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twigg96 · 6 months

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The Day We Lost You

Daryl X Reader (feat. Aaron and Phoenix)

Whumptober Prompt: 25 We’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave

Warnings: Angst, Blood, Gore, Death, Character Death, Clowns, Walker Bites, Dreams,

POV: Daryl

Pronoun: You, [Y/N], Wife, Partner, their, they

Summary: Escaping a massive hoard of walkers would be bad enough if they weren't trapped in a never ending twisting hallway with no escape and a crazed clown with a chainsaw at the other end. Daryl does all he can to try and help his family escape alive... but if he can't he prays with everything he's got that its all a dream.

Daryl’s heart pounded in his chest as he ran. The groans of the dead creeping ever closer. Their hands gripped at his vest through chain link fences that were far too tight for comfort. Why had Aaron taken them this way? Looking back at Phoenix then at You tailing not too far behind he tried to keep you all together. Keeping a tight grip on your teenage daughter's slender wrist he refused to let her be swallowed up by the horde should they break through the fencing. As the group stumbled into the vast openness of the factory basement Daryl tried to catch his breath. Tried to figure out the best course of action. “There’s two halls!” Aaron yelled out his voice echoing though the vastness as he pointed to the hallways at either end of the room. One hallway had lights that flickered and hummed ominously. The off-putting smell of medical supplies and cleaning products wafting through the air made Daryl feel sick in an all too familiar way. The second hall was pitch black and smelled of rot and decay. Groans and moans of the dead emanated from the hall as he stepped closer. “This one’s got walkers!” He yelled, pointing to the dark one. “Then we go in this one!” Aaron screamed, grasping ahold of Your hand as the four of you darted inside trying to keep as far ahead as possible.

The hall way in front of him seemed to stretch on for hours and hours. No matter how hard or how fast he ran he couldn't get away fast enough. The footsteps of the dead echoed down the hall behind him. Doors jutting from the sides all led to dead ends. Medical supply rooms and empty hospital rooms with empty gurneys covered in blood lined the walls. Dark red sticky drying blood leaked from under the doors as they passed screams echoing through his mind as he ushered his family through Hell. The windows were too high to jump through safely with no hope to shimmy down the walls. Keeping a strong grip on Phoenix's wrist he pulled her along, regretting ever bringing her along on this run in the first place. Her hand quaked in his own reminding him of just how fragile she truly was. "Daddy." She whimpered with every twist and turn the hall made, leading effectively no where. He wanted to answer... He wanted to be strong. But his voice failed him. Hitting the wall at the opposite end of the hall Daryl's heart dropped. Dead End. Desperately searching the doors on either side, one of them had to lead to stairs... even if they lead higher in this cursed building he'd take it at this point. They simply had to. But when he opened a supply closet and a room with a beautiful familiar blonde body, covered in a white sheet and blood laying on a gurney the archer felt himself shutter and retch.

"Daryl..." Your terrified whisper gave him no time to think. No time to register what he was staring at. Turning back to Aaron, [Y/N], and Phoenix, Daryl stared in awe in the direction where the wall once was which was now replaced with a dark stretch of hallway. No lights illuminated the ceiling here. No windows lit the dark. Just the overwhelming smell of gasoline was wafting through the air before Daryl could see the danger. The man with the pitch white skin practically peeling from his body stepped into the light from the shadows of the hall in front of them. The gas powered chainsaw dripped with fresh blood onto the linoleum and down the man's worn polka dotted clothing staining it in odd designs and patterns. His hair was matted and hung in long dreads that framed the smeared dried blood that was painted on his face like the mask of a clown.

Ice ran through Daryl's veins as the man laughed a crazed manic scream, yanking the saw in his arms to life, spraying the walls with a fine mist of blood.

There was no need for a command or an order. It was instinctual. Turning on their heels, Daryl pulled his daughter along, praying that his wife and Aaron could keep up and hold their own against the hoard they were about to face.

The cut off scream. The horrific, grotesque sounds told Daryl all he needed to know... Aaron couldn't.

Tears rolled down Daryl's face as he pulled Phoenix along. "Oh God!" He heard her gasp. She was looking back, tripping over her own feet as Daryl pulled her. Slowing them both down. "Daddy, we nee-" She begged. Her innocent belief that Daddy could save them all was going to be shattered... And how Daryl wanted to keep it all wrapped up in a box. Just let her hold onto that shimmer of hope. He wished with all he was that he could be that man right now. Keep her safe and warm like he promised when she was born... But now he knew the only way to do any of that... was to break her heart. "Phoenix!" He screamed, yanking her up beside her and cutting her off. "Ya can't look back! Just run!" He screamed at her, moving his grasp to nearly bruising her upper arm.

Fear. It was a look Daryl was used to seeing in other's eyes when they looked at him. A trait he picked up from the Dixon side was a stone cold expression and a proclivity to push people away. But when his own flesh and blood looked at him like that… terrified, hurt, scared. He knew that he was in deep shit.

But he couldn't just fix this one... and Phoenix wasn't just scared of what was around them. Not just the clown. Not the screams of her mother begging them to run faster. Not even the hoard charging right for them. No... she was scared of him... and it killed him.

But he couldn't let himself be swayed or overwhelmed. That was an issue for later. Pulling his knife from the holster on his side he jerked Phoenix. "Knife! Now!" He screamed. There was no stopping. He couldn't take the clown. He couldn't risk slowing his family. But maybe... he could slow him down for them.

Slowing down to let [Y/N] catch up he pushed Phoenix forward. "Keep moving! I'll be right behind you!" He ordered, placing his hand on [Y/N]'s back they shared a loving but worried look. He cherished it. That one heartbeat of a moment where his skin met their’s. When their eyes met for the last time before they and their daughter were swallowed by the heard.

Turning to face the clown he tried not to react to the towering man thundering towards him. Aaron's lifeless corpse, sliced and mutilated dragging behind him like some sick trophy. Daryl cursed mentally backing away, bringing his knife up to his chest. But the clown's manic laugh resonated there anyway. Step by step he was being slowly surrounded. The walkers clawed at his back. The clown revved his chainsaw and Daryl refused to let that crazed gleam in his eyes be the last thing he'd ever see.

"What'cha afraid of?" Merle's voice resonated through his mind, like a fog. Aa sly smile plastered on his young face as he jingled the plush clown in front of his face through the dead of night. His older brother didn't look older than twelve... "Just a toy, little brother..." He whispered over the the sniffles. His large calloused thumb felt rough against Daryl's sensitive tear stained face. "Tell you what... if ya want ta beat this mother fu... this creep," Merle corrected, chuckling softly tapping Daryl’s head, "Ya gotta be smart. Use that head o' yers." Merle whispered. "We both know you'll be smarter than ol' Merle one day. So make sure ya use yer head like ya should and you'll be jest fine..."

Glaring up at the clown as he dropped Aaron to the ground, and grab the chainsaw with both hands. Daryl felt his body tense preparing to go into action. Slowly, the clown lifted the saw ever higher, the hands of the dead grasped Daryl's vest and jeans as if holding him in place, reminding him he was doomed, he was going to die.

"I'm a coward..." Something he'd said so long ago that it felt like another life entirely. "You're not a coward..." You had whispered from your place in the field beside him the summer of their senior year. "Just not using that brain of yers." You teased him for dropping out. "Get out... Live a life, Daryl. It's ok, I understand. I'll be waiting for you when you come back."

His body moved on it's own. If he could choose he would have stood still. Been a martyr for his family. But as his knees gave out and the clown swung the spinning blades above his head, he didn't know if it was an act of cowardice or a refusal. A refusal to die. To be a lamb for slaughter. Looking to the mangled meat behind the clown, Daryl felt everything begin to bubble up.

"I know you feel like an outsider... It's not your fault ya know..."

Aaron's soft voice chimed through the darkness. He was his first friend. The first real one in Alexandria at least... The first man he could really truly trust.

Anger. Pure fiery rageful boiled inside of Daryl's chest as he pushed himself off of the floor, rolling to the side letting the clown miss once more. "Fuck you..." He growled, pushing to one knee. "Fuck you. FUCK YOU!"

Fast it was faster than he'd even perceived it. Bolting into the heard, Daryl sunk his knife into the heads of the walkers that posed too much problem. Shoving away the walkers that got to close he ran on pure adrenaline. The sounds of the chainsaw revved behind him but were quickly stopped as the machine was overwhelmed and gummed up with the flesh of the undead. While Daryl would have loved to have plunged the knife deep into the head of the clown, the sounds of screaming as the hoard moved toward a common goal was enough for him to push forward with out fear.

"[Y/N]! Phoenix!" Daryl cried out when the heard started to thin into the stragglers. "Babe!" His scream echoed down the halls eerily. "Daryl..." [Y/N]'s shaky tearful voice called out. But with the damn echo it could have been from anywhere in the damned hallway. Opening the doors on the wings of the hall, Daryl paused when one was locked. "[Y/N]..." Daryl murmured worry filling his chest. With a click the door unlocked and swung open. "Daryl..." [Y/N] whimpered. Fresh blood covered their hands and was dripping down their arms. She was pale and shaking soaked in walker blood. "I-I-I..." They stuttered. That ice that filled his chest was back but more painful and gripping than before.

Looking her over for any obvious wounds, Daryl moved past her into the hospital room. Like a spotlight, the operating lights were the only ones shining on his little girl. Pale and sleeping like a princess on the opperating table, blood pooled and bloomed all around her like rose petals. Daryl shook his head. "No..." The whispered word fell from his mouth like a prayer as he rushed to her side, his wife right beside him. "I-I-I think she got bit..." You whimpered, your hands moving to press the only wound on Phoenix's body. A bite to the thigh just deep enough to nick something vital. From the amount of blood it was too late. Logically, Daryl knew that... "Not my baby... Not my little girl." He whimpered. But Phoenix... his little Phoenix. His body moved on it's own. Like watching a movie his hands were folded over her chest pumping just like he was taught so so many years ago.

