietly. "We can't take any chances with Jerry's health. The longer we wait, the riskier it gets."

Elvis took charge and spoke to Charlie, his voice firm: "Alright, Charlie, you heard me, man. Head towards the International."

Billy, with his swollen face and sitting in the front seat, strained to adjust the rearview mirror, his movements clumsy due to the injuries on his face. Meanwhile, the sound of tyres screeching grew louder.

Suddenly, Elvis began to hug me tighter. When I looked at his face, he had a distant look and a tense jaw.

"Elvis...?" I asked.

"She’s behind us, ain’t she?" Elvis asked, gripping tightly the door handle.

A murmur started among Elvis’s men.

“This ends now” Elvis said, releasing himself from my arms and grabbing a rifle from under the seat. He opened the car’s sunroof and leaned his body out through it.

Elvis scanned his surroundings, evaluating every movement and building they passed. He knew they were nearing the final confrontation.

Charlie drove the car through side streets where there were no people and they could easily maneuver.

Elvis steadied the rifle in his hands, his eyes fixed on the other car. His expression was filled with a steely resolve, his determination unwavering. They had fought too hard to let themselves be stopped now.

The confrontation was brief but intense. As they took the last turn of the street before reaching the International, Elvis fired with precision, aiming for the enemy vehicle’s tyres.

Bullets struck Angelica’s car, forcing it to swerve. The sound of gunfire echoed through the street.

As they approached the International, Elvis spotted a large group of police officers aiming guns in their direction. For a moment, he thought they were Angelica’s men, which would mean trouble.

It was then that he saw Doris with Vernon, Marty, Mark, and the Colonel standing beside them. Doris had done it; she had managed to inform the police department of everything, ready to neutralize Angelica.

Angelica's car came to a grinding halt, tires deflated and billowing smoke. She stumbled out of the vehicle, a desperate look in her eyes.

Instantly, Elvis and his men emerged from the car, their weapons trained at Angelica and her crew. Angelica's eyes widened as she realized the dire situation she was in. There were no escape routes. She was completely cornered.

Elvis stepped forward, his once-styled hair now a disheveled mess, matted to his forehead with sweat that mixed with traces of dried blood. Despite his unkempt appearance, he held his weapon firmly, his demeanor remaining calm as he approached Angelica with purposeful strides.

Angelica, now completely unhinged, began discharging her gun wildly, her aim less precise as she yelled out obscene curses.

She screamed hysterically, her hands trembling with anger and adrenaline, “FUCK YOU, ELVIS, AND YOUR DAMN WIFE, YOU SON OF A..."

Elvis showed no hesitation as he fired precisely and calmly, his aim true and unwavering. He hit his target with a swift and cold precision, shooting directly into one of Angelica's legs. He had no intention to end her life. He wanted her to suffer, to spend the rest of her days in a jail cell, enduring the most awful torment that prison had to offer.

Angelica collapsed to the ground, clutching her wounded leg in pain. Her face contorted in agony, tears welling up in her eyes, but she gritted her teeth in an attempt to remain defiant. "You bastard!" she hissed with pain and anger in her voice.

Elvis moved closer to Angelica with deliberate, slow steps, his gaze fixed on hers. His voice held a hint of triumph as he said, "I told ya I wouldn't fail this time." As he spoke, the agents rushed forward, putting handcuffs on Angelica and taking her away to be arrested.

Doris, visibly excited by the successful outcome of the operation, hurried towards Elvis, exclaiming, "Well done, Mr. Presley! We did it!"

Elvis nodded, a sense of relief and dissipation of tension slowly taking over. He answered with a sincere and grateful smile, "Thank you, Doris. Without your help, we couldn't have done it. You're incredibly brave."

Everyone gathered around Elvis, their concern and curiosity prompting them to ask questions and ensure he was okay.

Watching from the car, I found it hard to process what had just happened. I felt a combination of relief and pity. Was it really over? At the same time, I sympathized with Angelica, trying to understand the depth of her hate that had brought her to this point. In a few minutes, she was gone, taken away in a police car and disappearing at the end of the street.

The rest of the day passed with statements to the police, paperwork, and medical care for Jerry. Alex was gradually recovering. As quickly as Elvis’s men had taken him to the hospital with Jerry, he was discharged. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him and thank him for everything, but I decided to do it once he was fully recovered.

Having sorted out the chaos and ensured security, Elvis and I found ourselves back at the International. As we walked through the hotel corridors, Elvis's face showed signs of exhaustion but also a sense of relief.

Elvis cracked a tired smile and broke the silence. "Ya know," he mused, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I gotta admit, I found it downright hilarious when Angelica lost her marbles and called ya ‘my wife’ today" He opened the suite door, and we stepped inside.

I nodded in agreement, a nervous smile on my face, replying, "Yeah, I guess she’d see us as a couple or something... It does seem like she’s taken it quite personally."

Elvis nodded and hummed, his lips curling into a smirk. He played with our hands as he spoke, his eyes focused on them. “We ain’t really talked about this, have we?”

“About what?” I asked, my heart pounding faster with each beat. I knew exactly what he was hinting at, but I craved to hear the words straight from his lips. I wasn't sure if what I was about to hear would be good or bad news.

Elvis took off his blood-stained jacket and let it fall onto a nearby chair. He sighed deeply, releasing all the tension built up during the day. Through the opening of his shirt, his body still glowed with sweat, with a few bruises as medals from that fight.

“Never mind honey. We’ll chew it over tomorrow when we’re rested. For now, I just wanna kiss ya and be close.” Elvis declared, then he took me by the waist and pulled me towards him, embracing me tightly. “If I’d lost ya today, I don’t know how I would’ve handled it.”

His gentle touch and the warmth of his presence enveloped me, providing a sense of safety. Elvis loosened his embrace to tenderly caress my face, his gaze searching mine. His expression was filled with tenderness as he drew closer to me.

“I wouldn’t have been able to bear losing you either,” I said, in a moment of bravery, getting lost in the blue of his eyes.

As I said that, Elvis focused his gaze on my lips. Feeling his hands on both sides of my face and his thumbs stroking my cheeks, his plushy lips met mine. We melted into the warmest kiss we had ever had.

That kiss sent a wave of ecstasy through my whole body. As he kissed me, Elvis let go of one hand from my face to slowly trace down my back, making that caress send shivers down my spine.

I longed for the feel of his lips on mine, the touch of his fingers against my skin. It seemed I had developed a profound addiction to his very presence, the alluring scent of his cologne, and the natural essence of his body. I found myself captivated by his charming smile, the endearing dips in his cheeks, and the profound sense of care and concern he showered upon me.

As we slowly dissolved into one another, Elvis methodically began undressing me with gentle, deliberate motions. Each movement set off a new wave of sensations within me, and at that very moment, we were acutely aware of every response our bodies made to one another. I could feel his warm breath caressing my nose, his tongue dancing and entwining with mine, and the slight brush of his arm hair against the raised bumps on my exposed skin as he lifted my shirt...

Little did we know that during this moment of passion, Priscilla was slowly approaching from the bathroom, tears streaming down her face, quietly aiming a gun at us.

Need to recap? Part 8 here

Part 10

Tags: @pxpresley , @malachimochi , @elvispresleywife , @elvisslut ❤️

[its-vannah]

Guilt | Eddie Roundtree x Reader

A/N: I don't know where my head went while I wrote this.

Warnings: Angst, glass breaking (?), infidelity, lots of profanity

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Y/N slammed the bedroom door shut behind her, nearly taking off Eddie's face in the process. She had made the choice to trust him—a choice she now regretted.

Eddie opened the door, shutting it behind him. You knew he felt bad—or, rather, guilty. You knew he didn't regret it. The only thing he regretted was not getting to Camilla first.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, rocking gently back and forth, his lips finding the spot where you neck met your shoulder, whispering, "Baby, please, you know I love you."

But you didn't know that—because he broke your fucking heart. And even if he did love you—it was different. He was in love with Camilla.

For a moment, you almost allowed yourself to fall back into him. You could settle for being second best. At least, you could for him.

But the smell of alcohol hot on his breath told you everything he needed to know. So did the lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt—a shade you didn't wear.

You pushed yourself away, "Fuck you, Eddie."

He tried to grab a hold of your wrist, but you slapped him away.

"Baby, please."

Tears stung as they filled your eyes, "You don't get to touch me. You don't get to tell me you fucking love me when you just got back from fucking her. How dare you, Eddie. Did you think about me? When you were on top of her? Or, better yet—do you think about her when you're on top of me?"

His silence said everything.

"Pack your shit, asshole."

Eddie shook his head, "Y/N, it was—it just happened. I won't do it again. I've known her my whole life—it just—it happened."

"So she just fell on your dick?" You asked, crossing your arms, "I told you to pack your shit."

"Baby, please."

"I'm not your baby, Eddie," You hissed, "I love you with everything I have in me—but I will not be second to her. I won't be second to anyone. You played with me. Fuck you. Fuck you!"

You pushed him back, accidentally shoving him into a picture frame of the two of you. It fell off the shelf, glass flying everywhere once it hit the ground.

He slammed his fist into a wall, "Damnit, Y/N! Be careful!"

"I was careful, Eddie. I was so fucking careful. And yet, here we are. You fucked another woman, you're getting your shit, and you're leaving."

"C'mon, Y/N. You can't just let me go. You need me. I need you."

You shook your head, "You need to feel loved. But you've got the wrong girl. You could've had the right girl, but you went and fucked it all up."

Eddie shook his head, walking past you and into the bedroom. He went straight into the closet, grabbing an overnight bag.

He had accepted it—but he hadn't processed it. Not yet, at least.

You watched him pack, holding back the urge to run back into his arms.

Your eyes were glued to him as he haphazardly shoved articles of clothing into his bag, pulling the zipper so hard it almost snapped off.

He walked past you, his shoulder hitting yours. That's when you lost it, sinking to the floor, crumpled in a ball in the doorway.

Eddie looked pack at you, saying a silent prayer that you'd take him back. No, he didn't love you like he loved Camilla. But he was comfortable in the life you had made.

"Eddie," You whispered in between breaths, your hands pulling at your hair as you begged for him to come to you.

He threw his bag to the side, kneeling down to the side, "I'm here, baby."

"For both of us?"

A look of confusion settled on his face, "Both of you?"

"Eddie," You looked up, your eyes swollen from crying, "I'm pregnant."

[justpoliteconversations]

Fall Birds [BOTW!Link + Reader]

Met an old friend, fought an old fight and completed the sacred ritual of the season.

Another one for the pile, but this time it's creation was out of my hands. Made for this Poll.

Masterlist

Companion piece:

Unsung Hero [TP!Link + Veterinarian!Reader]

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

The air is heavy with the scent of sodden earth and Fall's ripened bounties. Leaves of all colors and sizes rise in great torrents in the wind, flashing and twirling in dizzying, enchanting patterns across the green and brown of the forest floor. They gather at your feet, at your back, around the trunks of trees and in great piles upon shrubs and bushes.

You jump, crushing several of the colorful leaves under foot as they tumble passed in a great heap. More rush forth to take thier place, and you pounce forward to meet them, flakes and cumpled colors speckled across your socks and in your shoes.

A mirthful smile pulls against your lips, a delighted laugh bubbling forth as the wind kicks up and a wall of color slams into you like the wings of a thousand butterflies. They tangle in your hair, creep their way into your hood, down the back of your jacket. One ends up in your mouth. You spit it out, laughing louder still.

The wind pushes again, and this time it takes you to the ground in a giggling, overwhelmed slump. The torrent of leaves overruns your poorly manned defenses, burying you from head to toe. They are soft but itchy against your skin, crumpling crisply as you claw your way free of the onslaught.

Finally you emerge, face flushed from laugher and your labors and your head now laden more with leaves than hair. Breath comes difficult to you, as leaves still swirl into your face even as you stand above the chaos.

A flash of blue is before you suddenly, and you look up, up, up into the treetops.

A man sits within a nest of branches, looking down at you with a scar marred frown, eyes narrow as he takes in your disheveled form. You level him with the look right back, face twisted in a haughty sneer. There is a long, tense silence, neither willing to break this unspoken battle between you.

