#What to do if You Hear an Unearthly Sound Coming From Outside

[ishipgenfics]

You and Your Human: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

You do not know where you are.

To be fair, you have not known where you are for a very long time, but this is a different kind of uncertainty. This room looks different from your old one. Last you remember, there were alarms ringing through the air and you were curled up into a ball trying to ignore the rumbling in your stomach because no one had come in so long--

You shove the memories down. You have always been good at that, even before your abduction, although never to this degree.

You get up, shakily. You have been left water, and down it eagerly. You are glad to have it, but its presence is a bad sign. If they want you to get your strength back, it means more tests are coming up. It may mean they want you to fight, which you really aren't in the mood for.

You push yourself up to your feet, ignoring your shaking limbs. You can let yourself be weak if you ever get out. For now, you need to put on a show of force. If they ever think they don't need to fear you anymore...

You pace the perimeter of your new room, tapping on the walls as you go. No cracks, no weaknesses. You didn't really think there would be, but you had to check.

... you can't hear anything. Or well, that isn't true, you can hear the shaky sound of your own breathing, your footsteps on the stainless steel floor, but you can't actually hear anything outside of your cell. And that's weird.

There's always noise. The sound of screams, the clash of metal against metal, crying, sobbing. There has never been anything like this, this cold unearthly silence. You shiver.

As you sit in your cell, with nothing else to do, you begin to wonder what happened. The ship crashed. You are fairly certain of that, unless it was some sort of trick-- but no. You have agreed to take the world at face value, lest you go mad.

So. The ship crashed. No one came for a long time. You assumed they were all dead. You assumed you too would die.

... is that why its so quiet? Are they all dead? Did the alarms finally run out of power?

Except no, that doesn't make sense either, because if they're all dead, how on... wherever you are would you be in another room?!

You bury your head in your hands.

You are bored. It has been days and each time you fall asleep, food and water appear in your cell. None of it has been drugged, and most of it has been edible, which is good, but you have seen no one.

You know you sound like an entitled prick-- complaining about being bored while on an alien shapeship-- but at least the experiments made sense. You knew what to expect. Those days where you were sure you were going to die forgotten in your cell were worse that any test the aliens could come up with, and you really don't want to go back to them. Even if you do have food now.

You start talking. Just to the air. Back when you were capable of acting like a normal human being, you would have been worried that this made you seem crazy, but you really could not give a damn anymore.

You recite snippets of books and movies, and then, when you run out of those, you just talk. About anything and everything.

Sometimes you could almost swear someones listening.

Some time later, out of the corner of your eye, you see a small fuzzy head poke into the doorway. You heart stops.

"Hello?" you say.

"Hello?" the alien calls back. You warn your frantic heart not to get its hopes up. It's probably just mimicking you, like a parrot. There's no reason to be excited.

But then it keeps talking.

"Okay?" it says. "I speak some. Not past, so couldn't speak you-me. Can now. So, okay?"

You just stared, stunned. The alien pronounces words strange-- buzzing its ses and clicking its ces, and it hesitates over each word, but it is speaking to you. Speaking English.

It has been so, so long.

The alien's ears twitch. They are tall and bristly. Like a rabbit. You had a friend who had a pet rabbit, a long time ago. "Go?"

"No!" You are shocked by the levels of desperation in your voice. Only a week ago, you would have given anything for the aliens to leave you alone. But now...

"Alone... bad for humans? Or you? Or three?"

You think through how to phrase this in a way the rabbit alien will understand. "Yes. Much alone bad. Much alone makes little alone worse."

The rabbit alien swishes its tail once, firmly. "I will stay."

You talk to the rabbit alien often. It is different from the gem aliens. It talks to you like you are a sentient being, rather than an experiment. It never runs tests. Sometimes it lets you out of your cell.

You are certain you are on a different ship. No one on the other ship would ever be this kind.

You like this alien. It is your alien now. You decided this, and so it is true. You have not told your alien this because you don't want to scare it away, but you think it feels the same. You have caught it referring to you as its human when it mumbles under its breath.

Your alien shows you how to unlock the door to your cell. You are no longer a prisoner here, it seems. Strange, to be trusted after only a few short weeks. You can't say it's something you're used to.

Your alien also might be a criminal, because the ship you are on was clearly not made for it. It is small, and it has trouble reaching things. The ship the gem aliens on was definitely built for them so... your alien might have stolen a ship?

Eh. You don't care. From how the gem aliens acted, your existence is probably illegal.

You get out of the ship for the first time into a grassy area surrounded by mountains. It is beautiful, but your alien seems to be... upset. You don't like that. Your alien should not be upset. But it is making whimpering noises and its breaths are halted and shuddering as it tries to explain things to you.

You kneel down to the ground, heedless of the way the dew on the grass seeps into your pant legs and wrap your arms around your alien. It leans its head into your shoulder.

As you feel your aliens pitter-patter heartbeat against your neck, you think to yourself that it is a damn good thing your alien's crew will never meet you.

Hell hath no fury like a human scorned.

#this story has a tag now! #you and your human #also the you in this portion is the human not the alien #in case it was unclear #also also its a prequel #humans are space orcs #writblr #story snippet #story #Part 4: Engineers and Scientists and Bookshops #Oh My! #second person #original character #click on the you and your human tag to find parts 1 and 2! #if it doesn't work for whatever reason let me know and i'll link them in the main post

[cherrypikkins]

Your writing is so wonderful. How about Leonie and/or Ingrid? Responsible, blunt ladies.

FE3H OC Short Fics - Kitt Burgess (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

(also excellent options, anon :333)

cw for violence, blood, injury, body horror - you know the drill

Leonie

Annwen Lake was a full day's ride from the monastery. Leonie had heard unnerving tales of this place - not only from the villagers back in Sauin, but also from Seteth's warnings to stay away.

She had shrugged it off. A practical woman, Leonie was not one to believe in ghosts. Besides, a remote place like this deep in the wilderness? Too tempting. What was a little danger, compared to the hunt that lay in wait?

The moment the lake was in sight, her mount refused to take a single step closer. Frowning, Leonie tethered the terrified creature and continued on foot. She unstrapped the bow from her back, and began to scout as unearthly cries echoed faintly in the distance.

The mist was already a bad sign. Not only did it hamper her vision, but it was unnatural enough to make her skin crawl. The moment Leonie crept upon the ruins of Annwen Village, she knew she had made a terrible mistake by coming here.

The place seethed with Demonic Beasts.

They prowled the skeletal ruins on lurching, lumbering footfalls. The second they inhaled her scent, their heads swiveled with a snap. In that moment, she was no longer a hunter, but a deer caught in the lamplight of their rabid glare.

Leonie was almost grateful for the hand that clamped over her mouth, hauling her into a nearby house and slamming the door. Close call. She had damn near screamed.

She struggled briefly but furiously until released. Leonie squinted at the figure, struggling to adjust her eyes in the dark.

"Kitt?" she hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I could ask you the same thing!" Kitt snarled right back. "Didn't you hear what Seteth said about this place?"

Leonie pursed her lips, a reluctant expression of guilt. That still didn't explain why Kitt was here, of all places.

The youth wasn't interested in explanations. As the monsters outside smashed their way through, Kitt strong-armed Leonie to the back door and shoved her out. "Get back to the monastery, now! HURRY!"

Leonie barely had time to protest before the door shut in her face. Kitt turned back to the swarming beasts, eyes closed. They started to pray. First the scales appeared. Then came the fangs and claws. The moment the prayer passed their lips, the monster within answered, and Kitt was no longer human.

Leonie had scrambled halfway back to her mount when she whirled around, hearing the noises of an horrifying struggle behind her. It was like no sound she had ever heard before, yet it evoked the image of limbs being crushed, flesh being torn apart, bones splintering and snapping like branches. Rising above it all, chilling her to the bone, was an ear-splitting screech no creature of earthly origin could ever produce.

Her eyes widened as she recalled the obscure tale her father used to repeat. The Demon of Annwen…

Heedless of the danger, Leonie sprinted back to the village in search of Kitt, arrow nocked. Foolhardy or no, this was the one ghost story she was now tempted to believe in, and nothing could deter her from finding out the truth.

Ingrid

Adrenaline spiked her veins as she clutched her spear, eyes locked upward, breath heavy with exertion. Ingrid had quelled monsters before, but this was different.

Kitt was more than just some crazed beast on a violent rampage. They were a classmate - even a friend.

Their baleful eyes wept pitch black as they stared at her, full of hatred - full of anguish. A clawed hand swung down, threatening to slice her to ribbons, but Ingrid was ready. She could sense their confusion, their panic. They weren't thinking straight, lashing out viciously at anyone or anything that came too close. Dodging them was a near thing yet also a simple matter, given their frenzied state of mind.

She knew they didn't want to hurt anybody - not really.

It tore Ingrid to see them like this. Even so, she forced herself to trust what Kitt had told before. She remembered the promise she had made, to stop them at all costs. Evoking all the courage and righteousness of the knights of old, Ingrid cast hesitation to the wind, and ran Kitt through.

She heard them scream, and gritted her teeth, clenching her eyes shut. The lance wrenched and tore through the creature's body with what she prayed was a stroke of mercy.

The monstrous trappings crumbled away, rotting and desiccating like a corpse in rapid time. Exhaling faintly, Kitt stumbled to their knees, human once more.