"If you ever find yer brother or daddy passed out like that again ya need to do this." The paramedic instructed him after his father bitched about the medical bill. "Hand over hand, put as much pressure as you can on the center of their chest as fast as ya can muster. We want one-hundred beats a minute but just go as fast ya can ya hear?"

"Daryl..." You whispered, your hands falling from your daughter's thigh after several minutes. No... NO... Daryl shook his head, sweat mixed with tears dripping from his face onto the floor. His hair clung to his forehead, back of his neck, and cheeks. "Daryl." You called once more. But Daryl refused, a rush of adrenalin pushing him to move faster and harder despite the sickening cracking of ribs, despite the lack of blood that came from her open wound. "G-Get somethin' ta wrap that up for when she wakes up!" Daryl screamed, gesturing to the wound with his chin. "Daryl!" You finally screamed, pulling him away with a broken sob. "Stop! Stop! She's going to turn! You need to stop!" You screamed, clinging to his chest heaving heavy heartbroken sobs. Daryl's arms wrapped shakily around his wife as he watched his little porcelain doll lay sleeping on the operating table. "We... we need to... before she..." Daryl sobbed at the mere suggestion but he knew it was true... he'd hate himself if his little girl became... one of them. "We-we're not delivering a perfect body to the grave!" Daryl hissed defensively, looking away. But his partner’s strong hold on his middle grounded him... enough.

Pulling his knife from his holster he stared at his partner who held their’s. "Let me..." You whispered. He wanted to object. To let them leave and not have to worry about this... but he also knew if he watched this... he wouldn't be able to live his life again. Closing his eyes he nodded. Kissing his daughter's forehead one last time he couldn't help but notice how cold her skin was as he walked away but the sound that sound that was burnt into his mind by how often he heard it resonated in his mind as he sat outside the door. Hearing not only one gunshot... but two.

"No!" Daryl screamed, sitting straight up in bed, gasping for breath and covered in sticky cold sweat. You jerked awake beside him, staring at him with a wide fearful gaze that told him you were no where near awake yet. The room around him was dark too dark to be comfortable but the bed. It was recognizable enough to begin to sooth the pounding of Daryl's heart in his chest. "What's wrong baby?" You whispered softly, moving to sit beside him. Reaching out to you, Daryl pulled you close taking slow deep breaths. "You're ok... You're ok..." He whispered over and over, rocking you both rhythmically. "It was a dream Dare. It's over." You whispered, combing your fingers through Daryl's graying hair. "I know..." He whispered as you swiped the tears away. "B-but I need ta- I need-" Daryl sobbed, moving to get out of bed. "Ok... Ok..." You whispered, moving to follow him. Daryl sniffled trying desperately trying to keep quiet as he grabbed the battery powered lantern off the table in the hall and flicking it on. Popping his head in on his youngest he sighed. Lillian was curled around her favorite purple teddy, her sheet covering her but her comforter long since kicked away. Her long hair was a tangled mess he knew her mother would have to tame the same way she did every morning: bribery and food. Closing her door he moved to Beau's room. The tween was twisted like a pretzel in bed, is feet at the head of the bed on the pillow and his head down at the bottom of the bed laying on a ball of crumpled bedding that he was supposed to use to make his bed with three days ago. Daryl shook his head at his son and closed the door moving over to his eldest's, his heart pounding in his chest as his shaking hand touched the knob. Opening the door he searched the room for her. Her room was amazingly clean compared to her siblings. A few maps were spread across the desk and a marker laid haphazardly with it's cap off next to her hand as she slept slumped over at her desk, curled around her latest strategical masterpiece. Stepping into her room, Daryl touched her shoulder lightly, watching as she blinked into consciousness. "C'mon. Ya should sleep in yer bed there, girl." He whispered, kneeling next to her. He may have been way too old to lift her. She may have been too old to be carried to bed. But she was safe... she was alive. Daryl wasn't going to let this or any more opportunities slip from his fingers.

"Are you sure? It's so late..." You whispered, meeting your husband at the door. "Yeah... gotta check." He answered, pulling on his jacket then his vest. He knew normally you'd press harder. That you would have begged him to come back to bed. Done anything to calm him down. But this was something he needed to do. And you would be damned to keep him from doing what felt right. "Alright... wish him my best." You whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "I will." Daryl whispered back. Into the cold winter night Daryl trudged down the street. He was grateful that he and Aaron didn't live too far apart in the grand scheme of things but in times like this he really missed communal living. Aaron and Eric's house was always nicely decorated. The decorations now looked like lumps in the snow... it was surreal. Stepping up to the door he knocked loudly but swiftly. It wasn't long before he could hear swift footsteps from behind the door. "Daryl?" Aaron asked a little surprised as the door swung open. "W-What's wrong?" He whispered, glancing behind him for any others. Daryl felt himself unravel. He didn't want to. He wanted to just tell Aaron about the dream and be done with it. But that feeling came back. That one where his body was moving on it's own without thinking. He stepped forward and pulled Aaron into a tight hug, burying his face in Aaron's neck. "I- Sorry." He sniffed feeling the hot tears stinging his eyes once more. "Nightmare." Was all that came out through his broken sobbing voice accepting Aaron's arms around his body. "Oh... Oh Daryl." His sweet voice cooed, as his friend rubbed his back. "C'mon. Lets get you warmed up. I was just about to make some coffee." He was a shit liar... but Daryl's best friend.

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maddys-nerd-blog · 6 months

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Hey guys!!!

Sorry for the lack of posts! I’ve been super busy, but the good news is I’ve got another TMNT fanfic done! This time it’s a one shot, and it’s based on a whumptober prompt!!

This one I just recently completed! It’s also a kind of introduction to my OC, Lilium!

For context, in this AU, it’s an OC x Donatello story that has a ongoing plot I’m currently working on alongside my Familia AU! It takes place during Season 4 of the 2003 series!

Enjoy! 😄

I’m Never Leaving You

A TMNT 2003 One Shot

Whumptober Prompt: Shock

“You are pathetic.”

That was the hundredth time Karai had said those words in the past couple hours. Lilium wasn’t sure if the kunoichi was trying to ingrain the saying into her head to get her to crack, but they were becoming grating.

Of course, that was small potatoes given her current situation.

The butcher shop was empty, having been closed for a few weeks due to failing a health code inspection. Aunt Katie was pretty annoyed at first because this was her favorite place to get roast beef sandwiches, but who would have imagined that such an ordinary place would become the impromptu hideout for the Foot?

Lilium sat on the scuffed tiled floor, her hands tied behind her, hair a frizzy mess that hung around her back. Locked around her throat the electric shock collar hugged the Siren symbols imprinted into her flesh, burning beneath the heavy metal devise that beeped ominously, a warning for if she dare try to shriek. Her broken nose was clogged with blood, most of it having leaked down her face and drying around her split lips to make her look like a wreck. The formerly cream colored leggings she wore were muddied and caked with stains of crimson and dust. A failed escape attempt two days ago. Her raspberry blouse was tattered and torn around her stomach and elbows from where steel toed boots struck her abdomen.

It wasn’t the words themselves that got under her skin. It was the cloying fear.

Ever since she’d gotten kidnapped, the cold claws of dread sank themselves deep into her core and started digging. Being a captive to someone as ruthless as Karai was one thing. But this time, it was personal. It had been a month since Karai had taken the mantle of being the Shredder. And in that time during the turtle’s much needed recovery process, she’d become… unhinged.

Lilium didn’t really know Karai outside of her connection with the Foot. Donnie had told her the basics of her relationship with Shredder, but otherwise? She’d only known her as the cutthroat ninja who would do anything to please her master. Even if it meant killing teenagers.

And her unpredictability was scaring her the most.

Stalking around the girl, the woman observed her with a blank glare. Lilium refused to look at her, lest she receive any kind of verbal or physical scolding. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground, where droplets of her blood had fallen in front of her knees. Don’t do something stupid Lily. Just stay calm…

“You are pathetic,” repeated Karai, her voice laced with callousness. “How is it that you were able to defeat several of the Purple Dragons? Sheer dumb luck?”

Lilium refused to respond.

Karai’s hands were suddenly grabbing her hair. Unforgiving, the woman yanked her head upwards and forced her to meet dark obsidian eyes that reminded Lilium of ravens. Her lips were curled into a furious snarl. “Answer me, child!”

Lilium grit her teeth, a pained whimper sneaking past. Even so, she refused to speak.

“If you do not speak, there shall be punishments. It would be wise to obey, lest I begin breaking your bones,” Karai’s words were hard as stone. She meant every word of her threat. Her scornful expression only spoke one thing; Don’t try my patience.

Lilium grit her teeth, eyes narrowed at the woman with disdain. “Is it y-your favorite hobby t-to kidnap kids? To beat them up…? Cuz that’s pretty sad.”

“For a girl with a sharp tongue, you should understand when it is time to curb your words.” Karai shoved Lilium’s head away, scornful. “Your mother did not teach you well.”

Her frustration ticked at the comment. Clearing her throat to better get her words across, Lilium snapped back at the nutcase. “At least my mom didn’t teach me to be a hateful bitch with daddy issues.” Lilium let that comment fly like molasses spilling from a jar; slow, biting, a low blow in every sense of the word. She’d learned from Raph, so it seemed.