Then a leaf hits you right dab in the eye and you yelp, flailing wildly until your foot hits a loose patch of leaves and you go down once more. Within moments, you're once more trapped by the unending waves of leaves flowing in from all directions.

The man is suddenly laughing, rasping, husky and broken like glass shards grinding to rock. Harsh on the ears and unpleasant to the mind, but to you...

To you it means...

"Friend!" You voice hitches in an unattractive squeal as you fight your way back to the surface, smile so wide on your dirty face you can taste fresh soil and foliage in your mouth.

A hand reaches into the pile and pulls you free of the leaves with careless strength, dragging you into a back cracking hug. The scent of fresh rain and wet dirt and unwashed skin meets your nose and you grip back just as fiercely, laughing all the while.

You're lifted off your feet and tossed into the air without warning, going airborne for several seconds before landing in a truly massive pile of leaves some feet away. You're laughing the whole while, breathless with delight and adrenaline as blood pumps so loudly in your ears the world is muffled by the pulsing in your ears.

You sink down, down, down until the light of day completely leaves your sight. They cushion you, cradle you, they smell of fall and the harvests soon to come.

And then they're gone, blown away in a great gust of wind and you go flying with them. Soaring above the clusters of colors with effortless lift, watching the ground below fly passed you with wonderous rapture.

The ground gets closer. The leaves take individual shapes against the backdrop of grass and trees. You don't bother to brace for impact. Another gust of wind takes you back up in a smooth arch, leaves aplenty following in your wake like a trail of fairy lights flashing in the sun.

You look down and you see him, a flash of bright blue against the swirl of reds and browns, yellows and oranges, holding a korok leaf and chasing behind you with breathtaking speed. His face is plastered in a grin, all teeth and not an ounce of grace nor restraint. Wild and free. utterly untamable.

You screech in delight and he waves his weapon again, lifting you higher still into the sky. So high you can see over the tops of the trees, so far you can make out the shape of the mountains over the hills and walls of the town.

You start to fall. The feeling of gravity taking you back to ground pure adrenaline in your veins. And you roar with it, your voice lost to the wind. The leaves around you twist and flash in the light, like fish of every color swimming free through the endless blue.

Your hair is waving in the downward pull, mixing with the twirl of the colors far above.

A blast of sound and light. The rush of wind and heat. And suddenly arms are around you, hoisting you onto a firm back and you grip around strong shoulders with trusting ease.

In a flash of blue light a glider is above you, shading you from the sun and sheltering you from the wild storm of leaves cutting through the cool air around you.

The world is a riot of colors and shapes, the flittering of shade and light casting the world in beautiful, chaotic disarray. The soft, fluttering turfs of blonde brushing against your face and neck pull a smile to your dirt streaked face. The shallow, uneven breathing punctuated by the occasional heave of silent, scratchy laughter music to your senses.

The world below you is bright and gleaming in the sun's distant shine. Treetops of every shade and shape and every dazzling color form a mismatched carpet of life far below the now gentle flow of leaves caught helplessly on the wind's whim.

You press your cheek to the back of the man's neck, relaxing completely into his warmth with a gentle sigh that stirs the hairs on the back of his nape. You feel the moment his body softens as well, the moment a hand reaches back and opens for yours. Vulnerable and yet unafraid.

You slide your hand around his battle worn fingers, equally as trusting and tender in his hold.

"Another year to us, my friend. I'm glad to have met you." You said softly into his knuckles, before placing them gently against your forehead. "May the winds always carry you wild and free."

The sun sets as it always does, and that night you curl together with this man you love and cherish like kittens among the leaf litter. His hands in yours, your legs intertwined. The warm gust of his breath is soft against your face.

You smile. Slow and tender, tears of affection and overwhelming gratitude beading in your lashes unfallen. "Thank you. I'll miss you, my friend." You curl closer until he is in your arms, his hand curling trustingly into your crumpled shirt. His face lax with sleep and pleasant dreams. "I'll see you again next year. Stay safe, always."

You close your eyes and sleep, dreaming of a vast ocean teeming from horizon to horizon in an endless swarm of flashing fins and glimmering bodies.

He's gone the next morning, as he is every year. Once shared blankets tucked tightly around your sleeping form, leaves piled high against the vulnrable curve of your back. A single baked apple held loosely in your hand, still warm to the touch against your morning chilled skin.

You smile, and let the tears finally fall freely against dirt stained cheeks.

"I'll be waiting for you. Until next year, my dearest friend."

And so ends another season.

---

To the shadows.

[avastrasposts]

The Accident

Should I maybe be writing chapter 7 of The Pilot and his girl? Yes.

Did I accidentally write 2.1 k of angst and fluff for our sweet boy Frankie instead because I wanted something for #frankiefriday? Yes.

Warnings: we've got pretty graphic descriptions of injuries and blood in a hospital setting so if you're iffy about that, be warned.

The call came through just as Frankie instructed his student to adjust her course and climb to a new altitude. Denny’s voice over the radio sounds agitated and stressed. Pausing his lesson he responds, a bad feeling immediately settling in his stomach. 

“Frankie here, what’s up, boss?”

“I’m sorry, Frankie, they called, I don’t know how bad, General just called, General Hospital,” Denny says, stumbling over the words, “your girlfriend’s at their ER, there was an accident, a hit and run, you’d better get over there.”

Frankie feels his throat close up and panic rises in his chest, his fingers close hard around the stick and he feels tunnel vision set in as he breathes out a pained Fuck. 

“Fly over there, I’ll clear it with them, just get there, don’t worry about the chopper, I’ll arrange a pick up,” Denny’s voice barely cuts through the fuzz in Frankie’s ears as he goes into solution mode. 

He feels like he’s back in the army, back in gear, running a mission to get himself and the guys out. The woman in the co-pilot seat says something but he doesn’t register. He sets a new course, hearing the all clear from General as Denny relays their message. Minutes feel like hours as he flies towards the landing pad onto top of the high rise in downtown, his pulse pounding in his ears. 

Images are flitting through his head, he’s trying to push them down. Memories of the injuries he’s seen fits themselves onto the body of the woman he loves. He sees your limbs broken, open wounds, dark bruises, blood matted into your hair, trailing down your face, dripping into unseeing eyes as his mind unwittingly imagines you lying crumpled on the street, unconscious on a stretcher, dead in a hospital bed. 

He’s flying on autopilot, going through the motions that are seared into his nerves, and lands on the helipad, shutting down the helicopter, unbuckling himself, he hits the ground running, heading for the door into the hospital. 

The elevator down to the ground floor is too slow, he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet as it inches down to the ER, wrenching up the doors the second it stops he pushes past the people waiting and scans the room. Grabbing a nurse by the arm he demands to know where you are, his grip on the nurse's arm almost too hard, the panic in his voice not even contained. The nurse brings him over to a computer and checks. 

“They’ve brought her up to the ICU, room five, second floor.” 

Frankie takes off at a run, the elevator is too slow, he barges through the doors to the stairs and takes them three at a time, his heartbeat skyrocketing, breathing hard, cold sweat trickling down his spine. Skidding around a corner he throws the door open to the ICU ward, frantically scanning the wall for the numbers of the rooms he jogs down the hallway, panting loudly. 

Where is she? ICU isn’t good. I can’t…don’t think, don’t think, Frankie, just find her.

Room five, closed door, glass walls, people in hospital uniforms hovering around a bed, between their moving forms he catches glimpses of your face under an oxygen mask, eyes closed, a gash over your eyebrow, dark stains on your pale blue shirt, my shirt, she borrowed it this morning, your complexion...

Fuck, no, no, she’s lost so much blood, there’s so much blood, she’s not…she’s…

“Cariño! Nononono!!” Frankie’s anguished cry cuts through the sedated hospital hallway, he’s trying to rip the door open, “Let me in!! She’s my girlfriend! Fuck! I need to be with her, let me the fuck in!!” The door rattles under his assault but strong arms are pulling him back, away from her. 

“Let me go! Let me in! I need to be with her! Fuck off!” He tries to shake off whoever has a hold of him but they are too strong. “Fucking let me go! I have to go to her! I have to, let me go!” 

“Frankie! Frankie! Cálmate, hermano, cálmate!” Pope’s voice cuts through his panic, holding him back with one arm hooked around his chest, the other gripping his arm. “You’ve got to let them do their job, there’s nothing you can do.” His grip around Frankie doesn’t let up, his friend is trashing under his arms, staring at the face of his girlfriend, motionless on the bed behind the glass walls. 

“She can’t…I can’t handle…Santi, please…fuck, Santi, she can’t, I…” Frankie’s panic turns to despair as he watches the doctors and nurses move around his girlfriend’s still body. His hand squeezes hard on Pope’s arm around his chest, digging his nails in without noticing his friend wince.

Somewhere in his brain he knows that as long as they are moving, there’s still hope. He looks at you, stares at you through the glass, willing you to keep breathing, to know that he’s here, that he’s by your side even if it’s behind a glass wall. 

“Come on, Frankie, let's sit down, there’s a waiting area over there,” Pope tugs gently at Frankie’s arm but he doesn’t budge. 

“No, I have to be here, I have to see her,” Frankie mumbles and pushes Pope’s arm off him. With his back to the wall he slides down it and sits on the hospital floor, never taking his eyes off you. Pope sits down next to him and puts his hand on his shoulder. 

“She knows you’re here now, hermano, I know it.” 

Together they sit and watch the organised calm and efficiency that permeates the ICU room. Blood bags are hooked up to you, an IV with a clear liquid replaced, your shirt is cut off and Frankie whimpers when they remove a temporary dressing and he sees the swelling on your abdomen and a harsh gash where something has cut along your ribs, tearing you open to the bone. A doctor blocks the view for a long time and when she moves a white compress and bandage covers the injury. Bit by bit your injuries are assessed and addressed, results from scans brought in and treatments agreed upon. Eventually the flow of people in the room slows down and a doctor steps out and spots the two men sitting on the floor. 

“What are you doing here? The waiting room is down the hall, no outsiders are allowed here.”

“Please, doc, she’s my girlfriend,” Frankie pushes himself off the floor and stands up, his eyes dark and hooded with worry, “I have to be with her, how is she? I don’t even know what happened.” 

The doctor’s eyes shift from annoyance to compassion when she sees Frankie’s anguished face. “She’s still in a critical state, but she’s stable, for now. She lost a lot of blood but we stopped the bleeding and she’s stabilising. She’s got a complicated break on her left arm that we’ll have to do surgery on but the priority now is the head trauma, a concussion, and some serious internal bleeding that we have to keep a close eye on, so until that’s under control, she’ll be in the ICU.”

“What happened to her?” Pope asks as he sees Frankie trying to process the information, his eyes flitting back to his girlfriend’s still form on the bed. 

“The paramedics said it was a hit and run. She was hit by a car, seemingly running a red light, when she was on a crosswalk. The police will want to talk to her once she’s able to, they’re interviewing witnesses and...”

The doctor’s voice fades away as Frankie moves towards the glass wall, all he can focus on is the slow movement of your chest, rising with the smallest lift as you breathe, proving to him that you’re still alive. 

“Hermosa,” he whispers against the glass, “I’m here. I’m here and I’m not leaving.” 

Pope looks over at Frankie, his friend leaning his forehead against the glass, staring at you. 

“Can he go in? He needs to let her know he’s here.” 

The doctor looks over at Frankie who’s turned his head and is looking at her with pleading eyes, “Please, doc, I need to talk to her.” 

“Ok, you can sit with her but when staff tells you to leave, you have to leave immediately. And your friend needs to wait in the waiting area,” she says, looking at Pope. 

He nods, “Absolutely, no problem, I’ll go call her parents, let them know.” 

Frankie’s already slid the door open, carefully stepping into the room, and towards the bed. Your uninjured hand is on the bedcovers, an oximeter on your finger, and he carefully wraps his hand around yours as he looks at you for any signs that you can hear him. Your hand is icy cold, the blood loss making your skin deprived of any warmth and he carefully cups your cheek with his other hand, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. 