Ingrid dropped her lance and fell to her knees with Kitt. She caught them by the shoulders, preventing them from collapsing face-down into a pool of their own ichor.

"Hey…" she breathed, taking care not to shake them too hard. "…You okay?"

A human hand grasped hers.

"…Goddess! That…really hurt," Kitt whined, hissing through their teeth. Their voice was plaintive, like a child. "Did you have to be that rough?"

Ingrid exhaled with a smile. "I'm taking that as a yes." She rubbed their back, easing them through the fading pain of their transformation, and breathing her own sigh of relief.

"I'm glad you're still with us," she murmured. "I hope that helped."

"…Honestly, I was hoping you'd run," Kitt responded, quieted by shame and gratitude alike.

"That's not who I am," Ingrid insisted, steadying them with her grip. "I protect all of my friends - that includes you."

Kitt laughed bitterly. "A knight musn't say such things to a savage beast."

Ingrid wasn't about to lie. She knew how these tales usually ended - with the hero in shining armor slaying the loathsome monster, restoring peace and glory to the world.

In spite of that, she smiled. "How fortunate then, that I am not yet a fully-fledged knight."

#fe3h #fe3h oc #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses oc #ingrid brandl galatea #leonie pinelli #fe3h ingrid #fe3h leonie #cw injury #cw blood #cw body horror

[chronicrabbit]

ST Season 4 Rewrite Idea:

I know this is a departure from my normal Steddie content, but Jason Carver’s death made no fucking sense to me, so this is how I would’ve done it for the ✨drama✨

So, I know we hate Jason.

He’s a religious zealot who allowed his anger and his grief to take control of him, and he singlehandedly turned the entire town against an innocent man.

But, let’s examine his character for just a moment, shall we?

We know the Duffle Bags tend to introduce villainous characters for the pure and simple sake of being villains. They don’t really go very deep into the psychology of why said character is a villain.

With Billy, you saw a few glimpses of the why, but Billy’s character was honestly just too big and too complicated to properly flesh out in the time allotted.

I think the same is true of Jason Carver.

Jason was the new golden boy post King Steve. He was a clean cut Steve Rogers type with a pretty girlfriend who he seemed to care deeply about, and a charmed and simple life.

And then he finds out that not only was his beautiful girlfriend brutally murdered, but she was found at the trailer of the local drug dealer flunky Freak that makes a spectacle of himself in the lunchroom and isn’t afraid to poke fun at the jocks like any normal nerd should be.

Chrissy didn’t do drugs.

That’s what he told everyone who suggested that she could’ve possibly been there for unsavory reasons. Because why would Chrissy hide something like that from him? She loved him! Right?

Add in a sprinkling of period appropriate Satanic Panic™️ and you’ve got yourself a corrupt Paladin who’s deluded himself in his rage and religious paranoia into thinking he’s doing the right thing. It’s Anakin Skywalker all over again, my dudes. Just FAR less appealing.

Taking all of that into account, I don’t think Jason should’ve shown up at the Creel house just because some random dude happened to spot Erica there. That’s lazy writing, tbh.

I think Jason should’ve gone to Eddie’s trailer after someone tipped him off that Eddie had been spotted going inside with a whole group of people, because come on. How were they not spotted?

Picture it:

He and two of his basketball buddies show up and case the place. They check the windows and the surrounding area, and decide to send someone in when they see no one inside.

Jason insists he go in himself.

The Freak is his to take down once and for all.

He walks into the trailer, so focused on checking his surroundings that he very nearly misses the sheet rope dangling from the ceiling over a mattress.

He looks up and his jaw drops open when he sees the portal; this orange glowing tear in the fabric of the universe.

Without a second thought, he pulls himself through, landing on the other side to see the same trailer, but somehow different, darker, with thick black vines covering every available surface.

He hears the sound of an electric guitar wailing from somewhere outside, louder than anything he’s ever heard before.

He dodges the vines and rushes out the door, his heart skipping a full beat as he takes in the sight of the Upside Down for the first time; the unearthly red and orange sky, the overwhelming stench of death and decay, the falling ash that burns his lungs and throat.

He turns back toward the trailer then to see none other than Eddie Munson, standing on the roof of his trailer in what he’s pretty certain is Hell, playing his guitar as if his very life depends on it.

Beside him on the roof, one of the Hellfire kids, Dustin Henderson, calls out a countdown. Jason can’t figure out why until he sees a massive black cloud approaching from the distance.

The one man metal concert ends, and then Munson and the kid are climbing down from the roof and their eyes meet.

“Is this hell?” Jason yells, his voice cracking with something so much deeper than fear.

“Was this your plan all along, Freak? To open a goddamn portal to hell?”

Because this has to be Eddie’s doing, right? He killed Chrissy. He killed Patrick too, right in front of him. This had to be his doing!

Eddie pushes the guitar over his shoulder, eyes flickering up toward the swiftly approaching cloud of… something. Several somethings.

“Jason, man, you really shouldn’t be here!” Munson says with wide eyes.

Jason raises his hand holding the gun he bought from the War Zone, the weight comfortable and familiar against his palm.

“So what are you gonna do about it, Freak? You gonna kill me too?”

Munson doesn’t even raise his hands at the sight of the gun, distracted as the Henderson kid calls out:

“Eddie they’re almost here! We need to get inside!”

And suddenly Jason can hear the ungodly screeches of approaching creatures; the black cloud becomes a writhing swarm of hundreds upon hundreds of enormous demonic bats.

“What the-“

And before Jason can finish, he’s being herded back into the trailer by Munson and the kid, who quickly bar the door and celebrate their apparently successful escape.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jason demands when he’s finally able to form words through the tight and terrified clench of his throat.

“Jason, we’ll explain everything later. Just…just go back through the portal,” Munson says, and Jason gets the distinct and deeply unsettling feeling that he’s intruded upon something he really really shouldn’t have.

Something he couldn’t begin to understand.

But it’s too late.

The screeching bat like creatures are suddenly battering and clawing against all sides of the reinforced trailer, breaking through vents in a flurry of black wings that Jason is certain will haunt his every waking moment till the day he dies.

He’s petrified, but Munson and the kid are flanking him on either side, shielding him from harm with garbage can lids pierced through with nails.

They’re protecting him.

They’re cursing and screaming in fear, but they’re standing their ground and fighting off the demon bats and Jason realises all at once that he was wrong. He was so so wrong about Eddie Munson and the Hellfire kids.

Munson and Henderson are arguing as they manage to bar the door, but Jason isn’t listening; can’t hear a thing through the shock ringing in his ears like tinnitus.

Henderson is ushering the both of them toward the portal, saying something about giving the others enough time and how they need to go.

Jason is very much into the idea of leaving, and Munson looks just as enthusiastic.

Henderson goes first, shimmying up the rope with Munson’s help until the gravity of the other side pulls him in to land on the dingy mattress below.

Jason follows at Munson’s beckoning, his feet connecting with the mattress on the other side when the screeching and clawing suddenly stops; fades away like a dream upon waking.

The bats are leaving. Why are they leaving?

And Jason knows that look in Munson’s eye.

That look that says:

“My teammates need my help, so I’m going to help them even if it benches me.”

It feels almost diminutive to compare this situation to basketball, but it’s the only thing he can think of.

When Eddie cuts the rope and runs out, Jason follows, using a chair to boost himself up and vaulting right back through into hell.

They lead the bats away from whoever the ‘others’ are.

When they can no longer run, they face the swarm together.

The pain is blinding, but Jason fights through it because he was wrong.

He was so very wrong.

He turned the entire town against Eddie Munson out of fear and misplaced jealousy, and yet, after everything he’d put the other man through, here he was standing back to back with him, fighting with him, defending him.

And sure, Jason had no earthly idea what they were doing or where they were or who they were keeping the bats from, but he did know that he would keep going until the end.

The end that was coming for both of them.

He refuses to let that happen. He throws himself in front of Eddie as the swarm bears down, throwing the other boy back to take the brunt of the attack.

And it hurts more than anything he’s ever experienced, but he stands his ground despite Eddie’s cries, because he needs to make this right; for Munson, for Chrissy, and for himself.

He says as much when he finally crumbles to the ground in tandem with the bats, his blood mingling with Eddie’s as the other boy holds him in his arms, tears he doesn’t deserve gathering in his eyes.

“I believe you,” Jason finds it in himself to nod, ignoring the searing pain in his neck at the small movement. He’s pretty certain there’s a bit of it missing.

“I believe you didn’t kill Chrissy. I-I shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Yeah. I gotta say, that was a bit of a bummer, man.”

And Jason actually laughs, or gurgles. There’s so much blood in his mouth.

“I was kinda being framed by a telepathic wizard, if you can believe that.”

“Is that why you’re down here?” he asks, and Eddie nods with no small amount of effort, wincing as his own wounds are jarred by the movement.

“Yeah. We came here to defeat him before he could kill another. I’m-“ he swallows, motioning around to the scattered bodies of the demon bats.

“I’m pretty sure this means that we did it. Or at least did something.”

“Good,” Jason says, his eyes slipping closed.

He’s so tired.

“I don’t know if you could ever forgive me. I sure as hell wouldn’t,” Jason speaks with another weak laugh that rattles in his ribs and burns in his lungs.