If she’d struck a cord, Karai was doing a good job hiding it. Or she didn’t care. The ninja had the resolve of a cheetah, unfazed and unimpressed. Lilium watched as the armor clad monster stepped back, crimson lips curled into a sharp grin, devilish and razor-like. “You believe yourself to be clever. But you will understand that you are not as strong as you think.”

Lilium mentally prepared herself for the worst. She expected a slap to the face, a kick to the stomach, or the collar to start going off.

But Karai, instead, reached into her belt and unclipped a scalpel from a side pouch. The slim knife glinted dangerously beneath the buzzing lightbulbs over her head. Lilium’s breath caught in her throat with panic.

“Let me get one thing very clear,” Karai knelt to her level, scalpel twirling around her fingers, keeping it in view to let Lilium’s fear grow. “I am not above taking you apart, piece by piece, to see how long it takes until I can break you. I could use your vocal chords as a source of power to bring your friends to their knees. I could even use you as a battery.” She brought the knife towards her, the tip of the blade pointed directly at her temple. “You are just a means to an end. If I take your life, you shall go unnoticed.”

Lilium’s heart was in her throat. Horror encased her features, breathing quick and shallow, her instincts going berserk as the tip of the knife was pressed into the skin of her forehead.

“This can all cease if you just tell me where I can find the turtles.” Karai let a faux tone of pity tint her voice. “I will let you go home if you give me what I ask.”

Lilium grit her teeth so tight her jaw clicked in place, molars gnashing terribly hard in her mouth that she was sure they were cracking. Oh God this was bad, this was very very bad. Her body was shaking against her will. She wanted to throw up, she wanted to scream but she couldn’t. How could she possibly surrender her friends like this? How could she be given such an ultimatum? She couldn’t hand the guys over to this psycho! She’d probably torture them worse than what Lilium had been forced to go through! She could hand them over to Bishop and THAT curdled the contents of her stomach to the point of near vomiting. Donnie had already been out through that shit once, he didn’t deserve any of it. They’d all been pushed too far to the brink. They nearly DIED.

Momma had raised her to always do the right thing even when you were afraid. Donnie showed her how to be brave.

But she knew how deadly Karai was. She knew first hand how horrifying Bishop was. She was scared. She was only fifteen. She wanted to go to college, she wanted to live, she wanted to go home and believe this was all a nightmare. She wanted to be with Donnie, to hear his voice, to hug him and cry her eyes out. To hear him reassure her that it was all just a bad dream and that nothing could hurt her.

Lilium couldn’t help the sob that cracked through her teeth, the knife pressing further into her skin enough to start drawing blood that slowly trickled down her forehead and riding along the curve of her nose.

“Tell me,” Karai gripped the scalpel tight in her fist, applying more pressure on the scalpel. It punctured this time, sinking deep into her forehead. “Or this will get worse.”

Things weren’t already worse than they were now?

Lilium’s throat burned under the uncomfortable collar, magic trying to escape but unable to find an exit. She screwed her eyes tight when the knife started to drag towards the right, creating a vertical cut about two inches long, blood trailing down her face. Sucking down air in rapid succession, the girl prayed it would be over soon, she prayed she’d die faster than this, she prayed for help. She wanted to go home she wanted to go home she wanted to go home she wanted to go home—

“Karai,” entering the threshold with a deep bow, a thin lackey dawning the standard black Foot garb quickly dropped to kneel at the doorway, his head lowered. “Forgive my intrusion. I bring news.”

The jonin finally removed the scalpel from her skin— Lilium hadn’t realized she was crying until the stinging in her eyes became sharper— sending a cold glare to the henchman. “What is it?“

“I’ve received a status report,” he dutifully replied. “The package is secured. Our soldiers are en route to deliver it to you.”

Something sinister crossed Karai’s face. There was almost satisfaction behind her wicked smile as she looked back to Lilium. The bone chilling gaze in her heartless eyes was enough to make her shrink back a little in fright out of what she’d do.

“It appears my forces have not disappointed me.” Rising from the floor, Karai put the scalpel away into her belt. “I must go and oversee the package’s arrival.” Another ominous grin crawled up her lips as she observed Lilium’s shaking form. “Perhaps if you behave, I shall bring you back a treat.”

Lilium found it hard to swallow. What could that possibly mean?

Lilium was left behind in the back room as Karai made her leave with the lackey. The girl stared, scared out of her mind, mind racing with all the possibilities of what Karai was going to get. What could it be? A new shipment of guns? Mutants? New alien tech to track the turtles?

There were dozens of things. But one thought persisted in the scared haze of the Siren. I hope the guys get away in time…

********************

It was two hours that Karai had been gone, and in that time of dreary silence and a pounding migraine that rocked her skull like a battering ram, Lilium had dozed off. The need for sleep had overtaken her, despite every fiber of her being protesting not to. There were injuries she probably didn’t know about, internal ones that needed attention, but how could she assess the damage done to her when her hands were tied? When her magic was locked behind a shock collar? Without the ability to heal the worst of her wounds, she’d passed out. She’d fallen into an uncertain slumber, twitching painfully, unable to dream in the horrid environment she was trapped in. All she could do was sit there in the middle of the room and wait for whatever was to come.

In between short lapses of consciousness, Lilium thought of better things to distract herself from the ringing in her ears or the blood clogging her nostrils. She pictured herself running through Central Park on a beautiful sunny day without the fear of being chased or hunted. She imagined everyone she loved at the family dinner table, enjoying every kind of pizza they could think of. She saw glimpses of a starry sky, the taste of dark chocolate faint on the back of her tongue, earbud in one ear with the other being shared, holding onto a three fingered hand with a thrumming heartbeat that worried if she’d gotten this wrong, only for said hand to slowly squeeze back to affirm the unspoken question that hung in the air; Am I in love with my best friend?

She thought of a grand party being thrown in the wake of the Triceratons finally having found peace, the lair awash with brightly colored lights and music, of aching feet that were surely going to be blistered in the morning but not giving a damn because this was a celebration. She remembered slipping away from the too loud shouts and crowded dance floor and finding refuge somewhere in a long tunnel that led into a small passage beneath Madison Square Garden. She remembered the same three fingered hand suddenly finding hers in the dark, a lamp in hand, a bashful smile as he asked her for a dance, leading her into a slow, steady waltz with no music, no tempo, no high energy beat that bounced the walls. Just them, a lamp to light the way, and Lilium’s voice humming along to the melody of Mandy Moore’s greatest hits.

Those were better than the grim reality she was forced to endure.

Around the three hour mark the doors were violently slammed open, startling Lilium wide awake from her thoughts. All of a sudden her eyes were flooded with lights blinding her, squinting against the painful sting and the spots that spun around her sight. If she wasn’t so injured she’d have tried to move back and get as far away from the incoming entourage.

Five Foot goons marched into the room, following Karai as the woman made her way into the lonely threshold with her head held high, looking pleased with herself. There were distinct dark red stains marking the chest plate of her armor, making Lilium freeze at the unsettling sight. Oh God��

“Good news, girl,” Karai announced, stepping aside to create an opening for her men. “I bring you a present.”

The tone in her voice sent chills down her spine. Oh no. What kind of present was she talking about? Knowing her track record, Lilium doubted it was something cute and cuddly. She couldn’t imagine Karai skipping merrily into a clothes store just to find something worth tormenting her over. The woman was as ruthless as a viper, unforgiving and dangerous; it was going to be something painful, and whatever it was it was going to hurt. Badly.

Two more men came into the room, dragging someone between them. The figure appeared unconscious had it not been for the angry grunts. Their arms were behind them. Their ankles were bound, uselessly dragged under them. Lilium’s heart rate escalated faster, faster, ever faster as they came into the light and she saw who this newcomer was.

Olive green skin. A shell. Purple mask.

Purple mask. No. NO!

“NOOOO!” Any type of patience Lilium might have had snapped like a twig. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. She struggled to get to her feet, voice cracking uncomfortably from the shriek that tore out of her throat, the collar beeping in rapid warning to remind her of her punishment. “DONNIE!”

Donatello snapped his head up at the sound of her voice— Lilium’s panicking only increased. Other than the bruises scattering the skin around his arms and face, he looked unharmed. His gear was gone, his knee and elbow pads missing, his belt taken, his bō noticeably absent. The second his eyes locked onto hers and he took in the brutal state she was in, it was as if a switch was flipped in his brain.

“LILY!” He cried out, thrashing against his bonds with as much power as he could give. “Karai, you promised she wasn’t hurt! I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!”

Karai just smirked at the ninja with disdain. “I never had to assure you of her well-being. Be grateful she still breathes.”

“DONNIE!” Lilium’s voice was shrill against the pain. Tears pricked her eyes and blurred her vision, but she didn’t stop screaming. The collar started beeping louder. “I’M SO SORRY DONNIE!”

The genius was thrown to his knees with a thud. He grit his teeth, but he didn’t let the sudden jolt of agony in his legs perturb him from calling out to the girl. “Lily! Lily, look at me! I promise you’re going to be alright!” His eyes turned hateful as he looked up towards the woman who’d done this. “What did you do to her!?”

“Only what I would have done if I had found one of you,” Karai cooly answered. “It is her fault for disobeying.”

“Disobey…?!” Donatello sounded disgusted.

“I gave her direct instructions and she broke them. I only saw it fit to punish her.” Karai strode towards Lilium once more, heels clicking loudly in the quiet of the room. “But now that I have acquired YOU, perhaps I will finally obtain answers.” Once Karai moved behind the girl, a clawed, steely hand coming to fall upon her shoulder. Lilium shuddered. “You, Donatello, are going to tell me where I can find your brothers, your master, and your human friends.”

Donatello’s face turned to stone. Without missing a beat, he snapped at the warrior. “I’m not telling you anything.”

The claws on Lilium’s shoulder sank into her skin. She bit her lip to refrain from crying. Karai was silent for a moment, waiting for something. “Are you certain?”