“Mi hermosa, mi vida, I’m here, please don’t leave me,” he whispers, his fingers never seizing their movement over your skin. He bends down over the bed, pressing his lips against your forehead, kissing your skin, the tip of your cold nose, your cheek, gently fitting his face against the crook of your neck and breathing warm air on your bleak skin, willing all of the heat in his body to pass into to you, to warm your chilled frame. His breath ghosts over your ear as he speaks to you, willing you to hear him, to know that he’s here. 

“Te amo, te amo, cariño.” 

He stays bent over your body, ignoring the protests from his lower back as he carefully rests his head on your shoulder. 

Eventually a nurse comes along and takes pity on him. She checks the machines around you and then brings him a folding chair to set up next to the bed. He gratefully sits down on it, his hand still curled around yours, and leans his head against your arm. 

“Please don’t leave me, mi vida,” he whispers, “you have to stay, what am I gonna do without you?” He looks up at your closed eyes, rests his hand gently on your chest to make sure you’re breathing. He knows there are machines measuring every possible thing your body does, but he needs to feel it for himself, the slow lift of your chest, the heart, weak, but still beating. “I love you, don’t go. I can’t…I can’t lose you,” he bites back the panic that threatens to rise up as he touches upon that thought, forcing himself to focus on your heartbeat, it’s still there. “I know I need you more than you need me, that’s how it’s always been. You always say I’m your rock, I’m the steady one that calms you down when you have a shitty day at work or fight with your dad, or you’re just stressed out. But I can only be steady because you’re there, I’m calm when I can hold you, you ground me, hermosa. Without you I’m a mess, a fucking mess that can’t keep his shit togther. I need you. Always.” 

Frankie inhales deeply and presses his forehead against your arm, his fingers curled around your hand. 

And he feels it. A small twitch, the slightest pressure from your hand on his. He jerks up his head, looking at your eyes as your eyelids begin to flutter, your mouth moving under the oxygen mask. 

“Frankie…” you croak, your voice broken and cracked, no more than a faint whisper. But he hears it. 

“I’m here, hermosa, I’m here!” he grips your hand tighter, standing up so that he can look down at you, so that he’s the first thing you see when you open your eyes. 

Your eyelids flutter open, blinking against the harsh light of the ICU room, but slowly they find his warm, brown eyes, looking down at you with pained relief. 

“Cariño, mi vida, I’m here, I’m here,” he whispers, stroking your cheek, bending down to place a featherlight kiss on your cheek, his warm lips hot against your cold skin. “I’ve got you, don’t worry, I’ve got you, hermosa, just don’t scare me like that again.” His mouth is still against your cheek, whispering into your ear, his hand cupping your other cheek, his warm body radiating heat as he leans closer. With difficulty you lift your arm and put your hand on his head, feeling his soft curls under your stiff fingers. Your grip is weak but nothing could make him move from where he is now, nothing can make him leave you. 

“Mi hermosa” he whispers, “just rest now, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll always be here.”

[nothing0fnothing]

One time my mother, in a rage over open windows, came to my closed bedroom door and hit it so hard the coat hook attached to my side of it came down. The door did not open, as the handle needed to be turned to do that. When she engaged the handle the wooden coat hook, with my coats on top of it, caught under the door and jammed it in place.

I had been sitting happily on my bed, quietly playing Nintendogs on my DS when this happened, with no idea I'd done something wrong. When I head the door bang and watched the coat hanger clatter to the ground I lept up in fright and, on instinct, drew away from the door I anticipated would fly open at any second.

The door had no lock installed on it, and never had. We were not a locks on doors household, the only one being the tiny silver slide lock on the downstairs half bath. Nevertheless, she accused me of locking the door, and demanded I unlock it immediately.

I approached the shaking door gingerly, very afraid to be near it when the coat became dislodged. She was screaming and banging so hard and with such tenacity that I'd barely managed to jump out of its path just in time as it swung open fast and hard, missing my face by a hair and slamming hard against the wall.

Now inside my room, she approached, looming over me, screaming barely coherent words, scaring the absolute soul out of me. She had me backed into the corner on the other side of the room, drawn into myself completely, as if I could shrink into my own shadow and disappear.

Suddenly she stopped, turned around and went out the way she'd came.

"Clean up this shit." She snapped, gesturing the the mess of broken wood and coats that was now crumpled in a heap at the wall.

Then she was gone, slamming my door behind her, leaving me scared and shaking, my arms still reflexively up in a defense position my eyes still streaming. I stood there a moment composing myself, eyes glued on the door processing what had just happened.

Luckily I'd stood there in shock before jumping to her command to clean up the broken coat hooks, because if I hadn't the door would have hit me hard as she slammed it against the wall a second time.

I turned white as a sheet as I realised I was stood exactly as I was when she told me to clean the coats up less than twenty second prior.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing" I answered honestly, my first word since this entire interaction began.

She screamed a long screech and stormed away. She left the door open with the coat mess behind it, and cowering like a frightened cat as she went to find something or someone else to inflict her mood onto.

I waited a beat to see if she was coming back, but once I'd tracked her footsteps to the back door, the complete other side to the house that I was on, I breathed for what felt like the first time in a whole minute. The room felt cold and the quiet, the repetitive music drifting out of my DS felt out of place. I carefully moved the door so I could get to what was behind it, ensuring I'd left it ajar so I could easily hear what was going on downstairs and have some warning if she came back.

Crouched uncomfortably, I began collecting and sorting the mess. Broken wood in one pile, coats in another, while I considered what to do with them now I had no hooks to hang them from. Mum might fly off again if I let them take up a lot of space if hung inside my wardrobe, but she also might if I let them take up 4 whole hooks supposed to be shared by the family on the coat hooks in the foyer. I could stack them in twos, only taking up two hooks, but I didn't want to face the wrath if one slipped or fell either. I was considering the possibility of hanging them on coat hangers on the outside of my wardrobe, draping them over the doors until I heard movement again.

I froze completely still while I tracked the movement from the back garden door, through the kitchen and into the dining room, going cold when I realised it was coming in my direction. It stopped at the stairs and my mums voice, shrill and too loud came from up them.

"Why is your door closed?"

I grabbed and pulled it open fast, praying she wouldn't come up and see how I'd let it scatter the wood pieces.

"Did I tell you to open it or did I ask you why it was closed?"

"I'm cleaning the wood up" I squeaked, scrambling to collect them all into the bin.

"Wood? What wood?" She asked. I trembled in horror hearing her begin up the stairs again. "What wood?" She repeated, angrier, I couldn't even string an explanation together, frightened that a retelling of the truth might come across too critical and earn me a beating.

It didn't matter anyway, because she was now in my bedroom doorway for the third time since this began, staring down at me as I got the last of the broken bits into the bin. My heart was thumping so painfully hard in my chest a panicked thought loudly told me that I'd surely have a heart attack and die at any moment.

"You've been up here for half an hour doing that?" She asked. I wasn't sure I was, but I nodded anyway.

She sighed angrily and took the coats from my lap. "Just play your game." She said, leaving the door ajar as she left.

Once my heart went back to normal and my cold skin warmed up, I allowed myself to sit gingerly on my bed again. I continued tracking her movements with my ears the rest of the day. They were less stompy and I even heard her laughing and joking on the phone.

I picked up a book and read for a while, then I let myself get back to my game, playing on mute, but still I let my ears follow her around the house, my stomach turning every time she approached the stairs. She left me alone till bed time, when she came to check I'd brushed my teeth and popped a hot chocolate on my night stand. I hugged her and let her kiss me and had nightmares all night.

[ephemerasnape]

The Shed (Drabble) 🔞

You and Sebastian don't stand a chance against an ex-auror and an army of inferi. What if Solomon survives and blames you for all that's happened?

Solomon Sallow x Reader (MC)

What can I say - I was inspired.

Gender Neutral - Rape - Corporal Punishment - Age Difference - Homicide

Read below or on ao3. 🔞

“You.”

All around you, the smoldering bodies of inferi lay scattered as the burly former auror limps in your direction, clutching his arm, his face twisted into a pained grimace.

Sebastian had left - apparated away in a panic once it had become clear the battle had been lost. And he’d left you on your knees, desperately choking down your last Wiggenweld.

Where had Solomon learned to do magic like that? You’d only seen Executioners conjure those columns of fire… He definitely hadn’t been fooling around.

“You’re to blame for this,” the older man hisses, staggering forward to take hold of your arm.

In an instant, your whole body jerks as you feel the telltale pull of apparition. Moments later, you fall to the ground, barely catching yourself before your face makes contact with the earth. Head spinning and senses overwhelmed, you try to take deep breaths to steady the rising nausea in your stomach.

As you slowly regain control of your faculties, a pair of shoes comes into focus in front of your face. Furrowing your brow in confusion, your gaze travels from the shoes upwards, over a pair of dark and dirty trousers until you’re making eye contact with Sebastian’s cantankerous uncle.

“M-mister Sallow,” you begin, then let out a yelp of surprise and pain as meaty fingers grab your hair and yank you to your feet. Your hands fly to your scalp in a desperate attempt to relieve the tension as the wizard forces your face closer to his.

“This is all your doing, child. You’ve led my nephew astray.”

With that, Mr. Sallow roughly shoves you across the small room – some kind of shed or storage area? - walking towards you menacingly as you regain your footing.

My wand…

Eyes wide, you go for your holster and then, coming up empty, to your pockets, patting desperately for the familiar bit of wood. Standing to loom above you, Mister Sallow lets out a deep chuckle.

“Looking for this?” he taunts, producing your wand. You leap forward to try to grab it, only to have it held out of reach. “Ah-ah,” he admonishes. “I don’t think so.”

With that. Solomon grasps your wand with both hands and decisively snaps it, the loud crack that fills the room hitting you like a slap to the face.

No…!

You watch in dismay, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as the older wizard tosses the pieces of your broken wand to the floor, and then, in horror, as thick fingers begin to unbuckle his belt.

Your hands raised in a defensive posture, you take a step back. “Mister Sallow… What are you doing?”

The belt in his hands then, he flexes and tests the thick brown leather.

“Teaching you a lesson. Divesto.”

The cry that escapes your lips as you are unceremoniously stripped of all clothing is unrecognizable as your own.

“No.. Please!” you beg, pressing your back to the cold stone wall in a vain attempt to get away from the large wizard.

“Cry and plead all you like, welp. No one will hear you. Now, turn around,” he commands.

Tears streaming down your face, you slowly turn to face the wall, where you immediately notice distinctive fingernail marks streaking the surface. It dawns on you then that this is not the first time this shed had been used in such a way.

Sebastian…

Without warning, the blows begin to rain down on you – raising welts across your back, buttocks, and thighs. You do your best not to cry out – not to make a sound, but by the fifth blow you are wailing uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Behind you, the ex-auror grunts “This for your own good, crupmite.”

A few blows later, you lose your ability to stand, and find yourself crumpled into a sobbing heap on the dirt floor.

“That’ll learn ya,” he gloats, beginning to put his belt back on – then hesitates, his eyes raking over your exposed body. “Come this far already…” he mumbles, more to himself than you.

You sniffle, confused as to his meaning, but in too much shock to really register the bizarre statement.

The man takes a step back and points to the far corner of the room where you notice a small bed. He doesn’t need to say a word for you to understand his meaning. Gingerly, you get to your feet, wincing and groaning as you approach the – Sebastian’s? - bed, but before you can reach it, a force hits you hard from behind, knocking the wind out of you.

He’s on top of you, his substantial weight pinning you down face-first to the itchy straw mattress. You let out a distressed groan, struggling to breathe, gritting your teeth against the intense pain of his attire pressing into your wounds. Behind you, you can hear him fumbling with his trousers.

“No, Mister Sallow, please!”

The wizard grabs your hips then, lifting them upwards so that your backside is elevated.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll cooperate. It’s the least you can do after all the trouble you’ve caused,” he whispers into your ear, and you feel an odd tingling sensationbetween your legs followed by a distinctive wetness.

Sebastian.. Help me, please..