“But I want to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I… I guess I just needed someone to blame for my own failings. For never noticing that she needed help. I…”

He whimpers as his vision begins to darken.

“Don’t worry about it right now, dude. Just… stay with me.”

“I-I’m not a bad person. I didn’t think I was, but I…” Jason can’t tell if the wetness on his cheeks is blood or tears.

“Jason, man. You marched into hell with me and helped fight a battle you didn’t belong in.”

Munson says that like it’s unbelievable, but Jason hadn’t even considered it an option to not go back through; to not follow the other boy into the swarm.

“It was…” he starts and stops and starts again. Even keeping his eyes open to meet Eddie’s takes so much effort.

“It was an honor, Munson. Really.”

And Eddie was speaking again, calming words and pleading whispers for him to stay awake,

But he was already gone.

#gimme that Boromir style death scene #I crave that shit #gimme the enemies to allies Disney fast pass style #Eddie could’ve lived #and Jason could’ve died for his redemption #this could’ve been a thing!!! #Steddie #it’s not a Steddie post #but imagine Steve finding them like that #comforting Eddie after yet another person died before his eyes #everything is Steddie if you’re mentally ill #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson lives

[pearlsoflongago]

Bells for a New Year

Bells in the Rain

Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain, Upon the steep cliffs of the town. Sleep falls; men are at peace again Awhile the small drops fall softly down.

The bright drops ring like bells of glass Thinned by the wind, and lightly blown; Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass So softly as it falls on stone.

Peace falls unheeded on the dead Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink; Upon a live man's bloody head It falls most tenderly, I think.

—Elinor Wylie

In Tenebris

All within is warm,    Here without it's very cold,    Now the year is grown so old And the dead leaves swarm. In your heart is light,    Here without it's very dark,    When shall I hear the lark? When see aright? Oh, for a moment's space!    Draw the clinging curtains wide    Whilst I wait and yearn outside Let the light fall on my face.

—Ford Madox Ford

To Time, New Year’s Eve

Well, my dear Time, you are not going to fool me into making myself ridiculous this New Year's Eve with a lot of bonny but impossible resolutions. I know that you are playing with me just as a cat plays with a mouse; yet even the most piteous mousekin sometimes causes his tormentor surprise or disappointment by getting under a bureau or behind the stove, where, for the moment, she cannot paw him. Every now and then, with a little luck, I shall pull off just such a scurry into temporary immortality. It may come by reading Dickens or by seeing a sunset, or by lunching with friends, or by forgetting to wind the alarm clock, or by contemplating the rosy little pate of my daughter, who is still only a nine days' wonder—so young that she doesn't even know what you are doing to her. But you are not going to have the laugh on me by luring me into resolutions. I know my weaknesses. I know that I shall probably continue to annoy newsdealers by reading the magazines on the stalls instead of buying them; that I shall put off having my hair cut; drop tobacco cinders on my waistcoat; feel bored at the idea of having to shave and get dressed; be nervous when the gas burner pops when turned off; buy more Liberty Bonds than I can afford and have to hock them at a grievous loss. I shall continue to be pleasant to insurance agents, from sheer lack of manhood; and to keep library books out over the date and so incur a fine. My only hope, you see, is resolutely to determine to persist in these failings. Then, by sheer perversity, I may grow out of them.

—from A Letter to Father Time by Christopher Morley

The Belfry of Bruges

In the marketplace of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o’er the town.

As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood, And the world threw off the darkness, like the weeds of widowhood.

Thick with towns and hamlets studded, and with streams and vapors gray, Like a shield embossed with silver, round and vast the landscape lay.

At my feet the city slumbered. From its chimneys, here and there, Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, ghost-like, into air.

Not a sound rose from the city at that early morning hour, But I heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient tower.

From their nests beneath the rafters sang the swallows wild and high; And the world, beneath me sleeping, seemed more distant than the sky.

Then most musical and solemn, bringing back the olden times, With their strange, unearthly changes rang the melancholy chimes,

Like the psalms from some old cloister, when the nuns sing in the choir; And the great bell tolled among them, like the chanting of a friar.

Visions of the days departed, shadowy phantoms filled my brain; They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again;

All the Foresters of Flanders – mighty Baldwin Bras de Fer, Lyderick du Bucq and Cressy Philip, Guy de Dampierre.

I beheld the pageants splendid that adorned those days of old; Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece of Gold;

Lombard and Venetian merchants with deep-laden argosies; Ministers from twenty nations; more than royal pomp and ease.

I beheld proud Maximilian, kneeling humbly on the ground; I beheld the gentle Mary, hunting with her hawk and hound;

And her lighted bridal-chamber, where a duke slept with the queen, And the armed guard around them, and the sword unsheathed between.

I beheld the Flemish weavers, with Namur and Juliers bold, Marching homeward from the bloody battle of the Spurs of Gold;

Saw the light at Minnewater, saw the White Hoods moving west, Saw great Artevelde victorious scale the Golden Dragon’s nest.

And again the whiskered Spaniard all the land with terror smote; And again the wild alarum sounded from the tocsin’s throat;

Till the bell of Ghent responded o’er lagoon and dike of sand, “I am Roland! I am Roland! There is victory in the land!”

Then the sound of drums aroused me. The awakened city’s roar Chased the phantoms I had summoned back into their graves once more.

Hours had passed away like minutes; and, before I was aware, Lo! the shadow of the belfry crossed the sun-illumined square.

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

#literature #poetry #dark academia #light academia #classic #victorian era #fin de siècle #impressionism #inspiration

[empressaraceli1992]

A brief look into the story I have floating around in my head...

"The highest form of control is knowing when to let go." - The Secret Language of Birthdays pg 141

Price was anxious. Ghost could tell by the way the Captain kept chewing on the edge of his mustache even as they moved through the compound. It was just a simple asset recovery - Laswell had given them the break down on Cerberus a week ago.

A "humanitarian" group that dabbled in weapons dealing, biological Warfare, and other such activities. No different than the Shadows really. Except, Cerberus seemed to be much better funded. That alone shouldn't have had the Captain antsy.

"Sit-rep?"

"Got four outside the main building, and at least eight inside." Ghost replied sweeping his scope over the buildings from his point of overwatch. Price and Soap moved together clearing a path as quickly and as quietly as possible.

"Asset should be in the central building, basement level." Gaz said. Ghost could hear the faint rapping of keys as Gaz fiddled with the laptop. Price has chosen to take point on the operation, leaving Garrick to handle Intel and exfil from a nearby safe house.

Price clicked his tongue before responding. "Headed inside now."

----------‐----------------------------

"L.T. you need to see this." Soap sounded scared. Grabbing his gear Ghost made his way into the building.

"Gaz, order a medical exfil." Price croaked.

What the hell? Ghost sped up sweeping the rooms as he went, even though he knew Price and Soap had cleared the building it never hurt to be careful. The red dingy red brick gave way to an almost clinical white hallway. The harsh light annoyed Ghost, but he didn't drop his guard until he found the room Price and Soap were hunched in.

Ghost swept the room - taking in the fact that Soap had his back to the door - a huge mistake. Price knelt next to a metal box of sorts with a glass top.

"Soap?" Ghost came to stand at Soap's right. Soap almost leaps out of his skin.

"Bleeding Jesus!" Soap yelped. "Don't sneak up on me like that L.T.!"

"You should keep your guard up, Sergeant." Ghost retorts. Soap elbows him in the ribs between his tactical vest. Ghost ignores him stepping around his elbow to see what Price is staring so intently at.

At first glance it looks like a strange metal coffin. Then Ghost takes in the medical equipment attached to it. The glass on the top was slightly frosted over. Price had wiped part of it away revealing the face of a young woman laying within. The Captain looks as though he has seen a ghost.

"Help me get her out." Price said at last prying the glass top up. Ghost sets his rifle down taking the other side of the glass and lifting it with a grunt. There was a hiss as cold air escaped the pod. Setting the glass to the side Ghost leaned over the edge to get a better look at the woman.

She was petite with short jet black hair. She wore white scrubs that made her pale skin look even more ghastly.

"Is she dead?"

"She was supposed to be..." Price reached inside placing two fingers on her throat checking for a pulse.

"What do ye mean 'supposed to be'?" Soap demanded uncharacteristically unnerved. "I dianne do Zombies!"

The woman stirred. Soap lifted his rifle. Ghost swatted him alongside the back of his head. The woman blinked - HER EYES.

Ghost repressed a shudder, barely. Her eyes were silver, not warm grey-blue like Soap's, but metallic. As though so someone had melted down the metal and poured it into her irises. Her unearthly eyes swept the room taking in the three of them briefly scanning each of them head to toe. Finally, they came to rest squarely on Price. A small smile tugged at the corner of her full, heart shaped lips.

"Anderson said you'd come." She rasped. "The hell happened old man?"

"I'm not that old!" Price gave a bark of a laugh. "It's good to see you Kale." To Ghost's shock he could see the wetness is Price's eyes. The Captain reached in tentatively helping her up by the shoulders. Once she was seated, Price pressed his forehead to hers. He let out a long shuddering sigh. Soap and Ghost hovered unsure of what to do. They had never seen the Captain like this. Who was this woman to him? Kale leaned back first patting Price's cheek. She looked at the two of them over her shoulder.