Donatello glared at her icily in response.

The claws sank deeper into her shoulder. Lilium’s heart quickened.

“Very well,” Karai spoke calmly.

Lilium’s eyes locked onto Donatello with worry. His gaze followed something behind her she couldn’t see, the alarm in his face prominent. “What are you—“

The collar went off.

And Lilium’s world only knew fire.

A strangled scream ripped through her throat. Electricity blinded her vision and powerful volts created a hellfire unlike any other in her throat. The metal burned from the staticky currents of electrical torture that ruined her voice. Sensitive muscle tissue became numb from the inside and started to erode. Uncontrolled spasms of agony rocked her body forward as she finally dropped to the ground, writhing blindly. She couldn’t see anything but black spots that tinted the edges of her sight into blurry messes of tears that poured down her face, her teeth gnashing hard to stop herself from biting her tongue. The smell of human flesh burning stuck in her sinuses.

In the background she could vaguely hear Donatello screaming in horror. Muffled pleas of mercy went unheard in her wailing, the electric shocks making her deaf to everything else.

Then, after an excruciating eternity of electric hell, it stopped.

Lilium curled into a ball, wheezing, spitting blood. There was an intense ringing in her ears. Her head hurt. She could feel her throat bleeding under the collar. Even taking a breath felt like a chore with crushed windpipes.

“— MONSTER! Leave her alone, your fight is with me!”

“Tell me where your brothers and Sensei are, and this ends.”

“YOU’RE CRAZY! Shredder is gone! You won’t get him back by doing this—“

The collar activated once more, and Lilium’s back arched as another hellish pain overcame her. Screaming at the top of her lungs as the volts somehow got more intense. They weren’t this harsh before. Had the power been increased?!

“STOP IT!” Donatello hollered in desperation. “STOP! PLEASE STOP!”

The volts grew higher. Her throat constricted and suddenly Lilium was choking. She couldn’t breathe. Foam gathered at the corners of her lips, blood caught in her lungs and threatened to fill them. Sensitive skin near the bottom of her jaw and windpipe felt like it was cracking from the severe intensity of the burns.

“PLEASE! SHE’S GOING INTO SHOCK! HER THROAT WILL TEAR! SHE’LL DIE! KARAI, PLEASE!”

Black dots started coloring her eyesight. Donatello sounded farther away than she thought. Why couldn’t she concentrate…?

“EASTMAN!”

The collar abruptly shut off. Even then Lilium didn’t move. Her body twitched, choked grunts pushing past bloodied lips. Her lungs were jelly, her throat was toast. She wanted to curl up and die. Despite the world being blurry, Karai’s steel armor came into view overhead as she matched Donatello’s gaze with an expecting glare. “Speak.”

“Eastman and 87th! You’ll find a parking garage with a false bottom in the floor! That’s where our hideout is!” Donatello rasped. He sounded petrified, out of breath, like he’d just had the air ripped out of his chest. “I swear! Please…! Please just stop… she’s had enough.”

Donnie, Lilium thought with broken dismay. No…

There was silence. Karai stepped over the fallen girl and disappeared from view. Donatello wasn’t talking now; he was breathing too quickly, like he had just re-emerged from under the water. Was he okay…?

“Gather our men and head to the location the freak provided. We are going to have a family reunion.”

******************

At least the new leader of the Foot kept her word to some extent, whether or not she was going to make good on the false promise of leniency. They were left alone shortly after Donatello gave her what she wanted. Karai and her men left, a few of them stayed behind to guard the two prisoners until they were needed. What could they be needed for? Lilium didn’t know. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere in their state, let alone escape.

Donatello and Lilium were left in the dimly lit room with the bloody floor and the stench of burning skin lingering. The collar was reactivated to prevent the girl from screaming any further, while Donatello had been gagged. Why? To stop him from talking, to stop him from comforting her? Maybe it was some kind of punishment for his delay in giving Karai an answer; not being able to communicate.

It had stayed like that for an hour. Lilium and Donatello both trapped in this terrible situation with nowhere to go.

Her magic couldn’t do anything now, strength and stamina depleted from the torture. The only thing that made noise was the shock collar that chirped softly. She hated it. The girl could taste bile and blood in her mouth, acidic and coppery, making her nauseous. There was a knocking deep inside her skull… it was as if everything was torn apart.

Was this what Donnie went through on the Triceraton fleet ship…? Did it hurt as badly as this…?

A featherlight tap on the back of her shoulder brought out a panicked jolt. Against the protesting migraine, Lilium snapped her head up, fight or flight kicking in… only to find Donatello there, sitting closer to where she was lying, his eyes filled with sorrow and guilt.

Her heart broke seeing him. “D-Don…” she couldn’t even form the words of his name. She sounded as if she’d decided to swallow staples for fun. It BURNED to speak. “I…”

Donatello mumbled something incoherent behind the gag, his tone laced with concern. He scooted close enough to accidentally nudge his knee into the side of her head. While gentle, it still made her wince due to the headache.

His presence offered reassurance. Lilium found herself resting her brow against his knees; it hurt to breathe, but at least the collar wasn’t as tight around her lacerated throat now. Was she simply imagining things?

Donatello mumbled something to her again. Her exhausted eyes lifted to meet his despite the pressure building in her head. Smiling weakly with red lips and a ghostly face, the girl tried to put on a brave face for him. “‘Re… you… okay?”

If he wasn’t trying to stay sturdy for her, he would have cried. But he nodded regardless, making a noise of affirmation.

She grinned. “Good…” she sniffed— blood still clogged her nose. When the collar beeped ominously Lilium froze— she missed how Donatello went rigid above her, eyes glued to the devise, staring in panic as if waiting for the inevitable to happen. It was only when the chirping continued that the two understood the warning; no talking.

Somehow, this hurt worse.

Lilium grit her teeth and laid her head against Donatello’s knees, face screwed up in turmoil. This was just sadistic. This was especially cruel. Who knew language could be so vital to the mental stability of two teenagers that desperately needed the confirmation that the other wasn’t going to die? When you couldn’t verbally communicate with someone, when you couldn’t talk, when you couldn’t use your words to ask if you were okay, if your friend was hurt, if your friend needed help, it was driving her crazy. If she talked she risked being electrocuted again, probably risked death. Donatello couldn’t speak with the cloth tied in his mouth, voice locked behind an obstacle that muted his words into gibberish. He was forbidden from making sure she was going to pull through this.

Tears finally started to trickle down her cheeks. Sobs were frail and withered, but the long rivers marking her skin were enough to show her despair. Heart breaking, finally, finally unable to withstand the pain the girl wept pitifully into Donatello’s knees. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t be strong like Donnie, she truly was pathetic. She’d been used as bait to lure out the person she loved and now he was going to be hurt and his brothers would be captured too—

Then… music.

Music reached her ears. Quiet, hushed, just loud enough to reach her ears and hers alone. Had she gone insane?

Lilium blinked in bewilderment, hiccuping, trying to locate the sudden shift…

She found Donnie instead.

He was… not singing— he literally couldn’t with a gag in his mouth— but he was… humming.

He was humming the lyrics to a Les Mis song she loved. Lilium almost couldn’t believe it.

A Little Fall of Rain; A song she’d used to audition for school. The musical she memorized by heart. The song she’d practiced with for weeks because EVERY girl her age was singing I Dreamed a Dream or On My Own. The song he’d sing with her just because he could— for someone who focused so much on his tech or inventions, he had a beautiful voice of his own; it was gentle, inviting like summer rain. She’d listen to him for hours if she could. It meant something to her.

And hearing him humming it to her here, knowing it was special to her, knowing it brought her happiness, trying to offer comfort when his words couldn’t do so…

Lilium’s sobs picked up. She pressed her forehead into his knees, the cut that had stung horribly earlier now adding to her migraine. She wanted this to be over. She wanted this nightmare to be done with. Everything she’d gone through had been in vain; Karai was going to hurt people and her friends were in danger. Magic couldn’t save them now. She put Donnie in danger…

How could she possibly forgive herself for this?

Donatello’s eyes shifted towards the door behind him, watching it carefully. Still humming the song to keep her calm, he pulled on his bonds to test their strength, but again, no dice. Lilium could see the irritation in his face, teeth gnashing into the cloth.

Then he paused. Something clicked behind his eyes. An idea?

Taking a deep breath, Donatello shifted his legs to tuck them beneath him, effectively kneeling. Her head still rested against his knees, but Lilium frowned in quiet confusion. “D-Dee…?”

Donatello shook his head, trying to offer reassurance. He steadied himself, taking another deep breath as he stretched his arms far behind him to reach for something she couldn’t see. He grunted with the strain of his shoulders, trying to locate what he was looking for.

He seemed to grab onto whatever he was trying to find, judging by the relieved look in his face. Passing another cautionary glance towards the door he waited with baited breath, staying completely still until he was certain nobody was coming in. Lilium couldn’t help but think, is he trying to get a knife?

But, after a couple minutes of struggling, Lilium couldn’t hear the sawing of a knife cutting rope. Instead, much to her surprise, she watched as Donatello shifted a little where he sat, grunting with effort, before the ropes around his ankles came loose and fell around his feet, freeing them. Had he used just his hands to get himself out of his bonds? Holy shit, she couldn’t help but think. That’s pretty clever.

Donatello adjusted his position to sit properly, kicking the ropes away from him. Finally able to use his legs the turtle crouched beside Lilium, turning his back to her. His hands flexed against the ropes binding them, fingers reaching for something he couldn’t find this time.

“D-Don?” She managed, confusion evident in her broken voice.