You cry bitterly, squeezing your eyes shut, your entire body tensing as you prepare to be violated by Solomon Sallow. The blunt head of his cock presses up against your opening, promising pain, and you wish with all your heart that you’d never helped Sebastian on his mad quest.

But the pain never comes. Instead you hear a loud screech – “Avada Kedavra!” - followed by the heavy thump of Solomon’s body falling lifeless to the ground beside the bed.

Despite being physically unencumbered, you don’t move. You just weep – bitterly. Gratefully.

“Uncle…”

Cautiously, you turn to face the new arrival.

“Anne?” you whisper, noting the sickly witch’s devastated expression.

“Solomon.. I was worried that he’d take it out on you," she sobs.

“And now I’ve killed him..”

[maxattax]

Reaching Out

Happy Valentine's Core Exchange to @creoastra! I really hope you like it!

@valentines-core-exchange

--

Danny had heard rumors that Penelope Spectra had found a new haunt. Frustrated that he had to leave Amity Park to find her, he flew as fast as he could, sweeping the region. He was not surprised that his ghost sense finally went off when he passed the local community college.

“What, you couldn’t find any teens to make miserable so you’re going for college students now?” Danny flew closer to Spectra and fired an ectoblast at her. She dodged out of the way, cackling.

“I can see your aim hasn’t improved,” Spectra shot back. “And where are your little friends? Did they finally tell you they don’t like you?” Her smirk grew. 

“I – no! They like me!” Danny shot another blast, this one hitting the mark. She hit the ground and rolled. He flew closer to her, feeling his belt to make sure his thermos was easily accessible.

“But they don’t want you, you know,” Spectra said, already getting to her feet, seeming unperturbed by the attack. “Not the way you want them.”

One long, agonizing second tore his heart in half.

“You don’t know that! You – you can’t!” 

“Why not? You know I can see all your fears. You know I can tell how you’re still scared that they judge you for being transgender.” She might as well have hit him over the head. “That you’ve been pining for your friends, too afraid to tell them.”

Danny realized he had stopped attacking and was letting her monologue. But… she was right. She was always frustratingly accurate when she tried to get to him. Knowing that she twisted things to make people miserable didn’t make it hurt any less, or make it easier to ignore.

Danny redoubled his efforts, shooting a blast of ice at the ghost. In an attempt to not give her more ammo to use against him, he said nothing. But she didn’t need any, and deftly dodged out of the way of the ice.

“You’re a half-dead freak. Who could love a thing like you? You know, most kids would go to their parents for romantic woes. But yours are more concerned with hunting you down than helping you. You have nobody; you are utterly alone.”

“Shut up!” Danny flew forward and punched her square in the face, sending her flying into a wall. He followed it with an ectoblast to the torso. And then another, and another. She crumpled to the ground, twitching with each attack. He stopped when she stopped moving.

Before she could get back up, Danny uncapped the thermos and captured Spectra.

She always went right for the jugular, but that didn’t make it true. Back when Danny fought her the first time, she lied about Jazz calling him a loser. But Jazz had said nothing of the sort. In fact, Danny realized, he wasn’t alone. He could talk to Jazz. She’d know what to say.

–

Danny came home to find the living room silent, and Jazz sitting on the couch with a book. “Hey, are you busy?” Danny asked. “I could use some advice.”

Jazz’s face lit up. “I’m never too busy to offer advice!” she said.

“Can we go upstairs?” Danny said. “I don’t want Mom and Dad to hear us.”

“Of course,” They made their way upstairs and into Jazz’s room. Jazz took a seat at her desk, and Danny sat on the edge of her bed.

Danny fiddled with the zipper of his NASA hoodie. “So… I ran into Spectra today.”

“Oh no,” Jazz said. “Whatever she said, you know she’s just trying to get into your head.”

“Seems like she’s already in there, reading my thoughts.” Danny’s tone was bitter.

“Tell me your worries, little brother. I’m here to listen.”

Danny slumped onto the bed. “I may as well put it out there. I like Sam; I have for a while. Apparently that’s a surprise to nobody.” He gave a dry chuckle. “But I like Tucker too. I want both of them. But they’d never go for it. You’ve seen how they’re at each other’s throats half the time.”

“Yes, and they’re inseparable the other half of the time. You’re all best friends for a reason. How do you know they’re not interested in anything more?”

“I guess… but I don’t know. I want to be a regular human guy, but I’m not really human, and I’m not really a guy, and they deserve some normalcy in their life.”

“You stop that. Trans guys are guys, and that includes you. And you are human, in all the ways that count. You’re not wrong, though, that going out with a trans person presents unique challenges.” Jazz nodded thoughtfully. “And dating a half-ghost superhero does as well. But Danny, they’re your best friends. They understand you better than anyone else. If they do want you, they know what they’re signing up for.”

“You said ‘if’ they want me. How can I know? I don’t want to make things weird between us. I can’t risk our friendship on this.” Danny sighed. “I appreciate the pep talk. I’m just… scared of what they’ll say.”

“I can’t know how they’ll react. But I know it won’t ruin things. You mean too much to them for them to throw away years of friendship. Think of it this way: Best case scenario, you gain a wonderful girlfriend and boyfriend. Two partners who would do anything for you. Worst case, they’re not interested in you that way, but you still have two best friends who care about you. I think it’s worth a shot.”

Danny smiled. “Thanks, Jazz. I’ll talk to them soon.”

–

Danny’s stomach flipped in circles as he watched Tucker and Sam eat their food. They were at a nice Italian restaurant; Sam had offered to pay for dinner, and Danny thought Italian food would have enough variety that everyone would be happy. Tucker dug into his spaghetti and meatballs with fervor, while Sam delicately picked at her eggplant parmesan. 

His best friends were so different from each other, and that’s what he loved about them. He longed to reach over and touch them, brush Sam’s hair out of her face, playfully rustle Tucker’s beret. But it would be weird. But if he could just tell them how he felt… His stomach did another flip. He wasn’t sure he was ready.

“Danny, are you okay? You haven’t touched your chicken francese.” Sam looked at him with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Danny lied. He took a bite of his chicken. The flavor of the lemon-wine sauce was vibrant. He knew this place was a good choice. But the delicious food didn’t calm his nerves.

“I know you, dude. You look like something’s eating you.” Tucker observed. Okay, maybe Danny wasn’t as good a liar as he’d hoped.

“I just have a lot on my mind,” Danny said. He couldn’t believe he was going to confess his feelings to his crushes. He wanted to scooch closer to them in their roomy booth, and he knew that if he just told them how he felt, maybe they’d let him. Or they’d say it was weird and they didn’t want to be friends anymore. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing them.

“You can tell us anything,” Sam said. “You know we won’t judge you.”

“Probably,” Tucker added, with a chuckle. Sam glared at him, but the effect was lessened by her smile.

Danny chuckled. “I know. You guys know my biggest secret. I trust you with my life,”

“Then what’s on your mind?” Tucker asked.

Danny took a deep breath. The smell of delicious Italian food grounded him, helped to pull him out of his head a little. He could do this. Jazz believed it would be okay, and he trusted her.

“I… have a crush.” Danny started. “On you.” He looked between the two of them. Tucker frowned.

“Man, I knew you two had a thing for each other, but I’m kinda third-wheeling it here.”

Danny clarified, “Both of you.” He hid his head in his hands. “Is that weird?” he mumbled into his hands.

Tucker sounded much more lively when he said, “Dude, it’s not just me? I’ve been into you two for ages, but I didn’t think I stood a chance.”

Danny unburied his head from his hands. Tucker and Sam both had huge grins on their faces.

“I’ve had a feeling you liked me ever since the Ember thing, and I like you too,” Sam said. “But I like Tucker too, and I didn’t feel right asking you on a date and leaving him out.”

Danny’s voice was cautious when he said, “So you both like me back? And each other? I hoped, but I didn’t think it would actually come true.” The room looked so much brighter after that revelation. His heart fluttered with excitement.

“Does that make this our first date?” Tucker asked as he speared a meatball with his fork.

Sam laughed, a pure, crystalline sound. “I think so!”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh too, overcome with unbridled joy. His two favorite people in the whole world wanted to be with him. Danny put his arm around their hips and pulled them both closer to him, sliding them along the booth until he was sandwiched between them. Sam turned bright red, and Tucker sputtered. But neither protested.

“That’s better,” Danny said. Sam snuggled her head into Danny’s side. Tucker put a hand on Danny’s thigh, the other hand still focused on his meal. “I love you guys.”

–

Danny flew through the roof of Sam’s house, startling her when he landed in her bedroom. Tucker was already there, laying beside her in bed. Their conversation stopped immediately when they saw him clutching his side, ectoplasm leaking between his fingers.

“Oh my God, Danny, what happened?” Sam exclaimed.

“Technus got a lucky shot in,” Danny grunted through the pain. “I got him though. Can you take a look at this?”

“Yeah, of course.” She cleared a space on the floor and put down a towel for Danny to lay on. She sat at his side, and Tucker kneeled beside him as well. As Sam examined his injury through the rip in his suit, Tucker held his hand and rubbed soothing circles with his thumb.

“How bad does it hurt?” Tucker asked softly.

“I’ve had worse,” Danny said. Sam prodded at the wound and Danny let out a small moan.

“You know I love hearing you moan, but not like this,” Tucker joked. Danny chuckled weakly.

“This is going to need stitches,” Sam said. “I’ll go get the supplies. Tuck, keep an eye on him.”

Danny groaned. He hated getting stitches, but he knew even with his enhanced healing, he would lose a lot of ectoplasm (or blood, if he transformed) if they didn’t stitch it up.

“It won’t take long, and you’ll feel better afterwards,” Tucker promised. He petted Danny’s head, running his fingers through his white hair.

“I know,” Danny said. He leaned into Tucker’s touch. “Thank you for being here. I know how much you hate hospitals.”

“Well, this isn’t a hospital,” Tucker pointed out. “It’s the sterile atmosphere I hate, not the medical procedures themselves. I’m okay. Just worried about you.”

“Well, I’ll be alright. You know me,” Danny said.

Sam reentered the room, medical supplies in hand. She sat down next to Danny and slid the zipper down his jumpsuit. She gently peeled back the suit to reveal a gnarly gash in his side. “Yeah, definitely needs stitches.” She gingerly applied a topical anesthetic to the wound.

“Don’t watch, you know it makes it worse,” Tucker said. “Look at me instead.”

Danny turned his head towards Tucker. He felt the needle pierce his skin, although the pain was dulled by the anesthetic. He winced. Tucker made a sympathetic face. He was so cute when he was worried, his brow furrowed, his mouth curled into a small frown. Danny winced again as he felt another prick of the needle.

“That’s it, you’re doing great,” Sam said as she carefully tended to the wound.

Danny turned to watch Sam as she worked, despite Tucker’s warning. He focused on her face, rather than her hands. Her hair was tied back, and she wore an expression of complete concentration. She was so caring, so sweet and loving when Danny was hurt. Even through the pain, Danny appreciated the care his girlfriend was showing him.

“There, all done,” she finally said. “You look like you could use some cuddles. Come on, let’s get you on the bed.”

Danny protested but when he moved, a jolt of pain shot through him. He allowed his partners to support him as he limped over to the bed.

Danny climbed into bed. Sam and Tucker carefully laid down on either side of him. Tucker nestled himself against Danny’s back. Sam snuggled up under the blanket, pressed up against Danny’s chest. Danny felt so warm with his two favorite people so close to him. It was a comforting kind of warmth, the kind that tells you that everything is going to be okay. And today, he believed it.

[dr-pepperrrr]

A Parallel I Would Lay My Life On - Part 2

A story of second chances told in fragments. Posted on AO3 under the same name.

He felt the shake vibrating the walls around him, eyes fluttering open. Wondering what was happening now. Trapped in the same cell that he had been in for what felt like a century. No way to tell when day or night was, the brief reprieves blessed by Persephone giving him no clues either. The Underworld trapped in a permanent dusk. It could have been a few years, it could have been a hundred. 