"These are your boys." It wasn't a question. "We should get them out of here." She said it as though THEY were the ones being rescued.

"Bloody hell." Price chuckled, pulling Kale to her feet. The top of Kale's head barely reached Ghost's shoulder as she stood beside him. Once Price was certain she wouldn't fall he handed her his secondary pistol.

Ghost took it from her immediately. Had Price lost his mind? She wasn't wearing a tactical vest or anything. Kale didn't fight him when his large hand encompassed hers, or when he removed the gun from her fingers. She just looked at him curiously. As though the 6'4" behemoth of a man wasn't intimidating. Soap watched the exchange with wide eyes.

Then -

Ghost's keen hearing picked up the soft scuff of boots on concrete behind him. Ghost spun - an enemy soldier rifle raised - dropped, dead. A bullet in the head. Out of his peripheral Ghost saw Kale standing there with another pistol. HIS pistol. Patting the front of his vest he realised, belatedly, that faster than he could follow Kale had snatched the pistol strapped to the front of his vest, raised the gun, and fired over his shoulder.

Fucking hell. Soap gave a low whistle.

"I think she can handle herself." Price said dryly as he moved to take point. Kale held Ghost's pistol out to him in her right hand, her left reaching for the one Ghost had taken moments before. Ghost exchanged the weapons silently. Reholstering his pistol he snatched up his rifle and followed Price.

"Medical exfil two clicks out." Gaz's voice cracked over the comes. "You have 30 minutes."

"Roger." Price led them back outside.

Ghost noted how silently Kale moved beside him. She had fallen behind him on his left, while Soap took position on his right. Her feet were bare, but the sharp rocks and bits of glass didn't seem to phase her. She moved in tandem with them as though she had trained with them. Perhaps Price had trained her as efficiently as he had trained Ghost and Soap, though Ghost doubted it. Price would have mentioned her before now surely.

They stepped outside unmolested. Soap fell in step with Kale as they slipped between the buildings.

"Fuckin hell!" Soap yelped. "They glow in the dark?!"

"Quiet MacTavish." Ghost hissed.

"Yes." Kale whispered behind him - answering Soap's albeit rude question. Ghost glanced behind him. Sure enough, Kale's eyes were slightly luminous in the shadows. They reminded him of an owl. Price grunted in front of them.

"Movement ahead."

Ghost jerked his eyes away from the odd woman. Three soldiers in the Cerberus white and black uniforms were making there way from the furthest building towards a secondary building. The four of them slipped out of sight carefully. Ghost led them back up the hill to his overwatch spot. Once they were a relatively safe distance from the compound they began jogging towards the exfil.

Kale trailed behind a bit due to her shorter legs. Soap slowed up a bit to jog beside her a toothy grin on his face.

"So, how did you end up in a place like this?" Soap asked jovial as always despite the danger. Ghost rolled his eyes. Price glanced over his shoulder at the two of them.

"I died." Kale said simply. Soap's smile faltered.

"You sound like Ghost." The Sergeant groaned. "All dark and mysterious your thing too?"

"I doubt your friend is THAT mysterious." Kale laughed a little breathlessly.

"Oi, but he is!" Soap grinned. "Wears that mask 24/7." Soap made a gesture to Ghost's back.

"Really?" Kale was starting to sound tired now. Price slowed down forcing Ghost to do the same, until they were walking. Kale shot Price an appreciative look. "If he's 'Ghost' who are you?" Kale asked lightly trying to keep them from focusing on her as she continued to slow.

"Name is John MacTavish, you can call me Soap." Soap said brightly.

"Soap?" Kale smiled. "Sounds like Garrus's nickname...huffff...'Archangel'." Kale stumbled. Soap caught her carefully. "Sorry." Kale mumbled. Price threw his rifle over his shoulder. Kneeling down he scooped Kale up bridal style. His spare pistol fell from her fingers clattering on the ground. Soap snatched it up.

"We need to move." Ghost waved them on. The three of them started jogging again. The exfil was close.

"So, is she yer misses?" Soap grinned ignoring the scathing look Price gave him.

"No." Price growled. "She's...like a daughter to me." Soap nodded, momentarily satisfied with the nugget of information. Nosy bastard.

"Knew you and Anderson where a thing..." Kale sighed. Price grumbled something under his breath.

-----------------------------------------------

The helo back was quiet. Medics took Kale as soon as they set foot onto the helo. They carefully strapped her into a gurney and began taking vitals. Soap and Ghost settled on the bench across the isle watching curiously as Price hovered.

"She will be fine." The medic assured Price. "She's dehydrated, and a little malnourished, but otherwise unharmed." Price thanked them and settled next to Soap.

"So..." Soap cocked his head. "You gonna tell is what the hell that was about?"

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. If Soap wasn't his favorite son Ghost was certain the older man would have shot the Scot by now.

"Kale - Commander Kalena Shepard - was supposed to lead her team on a mission into Russia to take out one of the more infamous cartels when the helo was shot out of the sky by an RPG." Price lowered his hand. His eyes wandered to Kale's unconscious form. "Everyone died, they found their bodies in the snow of the mountains. There was a funeral..." Price swallowed hard. He had been to that funeral. He remembered burying Kale. "She's supposed to be dead."

Then what hell was she doing here now?

#soap cod #ghost #cod mw2 #price cod #call of duty mw2 #gaz cod #original character #konig

[the12thnightproject]

Dear Kitsune & O.E.D., I live with a great bunch of guys (most of them brotherly or motherly), but as the only girl in the group, how do I tell them I need a little space sometimes? I prefer to think of them as "highly observant" as opposed to nosy, but I can't so much as sneeze in an empty room or I'll hear a "bless you" come from somewhere. Seriously, it's like the walls are paper thin around here! Please help! Sociably Surrounded in the Sengoku, courtesy of @bestbryn

Dear Surrounded,

My condolences. It cannot be easy being the only female, aware that your housemates can hear you when you sneeze, talk in your sleep, or take care of certain physical needs. The Kitsune is of course, speaking theoretically and would never listen in on a lady’s “private time.” However, it is all a matter of perspective.

There is a ninja who occasionally lurks in the ceilings of Azuchi castle (yes, the Kitsune is aware of his existence, since, as you have so eloquently pointed out, the walls are paper thin) who has been known to utter the phrase, “not a bug, but a feature.” Therefore, consider… if they can hear you, you can hear them.  Think of this as an opportunity. In other words… behave just as the honorary sister they believe you to be, and … prank them.

You sound like you are a creative girl – the Kitsune is certain you can come up with a few clever tricks. But if not, here are a few ideas:

Borrow several roosters from a nearby shrine, then just before sunrise, set them free to roam the corridors.

In the middle of the night, stand outside a chosen victim’s room and pour water from one container to another. Repeat.

Within any large household, there is always one member who believes in and is afraid of ghosts (the Kitsune will leave the determination of the identity of this person to you). Imagine how he would react to unearthly howls in the dead of night.

If you still need some help coming up with some ideas, feel free to visit the Kitsune in person for a consultation… or a partner in crime.

Happy plotting!

The Kitsune

Curious about the O.E.D.'s opinion? Go to @lorei-writes to find out what he had to say.

#samurwise advice #samuarwise advice #samaurwise advice #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku #cybird ikemen series #ikemen cybird #mitsuhide akechi #ikemen mitsuhide #ikesen mitsuhide

[georgi-girl]

Babble: Track Eight

I’m nuts, Baby I’m mad

Craziest friend you’ve ever had

You think I’m psycho, you think I’m gone

Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong

Over the bend, entirely bonkers

You like me best when I’m off my rocker

Tell you a secret, I’m not alarmed.

So what if I’m crazy, all the best people are.

@@@@

Zodiac (if it was still Zodiac) cracked their back and arms and legs one by one. Then they took some wobbly steps towards where Chief Ludmilla was laying, their hair moving on its’ own to form six long braids. Elbow-length gauntlets manifested on their hands.

The primos couldn’t believe it. Miguel reflexively backed away, praying in Spanish. Riley was clutching her chest, hyperventilating.

Zodiac turned away from Chief towards the duo. They grinned a giddy grin as one of their hair braids extended towards them. The braid stroked Riley’s face and patted Miguel’s cheek.

Chief weakly stood up, cussing all the while. Zodiac turned back to them.

“Such a, such fun, so funny you know.” They mumbled words in a drunken way. Strange voices came over the PA system. The staticky Muzak gave way to someone yelling something.

Youbrokethatmachineonpurpose. YoudidntcarewhatFordwanted. Youjustwantedhimtostsywithyou. Youneverrealylovedyourbrotheryoujustwantedtousehim.

The voice was terrifying to hear, but Zodiac didn’t seem to notice. They were all focused on Chief, who shouldn’t have been able to stand but was putting up her dukes.

@@@@  

Species saw someone get tossed out a window, then he saw a beautiful green and red being crawl out of the window along the wall. Someone with hair like tree branches.

“An Earth Mother…” he breathed out the title. Then he saw the doors open, and two very familiar teenagers running outside.

“Miguel! Riley!” Without thinking, he ran. And as he ran, he changed.

@@@@

The first thing Miguel noticed coming outside was a familiar xolo dog bounding towards him.

“Dante!” He spread his arms and knelt down to embrace his beloved dog.