Donatello tried speaking again, but unfortunately nothing he said made sense. “Mmhf mmnh,” he continued trying to look for something that wasn’t there, fingers grabbing at air. He was looking at her with an expression of imploring, as if he were asking for something. “Hrrh phhn.”

Was he trying to talk to her…? Lilium helplessly shook her head with confusion. “I don’t—“

A sharp jolt of electricity burst through her throat. It felt as if someone had stabbed her straight through the windpipe. The choked scream that came out of her caused Donatello to whirl around to look at her, his eyes suddenly brimming with panic. The nerves in her throat were shot, scorched from hours of being shocked, the pain a searing fire that melted her windpipe. A whine turned into an agonized whimper as her body shuddered from the punishment.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It hurt to do anything.

Fingers quickly found her temple. Lilium didn’t have the energy to move any longer, stamina depleted from the battered form of the girl. The three digits brushed through messy bangs as if trying to locate something hidden there, combing through them as fast as possible. All the while he made these frantic chirps, clearly distressed when she didn’t make any motion to turn away from him.

She didn’t think everything around her could be so lopsided. The colors of the room began to blend into one another and blur into a confusing hodgepodge of nonsense like Alice in Wonderland. Her stomach twisted itself into knots and the front of her head was pounding so hard it made it difficult to see straight. Why was it hard to focus? Why couldn’t she move anymore?

The fingers were raking through her hair quickly until they snagged onto something and pulled it free. They felt around with another hand to find the collar, feeling it’s unyielding hold and desperately trying to pull on it. Lilium didn’t even flinch.

Donatello twisted his wrists enough to turn the left hand towards her, pinching something tight in his fingers as he guided what Lilium vaguely recognized as a hairpin into an open slot in the shock collar. It barely registered to her foggy consciousness that he was picking the lock.

He must’ve been turning and adjusting the position of the hairpin so much that his hand had to hurt, but he wasn’t letting up. Donatello stubbornly kept moving the flimsy lock pick up and down in the lock mechanism to get the damn thing to pop open. But this was Karai they were talking about; it wasn’t just going to give so easily.

Something in the front of her head knocked against her skull with a powerful pang. Glossy eyes fluttered against the pulsing pain, a wrangled whimper caught deep in her voice box. Something began to trickle free down her nose again. Noise was starting to fade around her. She couldn’t even hear the muffled voice of Donatello almost crying out to her, the hairpin twisting and shaking in his hand, a fearful pitch to his tone. He sounded far away…

Something loud clicked against her throat. A shrill chirp from the collar went off, before a very distinct pop.

Then the collar unlocked, opening just barely enough to allow the pressure around her neck to loosen. It became easier to breathe. Even then, Lilium didn’t have the strength to move. She couldn’t even feel the relief of the collar being deactivated. Something started leaking out from under the metal.

Was… her throat oozing?

But all at once, muddled sounds came through the room. A door was kicked open. Footsteps raced towards them, hands were quick to ease Lilium into a comfortable position. Rushed, panicked voices phased into a cacophony of confusion, flashes of red, blue, orange, gray and lavender passing by. Frantic hands touched her face, pressed down on her throat, wrapped her in something warm to shield her. Yet she couldn’t see anyone clearly, nor could she speak to question what was going on or why everyone was shouting.

“Don! Don, Jesus, are you okay—“

“My son, you are injured—“

“Bro calm down—“

“She’s DYING! She’s DYING, I need to help her!”

“Dear God in Heaven, hallowed be thy name—“

“Lily please look at me, don’t go to sleep! Lily?!”

But the voices were garbled, as though she’d been sinking underwater. All noise faded in the background. Before Lilium could begin to comprehend what was going on, the girl felt herself slip into a state of complete oblivion.

And nothing after that mattered when her world turned into a quiet void.

********************

Putting the last of the gauze away in the medical kit, Donatello tiredly breathed out a long, heavy sigh. Bloodied rags, a basin full of red-tinted water long since grown cold, spools of bandages around the desk and switching thread lay abandoned. He tried not to pay too much attention to the frightening amount of switches that crawled around Lilium’s thin throat.

Hours had gone by since the rescue. He was grateful Leo was able to follow the tracking devise hidden in the back of his mask— a fatal mistake Karai had paid for with their escape. While it hadn’t been easy for his brothers to get through the mess of ninja that guarded the deli, Father had taken them out single handedly. He’d looked so worried for him when he came running into the room, claws clutching his cane in an iron grip. It was integral for this plan to have gone smoothly to avoid the likelihood of death… but look where that ended up.

Donatello had only sustained minor injuries. He’d been lucky all things considered. Small cuts on his wrists, shallow enough to heal in a week, bruising that would pass over the next few days. He couldn’t say the same for Lily.

Three broken ribs. A sprained ankle. Broken nose, a severe concussion, seizures every few hours because of the electrical shocks.

Her throat was… charred. Suffering extreme third degree burns lacerating her entire neck, her Siren symbols almost looked as if the burned skin had peeled them off, leaving deep impressions of them behind. Pale skin had turned a vivid scarlet and had ripped the flesh open as soon as the collar was pried free, causing concern the moment she started bleeding out. He and Ms. Yasaki had spent a little over two hours painstakingly sewing each ligament shut with slow, precise care to ensure her survival. Once the magic had stopped the curatorial artery from gushing blood, things were easier to maintain.

“You did a good job,” seated at her daughter’s bedside as the girl lay as still as stone on the cot set up in his workshop, her mother dabbed her brow gently with a wet cloth to prevent a fever. Thick bags under her eyes showed the strain of how much magic she’d pumped into her daughter’s injuries to save her life. While she spoke to the worn out turtle, her gaze didn’t pry away from Lily. “You got the collar off before it could go any deeper.”

“It still tore her throat open.” Donatello murmured, closing the medical kit shut with a slap. “I could have killed her if I hadn’t been rushing.”

“How could you have known?” Ms. Yasaki brushed the hair stuck to Lilium’s sweaty face away with a tender hand, looking crestfallen to see her child in such a state. “It was that monster Karai who put that thing on her, not you. You understand?”

Donatello hung his head. He tried not to look at his trembling hands, stained with Lilium’s blood that still ran warm in his palms. He felt sick. “I should have found her sooner…”

Ms. Yasaki was quiet for a moment. Her hand still brushing through long locks of black hair that remained damp from being scrubbed carefully hours earlier. “Donatello. It’s because of you she got a fighting chance to make it out of there. Because of the damage, Karai would have killed her if you didn’t get the collar off in time. You did all you could. That’s all anyone can do at that point.” With a tender brush of her hand, magenta magic hovered over the stitches holding Lilium’s throat closed. A soft hue glowed from her palm, washing over the raised wound where her Siren marks had nearly vanished. Donatello watched with muted awe as the mystic energy brought forth the unnatural symbols that marked her skin like a tattoo back to normal. While faded in color vibrancy, they remained intact once more.

“All we can do now is help take some of the pain away and pray for a successful recovery. It’s up to Lily to pull through the rest of this.” Ms. Yasaki retracted her hand from her throat. “Have faith.”

“Ms. Yasaki…” Donatello found himself saying. “What if she can’t sing again because of this…?”

Her mother was silent. She let his words mull over her. Gentle, sorrowful eyes stared down at her child with remorse over the likelihood over the possibility. “We’ll have to cross that bridge once we get there.” The answer was melancholy, as if she couldn’t bare the thought of telling Lilium her one source of happiness was going to be taken from her.

It crushed Donatello to have to hear such a thing. He couldn’t even picture her reaction to the news. He moved to the sink and started scrubbing his hands clean of the blood, lathering soap up to his elbows to try and stave off the unnerving feeling of uneasiness. The red tinted suds that flooded the porcelain as the warm water ran almost made him dizzy. How much blood had she lost already?

Ms. Yasaki finally put her hands in her lap, trying to put on a brave face in spite of the stress. “I’m going to wash up and put on some supper. You’re probably starving. Do you want anything?”

Donatello couldn’t think of eating anything. The thought of food made his skin crawl; supper was the last thing on his mind. Drying his hands off as he pulled a stool close, he eased himself down at Lilium’s bed side, his gaze falling to rest upon her sickly face. Reaching down to take Lilium’s hand into his own he numbly replied, “Coffee. Please.”

The request made Ms. Yasaki frown with sympathy, but she nodded regardless. Turning her heel with quiet dignity she made her leave, and suddenly Donatello found himself back to square one.

Just him and Lily once more. Except this time it was stifling with the quiet.

It had been close. Way too close. All that time planning and strategizing, all that effort, wasted. He hadn’t been fast enough to stop this. So many times he believed he could make it, that he could finally save someone and avoid the trauma. It had been one of the reasons why he allowed himself to get captured— Raph volunteered initially to be the bait to find Karai’s hideout, but he didn’t know Lily like he did. He didn’t know how to calm her down, he hadn’t been around her long enough to understand how Lilium reacted to stress. Donatello could have given her the attention and care she needed in that situation. But even with all of the extra prep time he hadn’t been able to prevent Lilium from getting her throat deep fried.

He lifted his head to look at her. Despite the awful scarring wrapping around her neck and the cut on her temple, she looked peaceful. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of her wound no matter how hard he tried; Blistered, raised stitches pinning it closed, dry blood caked around the Siren symbols. The colors of her mystical markings weren’t as vibrant as they should be, rubbing him the wrong way. It was insidious to have targeted her throat, a vital weakness for a Siren. This wasn’t just torture. This was personal.

Had Karai known that? All that pain just for the sake of revenge for the man who raised her to be a killer. All this misery inflicted just because she wanted to hurt someone weaker than her.