The shaking continued, growing stronger. Something big was happening. He felt a harsh thud in his chest, gasping as he tried to curl in on himself. Heart racing in his chest, something he hadn't felt in so long. Unsure what it meant, still locked into the shackles that kept him in place. Time still passed slowly, energy building in his muscles. Glancing up, he willed the shackles to gold, jerking slightly as he watched it spread. Mind racing at what it could mean. He let it cover the chains, yanking harshly, stronger that he had been before. Pausing when they finally snapped, arms falling to his side. 

He stood, legs still shaky with nerves. Unsure of what to expect if he managed to escape. Where did one go when faced with the endless void of the Underworld? He pressed his hands against the door, watching as it turned to gold under his touch. Using his one hand he had left, he aimed a punch at it, the door denting in. His strength was returning quickly, grateful that his curse granted him more than the average person. Another hit, the door crumpling in further. A third, the door flying open, metal locks that had blocked it from the other side scattering loudly across the worn marble floor. 

He glanced up, jerking backwards at movement in front of him, the shadow of a person standing in his path. Fear filled him, it was too soon to be caught. He had just managed to start his escape, was expecting at least a little bit more time. 

A familiar voice hit his ears. "Couldn't even wait for me to unlock the door?" Brows furrowing as the person stepped forward, matching scar to him. Both hands still, both covered in gold. He staggered forward, taking in the sight of Marigold in front of him. She was grinning at him, and he felt his heart race. A sadness creeping through him. 

"When did you die?"

She frowned at that, a confused look on her face. "I didn't. I came to get you out." She seemed to pause, looking around. "Come on. We need to get out of here first, back to the yacht. I can explain more once I can stop worrying about turning around to a god standing behind me." He followed after her, confused as she led him down a set of large marble stairs, the same ones that Persephone had taken him down when she felt graceful enough. Forward, through the murky green waters, shifting around them as the faint screams of the souls trapped in the river echoed off of the walls. Ahead, instead of darkness, there was sun. He paused as he stepped into it, forgetting the feeling of warmth on his skin.

"Hurry up," Marigold called out from further ahead. "We need to get away from here right now. I don't know when Hades might show back up." At the mention of the god, Midas quickly darted forward. He could take the time process everything later, now he needed to get as far away from here as possible. 

Dark rocks covered the land, the coastline unfamiliar as they made their way forward. He continued to glance behind him, expecting to see a wall of guards, a chain flying towards him, ready to snatch him back to his cell. Every time he looked, the landscape remained empty. His steps faltered slightly as he took in the yacht, looking the same as it always had. Almost unable to believe he had escaped, wondering if this was just some elaborate hallucination forced upon his as punishment. Maybe his mind had finally broken. Marigold went along the zip line first, and he quickly followed. Eager to be off the ground of the Underworld. When he landed, he saw two people standing still, weapons drawn. A woman with a sword in hand, and tiger hybrid with a shot gun. 

He stilled, Marigold nodding her head towards them. "Sit," the woman with the sword commanded. "You will wait here until he arrives." Marigold motioned for them to sit, lounge chairs spread across the deck. 

As they waited, the armour that he had worn while in the Underworld, a gift from Persephone after one of the more unpleasant experiences he had, was slowly becoming uncomfortable. The air was warm, humid. His hair stuck to his neck now with the length. He knew they must be somewhere along the southern coast, nothing that he could see looking familiar. The coastline nothing like he had seen before he had died, wondering what had happened to the island while he was gone. What he had missed. He glanced over to Marigold, studying her. She looked older, but not by much, so he knew he couldn't have been gone for more than a couple years. 

"Do you know who this leader is?" He asked quietly. She shook her head, giving a small sigh. 

"They've all been on the move since they summoned the gods here. They were originally at war with another group, which somehow Agent Jones is the leader of, but none of them seem to care now that the gods are actually here. Which, I guess we can thank them for that, or else we wouldn't have been able to find you." She was keeping her voice low, eyes trained on the other two as they paced the deck. 

Sweat slowly dripped down Midas's neck, grimacing at the feeling. He stood, pausing as the other two raised their weapons towards him. He raised his hands in slowly as a show of peace. "I'm just looking to take this armour off. It's a little hot." The women seemed to think it over before she lowered her sword, tiger following suit. He groaned as he unclasped the buckles, letting the metal fall onto the deck with a loud clang. The shirt that was underneath was damp, sticking to his skin but infinitely cooler than the metal that had been on him.

The sound of a zip line caught their attention, Midas back on edge. Marigold watched the stairs intently, waiting for the groups leader to make an appearance. He seen a flash of white hair first, mismatched eyes scanning the deck as they landed on him. He felt like his chest caved in, air leaving his lungs quickly. His blue eye had two scars crossing it now, similar to his own, wondering what had happened to him here. Wondering how he managed to survive. Marigold heard his gasp, following him to her feet as he stood, taking a step forwards. 

He paused at the cool look of indifference on the mans face as he turned to face the other two. "Montague?" Heart racing as the mans eyes slid over to him, confusion crossing his face. 

"Do I know you?" Still condescending, still accented. Midas faltered at his words, taking a step back. Something was off. He looked to Marigold, a frown on his face.

"Where are we?" 

She looked to the other group, then back to him, seeming to debate on her words. "You're not on the same island as before," she told him slowly. "Through a .. Series of unfortunate events, the island we were on was destroyed, for lack of a better word. We barely made it through to this one." Midas looked back to the Montague that was here now. The same. Completely different. No memories of whatever snapshot of himself had been placed in the Loop. 

He shook his head, glancing back to Montague, letting himself sit back in the chair. "Sorry, no, you don't." The man hummed, raising his brow as he turned, speaking to the woman again. Words too soft for Midas to hear. He watched as Montague frowned, crossing his arms, glancing back at them. The same look of annoyance on his face that Midas had been so used to seeing. 

He sighed, rolling his eyes before making his way over. "You may stay here if you wish, but it remains my yacht." Midas felt the frown on his face as he stood, not missing the way Montague's flicked over him. His stare still full of judgment as he raised a brow, meeting Midas's eyes. 

"It's my yacht."

A smirk was on Montague's face now as he leaned forward, pressing into Midas's space. Eyes locking onto his, smirk growing as Midas sucked in a breath at the proximity. His voice was low as he spoke. "Says who?" 

Midas spluttered, indignant as he opened his mouth to reply, Marigold cutting in quickly. "Thank you, it is very much appreciated." Glaring at Midas, she motioned for him to walk inside, shooing him along. He glanced back, meeting Montague's eyes, his stupid little smirk still on his face as he winked. When he turned, Marigold was frowning at him. 

"What the hell was that? How do you know him?"

Faltering at her question, Midas debated on how to answer. He hadn't told anyone about Montague before, keeping everything that happened between them to himself. He crossed towards the bar cabinet, stacked with liqour that he would never buy for himself. With an annoyed sigh, he poured himself a drink, taking a sip before meeting the woman's eyes. 

"I met a version of him on the other island. Before the Device event. He was just a small time thief, but we grew to know each other .. very well." He paused, tossing back the rest of the drink. "We.. It was.." Sighing as he shook his head. "He went looking for me at the Agency when the Device first came out and I was going to his place to get him. He didn't make it out in time." 

Marigold listened as he spoke, knowing Midas well enough to piece the story together with the parts that had been left unsaid. Her hand slid over his shoulder as a show of comfort. "Well, this one is not whoever you think he is. Don't act so star struck next time, you're going to scare him away, and we need all the help we can get right now." Midas scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. 

"I did not act star struck."

At that, Marigold laughed loudly. "Okay, buddy. Whatever you say." 

--

The next time Midas had seen him, Montague was lounging on one of the chairs on the main deck. The woman he now knew to be Nisha was beside him, frowning, smacking the palm of one hand with the back of her other as she seemed to try to explain something to him. He watched Montague raise an eyebrow, roll his eyes and then wave her away. She stood abruptly, a look of anger on her face before stalking away. He heard the zip line not long after, signaling she had left the ship. 

He glanced over, watching as Midas seated himself in another chair. Studying him. "Why do you look like that when you see me?" 

Midas looked away, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about." He heard the man hum, glancing over, his eyes still locked onto him. He stood, slowly crossing to where Midas was. He picked up his arm with the missing hand, Midas's heart quickening at the feeling of his touch. 

"What happened?" 

Midas gently pulled his arm away, meeting Montague's eyes as he stood above him. "A man decided he wanted my powers for himself, and thought cutting off my hand would give it to him. Instead, he didn't get what he wanted and I died." 

"And what are your powers?" 

Midas's eyes narrowed at him. "I can turn things into gold. And I'm stronger than normal people." The man made an interested sound, studying him. Motioning him to stand as he took a step back. Midas slowly got to his feet, watching Montague curiously. 

"I would like to see how strong you are." 

With a scoff, Midas shook his head. "I'm not fighting you." With a flash of movement, he ducked just as Montague's foot flew by his face, a blade tucked along his shoe just grazing his cheek, the feeling of wetness trickling down his face surprising him. His brows furrowed as he took a step back, Montague taking one forward, a grin on his face. 

"If that is what I want, then you will do it." 

Midas laughed. "That's the most entitled thing I've ever heard." He paused as he seen Montague's hands shift, diamond coating over them. Fingers lengthening to sharp tips as it slowly crept up his arm. Just as Montague launched himself forward, Midas let the gold flow through him, covering his body, the man tackling him to the ground. 

They struggled back and forth, both gaining the upper hand before losing it. Over and over. He gasped as he felt his back slam into the ground, diamond fingers wrapped around his wrists above his head, the other gripping at his neck. The diamond disappeared from Montague slowly, a sly grin on his face as he leaned forward. Midas let the gold fade away, feeling Montague's thumb dig into his chin. "I guess diamonds are better than gold," he purred. As soon as Midas felt his hand loosen around his wrist, he ripped them free, flipping them easily as he pulled his knife that was sheathed along his hip, pressing it lightly against the skin of his neck. 

Montague grinned up at him, something flashing in his eyes. "How did you know I like knives?" 

Midas felt his chest constrict. Memories of Montague under him in a moonlit hallway, saying the exact same words. He gasped in a breath as he stood quickly, needing to get away from the man that was not the Montague he had known. Not bothering to look back, knowing the man was probably confused at whatever had just happened. 

--

He sat in the sun once again, shirtless as he basked in the warmth, watching the light reflect of his new prosthetic. Still reeling from Jules arriving on the ship, eager to have a chance to make things right with her after everything. He watched the fingers move, unused to the feeling after spending so long with nothing but a stump at the end of his wrist. He glanced towards the stairs at the sound of the zip line, Montague appearing. His eyes raked over Midas, a smirk crossing his face as Montague finally seemed to falter. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Nothing. Did you need something." 

Montague nodded, motioning with his head for Midas to follow. He could feel his eyes on him as he leaned forward to grab his shirt, tracing over his tattoos. When he stood, Montague's cheeks were dusted with pink, looking out over the water. He leaned in as he walked by, their eyes meeting quickly. "Lead the way." With a shaky breath, Montague gave a quick nod, guiding them towards the zip line. 

"So where are we going?" 

Montague gave him a sly grin as he slid behind the driver seat of the car. "We are going to spy on a god." Midas's stomach twisted. Uneager to see a god after escaping such a short time ago. With a laugh, Montague pushed at his shoulder as he buckled himself in. "Relax, it is not the same one who trapped you. We are going to watch Zeus."

With a roll of his eyes, Midas sighed loudly. "Right, cause that's so much better."

Fiddling with the radio before he took off, Montague continued to smile. "Do not worry, I will keep you safe." Midas wanted to smack him with how condescending he sounded. 

"I can keep myself safe just fine," Midas scoffed.

"Well, I am not the one who died am I?" He laughed, glancing out of his window as he continued. "That was you." Missing the way Midas seemed to freeze at his words, lip twitching down. He looked back finally, confused at the expression on Midas's face. "What is that face for? You look like someone has just kicked your puppy." 

With a shake of his head, Midas managed to tear his eyes away from the man, shaking his head. "Nothing." Montague hummed, narrowing his eyes at him as he drove them towards the marble city. 