A giant wolf came tearing out of the woods. The Bergens scattered. The wolf leapt on top of Miguel and growled at anyone who came close.  Zodiac grinned their deranged grin.

Tone looked at the strange creature, her mind making one association after another. Wolf. Woof. Dog. Doggie. Pet the doggie. Walking up to him, she reached out her hand and petted his huge muzzle.

The wolf tensed up, more shocked than anyone else by the girls’ sudden show of affection. Then his body glowed with a white light, shrinking and contracting into a human form that both Riley and Miguel recognized.

“Russel?” Miguel sat up to get a better look at the boy standing over him. He was taller than the last time they met, paler too. And his eyes were an incredibly dark shade of green. He squatted down to properly face his boyfriend. “Hey Miguel!”

Bridget looked up from the strange reunion to the mass of Bergens.

“Uh, I think we should do this inside…” She timidly pointed to the mob.

Everyone ran inside. Riley slammed the doors closed.

@@@@

While nobody was looking, Chief untangled herself from the wall, her joints making unearthly noises as they popped back into place. “I… have… to tell him…” she mumbled to herself as she limped to the basement door. She weakly opened it up and went in, locking the door behind her.

@@@@

Zodiac, when they found no one else to fight, relaxed. Their hair retracted, their uniform turned back from green to red, and their third eye turned into a carnation whose petals fluttered to the ground. Jack Frost, still outside, felt a warm breeze touch him as this happened.

@@@@

Miguel examined Species. He looked like Russel and mostly sounded like Russel. But there was something extra to him. Something hard to explain.

“Ah!” Species spread his arms out. “Nice indoor heating!”

“Yeah.” Miguel rubbed his arm, wondering how to go about this. “So, do you��� still remember me?”

Species grinned at him. “Of course! We met at a music festival two years ago where you bought me a delicious Mexican soda. Last Summer, I went to your hometown and met your family (your sister’s adorable) we exchange emails every week. Oh, I have something for you!”

He pulled something out of his satchel and held it out. It was a chunk of wood carved into a dog skull.

“Gee,” Species pressed his free hand against his blushing cheek. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward.”

Miguel laughed nervously and accepted the gift. This was definitely Russel. “Oh, it’s just the right amount of forward.”

“So, about those animal people inside you…”

“Oh, you know about them?”

“Yeah…” Riley chimed in. “We saw what happened on the security tapes.”

“Ah…” Species looked dazed and deflated. “Andddddddddd, what else do you know?”

“Not much, aside that you can apparently turn into animals… That’s different.”

“Yeah. I was surprised by that too.”

Bridget approached Species shyly and held out her hand.

“hi. You probably don’t remember me…”

“Bridget!” Species took a second to hug her tightly before turning his attention back to Miguel. Bridget beamed. “I knew I liked him.”

#fanfiction #crossover #au #gravity falls #trolls world tour #dreamworks trolls #the bad guys #inside out #coco #up #pixar's loop #character fusion #Mad Hatter #Melenie Martinez #this is terribly written #but I'm posting it anyway #You won't get better if you don't try #or something like that #babble

[hakawati93]

Jean-Que Manor

    When I was little my mom would take me and my brother to Troll Bridge right next to Mt. Baker beach. She would tell us that up the hill from the bridge is Pumpkin Booggetty house and if we didn’t start behaving she would leave us there and the monster would snatch us, slice us open, remove all our innards, stuff us with hay and sow our eyes and mouth shut. After he would do all that he will tie our stuffed carcass to a pole and place us in the middle of his garden along with all the other naughty children.

    After she told us that story she drove off and on the way home my mind started to wonder back to Booggetty and his house. I imagined a large garden with rotten, dead vegetation and an enormous English gothic style manor. In the garden there is dead little kids with maggots falling out of them and the monster next to them in the shadow, smiling at me with long pointy teeth and blacken eyes. When we returned home she sent us to bed with fear induced minds and considering me and my brother have an overactive imagination our dreams where a horror like no other. 

    I dreamt of being in the middle of Pumpkin Booggetty front yard with my brother Joseph unable to move, rooted to the spot with fear. The whole area gave off this menacing feeling, thunder roared with every flash of lightening and with every flash it lit up the surrounding area chasing away the darkness that consumed the property. That’s when I saw it the monsters lair, it was an old, creepy looking house with the door hanging off the hinges, the windows were all broken and it looked like parts of the manor were collapsed in; it looked beautifully broken. 

A scream ripped through the sky drowning out the roar of thunder, the scream tore through me like a piece of glass ripping and slashing at me from every angle. I felt my heart drop to my stomach and my eyes widen. The scream came again, enraged, unearthly…...inhuman; a demon sound of hunger. It was the kind of sound that could stop hearts, make your blood run cold; my pulse quickened as the blood drained from my face, my legs felt heavy as if they were submerged in cement I couldn’t move, turn, or even run I was stuck there waiting for this demonic creature to find me, harm me, and kill me. 

I turned my head (the only thing I could move), and looked to my brother hoping somehow he could save us both, but he was gone! I started to panic, fear for myself and for my brother consumed me. 

“Joseph!”, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Joseph, where are you!!”, I yelled. My eye site started to blur and I began to cry hysterically.

I dropped to my knees and wept, I was all alone my brother was gone! the monster must have taken him! There was nothing I could do, all the things my mother told me about Pumpkin Booggetty and what he does to children I imagined him doing to Joseph. 

“MOE!” I heard someone scream. It was my brother! He’s alive!

Adrenaline surged through my veins, no I wasn’t going to die here! I was going to save my big brother and get us home. 

“I’m coming Joe!”, I yelled and shot forward towards the manor with courage in my heart and the will to survive. I raced through the garden, passed the scare crow children, and through the broken door. The smell slapped me right across the face and left me dizzy, the manor smelt of rotten meat and sulfur, but that wouldn’t stop me from saving my brother! I slowly walked further into the building, creeping along trying not to make a sound.

“JANVIER! GET OUT OF THERE!”, I heard Joseph scream. I turned around to see my brother outside, panting, and out of breath. 

“Wha- “, my words were cut short when I felt the heavy breathing on the back of my neck. There was this bone cracking, clinking sound behind me, before I was even aware of making a conscious decision my legs came to life and I started to run towards the exit, but before I could reach it I felt claws rip into my flesh, I screamed in pain and stumbled, I caught my step and continued to run to safety. I heard the monster scream again, but I didn’t care I was almost out and free, so close to the door when my head jerked back with so much force it could have ripped my head right off my shoulders.

“JANVIER!”, my brother screamed for me, I reached out to him and then the once broken door slammed shut. Any chance of freedom and returning home was cut off with the slamming of the door.

“Mine”, the monster growled. I was jerked back, my back colliding into its boney and slimy chest, its long fingers sliding across my neck, its nails digging into my skin drawing blood. I screamed as it tore through the manor bouncing off the walls. After having that horrible dream I have been traumatized; to scared to go and see if the story of Jean-Que manor is real. What I expect to find at the top of the hill is everything I dreamt of as a child; the scarecrow children...the run down manor...and..THE MONSTER; Pumpkin Booggetty.

When we reached the top we came across the most surprising,astounding and beautiful site. There was no dead, creppy trees or weird crows with red beedy eyes, dead, stuffed children that were tied to poles, no monster who smelt of rotten meat and sulfur; instead there where beautiful japanese cherry blossoms, a large garden full of roses of yellow, white and pink and many other exquisite flowers in the middle of this garden a large stone fountain. The whole property was elegant and stunning, I couldn't see the house from where I was because I didn't want to trespass on their property but all in all this place was nothing campaired to my nightmare. When we turned away to head back down the hill I glanced back one last time at this beautiful sight and smiled, until something caught my eye. My eyes widen and my pulse began to race, this object that was so out of place stood near the entrence off to the side; it was a long old wooden pole. I shook my head and quickly walked away to catch up with my mom; there was just no way, no way it had anything to do with a scarecrow. Right?

#horror #nightmare

[talesfromthegameff14]

Patterns of Nothing

Some things don’t change.  A person goes missing.  Contacts are reached out to.  Time passes then the news comes back.  That moment while you wait to hear stretches out into eternity as you wonder.  Will it mean a rescue?  Did he simply walk away?  Or was it more, less, or worse?  It almost always is worse in Ayanga’s experience, and this time was no exception.  The fragile hope that the teacher had in the student shattered as the letter was read, the shards falling and cutting wherever they touched within.

It was life, the sorrows to make the joys stand out more clearly.  The pain muddled it all initially, the xaela’s reaction predictable to a fault.  He had to find out who, when, and why and then revenge can be had for what was lost. 

The when and where easily answered, the who though was the unknown.  Ishgard, of course it was that cursed place.  One Aya was loathe to step into willingly, it would make this easier if he did, but also far riskier.  The weight of parenthood tempered the need for revenge, along with a conversation with Tolemy to work out the difficulties of distance and the passage of time.  It was then the xaela was reminded that it was easier to find death when it walked beside you.  Perfect.