Donatello squeezed Lilium’s hand. It was warm, frail, dainty in his own. They couldn’t have been more different, but they somehow found a middle ground. Their mutual adoration of each other was the defining factor to allow them to stay as close as they were. One year, four months and seventeen days. That was how long it took for him to process how exactly he felt about the girl who took a chance on him in that decrepit record store where the only thing that mattered was the music playing around them.

He couldn’t admit the truth out loud in fear of ridicule or harm to come to either one of them or their families, worrying over what kind of reactions they would have if they knew. He loved her. He loved her and he’d nearly lost her tonight.

Donatello used his free hand to run his fingers through her hair in the same soothing motions he knew she liked. He hoped it brought her some kind of levity whilst she slept. “Hey Lily,” he murmured, deciding that the silence was too maddening to handle any longer. “I dunno if you can hear me, but I’m here.”

Lilium didn’t respond.

“I’m… sorry for not being able to save you fast enough. I’m supposed to be the smart one, I’m supposed to have all the answers, but when I saw you in there and I had to see Karai hurt you…” he stopped himself, unwilling to remember to grizzly events of the evening that would forever imprint itself into his psyche and remind him of how close he’d been to watching her die. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He lifted her hand close to his chest, a thumb brushing across the ridges of her knuckles softly. He hated how scratched her skin was, how chaffed and sore her wrists were under the clean, crisp bandaging. “I need you to know, no matter how long this takes, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here for you.”

Donatello couldn’t tell if she could understand him in her unconscious state. He didn’t know how long the road to recovery would be, but even if it lasted months, he wouldn’t leave her side. Not until she woke up.

She hadn’t given up on waiting for him. He couldn’t give up on her either.

So, with that in mind, he started singing her favorite song while she slept. If only to lift her spirits as she lay there, resting from the hellish ordeal she’d been forced to endure. If only to provide her with comfort as she recovered, to let her know she wasn’t alone.

“Don’t you fret, M’sieur Marius.

I don’t feel any pain.

A little fall of rain

Can hardly hurt me now…”

********************

Okay… first of all, OW.

Her entire throat felt as if she’d drank hot sauce and scorched the muscle tissue within. Something was wrapped around her neck, and the skin around it was itchy and raised. It didn’t feel like the collar…

Her entire body was rigid, too sore to move. The muscles in her legs and shoulders were hurting, but she somehow didn’t feel bothered by it. She felt… comfortable. She was no longer laying on cold, hard tiles; whatever she laid upon now was soft as silk, a cushion was supporting her head, although it marginally felt nicer than the floor. Her hair felt… lighter. Cleaner. The area around her throat felt weird, like it was being pinned shut. What was happening?

Lilium had to fight just to pry her eyes open, being met with the familiarity of a warm glow coming from a desk lamp keeping the place alight. Overhead she spotted a few of the stick-on stars that glowed in the dark. The bed she was occupying was tidy and spotless, dark purple comforter tucked around her being to provide extra warmth.

Lilium winced, coughing slightly, the catch of coppery saliva making her throat ache something fierce. “Wh-wha—“ the attempt to speak failed with her voice dying in a thin raspy hiss.

Someone nearby gasped. It was followed by something clattering to the floor. A rush of footsteps before a presence came at her bedside, a shapeless mass of green and blue blurry in her vision.

“No way…!” He sounded elated. He turned to call out, “Don! DON! Get in here!”

The figure returned. He appeared to be smiling. “Hey, you’re finally awake! You had us all worried!”

“Lee…?” Lilium coughed on the name that was lost on her tongue. Man, it was hard to talk. Eating sandpaper was probably better than the rough gravelly feeling of her throat.

“Take it easy,” Leo cautioned with the same gentle tone in his voice. “You’ve been out of it for days.”

She blinked at that, baffled. Was she hearing that right? “Days…?”

Leo reached for something she couldn’t see. He came back with a small glass of water, gaze kind but encouraging. “I know you’re probably not up for it but you should drink something. It’ll help.”

Water sounded like nirvana. She allowed the eldest brother to help lift her head up, trying not to aggravate her healing neck. Taking time to savor the clean, reviving taste of the cold drink that cleared the pain in her esophagus. Once she’d had her fill Leo helped her lay back down, the pounding in her head too terribly strong but her throat no longer stinging. “Wh-what… h-happ-end?”

Leo frowned with sympathy. “You’ve been through a lot. We got you away from Karai, don’t worry. Although you’re going to be recovering from your wounds for a while.”

“Th-that’s… nothing new,” she rasped, hating how scraggly she sounded. “Is… Is Do-nnie…?”

“He’s okay.” Leo assured her. “He’s fine. He’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

He has? She thought with worry. Now she just felt guilty. He’d already been through enough, being roughed up by Karai too. He shouldn’t have wasted all that time on me… “Do y-you know… wh-where he is n-now?”

As it turned out they wouldn’t have to wait long. Suddenly the doorway was filled with three other turtles, Lilium spotted Raph and Mikey in the forefront with…

Donnie— who was unharmed, the only signs of his rough treatment being the fading bruises on his arms— standing breathlessly amongst the trio, a screwdriver hanging limp in his hand, whatever he’d been working on forgotten.

Their eyes locked. His breath hitched in his throat. Lilium couldn’t help the blurring of her own gaze as tears prickled her vision, a shaky grin on her face. “Don-nie…”

In one moment he was at the doorway, in the next he’d moved effortlessly to her side, screwdriver clattering to the ground. His hands found hers, gripping them in both of his, holding them to his plastron with eyes that looked glassy under the light, everyone else behind them forgotten. The smile that took root on his lips was filled with warmth, full of nothing but affection and relief.

Finally, he spoke. “Hi.”

Lilium couldn’t help the tears that trickled down her face. “Hi.”

She couldn’t really explain the emotions that spread across his features; a soft chuckle escaped him. He brought a hand to her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek. Gently he rested his brow against her own, content on staying where he was, shoulders shaking slightly to contain the sobs he struggled to stifle. He was doing a better job than she was at keeping it together.

“You’re… y-you’re okay?” Lilium murmured, searching his eyes for any further pain.

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “I’m okay. I’m so glad you’re up. I was worried the damage was too severe, you were unresponsive…” his fingers brushed across her temple, moving the hair out of her eyes. “I knew you were in there, I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough—“

“No,” Lilium shook her head pleadingly, taking his face into both her hands. “I’m s-sorry for not be-being strong enough. She g-got what she want-ed…”

“No she didn’t. Karai didn’t get us, we got out. More importantly, she didn’t have the chance to find out I gave her the phony address until we were long gone.” He gently took her hands off his face to better talk to the Siren, never once making the motion to turn away. “It was close but we got you to safety. We…” he hesitated, steadying his words to maintain his stability. “I… thought we’d lost you.”

Lilium frowned. Unconsciously her hand reached up to her throat, where it still hurt to talk. “Ho-how bad was it…?”

“Bad enough.” Donatello answered, and she could tell he didn’t want to elaborate further. “But I was here the whole time. You weren’t alone when you were out of it. Your Mom too. She’s been dropping off Tupperware full of dinners for us, as a thank you for getting you out.”

That wasn’t a surprise, but it still made Lilium giggle. “Wh-what kind of f-food?”

“Pasta, mostly. Last week it was casserole,” Donatello chuckled a little. Unconsciously his fingers reached up to play with her bangs, the habit a welcome distraction. “… I missed you so much.”

Lilium’s cheeks warmed at the soft confession. “I missed you too… I just w-wish she didn’t t-take you there. I hate see-ing you hurt…”

“Hey, look at me,” Donatello gently tipped her head up, meeting her eyes. “I knew what I was getting myself into. If I never let Karai bring me to you, we never would have found her location to get you home. Nothing mattered more to me than getting you out of there,” he offered her a smile. “If I had to make that decision again, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Her face flushed, turning warm under his kind gaze. “S-still…” Lilium murmured bashfully. “I’m glad yo-you’re safe, too.”

There was a softness within Donatello’s gaze, still holding her face within his hand with all the affection in the world, keeping her close as though some invisible force would tear her away from him. Nimble fingers caressed her cheek, taking in every detail of Lilium’s face with only his eyes. In the silence between them she raised her head a little, bumping her brow into his as she asked, “W-were y-you… sing-ing?”

His eyes widened, taken aback by this recollection. “You remembered…?”

“I thought… I h-heard you… in th-the deli…” she smiled a little. “A-and you did… it again… one o-other time.” Giggling under her breath, Lilium added, “Kn-knew you… you h-had a p-prett-y voice.”

If it was possible for Donatello’s cheeks to turn darker from the genuine praise, he would have outright turned forest green. “Well… I knew you liked it when I did. Master Splinter said that if you hold a strong connection with someone they can hear you, even in sleep.” He tucked her hair behind her ears, showing off a set of beaming eyes. “Glad it worked.”

Lilium grinned, cheeks tinting a shade of pink. “C-could y-you… sing again?”

Donatello couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Any requests?”

“Les Mis?” She chirped. “O-only if y-you want to…”

“I’ll take an educated guess on which song you have in mind.”

“Am I r-reall-y that predictable?”

“No. I just know what you like.”

*****************

And there ya go! If you want some trivia on Lilium I’d be happy to share! Thanks for reading!

@queen-with-the-quill @tending-the-hearth @figuringitoutasigoalong @wasted-and-ready

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt oc #tmnt donatello #oc x canon #whump #whump writing #whumptober prompts

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bunglegaydogs · 7 months

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whumptober is kicking my ass and its only the first fucking day

#whumptober #whumptober 2023 #whump #whump prompt #whump writing #2023 whumptober #whumptober prompts #writing #writing prompts #fic #fanfiction #writer #art #artist

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lilac-gold · 7 months

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OMORI AI-less Whumptober 2023

Contents Page:

DAY ONE: Sick Summary: Aubrey falls ill, unable to leave her room. Her mother doesn’t care, and certainly won’t let her friends come visit.