--

Tipping back his glass, Midas drained the rest of the liqour that was in it before he grimaced. Still not to his liking, but he guessed there couldn't be a complaint considering he was alive in the first place. He stood, legs starting to feel loose as he walked back to the bar to refill his glass. The conversation he had with Montague in the car replaying in his mind. Memories accompanying the words. 

I am not the one who died, am I? The sight of the Agency crumbling, burying Montague's body somewhere in it. One of the first times he found himself regretting his actions, wishing he could turn back time. Let Montague know the plan before he had gone through with it, so he wouldn't go looking for Midas. He grabbed the bottle, bringing it back with him. 

The sound of a zip line, Montague appearing on the deck not long after. Midas nodded to him, keeping himself laid back in the lounge chair he was occupying. Montague looked around before raising a brow. "You are drinking alone?" Midas gave him a nod. "Well, then I suppose I will join you." He grabbed a glass for himself, letting himself fall into the chair next to Midas. 

"What is the celebration of the night?" Montague asked, a small smirk on his face. 

With a short laugh, Midas shrugged his shoulders. "I'm alive, and I want to." 

"That is a good reason." Montague seemed to hum to himself, eyes flitting around the deck before finally landing on Midas. He stood quickly, motioning for the man to follow. "Come." Midas wanted to roll his eyes, grabbing the bottle of liqour and standing instead. Trailing behind Montague as he led his way through the ship, towards the upper level. He watched as Montague glanced behind them as he walked through the bedroom, making sure Midas was still following before crossing onto the deck, placing his glass on a table beside the hot tub. Meeting Midas's eyes before he pulled his shirt over his head, smirking at his faltering steps. 

"Will you join me?" Montague asked softy, still smirking as he unbuttoned his pants. Watching as Midas's eyes flicked down, away just as quickly before he nodded. He slid them off, leaving his briefs on as he got into the pool. Eyes heavy as they watched Midas pull his shirt over his head, fingers fumbling over his belt to get it off. He slipped into the hot tub not long after, heart racing at the way Montague was watching him. Unused to having that stare focused on him after so long. Taking a shaky breath as Montague crowded into his space, flushing at the proximity. "Why do you get so flustered around me?" 

Moving himself backwards, Midas aimed for a casual tone, grimacing when he still sounded offended. "I do not." The man laughed at his response, Midas's heart beating quicker at the sound. They even had the same laugh. Once more, Montague pressed into his space, faces close together, grinning as he watched Midas's eyes flick down to his lips. 

"You do." He watched as Midas's breath seemed to catch. "Can I try something?" Swallowing thickly, Midas took another deep breath. 

"What did you have in mind?" 

Fingers brushing at Midas's jaw to lead it up, eyes low as they stared at each other. "Just a bit of fun," Montague murmured, lips brushing against the skin of Midas's jaw. Another shaky breath as he nodded his head, wanting whatever Montague would give him. He felt another hand trace along his thigh in the water, reaching his own out to run his fingers against Montague. Lightly brushing over his hip, watching as the man's eyes fluttered, sensitive there just like he had been before.

Finally pressing their lips together, a soft sigh leaving him as his body seemed to relax. The two of them continued, Montague sliding himself forward to seat himself on Midas's legs, hands roaming before he stood, motioning for Midas to follow, across the deck and into the room before pushing him back onto the bed. Their hands working quickly between themselves, Midas watching every reaction that crossed Montague's face intently. Drinking in the sounds that fell from his mouth. 

Eyes heavy as he watched Montague clean them off, before slowly crawling along the bed, head tilting slightly. "I trust I am not overstepping if I stay the night?" Instantly Midas was shaking his head, moving backwards to make room for the other man. Montague smirked, falling onto the bed beside him before he lifted himself up on his elbow. 

They spoke lowly through the night until Montague started to drift off. The conversation reminding Midas of when they had spent the night in his office of the Agency, going through the papers Montague had stolen for him. He found himself watching Montague as he slept, tracing over his face, the new scars, trying to memorize everything. Thinking back to Marigold's words when they first arrived. Maybe he was acting a bit star-struck, but that was neither here nor there. 

--

Montague continued to spend more and more time on the ship, half of their days spent with him dragging Midas somewhere across the island. Frequenting the hotel, his hotel, that was nestled at the base of a mountain range, Montague bickering with the blue haired woman there. He smirked as he watched her and Montague argue, glad that his attitude was being directed towards someone else. 

The other days were spent with Marigold, sometimes Jules. Gathering what information they could while he scoured over different maps. The thought of being able to leave foreign to him. Exciting. Praying Montague wouldn't put up a fight when it came time to leave. That he would be leaving with them. 

He woke up to an empty bed beside him, sunlight streaming through the windows. Quietly walking towards the deck, he heard voices outside, on the deck below him. It could hear Montague say something, annoyance clear in his voice. A woman responding. He crept forwards, standing next to the railing to listen to their conversation. 

"You have never spent this much time on your boat. I only worry that you are forgetting your duties." Montague scoffed. Midas wanted to as well. It was his boat. 

"I did not forget. And now that I can not run the hotel, where else should I spend my time?" 

This time, the woman scoffed, recognizing Nisha's voice. "Are you sure that's the only reason you're here?" 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"I've seen the way you look at Midas. He's with you every time I see you now." Montague remained silent, and he could picture the glare he was probably sending Nisha. Heart beat quickening at her words. The silence continued to grow before Nisha spoke again, voice softer. "What is it about him that has you like this?" 

Midas waited, feeling like he shouldn't be listening to the conversation. Staying anyways, wanting to hear Montague's response. 

"I do not know," he finally told her, voice quiet. "He feels familiar to me. Like I have known him in another life. He makes me curious." The woman hummed, sighing softly, the sound of a chair scraping along the deck. 

"Just be careful, okay? And don't forget about next week." 

At that, Montague let out a sharp laugh. "How could I forget that?" Footsteps echoed across the deck, Midas's curiosity growing. Wondering what would be happening the following week. He stepped away from the railing, slowly making his way towards the main deck. Wanting to ask Montague about it, wondering if he should. The sound of the zip line rang out, and he watched two bodies cross towards the grassy cliff with a sigh. He would have to ask another day.

--

The humidity along the coast seemed to continue to build, almost suffocating with the heat. Midas sprawled himself in the shade, already warming up even though he had just gotten out of the water. Montague was groaning, still floating in the water before he seemed to still. Even with sunglasses covering his eyes, he could tell that the man had caught sight of something. Instantly on guard, wondering if they were about to be attacked, he stood from his chair to ready himself. 

"That is moving fast," Montague commented. Midas finally followed his gaze, heart settling even as his body tensed. Dark grey clouds ahead of near black ones were converging towards them, quickly crossing the sky. Already the sun seemed to dim, heat and stickiness maintaining. Thunder rumbled low through the sky, and Midas half expected to see them turn purple like they did in the Loop. Instead, lightning flashed through them, white illuminating through the grey. 

"Get out of the water," Midas ordered. Montague sighed, pouting as he swam towards the deck. A few drops fell from the sky, landing lightly on Midas's skin. Even the rain seemed warm right now. He sighed as he noted some of the chairs on the lower deck had cushions on them, not wanting them to get soaked. He quickly crossed the deck as Montague pulled himself out of the water, grabbing what cushions he could carry. He motioned for the other to grab the rest, flinching as thunder rumbled loudly overhead. A few seconds later, lightning flashed through the sky just over where the Underworld now rested. 

Before they could take a step, rain fell from the sky in sheets, drenching them almost instantly. He shouted in surprise, Montague dropping the cushions in favour of running for cover. He felt a laugh bubble out of him from the sight, deciding to follow suit. Already the cushions were heavy with water, no way to save them from the rain this time. As he ran towards cover, he seen Montague flail his arms as he tried to steady himself, the deck slippery from the downpour. He tried to slow himself, a look of surprise crossing his face as he slid forwards, barreling straight into Montague. Groaning as he hit the deck, Montague landing heavily on top of him, he felt another laugh slip from him at the absurdity of the situation. Not five minutes ago they had been swimming under a hot sun.

The sound of Montague's laugh made his heart race slightly. He guided Midas back up, pulling him into the yacht to finally get them out of the rain. The temperature was noticeably dropping, still warm but no longer unbearable. 

"Come with me," Montague murmured, leading him by the wrist through the ship. Bringing him up to his room, drying himself with a towel before he crawled onto the bed. "I like to watch the storms from here." Midas felt his breath catch, watching Montague pat the bed beside him. 

Midas slowly laid himself in the bed, mind swimming with memories of him and Montague waiting out the Storm on the yacht. Watching purple clouds and lightning flash through the skylights. Montague lifted his hand, tucking himself in under Midas's arm, letting his hand fall onto his chest. He traced circles across his skin, overly conscious of the way Montague's body rested against his. 

"Why is your heart beating so fast?" Montague asked quietly. He flushed, pausing as he opened his mouth. Unsure of how to answer the question. Settling on something as close to the truth as he was willing to admit. 

"You make me nervous."

Montague twisted in the sheets, face dangerously close to Midas's as he grinned at him. "I am the reason your heart races like that?" He seemed to purr at Midas's words, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Knowing the mans ego had no doubt grown in size from that confession. He let out a soft breath and the feeling of Montague's lips brushing against his, eyes meeting as lightning continued to flash in the sky, further out over the ocean now. "Good. You make mine race too." 

Midas groaned softly at the feeling of their lips pressing together, pulling Montague closer as they waited for the rain to stop. 

--

Once again, Midas found himself driving around the island with Montague. This time he was behind the wheel, the other changing the song over and over as he searched for one he liked. They passed by the large lake, Midas's stomach twisting as he imagined the Agency there. Unpleasant memories flooding him. Up ahead, the sight of a tent caught his attention, before he slammed on the brakes, Montague sliding forward in his seat with a sound of annoyance. 

Midas was already out of the car, walking up the hill towards the banana that was standing a top it. He hadn't seen Peely in too long, missing his friend, wondering how he had managed to come to this island. Raising a brow as the banana froze, he turned, watching Montague slowly cross the grass, him and Peely staring at each other with narrowed eyes. 

"Do you know him?" 

"I may have met him once or twice," Montague said with a frown, ignoring the frustrated sound that left the banana. Hands quickly moving through signs. Midas turned quickly, staring at Montague. 

"Why would you kidnap him?" 

"I did no such thing." Hands flying, Midas watched intently, nodding. Pausing, eyes meeting the bananas. A shake of his head. A sound of annoyance left Montague behind them. "What is he saying?" Another car pulled up beside the one they had driven, Montague groaning as Jones stepped out of the vehicle, hand already resting on his gun, pausing at the sight. 

"How are you alive?" His eyes darted between the two men, apprehension on his face, back to Midas. He turned, watching Jones coolly before a slow smirk crossed his face. Thinking back to his brief time in the IO headquarters, finding files filled with information of himself in Jones' office. The man had been intent on figuring him out, never quite getting enough information to stop Midas. 

"It's been a long time, Agent Jones." Jones tried to raise his gun, Midas darting forward to rip it out of his hands, turning it to press it against his forehead. Behind them, Peely made a sound of distress. Midas frowned at Jones before looking back, taking in what was being said by Peely  before he sighed, rolling his eyes and pocketing the gun. 

Montague watched the interaction with curiosity now, trying to figure out how the trio knew each other. Peely motioned with his hands, Midas watching before he nodded, beckoning Montague forward as he seated himself in one of the chairs. Still on alert, Montague stood behind Midas, not wanting to sit down and let himself be at a disadvantage. Jones watched the interaction before he rubbed a hand over his eyes, sighing. "Please tell me you're not working together." He stared at Montague blankly, eyes narrowing. "Why would you bring him out of whatever hell finally managed to trap him." 

At that, Montague seemed to growl, anger flooding him. "I am becoming tired of being blamed for others actions. I did not release the gods. I did not steal the banana. And I did not free Midas." 

At that, Jones rolled his eyes. "Of course you didn't. You just happened to be apart of all of them. Coincidentally." With a sigh, he leaned back into his own chair. "What are you doing here?" Midas shrugged at his question, gesturing to the banana. 