It was to the jetty by the sea that the two men went, Melody trailing behind them as a protective shadow.  It wasn’t likely that they’d be interrupted, Shirogane was quiet this time of night, but neither of the men walking to ritual were fools and neither was their daughter.  They would seek, she would protect.  They were family, it is how it should be.  Aya paused, then gestured for Melody to come closer so he could lean in and inform her that her younger sister was also on the prowl despite being told to go to bed.  It was hard not to not laugh and worry, but Terbish wasn’t so young anymore and lessons beyond books and aether were itching to be used.  Melody nodded with a grin after being told to watch for the wayward teen instead of herding her back to bed.  Maybe that isn’t..

A tug on his mind from Tolemy got his attention, Aya leaving Terbish to Melody and starting to walk forward again to join the Seeker on the end of the rocky jetty, surrounded by the sea.  The tide was coming in and the three-quarters moon was bright overhead despite the occasional wispy clouds that decorate the sky.  Aya slung the bag on his shoulder off, holding it carefully as he crouched by a section of rocks that’s flatter than the rest and raised a little higher. It’s a roughly circular spot, with a channel carved into the rocks that does make a perfect circle once it’s been cleared out of the moss and dirt that’s collected since he was last here.

“It’s been a while.”, he whispered to himself, brushing away the last of the debris as an unearthly whinny and rattle of bones wafted on the wind behind him.  The sound was accompanied with a flare of aether that was touched by darkness and death, sending gooseflesh pebbling along Aya’s arms.  It was disturbing that it was easier to ‘see’ Tolemy’s specter than most things in his life.  Even more so to see how the creature curled around his mate’s body like a second skin.  He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to chase away the impression that his aether threads imparted.  Now was not the time, he had a task to do.  A round rock container is pulled out of the bag, the top opened to reveal fine grained salt.  Standing up, the Seer took measured steps around the outside of the circle, pouring the salt from the container to draw a second sphere around the one carved in the stone.  His breathing evened and his thoughts stilled, the first steps of ritual as much to focus his thoughts as anything else. 

Slipping to the inside of the salt circle before it was finished, the last few ilms of crystals are poured upon the rock.  He sat down on the western side of the circle, facing the east where the half moon just crested the horizon. There was balance in the dark and the light, something that was key for a ritual like this.   A stone bowl withdrawn from the bag was set in the center, followed by a waterskin, a glass vial, and a small wooden handled dagger that was steeped in power.  Water from the Seer’s cave was difficult to gather, but it would be worth the effort if...  No, when he got the answer he sought.  A few deep breaths to center himself, the next exhale starting a low droning sound where words ancient and strange lurked within the rumbling bass notes.  The dagger was lifted and the point scraped a diagonal line along the palm of his left hand.  It’s a shallow cut across the scar lined skin, anything deeper came with too high of a risk of more permanent damage and that wouldn’t do.  He promised his husband after all, that came first.

Fortunately, the little bits of healing arts Aya’s picked up serve him well, allowing for far more blood to well up in the slice than normally would.  The touch of skill only added more aether to his blood before it dripped into the empty stone bowl.  The rune needed for the seeing was drawn one drop of blood at a time, the viscous liquid cooling quickly against the surface of the vessel.  He didn’t need sight for this, ritual guided his actions as surely as his eyes once did.  Dominion entwined with knowledge, the first the base of all the old Uyagir rituals where the second called to the purpose of the night.

He clenches his fist around a clean cloth brought just for this purpose, before lifting the skin of water and slowly pouring it into the bowl.  The blood upon the stone didn’t budge despite the liquid flowing over it as the rhythmic chant continued, the repetition centering and focusing Aya’s thoughts.  The water was cloudy within the bowl despite the blood not being diluted by its presence.  Carefully, the vial was picked up and some small scraps of debris were added to the mix.  The catalyst sparked within the enchanted waters, stirring up a small whirlpool of sparks until the surface of the water turned silver and reflective like a highly polished mirror.

A city danced along the surface and within Aya’s mind’s eye.  A Seer will always see what they seek, even should sight be taken from them.  People Aya didn’t recognize gathered in the streets of Ishgard, then one joined that he did.  Nariya recognized the Soul Stealer, the black blood and fathomless eyes of the unnamed, no his name was Gael, sent a chill of dread up Aya’s spine.  The Seer didn’t need to watch the rest of this, he knew what the outcome was, but he watched anyway.  It was out of respect for his student, everyone should have a witness at the end. 

Tears broke the shimmering surface of the water where the image of the viera’s corpse laid in the unforgiving cold of Ishgard.  The ritual was broken by the Seer’s sorrow, shattering much like Nariya’s soul did under Gael’s less than tender mercies.  Thoughts of revenge were scattered much like the vision was, the limitations of the mundane stealing that sweet, sweet desire away.  Aya would mourn and that would have to be enough.  To do anything else was to risk his own death and his life was not his own anymore, not entirely.  It belonged to the man who stood behind him as much as it was his. The family the two men made together was a gift he would not give up easily.  His blood was for them now and no one else. ...

Months hadn’t dulled the sharpness of that memory, Aya standing on the jetty once more while a shadow of bones and death capered around him.  The moon was full this time and Tolemy lurked not too far away, just far enough to give the xaela the illusion of privacy while he nursed the heart-wound that was reopened earlier in the day. 

Of course it’s a voidsent that wore the skin of his student. Yet, the soul wasn’t entirely gone.  It felt so much like Edda that it burned from the memories of soot and fire that ended in the death of a friend and the rebirth of someone new.  Is that what path Nariya was doomed to?  Was there enough left to reclaim the body? There was more there than there had been of Edda, but how much was enough? Were the ones plotting to bring him back strong enough to do it and ruthless enough to end it if they failed?  The palms of his hands were raised to his eyes, a low noise of pain rumbling in the xaela’s chest as he rubbed his eyes in vain.  Nothing was going to banish the sight of the shreds of Edda’s soul trying to reform into something new, both more and less. 

Fuck, he didn’t want to do this again!  A ghostly whuffling against his horn paired with the rattling of bones and the chill of mist caressing his legs pulled Aya out of his thoughts.  A snarl was aimed at the familiar that dared to draw close, but it lacked the bite it usually did.  “Fine.”, he muttered and pivoted at the end of the jetty, steps sure as he walked the long path back home.  What would happen would happen, he only hoped that he wouldn’t have to clean it all up afterwards. 

Tolemy belongs to @ala-mhinyan Melody belongs to @realmoffantasy Nariya and Gael belong to their writers.

#ffxiv rp #oc stories #mateus rp #ayanga uyagir #also khenbish #no gods no editing #just void things #it's fine really #bonypony best pony

[thatsbelievable]

#What to do if You Hear an Unearthly Sound Coming From Outside #tips #tricks #helpful hints #life hacks #advice #bear-thing

[monodipita]

pairing: yandere!norton x gender neutral!reader

words: 5,335

warnings: yandere content, gaslighting

a/n: this is a recreation of my norton x reader one-shot on AO3, which i've linked so you can draw comparisons. i'm glad that i made the touchups <3 i love my nortty boy

The Eversleeping Town was a beautiful realm that paid homage to the deceptive Michiko. It was the most human-looking realm the Baron could've put you in where beauty, albeit somber beauty, surrounded you in every direction. The sky was a dark shade of gray and shadowed each building in the pale, fabricated moonlight that hung high above your head.

The air was thick with tension and fear, the norm for realms created by the Baron, whose only enjoyment was derived from watching you and the thirty other people who were forced to coexist with you suffer at the hands of the hunters he so-called employed to kill you.

You arrived as your conscience was told to do by the Baron in the harrowing graveyard of the Eversleeping Town. Shades of grey surrounded you, from the twilight sky to the darkened earth under your boot. Moonlight poured over the gravestones that surrounded you, giving them an unearthly hue that was almost green - like it was something straight out of a cruddy horror movie that would see the corpses 6 feet under rise up to cause a stir. Such a sight would've bothered you if this was your first rodeo at the manor, but it wasn't. Each realm the Baron placed you in had its own dark backstory, even if the area surrounding you was beautiful.

The manor itself was the only place that scared you now, where parts of it remained unexplored because people were fearful of what would happen to them if they wandered far from the growing flock. No one knew what would happen, but no one was brave enough to find out either. It was best to accept your fate and keep going. You, too, were accustomed to this fact and had become very accustomed to it rather quickly.

Your eyes fell on a cipher machine after walking around this eerie little graveyard. A nifty little typewriter propped up on a box with an electrical antenna protruding from the backside to alert you and the hunter as to how much progress was completed on it, also known as the sole way to leave this place. "I can do this." You tell yourself as you walk up to the machine. "All I need to do is stay hidden, and the hunter will never know I'm here." It was best to begin as soon as possible, even without knowing the location of the hunter. The more progress on a cipher machine, the better.

Time slowly began to tick away, and each movement you made felt more rushed than the other. The tones of typing away on the typewriter to decipher the Baron's ramblings bore a monotone melody. It had been a total of two minutes since you emerged in this realm, but you couldn't hear a single scream, and you knew that the hunter didn't make a single stop through this part of the map. Just what was going on?

"[Y/N]! Over here!"

It was a voice you almost missed under the sounds of the roaring cipher machine, only your head turning in that direction barely caught the whispers that came your way. Your eyes connect with the horizon over the gravestones to see Norton running toward you.

"Norton?" You whispered. For some reason, you felt disbelief after trying those words on your lips, but no, it truly was Norton running toward you. His blue eyes were dull and missed that sparkle.