DAY TWO: Overworked Summary: Hero uses studying to cope with Mari's death. Unfortunately, staying up all night studying can lead to passing out at the most inconvenient of times.

DAY THREE: Isolation Summary: Unlike Hero and Sunny, Aubrey didn’t isolate herself. Her friends and family did so for her.

DAY FOUR: Hiding an injury Summary: Mari’s supposed to be perfect, not go running for help. Hero’s got enough of her worries on his plate without her bad knee too.

DAY FIVE: Held at gunpoint Summary: Someone’s got a gun at Hero and Kel’s school. Kel should be concerned for himself, but all he can think about is his brother.

DAY SIX: Mind control Summary: Under Bossman, Hero is a puppet. He has no say in what his body does, and no way to resist when it starts to hurt his little siblings.

DAY SEVEN: Flatline Summary: Basil hears his grandmother die. The sound of her flatlining sticks with him for hours afterwards.

DAY EIGHT: Panic Attacks Summary: Aubrey deals with things using anger. She can control that, but the panic rushing through her is a different matter entirely.

DAY NINE: Presumed dead Summary: In Black Space, he gets constantly ripped apart, and Omori doesn't seem to care. When he returns to Headspace, Basil learns that his friends ended up giving up on him completely.

DAY TEN: Collar Summary: Molly always treats him like he's less than human. Still, Omori really could've done without the constant reminder around his neck.

DAY ELEVEN: Paralysed Summary: Upon a mountain, freezing to death, Spaceboy can't move a muscle. He's beginning to dislike the numbness.

DAY TWELVE: Sacrifice Summary: The Recycultists have never been a threat, not really. Things change when Basil ends up in one of their rituals.

DAY THIRTEEN: Drowning (ALT Prompt) Summary: He's not a strong swimmer, and hasn't been since he was little. Still, Sunny jumps in after Basil, and wonders if he meant for this to happen.

DAY FOURTEEN: Grief (ALT Prompt) Summary: Unlike Mari, Hero leaves a note. Kel finds it just minutes too late.

DAY FIFTEEN: Transformation Summary: Spaceboy tries to fight the anger that threatens to overcome him every single time. It never works, and hearing that tape again is the last straw.

DAY SIXTEEN: Hospital Summary: Mari is familiar with hospitals, especially this one. One place she's never visited before, however, is its roof.

DAY SEVENTEEN: Hypothermia Summary: Maybe climbing a huge, snowy mountain in only her too-large nightgown and with no shoes wasn't the best idea. Aubrey's certainly starting to feel the chill.

DAY EIGHTEEN: Warm soup Summary: Sunny hasn't eaten Hero's food in years. Now, starving as he is, it tastes even better than ever.

DAY NINETEEN: "Why wasn't I enough?" Summary: Locked in the walls, Rococo's starting to go insane. He still doesn't understand what he did wrong.

DAY TWENTY: Stockholm syndrome Summary: Hero, touch-starved and grieving, craves even the tiniest scrap of love. Finding it in Sweetheart was inevitable, really.

DAY TWENTY-ONE: Near-death experience Summary: After Humphrey, his friends seem fine. Omori knows better.

DAY TWENTY-TWO: Punishment Summary: The guilty must be punished. Sunny can tell no-one, so the only one left to inflict punishment is him.

DAY TWENTY-THREE: Forced to watch Summary: When Kel is about to be strapped down to the dissection table, Hero begs to switch places. Kel hears every broken cry that follows as his older brother watches him get cut open.

DAY TWENTY-FOUR: Failed escape Summary: Hero tries to escape the basement. The man who took him films his punishment. (Inspired by @charismabee's 'found footage' one-shot in our Hero-centric Febuwhump earlier this year)

DAY TWENTY-FIVE: "Why didn't you save me?" Summary: If Basil had been there even a minute earlier, he could have helped. Instead, he made everything infinitely worse.

DAY TWENTY-SIX: Curse Summary: Biscuit used to be able to talk. Now, the only person who understands him is his sister.

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN: Immortal whumpee Summary: Mari was supposed to be dead. However, looking at herself in the mirror, she sure didn’t look like it.

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: Oxygen deprivation Summary: On a mission through the stars, something goes horribly wrong. Before he knows it, Spaceboy is struggling to navigate the way back as his lungs run out of air.

DAY TWENTY-NINE: "The easy way or the hard way?" Summary: Mikhael’s cocky attitude and overall lameness lands him in a bit of trouble when he gets on the wrong side of a group of delinquents at Closeby High. He only hopes the Hooligans come to his assistance soon.

DAY THIRTY: Mind games Summary: Rococo owes Sweetheart his everything, and he knows she loves him… Even if what she says sometimes doesn’t completely align with that.

DAY THIRTY-ONE: Crying Summary: Kel hasn’t let himself cry in years. After seeing Basil’s body in the bathroom, it’s all he seems able to do.

And so, the time arrives! I will be posting each of the above one-shots to AO3 under "Whumptober 2023", as well as here on Tumblr in a series of posts. I will add links to each day once completed, as well as a 'previous' and 'next' to each day on Tumblr. I hope that you stick around and enjoy this month, because it's going to get whumpy!

(In addition to this, I will be doing a collaborative work with @charismabee centred around every alternative prompt for this event. Each day will be set in a different Omori AU that we've created. She is also doing her own version of Whumptober alone, so check her out if you'd like to see more! <3)

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tangerinesgf · 2 years

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Would anyone be interested in whumptober Tangerine stories?

Im not gonna do em all, bc school sucks. Its not reader fanfic btw, I can't write that if my life depended on it. Anyways lemme know if you wanna be tagged in these! <3

#bullet train #aaron taylor johnson #tangerine bullet train #lemon and tangerine #tangerinesgf #bullet train 2022 #bullet train fanfic #bullet train movie #whumptober2022 #whumptober prompts

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beckandthebois · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 4:Shock

I won't be doing all the prompts but I thought it would be fun to do a few of them! And they're all about Four so if you want some Four whump stick around.

Warnings:Lightening/Electricity

Summary: The Links have a sandy fight in the desert, and Four's had a little bit of trouble.

Words: 907

Also posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50766688

They were in some desert area, just recently having followed the dark lizalfos they’re after to another time period. Unsure of when in time they are,they walk through the sandy heat.

“You know, when I think of sand I think of beaches NOT deserts.” Wind says begrudgingly. He’s not one made for the dry heat of this climate, but more for the salty air of oceans.

“Well…maybe you should just get used to it,” Legend says, too tired and hot to think of a witty response to make fun of their youngest. The rest of the chain feels the same way. Most having taken off layers and putting them somewhere else to hide from the burn of the sun. They’ve been walking for hours at this point, and haven’t seen an end in sight. At this point, Four fears he’ll freeze if they have to stay the night in the desert. Unless maybe Wild has some firewood left.

Most of their trip is spent in silence, except for the shifting sand underneath their feet.

That is, it was silent, then Time stopped his trudge at the front of the group. The boys followed, looking at the oldest among them. Time’s hand held out to silently tell them to stop. The silence hangs above them all as they look around, slowly shifting around to look and watch each other's back, to see whatever it is that Time noticed.

An arrow flies over a sand dune on their left. Sky’s as quick as ever to lift his shield and block Warriors blind spot. A gang of monsters comes running down the dune, mainly lizalfos and a few wizzrobes. The heroes all unsheath their swords and gracefully with experience meet the monsters head on. The frustration of the dusty heat pushing them forward.

Four finds himself fighting a wizzrobe alone. Usually they have to fight the magic wielding monsters with at least two of them. But the other Links are all in their own battles, having been outnumbered by the monsters.

The wizzrobe shoots out an electric shock that has Four sliding to his right in the sand, kicking up dust as he moves.

Four launches forward, leaping off the sand to slash his sword at the undead wizard, getting a clean cut across the arm that isn’t wielding the magic staff. The wizzrobe then disappears, Four looks around to find it, but only ends up seeing the sandy dust in his vision. The other heroes nowhere in site, but their footsteps, along with the monsters must have made a mini dry sand storm in the wake of the their fight.

Four keeps searching, his eyes darting in every direction to see through the sand, a light, a source of magic, or to hear the taunt of the wizzrobe. But he never sees it, or hears it.

Instead he feels a jolt, and his whole body lights up, frozen in pain. All he sees is white, his body burning in pain and he can’t move, he can’t even breathe. What seems like all of his muscles are contracting and spasming. His left hand burns worse where it holds his metal sword, and he can’t let go of it to make it stop. His ear is on fire where a Minish feather burns to a crisp.

Then everything goes black, and he can’t feel anything for a second. He can’t hear either. It takes him a few seconds to breathe. Four feels the weight of gravity on him as he lays chest down on the sand. He picks up his head slightly to see sand. The dust still around, his mouth is full of it. The Four Sword lays a few feet away from him, half buried in the sand.

He attempts to reach for it, but gives up without putting in much of an effort. He feels so tired, and weak. He can’t tell if he physically feels anything or everything.

“...ur”

“..OUR”

“FOUR!”

A hand is in his vision now, attempting to move his head and body around. Hyrule is yelling at him, pulling his head into his lap. Hyrule's hand is running through Four’s hair, which is slightly charred black at its edges.

Four’s ear is also blackened from the ash and fire the feather that was once attached had caused. Four looked up at Hyrule drearily. Four’s hand comes up to reach out to him before it loses strength and falls on his chest. Hyrule takes his hand as Time runs into his vision on the other side of Hyrule, a potion in hand that he presses to Four’s lips.