"Catching up with an old friend." Jones huffed, crossing his arms as the two began signing to each other. Watching Montague pace behind them with narrowed eyes. Finally, as the sun started to set, Montague ducked behind Midas's chair, murmuring something low into his ear. Tilting his head to meet his eyes, Midas nodded at whatever was said, a small smile forming, Jones watching intently. Midas stood, nodding to the banana. "It's been good to see you. We'll head out now." Turning to meet Jones' eyes, he raised a brow before giving him a curt nod. "Hopefully I don't see you again." 

Montague let out a loud laugh, hearing Midas's words as he crossed the grass towards the car. Jones watched them go, shaking his head as he looked back to the banana. "I will never understand how you could be friends with that man." Peely shrugged, a small smile on his face, waving at the car as it drove away. 

--

Waking to a cloudy sky, Midas groaned as he sat himself up. His wrist was aching, storm clouds seeming to roll over the island quickly. Ready to open up, spill their contents over everything. He sighed, making his way to the deck. Marigold was pacing, glancing over towards the large statue that jutted from the mountain. 

"What's got you so worked up?" He asked, frowning. It was rare to see her on edge like this. 

Glancing his way before turning back to the mountains, she let out a soft breath. "Montague and the others left about fifteen minutes ago. They had a lot of weapons and ammo, and I heard the tiger say something about Zeus not knowing what was coming for him." She paused, finally looking back to Midas. "I have a bad feeling about that." 

Thunder rumbled over the island, clouds twisting around themselves as Midas's heart started to beat faster. Anxiety crashing through him. Unwilling to lose Montague a second time. Lightning flashed across the sky, travelling towards the statue. Marigold picked his guns off the chair, handing them to him as he crossed the deck. Her own weapons already holstered, ready to go. She followed Midas quietly, across the zip line to the car that had been left there. He could feel the jittery feeling in his limbs, praying that they could make it to the marble city in time. Praying Montague wouldn't actually be stupid enough to try and take on a god. 

Slamming the car into park, the two of them darted out, taking the stairs two steps at a time as lightning crashed into the building in front of the statue. He could hear gun fire starting, not bothering to look at Marigold before he was running. Rain started to pour from almost black clouds, blurring his vision, blocking out the sounds of the fight. 

He took the last step towards the building, a loud boom echoing through the building before he seen Oscar fly across the room, slammed into a far wall. A harsh yell, more gun fire. Lightning illuminated the inside of the building, and he watched Montague lunge forward, crashing into Nisha as he dragged her to the ground, the flying bolt just barely missing them. He shoved her away, Midas pausing as diamond glinted across his skin, covering his arms as he darted forward, fingers sinking into the gods chest. 

A deep laugh sounded through the room before Zeus swung his hand out, sending Montague flying backwards into another wall. Fully incased in diamond now, slowly disappearing as he stood with a grimace. "Get Oscar out of here," Midas instructed, turning his gun to the god. Marigold ran forwards, lifting the tiger with ease as he slung an arm over her shoulder, legs barely able to keep himself upright. 

Midas let his gun fire as the god darted forwards, aiming for Nisha. She flew back, the smack of her head against the marble loud even over all the other sounds. Montague lunged forward once more, still oblivious of the extra help. Oblivious to his team's disappearance. Midas growled as he opened fire once more, watching as Zeus turned to him instead. That finally made Montague pause, surprise crossing his face at the sight of Midas. 

As if sensing his distraction, the god quickly sent a bolt of lightning hurdling towards the man. Midas shouted out, knowing he wouldn't be able to warn him in time, watching as the lightning struck, diamond only half covering his body. He ran forwards, ignoring the god that was letting himself drop to the floor, a dark grin on his face at the sight. Montague's breaths were shallow, a web of red lines creeping over his neck, disappearing under his shirt. The world around them seemed to fall silent, Midas's breaths overwhelmingly loud in his ears as he yanked Montague off the ground, letting gold cover him as he dragged them towards the front of the building. 

He heard the sizzle of electricity in the air, the crack of a bolt being thrown as he dropped Montague, groaning as sharp heat shot through him, body freezing for a moment. Gone just as quick, the metal of his body managing to absorb most of the hit. Again, he picked Montague up, dragging him forward, Marigold outside of the door with her gun trained at the god a welcome sight. Oscar was finally standing again, picking Nisha up off the ground where Marigold had dropped her. Turning without a backwards glance as he started towards the stairs that led out of the city.

Shots continued to ring out behind him, knowing Marigold was trying her best to keep the god distracted as he took Montague to safety. The man was still barely concious, head lolling to the side. Finally, he felt the weight lifting from his shoulders, watching Marigold slip under the mans other shoulder, helping to get him away. 

Arriving at the ship, Nisha was finally awake, a look of worry and something else crossing her face. She paced along the grass as Midas worked on getting Montague out of the car, watching as they started towards the zip line. Finally, she let out a deep breath. 

"Tell Montague that I am done." Midas paused, brows furrowing in her direction. "The Society is done. Everything I have done was to try and keep my family in good standing, but after this... I have a chance to do some good. With Hope and Jones. Tell him I'm sorry," she glanced away, shaking her head as a look of sadness crossed her face. "I just can't do this anymore." Oscar turned with her, walking beside her without a word. Midas knew he felt the same, knowing that him leaving with Nisha was more than enough to show how he felt. 

With a grunt, Midas lifted Montague to his shoulder, attaching himself to the zip line with one hand as the other held the man, making sure he didn't fall to the water below. His breaths were still shallow, and Marigold followed him to the top floor, bandages in hand. He tugged what was left of Montague's shirt off, grimacing at the network of red lines and cuts that seemed to cover his torso. Suddenly his hand felt heavy, surprised to find the shirt turned into gold. 

With a shake of his head, he grabbed a bottle of saline to wash out some of the wounds that littered the marks, growling in frustration as that turned to gold as well. He reached for a stack of gauze before Marigold's hands stopped him. "Go sit, you're too worked up to do this right now." 

He took a step back, watching as Marigold's hands worked quickly. Pacing back and forth behind her before she huffed, turning to look at him. "If you're going to be breathing down my neck like that, I'll make you leave." Midas paused, eyes narrowing at her before he let himself fall into a chair. Leg bouncing, worrying his lip. Almost standing as Marigold pressed something along Montague's skin, making him wince even in unconsciousness before she whipped her head towards Midas at the sign of movement. "Stay put." Letting himself lean back into the chair in an attempt to relax his body, unable to but at least out of the way. 

Finally, she took a step away with a deep sigh. Glancing towards Midas, she raised a brow as his eyes stayed trained on Montague, lost in thought. Replaying the sight of the lightning bolt hitting him. Replaying the sound of his racing footsteps echoing through his phone just before the Agency fell. The sight of him cresting the stairs after he had first escaped the Underworld. Crashing into him in the hallway of the Agency as he ran from Midas's guards. A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts, Marigold meeting his eyes with a soft look. 

"He's going to be okay. He'll just need some time." With a curt nod, he trained his eyes back on Montague, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

"Thank you." 

She pat his shoulder lightly, disappearing down the stairs. 

--

From the lounge chair he laid in, Midas watched as Montague slowly walked along the deck, a look of frustation on his face. He remained silent, waiting for the man to sit. Finally, he heard a loud sigh, almost veering into a groan. Comically dramatic. "I am sick of this island." Midas nodded slowly, glancing over at Jules sitting at a table further back. She was watching him, just as Midas was, eyebrow raised. 

"Then let's go," he finally replied. Montague's eyes met his, confused. 

"Where will we go?" 

"Anywhere." He paused, glancing over to the black rocks that still covered the land to the north of the island. "I wouldn't mind getting away from the gods for a while." Montague crossed the deck, eyes darting behind them as Jules stood to leave. When he looked back to Midas, there was a small smirk on his face. 

"You would leave this place with me?" He traced his finger along Midas's jaw, guiding his head up for their eyes to meet. Midas felt a soft smile cross his lips as he nodded slowly. 

"I might just follow you anywhere." 

Montague bit at his lip lightly as he seemed to think over his words. Letting his thumb brush over Midas's lip as a small smile slowly crossed his face. "Good. Then we will go." 

[bearlytolerant]

Tagged by @fangbangerghoul (thank you!) and tagging whoever sees this because I’m still deep in my acolyte fanfic, drag me under.

A brief glance and you spot a Jedi questioning a nearby pedestrian with their back turned to you. You take off to the right, zigzagging through alleys and clueless civilians, sticking to shadows in your escape. You round the back cantina, pausing momentarily as another Jedi passes by—a padawan you note with the singular brunette braid that tumbles down their back. Once they’re further away, you slink along the cantina wall, spying the expansive port with ships looming in the short distance. Nearly tripping over a gonk droid, you beam for the smallest ship. Caught up in a false sense of security and freedom, you close the distance. A force push hits you by surprise and you fly backwards. A whoosh of air and you’re crumpling into a pile of crates, a million splinters suspended as they shoot up into the air. You feel weightless for a half second as your body folds in on itself before gravity yanks you back down. Thunk. A hard crack against the ground, between the broken crates, and your breath leaves your lungs. Pain alights through your limbs. It’s a million pricks and needles in your nerves. But you can’t dwell on it.

[foap-enjoyer]

Alone mission unfinished drabble

Work I did following Soap (and of course Ghost) up until the tunnel scene in his 'Alone' mission.

This was the first ever drabble I made for Modern Warfare ii

Dropping random unfinished drabbles cause I know someone will at least like em lmao (also because I'm sick and can't finish any of my other works rn lol, sorryyyy)

~

“Soap- This is Ghost, how copy?”

There was blood everywhere - his hands slipped, slick with blood, from the wall he had dragged himself to rest against, tilting his body. He crashed unceremoniously into the cold, wet ground. His hands reached out in front of him. He saw the way they trembled and shook. 

“Johnny…?”

Faintly, he could hear voices - soldiers - there were screams surrounding him, echoing into the night, sounds of gunshots ringing out. His head ached horribly, his arm even worse. He groaned, the sound small in the chaos, pressing his forehead into the floor below him. His shoulders shook violently.

“Johnny, how copy?”

Vaguely, he felt his arm shift - his good one. It moved on its own volition, coming to rest against his chest. He felt his fingers press a button, and, before he knew it, a hoarse voice, his own, he recognised faintly, ground out a tiny, “Solid.”

Ghost let out a low sigh, which rattled through the radio. “Thought we lost you.” He said, sounding almost relieved.

Soap began moving himself upwards, pushing desperately against the floor until he was on his knees. He tilted his head to stare up into the gloomy night’s sky. It was beautiful. Rain, or maybe teardrops fell slowly down his face. Maybe it was blood. He couldn’t tell. He didn’t want to know.

“You injured?”

“I’m no’a medic.” Was all he cared to say, finally grappling himself up to his feet. He wobbled dangerously, a hand flying out to catch himself against a wall. His head spun wildly, and he groaned. 

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” Ghost deadpanned, “You got shot back there.”

“Yeah, well,” He began moving toward, testing the waters. His knees wobbled, but they didn’t buckle. He eased himself along the wall, bloodied nails hooked between the cracks of brick. “Nothin’ we can really do ‘bout that, L.T.”

There was a brief pause of silence. Then, Ghost spoke; “Keep your blood in, you’ll need every drop.” 

He honestly couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a joke or not. He pushed himself away from the wall, finally standing on his own two feet, void of help. “Thanks for the tip,” He walked further down the road he was on, his ears catching onto the sounds of none other than Graves himself. Soap grit his teeth, “Where are you?”

Ghost responded immediately. Faintly, he could hear the rushing of wind - the man was moving, and fast. “There’s a church, I’m heading to it.” A brief pause, “Let’s RV there. You know where it is?”

“We passed it when we came in with Alejandro and Rudy.” He moved closer to the sound of voices, and to the growing light of flashlights and cars. “I remember. I think.”

“Gonna hafta remember, Johnny. Your life depends on it.” He peered out from the darkness of the alleyway, past the parked cars, their lights still on, and towards Graves and his shadows. He was lining people up against a wall. Women, men. It made him feel sick. 