Enter the young and lighthearted, introverted prospector with a rough exterior and soft interior. For quite some time the two of you bonded under strange circumstances, such as coming under the moonlight in the garden at the manor, and silently appreciating the almost lifelike fabrication of the outside the Baron put in place for the survivors around the manor together. You didn't really talk very much, but when you did, the conversations almost felt magical. Norton revealed himself to be a fairly intellectual individual well-versed on the outside and geology, something you were interested in as a child and only dabbled in when you could when you were a teenager. The way he spoke about stuff he knew almost made you feel like a child again, only because he made you feel so excited to know whatever else he was going to tell you. He could make something up and you would believe it to its fullest potential, up until he told you that it wasn't real - that's how fond you were of the conversations with him.

You took your hands off of the cipher machine when you believed there was a window of opportunity to stop and turn to the man who knelt before you. "What's wrong?" You asked as you head to his side. His head tilted in every which direction you allowed it to, with his onyx black locks sprawling between your fingers. "The Ripper fucked me up." Norton chuckled wryly, a small smile plastered on his stoic lips. There wasn't even a single hint of pain in his voice, only a rasp from the physical pain. He was hardened by what happened to him in a way that you could never be. In a way, it hurt to know that there was a worse pain out there than what he was currently experiencing now, even if he wasn't physically experiencing the said pain.

Looking at him now in what little light was provided by the deathly green hue of the gravestones surrounding you, you could see now that he was heavily injured. Wounds in the form of slashes littered his skin, but it was his back that was the worst affected, with little spirals of mist permeating off them. All evidence indeed pointed to that tall, perverse, lanky masked figure with real claws for hands. "W-we need to get you patched up. We can't do it here though, I need to be able to see what I'm doing." You said, the worry evident on your features.

"Fair," he mumbled to himself as he slotted himself into your arm, picking himself up with your help and bringing himself to a slow stand. "Alright, ready."

Your walk with him was a long one, across the train tracks, to the house that allowed you to walk up without any trouble. Each breath taken, and every step taken was a slow and painstaking one to reach the finish line. . . so far so good when it came to sightings of the Ripper, but you knew to keep your breath bated; the man you two spoke of was literally made out of a type of material very similar to mist, so it was nearly impossible to see him or hear him creep up on you until it was too late.

"I think we'll be safe here." He grunted.

You dropped him off inside the small upstairs apartment after brushing the tapestry aside to step in. Helping Norton onto the ground was no problem - next to the window, so that the stale air from the house didn't get to him. From up here, everything looked beautiful. You couldn't help but be awestruck while Norton's pained wheezes filled the air, only looking down to him when he spoke. "Do you know how to use that first-aid kit of yours, [Y/N]?" Norton asked as he whipped his head around to look at you, stunning you with that beautiful gaze of his. You gripped at the first-aid kit nervously while you thought of a good answer, feeling your palms become slick with perforation. Did you really want to admit that you didn't when he needed to be healed before Jack found him?

"N-no." You admit it. No sense in holding it back. . . it was a syringe for fuck's sake, wouldn't anyone but Ms. Dyer be afraid of handling this? "I'm sorry!" You whimpered.

"Heh, it's alright. I'm gonna try and tend to the obvious wounds first. Watch carefully and try not to miss any details so you can tend to my back." A pained smirk painted Norton's features as he took the first-aid kit from your hands and turned away from you.

The rest of the match went smoothly. You had to hand it to Mike, the acrobat definitely knew how to use his feet. He only got hit once during that entire match while the others worked away at the cipher machines that needed decoding - what this repetitive process was needed for was something very unclear to you, but you didn't mind doing it now, as opposed to before when the mind-boggling situation presented itself to you as something new. You stuck by Norton the entire match, just making sure that he was okay. If there was anything he needed, you were there for him.

When each match ended, declared by only opening the exit gate and watching as The Ripper's image disappeared into the background; you were free to walk back to the manor through the exit gate if you were spared from the rocket chair.

Unfortunately, Naib had been chaired and sent back to the manor earlier, so there were only the three of you free to walk back to the manor on your own. Woods surrounded you on either side to force your attention on the road ahead - as wandering probably wasn't a good idea, to begin with, but it was nice. The autumn air felt good on your skin that felt hot from all the running you did.

"You handled that pretty well. I'd love to be able to learn some of your tricks sometime!" You congratulated Mike as the four of you headed back toward the manor from the exit gate, a happy smile on your face as you spoke so cheerfully.

"Ah, it was nothing [Y/N], but thank you for the compliment. I'm used to doing all types of dangerous stunts and stuff, so I'm okay with doing it in front of the hunter. I could teach you, but it would take a while." He rubbed the back of his neck with a soft chuckle.

"That would be so cool!" Your grin spread wider across your lips, practically beaming at the thought of being able to perform all of those stunts without any issue. . . of course, there was always the lingering threat of hurting yourself and possibly crippling yourself while performing those stunts, but what was the worst that could happen in the Baron's manor? Nothing here made sense - it would be cool to train yourself to learn something different, after all.

You could hear a grunt leave Norton's lips as he walked beside you, causing you to turn your head and look over at him in slight worry. Was something wrong? "Are you okay, Norton? Do you need anything?" You asked.

"One of my bandages came undone on my back. I'll need you to redo them." Norton seemed to look a little worse for wear, come to think of it. His fair skin assumed a pallor hue, and there was a bead of sweat rolling off his brow. What a surprise - that syringe hardly did the work Ms. Dyer claimed it could do. How did anyone feel safe using them? "Of course, Norton," you turned toward him and stopped your movements. "We can take care of them right here if you need them redone." The urgency in your tone would suggest that you seemed afraid of the consequences of dallying - at first, Norton seemed hesitant to stop, you could tell by his slow-halting movements. But, he ultimately talked some much-needed sense into you. What if Jack came for you three like this?

It was unheard of - but not entirely out of the question for the hunter to continue pursuing their targets beyond the Baron's influence, of course.

"I don't think this is a very good spot. We should do it when we get back, I can tough it out. We don't need to risk bumping into anyone or anything because we lagged behind." He mumbled, gently leaning into your shoulder and resting his head against it - just narrowly missing you with that snuffed candle that had been blown out by the autumnal winds that breezed through the area. Your cheeks went red by the sensation - it nearly took you by a storm when studying his handsome features, but you knew better than to react. Instead, you turned your head to hide the blush spreading across your features. No need for anyone to see something so embarrassing. . . "Y-yeah, that's fine, I just figured the sooner, the better," you try to reason, "but that seems kinda dumb. I'm sorry."

He chuckled and shook his head, "it's fine. It's cold out here compared to the actual places we go to, so I figured doing it in a safer and more comfortable environment would be best." Right. You felt embarrassed for not thinking about it that way.

The rest of the walk to the manor was in complete silence between the three of you. Once the manor was in clear view, you could feel relief filling your senses. There didn't have to be any more awkward silence, and once you were finished with patching up Norton, you were free to do whatever you wanted until you were whisked away yet again to the Baron's many realms set-up for his morbid amusement.

"Bye Mike!" You wave to him with a friendly smile on your face as you parted from him by Norton's side. The hallways inside the manor were small, so it was necessary for you to bunch closer to him. Turning your head to see Norton beside you, you happened to take notice of the expression he currently carried - he looked solemn. "Is something wrong?" You ask him with a frown on your face. "Are your wounds bothering you? Should we hurry up?"

". . .yeah," Norton looked away from you as you approached the door to his bedroom. He shared the cozy space with the Boy, whom no one knew much of, but you were more than sure that he was a delicate joy to be around. You didn't want to waste any time. "Alright, Norton, let's take a look at those wounds,"

Going into the room felt weird, but you forced yourself to. It was just. . . for some reason, the tension in the room felt so high that it was almost awkward. Almost. You couldn't exactly pinpoint what the cause was, but you weren't going to let your feelings get in the way of doing something more important, such as taking care of Norton's wounds.

Norton positioned himself on the bed and pulled his shirt off as he'd done before - yet, you were still taken back by that move, your cheeks dusted a pink by the sight. Norton was, undeniably, an attractive man with a personality that was a bit rough on the edges, but still a man that you would want to pursue in a relationship no less. You're reading into it too much!

You snapped out of your thoughts and blinked away any lingering feeling, culling your expression to a blank, relaxed face. You pulled your bag off of your back and walked over to the bed in the room, placing it down and pulling the actual medkit you carried on you out of its confined space. You glanced over at Norton, who looked at you with an expectant expression. You squeezed the medkit tightly between your fingers when you heard a question be asked to you. "Something wrong, [Y/N]?" He asked in a casual voice.

It reminded you that he might not think about you in the same way you think about him.

"Mm. . ." you hummed while you tried to think of a decent cover-up. While you thought hopelessly, he pulled the mining cap off of his head to feel more comfortable, exposing that bushy black mane on his head. Immediately after, you could see him loosen his tan scarf and tug it away from his neck - oh, he was stripping. How embarrassing. This was his room after all. You couldn't even help but feel a small blush spread across your features when you realized the fact. Could he have gotten any more handsome than he was now??