It hurts, it hurts really bad, Four decides, and he doesn’t know what happened. He’s scared, in pain, and angry that he didn’t see it before, angry he was fighting alone. But he knows he’ll be okay, as long as his brothers are near, he’ll never have to rely on just himself to ease the pain.

The red liquid slides down his throat, and the little strength it gives him has him curling up into Hyrule's lap, leaning into his older brother and giving way to gravity and his tired body.

“Will he be alright,” Twilight asks from somewhere nearby.

“As well as you can be after being struck by the power of two wizzrobes head on.” Time replies back.

And then his consciousness drifts into sleep as Hyrule's and runs soothingly through his hair.

#linked universe #whumptober prompts #lu four #linked universe fanfic #Linked universe Four

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sushimango · 7 months

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I doubt the ghost traps of his parents are comfy inside.

Maybe the box even shrinks to compress him?

As usual I try to finish each prompt in about or less than an hour, so don't expect fancy details.

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writerof-thewoods · 7 months

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"I'll call out your name, but you won't answer back" Whumptober 2023

Prompt 2: "They don't care about you." Word Count: 1.6k Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale or "Ineffable Husbands"

Warnings: None

Summary: Crowley has feelings after Aziraphale left and he gets big sad

Read it on Ao3 here!

6 months.

It’d been 6 months since that unfortunate…the simplest way of putting it, in Soho. 6 months and right in the middle of them, he got a call. A voicemail. It started off a bit timid, unsure if he should even do this, but continued on more passionately. It got very personal, going into the deep details of Heaven and Aziraphale’s feelings about the whole ordeal. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t all that he had hoped it would be. A bit of a letdown, however, he wasn’t showing it directly considering his voice still had its usually calm disposition. Eventually it became something Crowley hadn’t expected, but unknowingly craved. At almost the tail end of the message, the angel said something he wouldn’t soon forget. “I’m sorry….” His voice a tender whisper like always when he was upset. Crowley was no stranger to it, by now he had every little detail, inflection, and hesitation of the other memorized. Once again, he had Crowley falling to his knees and his heart skipping a beat.

If only he hadn’t missed it, then maybe his message would last forever.

Since that day, the automated recording of Aziraphale played on and on, deeply rooted in Crowley’s subconscious. Whenever there was a quiet moment or was about to fall asleep, he would think about it and stare off into space. The angel had him hooked like a sailor to a siren, falling into the sweet temptation of his song. If there was one thing it did other than driving Crowley mad, it somewhat relieved the anger he had towards him. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t even like it, to be quite honest. Jealous? Betrayed? Definitely, but the anger in those feelings melted away. He could never truly be mad at him. He just wished the both of them hadn’t been so clueless about it all. That he hadn’t missed his call, that he was more direct with how he felt instead of rushing in, that he hadn’t scared off the one thing that actually meant something to him. That Aziraphale stayed, yet the last thing he could never ask of him. He knew how much doing the right thing meant. It had to be one of them and after all he was Crowley, it wasn’t like he was going to do anything “moral” any time soon. Plus this was his best friend, and in the deep recesses of his mind, his soulmate; he wouldn’t make him choose. There were many things he could ask or do to others, but to the angel, he just couldn’t.

Now as the demon laid in his flat staring at the ceiling, the overwhelming urge to pick up the phone returned.

He suspected it wouldn’t go through, that the angel would prefer to hear from anyone else but him, but a small part of him argued against it. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d done it hundreds of times before, what was stopping him now? Some petty feelings? No. He was just being a baby, as always. Clicking his tongue and groaning slightly, he dragged his hand across his face, trying to bring himself back to reality. He turned his head to look out the window and stared disinterested at the lamps lighting up his dark corner of Mayfair. Any other time he wouldn’t have paid it much attention since it just wasn’t a big deal. Now though, the warm glow seemed to ease his mind, just a little bit. After a while of looking out into the night, Crowley sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess I could give it a try. Why not?” He whispered to himself and turned around. Sitting with his back towards the wall, he took the telephone next to his bed and dialed the number.

The few moments it took for it to go through had him anxiously pinching at the skin on his arm. Why was it taking so long…? And why did he care? His mouth went dry as time dragged on until he was brought out of his nervous stupor by a voice.

“I know you’re there, are you just not gonna say anything, dumbass?” Gabriel replied disinterestedly when he answered the phone.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and looked over confused. “How’d you know it was me? That recognizable, am I? Hm, doesn't seem like much of a stretch, I’ll be honest.” He shrugged.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and rubbed his temple. “Yeah. If you actually called for something important, maybe do it instead of wasting my time. This is a very busy line, you know.”

Crowley scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure it is.” He closed his eyes for a while before opening them again. “Why did I think this was a good idea?” He sighed, regretting this whole call in an instant. He knew it was dumb, Gaberial was just proving his point. “Nevermind, it wasn’t important…” He muttered before putting the setting the receiver back down on the display. Albeit a little roughly. He shook his head, pissed at himself for even thinking about it in the first place.

With nothing better to do, he stood up and poured himself a generous glass of wine. Red, to be specific. He just wanted to forget and he knew he couldn’t forever, but that moment of bliss that’d come after he couldn’t resist. Moments dragged on in a slow slog as a second cup was slammed down on the table. In the hope that the sweet release of sleep would come soon enough. If the slowly emptying bottle was anything to go by, the demon was about to pass out from delirium. Not before crawling back into bed though. He’d made the mistake of painfully waking up on the ground too many times to risk that again.

Sinking into his bed and hiding underneath his mounds of blankets, he fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The angel looked nervously at the door before knocking. He knew it was a bad idea showing up here, especially unannounced. He wasn’t normally one for such an informal gesture, but now was the exception. He’d understand, right? Probably not, yet it was still worth a try.

Crowley answered the door to find an uncharacteristically anxious angel. He couldn’t believe it….was-was that really him? No..no, it couldn’t be….

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he was brought out of his panic to see a pair of golden eyes staring at him, confused, clueless, and a bit…hurt? It was odd to see him without his sunglasses, so he could clearly see he was feeling something, just not exactly what.

“Crowley-! I know you must be furious to see me, especially just at your door without saying anything. But I can explain, before I do though, I really need you to know this.” Aziraphale’s face softened and he turned to look the demon in the eye. “I’m sorry. For…everything. I’m not asking you to forgive me, but you’re my friend. And I want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you, but I know I did….”

“And it was one of my biggest regrets.”

Crowley was taken aback. How was he supposed to respond to that? He couldn’t believe it. His breath hitched in the back of his throat and he bit his lower lip, determined not to get upset over this.

“Well, I guess you ought to know how I got here. To put it lightly..” Aziraphale paused and chuckled sadly. “I fell, or got demoted technically. Turns out they really didn’t need me after all, I tried to fix too many things and they just weren’t having it. This isn’t me trying to get your sympathy though, but I thought you should know.”

Crowley couldn’t help it. He started to laugh despite his feelings. A slow sad chuckle. Shaking his head, he felt himself almost smiling. “I’ll be damned. The great “Aziraphale” really became Mr. Fell, I can’t believe it. You cheeky bastard.” He laughed and looked at Aziraphale, that familiar face making his heart flutter once again. He couldn’t believe it. He had to be joking. Right?

Aziraphale laughed as well and felt his cheeks turn red in embarrassment. “I’m serious, shockingly enough. I still can’t believe it.” He admitted. “It looks like we have something else in common, other than knowing I’m a complete idiot. I knew I should’ve at least said something to you before leaving, hell, I could’ve called you back. But I was too caught up in my own head to do it.” He sighed and shook his head.

Crowley stepped forward and tilted his head to look at the angel. “You’re right about that. You are an idiot.” He smirked while pressing his face into his shoulder.

Aziraphale gasped in fake shock and pretended to look offended. “You slithery little menace.” He looked down and pulled the other into a hug, resting his chin on the top of his head. “You have no idea how I’ve missed you.”

Crowley was surprised at first at the sudden motion, but quickly melted into the embrace. He thought he’d never know how much he’d hurt, how much he missed him until now. He could tell that those bright, knowing eyes understood. All that had happened before wasn’t forgotten, but didn’t matter to him anymore. The only things that did were him and Aziraphale. His angel. He muttered back, muffled by still pressing against his shoulder.

“Likewise, angel.”

~~~~~~~~~~

As much as it seemed so and he wanted it to be, it wasn’t real. He hated himself for it. For wanting so desperately for that to happen. To feel him, see him, at least hear his voice again, even if only in his head. Only as a dream made to soothe his mind that would inevitably leave him empty. Tears on his pillow as he cried in the darkness, both relieved and torn that he was alone.

However, if the figure standing at his doorway was anything to go by, then maybe he wasn’t alone after all. But the sleeping demon didn’t notice.

_____________

Okay I promise I'm not dead xD I know it's not a big deal, but I just wanted to let you know. I've finally gotten back into writing and I'm gonna get my asks answered as soon as I can, so tysm for putting up with me!! Also, happy October! It's finally spooky season and I'm s o excited :D. Especially since I'm going to do Whumptober for the first time (even though I'm 6 days late 😭) Don't worry, I'm still going to do my usual content too, this'll just be more active/take up more of time. That's all, so there'll still be plenty of normal not sad content on here <3 Thank you guys so so much for putting up with my random absences, life's just been pretty busy recently and I suck at managing my time well. I hope you're all having a wonderful day and remember to take care of yourselves! Rest, eat something, have some water, all that fun stuff and I'll be back with some content soon enough :D

#agere blog #my writing #im not dead i promise #im back lmao #whumptober 2023 #ai less whumptober #whump writing #whump prompt #whumptober prompts #whumptober prompt 2 #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands whump #good omens fanfic #good omens whump #crowley #aziraphale #anthony j crowley

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