“Graves ‘n’ Shadow are on a killing-spree.” He slowly moved behind the vehicles, using them for cover. His fingers ghosted over the floor as he crouched, helping him to quietly ease himself past the soldiers. There was a house up ahead, the front door open. They must have already ransacked the house. He hoped that, at least. Just as he made it through the door, shots rang out in the heavy air. The sound of bodies hitting the ground, killed by men he had seen as allies not so long ago, friends, even… It was disgusting. 

Still, he couldn’t think too hard about it. His eyes scoured the room he found himself in. It was a mess, like someone had tried to pack and leave. He hoped they got out, but that hope crumpled in his chest as he slowly opened one of the doors, the only unlocked one, peering in. Laying before him was a corpse, bruises littering their olive toned skin. Ropes bound their legs and arms together. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever seen, far from it, but it still made him frown. He hoped the man didn’t have a family. He unbound the rope slowly from their cold wrists. It could come in handy. He eyed a broken fan off to the left of him. One of the blades was half chipped. It tore off easily.

“Tie off the blade with the rope.” Ghost instructed him. Soap realised he’d been speaking his thoughts out loud, rambling softly to himself. His radio was clicked to unmute. When had he done that? “Works as a weapon, barely - better as a pry tool.”

Shaky fingers quickly did as Ghost said, and soon, he had himself a tool. It was something, better than nothing. “Sounds like you’ve done this before,”

There was a sad sort of tone in the lieutenant’s voice, “Years of practice.” 

Soap didn’t want to know what he meant by that. He made his way back outside of the room, using his newfound tool to pry open one of the doors. His arm ached horribly, feeling like it was going to snap in half - it didn’t, but his tool did snap, luckily, so did the lock. He pushed the door open carefully. “Busted the fan blade.”

“Got you through the door?” 

Ghost already knew the answer, he’d heard the door creak open on its hinges, but Soap humoured him anyway with words of confirmation as he travelled further into the room. Sounds of screams picked up again. A mother, screaming for her child. His mouth went dry.

“Move it, Johnny,” Came Ghost’s firm voice over the radio. “Ignore them.” 

There was a gunshot. A child screamed out for their parents in turn. A soldier was attempting to console them in shitty, unintelligible Spanish.

“Johnny. Ignore them.”

“They’re ruthless,” Soap whispered, crawling up the home’s stairs, feet light on the floorboards. He was met with more bodies, which he strode past. Ghost was right - he couldn’t do anything, he had to ignore them. The child’s desperate cries drowned out as they were taken away, echoing into the night. “My god.”

“We’ll kill them.”

“Graves?”

“Yeah. But his men deserve it just as much as he does.” Ghost’s voice was eerie in the silence. Hatred lined his words, “Following orders to murder innocent civilians. Fuckin’ disgusting.”

“You got that right, L.T.”

—

“You may get a brag rag for this.”

Soap quirked a brow. He felt blood drip down his face, hot and sticky on his cheek; so his head was bleeding then. “A medal?”

“Chest candy.”

He quickly climbed a set of outdoor stairs, hobbling his way to where he needed to go. Towards the sound of soldiers, of course. As if anything was ever easy when you’re John ‘Soap’ Mactavish. “That’s all rubbish,”

“You said you wanted a win,” There was a hint of amusement in Ghost’s voice, “Congratulations, you’re a winner.”

Soap chuckled himself, he couldn’t help it. “Away ‘n’ bile yer heid.”

“English, Mactavish.”

“Sorry sir,” He tried to sound incredibly polite, “Let me translate; ‘go fuck yerself’.”

“Much better.” He could hear the smile through the radio. “Gimme a sitrep.”

“Outside, currently.” He brought his aching body low to the ground, crawling through a gap and onto a small, low rooftop. Below him men (police, he recognised faintly) were being thrown to the ground by shadows. They spat, kicked and fought, but their bare hands were no match for the power of a bullet. “On a lil’ roof, I’m about to drop down and hopefully not find a damn bullet in my head. Place ‘s crawlin’ with fuckin’ shadows.”

“Church should be to your north.” Ghost commented helpfully, “I’ve set up a sniper position in the church tower. It’s crawling with shadows here too, but it’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t sure when he had jumped, but Soap’s feet hit the floor and his knees crumpled. Awkwardly, he fell, a hand just barely hitting the floor first to stop his head from slamming into the concrete. He huffed. “Fine is a grand choice of words, L.T.”

“Would you prefer I said that we were fucked?”

“Good point.”

—

“I’m in a… coffee shop.” Soap frowned at the destroyed ruins of what looked to be a once peaceful, relaxing cafe. There were a few bodies sat in chairs. Bullet holes littered the walls around them. The once beautiful wooden floor stained with their blood. These people had just been relaxing - they’d been existing peacefully, and now…

“Get us a tea,” Ghost broke the tense silence, and while it took his mind away from how fucked this whole situation was, he couldn’t help but groan.

“Fuckin’ Brits and your god-damn tea.” He worked to pry open some abandoned military-grade grates.

“You forget you’re British too, Johnny?”

He huffed. His arm was aching, but he’d scored himself some explosives. Worth the pain. “Hardly class myself as one.” There was also a small roll of bandages, tucked away behind it all. Bingo. “Finally found some fuckin’ bandages, Jesus.”

“Take a break, fix yourself up.” Ghost ordered. Soap wasted no time kneeling down and tearing open the packet, “As soon as you go down from there, it’ll be hell ‘till you get to the church.”

“Glad to hear,” 

He wrapped his arm first. It stung horribly, the dirt and grime he had been unsuccessful in wiping away pressing further into the wound. He let out a hiss between clenched teeth, tucking his chin into his chest as his muscles seized in agony. His hands tightened on the bandage, pulling tight. Blood was already seeping through his work as he finally looked up. 

“Doing alright?” Ghost just had to nose his way in.

“What do you think? Fuckkk-” He cut himself off with a fist to his mouth as his whole body lit up with fire when the final knot was secured on his arm. It burnt so badly that words couldn’t escape him to try and explain it to his lieutenant. He needed to save his energy finishing fixing up his damn head. All this blood he was losing would be like leaving a little trail for the soldiers hell-bent on his murder. He reached out for the rest of the bandages with his good arm, not daring to move the other. He couldn’t see the wound itself, couldn’t feel it either, his whole head felt like he’d been used as a football, so he tied the wrap like a bandana, reaching up with both arms regrettably to secure the tails of his makeshift fashion choice. He felt like a fucking ninja turtle. “Jesus fuckin’ Mary ‘n’ Joseph and all that fuckin’ knew ‘em.”

“Quite the choice of words.”

“Away ‘n’ bile yer heid.” He all but spat as he groaned, thunking to the floor. There was no heat to his words. “God I just need five fuckin’ minutes.”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m not goin’ ta.” He slurred. God, everything hurt.

“Johnny.” There was a warning in Ghost’s tone he hadn’t heard before. “Get up. Head left when you drop down, there’s a series of buildings that’ll help you stay hidden while you cross over. You need to get to the tunnels.”

“The tunnels,” He echoed, “Alrigh’ ‘m goin’, ‘m goin’.”

It took him another thirty seconds before he was truly ‘up’, and yet another thirty to drop down onto the bottom floor of the ruined coffee shop, leaving his safety net. There were Shadows crawling everywhere. His stomach dropped - Ghost was right, he needed to be fucking careful here.

“Heads up,” Ghost’s voice was quiet as to not give away Soap’s position as he manoeuvred his way through building after building. So far, so good, “The tunnels are flooded. Have a nice swim.”

Nevermind.

“Thanks for the very late heads up.” He plucked a screwdriver from a nearby drawer, twisting it in his good hand. It was blunt, but it would work as a weapon. “Gonna enjoy that.”

“I’m sure you will, you need a bath anyway.”

“I smell that bad?” 

“You smell like you use dogs’ piss for deodorant, Sergeant.” 

He slid out from a window as three soldiers marched past him, running in the opposite direction to them and slipping into yet another building. He closed the door softly behind him. “That hurt, sir.”

“Not as much as it hurts my nostrils, Johnny.”

“Ha ha.” He said dryly, darting from this new building to another - a pub, he realised. He scampered up the stairs to the top floor, peeking over the balcony. He could hear the rushing of water to his left. “I’m near the tunnels.”

“In the pub?”

“Yeah.” He took stock of the nice hanging lanterns, the beautifully manicured hedge fence, combined with the shattered glass of bottles, and the broken, static-filled TV hung haphazardly on a nearby wall. “Nice one too. Shame.”

“Jump down from there then sprint right to the tunnels.” Ghost instructed him, “There’s no hiding spots in that little gap, you are completely open to anything unless you are in those tunnels. The water will hide you.”

“Got it.” For the first time since he’d touched his radio, he reached up to click it off, “Going dark.”

[vidawhump]

Library Lockdown 2

Prev << Masterpost >> Next

Reese questioned what could be causing the noises. They shoved their books in their bag. They had just finished several assignments they'd been putting off for ages, and whatever nonsense going on upstairs was not allowed to mess with their homework.

They stalked up the stairs, not wanting to be spooked by the source of the bluster. Reese peered into the ground floor of the library. Most of the books and displays had been stowed away in beat-up cardboard boxes. They’d been replaced by tools that Reese couldn’t recognize, along with assorted trash and crumpled plastic wrappers. Flattened boxes stacked up on the front desk, almost obscuring the computer monitors and barcode scanners.

The ground floor was nearly deserted, save for one last staff member packing up to leave. She was Reese’s favorite librarian. There was something about her; the comforting ambiance she had felt as if she understood Reese better than themself. Sadly, Reese could never remember her name. Maybe someday Reese would find their lost glasses so they could actually read her name tag.

The librarian visibly brightened at the sight of Reese peeking out of the stairway.

“Reese! How’d your homework go? Don’t tell me you forgot your calculator in your locker again, ‘ya silly goose.”

Reese gave her two thumbs up and a small smile, unmoving from their spot in the stairway.

The librarian just smiled back at them, not saying anything else. She seemed to notice that Reese wasn’t in much of a talking mood that day. She picked up her bag and walked out the front doors, leaving Reese with a small but genuine smile.

More noises echoed down from the second flight of stairs beside Reese. The sounds came clearer now. They sounded almost… wooden. And people were talking. Not quite loud enough that Reese could make anything out over the clattering wood, but loud enough that it was concerning. They slowly made their way up the next flight of stairs. It felt barren. The decorations and paintings that normally littered the walls were gone. The library almost seemed haunted.

They paused to run their hand across the beige drywall. Only thumbtack holes and Sharpied scribbles remained after the mosaics were removed. They missed the Lego library logo halfway up the stairs. Lifeless. But also… dangerous, in a way that sent shivers down Reese’s spine.

Another wooden clattering rung out accompanied by shouting and laughing. Right. The noises. Reese left their sentiments on the stairway and crept to the second floor.

They briefly considered that the remodelers had arrived early and had been messing around. Maybe that was why there was so much noise. Surely, that was it, and Reese could go home. But Reese couldn't leave without knowing for sure.

Before they could fully peer into the second floor, a hammer flew by, almost hitting Reese in the head.

… Maybe the remodelers just really hated Reese. Or maybe they're using drugs. Or both. Reese should stop trying to rationalize the situation that they hadn't fully uncovered.

Once Reese felt that no more flying hammers were going to attack them, they were able to fully examine the condition of the second floor.

It was in more disarray than the ground floor. The computers were shattered and broken on the floor and shiny glass shards scattered below the desks. The books, mainly informational and reference, were strewn across the floor. Several bookshelves were knocked over and into each other. Large wooden panels were laid all over the torn carpet.

And Reese might have been able to rationalize everything, if not for the people drilling the plywood across the windows and gawking at each other. They couldn’t have been much older Reese, and couldn’t possibly be the remodelers. One of the intruders threw another hammer, thankfully not at Reese again, but at one of the other intruders.

Whatever they were up to couldn't be any good.

Library Lockdown Taglist: @loonybun @rainbowsandwhumperflies @whumpy-wyrms @rainydaywhump