"N-nothing." You found yourself responding while shaking your head. Walking over to the bed, you walked around to see his clothed back. His clothes were slashed to pieces, exposing his skin, with crimson blots making the dusty fabric look nearly black. The wounds weren't necessarily deep, but they still needed to be treated. Luckily, you knew how to use this medkit - not whatever the hell Ms. Dyer had. "Here, let me help you pull it up,"

Your hands dropped the medkit and instead peeled the yellowing suspenders off his broad shoulders. He did the rest of the work, promptly pulling that shirt over and off his head like it wasn't anything, much to your surprise. "T-that works too." You uttered softly. Back to work.

Norton gently grabbed your hand as it went to open the medkit, much to your alarm. You could feel the callouses on them from all of his years of hard work inside the mine that ultimately caused him to suffer.

It was warm to the touch, almost like how you felt now. Your eyes went a little wide with surprise, your head swam with infinite possibilities as to what would be the outcome of this simple gesture. Was he going to kiss you, was he going to break your hand, was he going to kill you, or was he going to drop down on one knee and propose to you? The possibilities were too limitless. You couldn't even feel the hand he grabbed anymore. Your head felt a tad bit light from the overwhelming feeling of infatuation.

All he had to say were three simple but powerful words. "Come here, [Y/N]."

It was a flash of a moment. You were lured into Norton's arms and you could feel yourself wanting to be here forever. "Norton. . ?”

Being in his arms was the most romantic feeling you've felt since ... ever. There was comfort in resting in these muscled arms of his, because there was a feeling described there that you could only recall when you were younger. The love, though he ill described or expressed the feeling, felt real, genuine, and unparalleled by anything you'd experienced before—this wasn't some high school crush, this was a man who was marred by the harsh realities that surrounded him, now coming to you with a love that was pulled through the muck of despair by your hands. Real love. The words sounded so foreign when you listened to them in your head, but it wasn't an unwelcome feeling, you wanted to embrace it as much as you wanted to embrace him.

"It’s been hard for me since I came to the manor, but I think you've really turned things on their head [Y/N]. What I'm trying to say is... I think you've made people happier since you've arrived. You've got a real knack for getting into people's hearts, you've made a home in mine." He chuckled and squeezed your body taut against his. "And I'm happy. It took me a long time to piece that sentence together, but I’ve finally managed—I'm so happy that you're here. This is the first, genuine connection I've felt in a very long time, and it's the happiest I've been in years.”

The words he spoke were breathtaking only because you couldn't imagine him saying words like this. He was closed off from the world and unable to process his emotions clearly without frustration, but they spilled out like honey from a tree. Perfect, raw, and sweet, depending on who you asked. But more importantly, these were coming from someone you had feelings for—and they reciprocated what you felt. He had feelings for you. He was in love with you as you were with him.

Your lips pressed against his, and you held it with light excitement and mixed peace. Peace, you could finally rest now, knowing that he was equally as infatuated with you. It wasn't a deep kiss but it wasn't a light kiss either, it was a perfect mix of the in-between. You squeezed his hardened hands and gently pulled away from him, staring into his glazed-over eyes with a smile creeping onto your face. “I love you,” you tell him, as relief swells in your heavy heart.

". . .”

He couldn’t say it back—that was fine; he didn’t have to say it back. All he needed to know was that you held feelings for him.

Time never passed by so quickly in the manor, only because you were spending so much of it with Norton. In this time you got to learn who he was and why he went into the prospecting business, what happened once he came out of the mine, how he survived the explosion, and how he got here, who he liked and who he didn't like. . . it was all so much information to absorb that you were left feeling like you were part of him, but you knew better than to become more involved with him than you were now.

You were merely his significant other, not his family, not a fragment of him. He was an interesting individual, though, and you had no qualms with sharing information about yourself—given he never shared this information with anyone else, and only you were privy to the information he gave.

You were special in his eyes. He was special in yours. You loved every single inch of him from head-to-toe. There was no one else you wanted to be with more in this world right now than with Norton. Though, you couldn’t recognize the signs that came with being his significant other.

"I don't want to see you with them anymore."

"They're all lying to you. They don't want us to be together."

"I don't want you to hang out with them."

"You can't trust them, they'll just abandon you. I've only ever been the one to stick around you."

"I'm the only one who knows you, [Y/N]. They could never know you like I do."

Your daydream of the perfect relationship was haplessly shattered when you remembered such bitter words leaving his lips. You cringed slightly, realizing your surroundings were none other than his bedroom. The boy moved out, you moved in, and now here you were, staring at these four walls. A soft sigh left your lips.

How could you forget? Even if Norton seemed so perfect, he had his undeniable flaws, being clingy and controlling was one of them.

He was like smoke, he smothered everything he touched, and he'd leave his mark wherever he went; you experienced this firsthand with that raw hickey that was on your collarbone that throbbed every time you remembered it was there. He kept to himself because he kept things to himself, and you were one of those things. You were his.

This rare and sudden change of behavior did come after one of the other inhabitants of the manor actually let you get hit by none other than Joseph Desaulnier. He seemed to let all trust of others go out of the window, and you understood, only to the healthy extent of those words which were not very healthy at all. HE couldn't deny you the presence of people you wanted to be around, it wasn't fair to you!

So what were you doing about it? You were trying to break it down. You only accredited his clinginess to the fact that he was the sole survivor of the mining incident he was apart of, and therefore, he coped by clinging to others. But you were wrong in the assessment, because it was far from true; Norton despised being around others and only wanted to be in your presence, only wanted your attention, and didn't exactly care what anyone else thought of him. With no clear end to his distasteful behavior, you hoped that Helena could provide an answer for you - late at night, when no one else was awake. Though this time of meeting was impractical and had a 40% chance of actually working when it came to Norton and his attentiveness, you had no other choice.

Meeting with Helena was going to be . . . dangerous. Who knew what was waiting for those who ventured out of their bedrooms at night? And even moreso, when there was a chance that you'd be busted by being in the wrong place, with the wrong person? Your original roommate was the dashing Patricia. . . but . . . now it was Norton. And being outside of your room at night must've spelled innumerable and unspeakable consequences - the Baron was particularly unforgiving. You'd have to sneak out of this room, into Helena's. . . and goodness, you've completely forgotten where the hell her room was at anyway.

After some heavy weighing, you lifted yourself up and slowly brought yourself out of the mildly uncomfortable bed. It was better to risk the consequences for the longterm.

It was nighttime, the light from the fabricated moon poured in through the large window that overlooked your new bedroom, peeking out from under the blinds and curtains. It didn't bring much light to the room, but it reminded you that it was indeed late. You turned your head and looked over the room, spotting nothing out of the ordinary. A dull lantern light provided enough illumination to show you where the door and the bathroom door were at, but not much else. You couldn't see Norton's face, but judging by the lump in the bed, he must've been sleeping.

"Where are you going, [Y/N]?" His voice rang through your ears, giving you a shock. You promptly turned your entire body to face the bed, and you were met with the sight of Norton's bushy, black mane peeking out from underneath the covers, with his sparkling blue eyes peering out at you. He was tired, physically exhausted after running a marathon for the success of his teammates. You gave him a small smile, one that concealed the feelings of uncertainty you held underneath. "I'm going to get a snack, just to see if they'll let me." You told him.

"Oh," Norton sounded relieved as he sat up. His bandage-bound chest was still a sight that you weren't used to. . . gah, he was so handsome! "Do you want me to go with you then, or are you just fine with getting me something to snack on too?" He was tired out of his mind, and probably didn't understand just how outrageous his request sounded. You could definitely manipulate this to your advantage. . .

"I'm fine with just getting you something," you uttered. The foreign feeling welled up in your chest. You hated this idea; you hated the idea of lying to him, and yet, you were forcing yourself to now. You could feel yourself beginning to trek over to the bedroom door with slow steps, only to feel your left wrist be snagged between his calloused fingers. His eyes looked up at you. "You're going to get snacks, right?"

"Y-yes," you meekly responded, finding yourself looking at your feet, covered by slippers the Baron provided. He was onto you, you could tell.

". . .alright," Norton gently let go of your wrist. "I'll wait by the door then to help you get back to the bedroom." He said, prompting you to shake your head. "That won't be necessary," you quickly answered him, "I know my way back to the bedroom. . ."

"So why do I feel like you're lying to me then?" He asked.

Oh God. "I-I'm not," you stammered, making your way over to the door. Just as you opened it, Norton's hand came out of nowhere, and slammed it shut. His left hand revealed itself to you, heavily marred with burn scars - something you didn't see often because he wore protective gloves. It was a bit jarring to see, if anything, because it was a side of him that you'd never seen before. "[Y/N], we're too fucking old to be playing these games. I know you can't leave this room at night,"

He grabbed your shoulder with his right hand and gripped it taut, forcing you to turn and look him in the eye. Your own hues were wide with anxiety - this wasn't how you were expecting this to go at all! B-but you didn't really know what to expect, if you were being honest. . . you just weren't expecting him to behave like this! "Norton!" You whispered out of surprise. "Please, I'm just trying to leave the room and get some fresh air!"

"As if I'm supposed to believe that shit," Norton's arms scooped around you and pried your body from the door, much to your chagrin. You were pulled further into the room and hoisted onto the bed—your butt connected perfectly with the lush bed blankets, as a testament to how good Norton was with his upper-body coordination. "You're hiding something from me," he put his hands on his hips, "and I'm not about to take some wack ass answer. You better get to talking, or neither of us are about to sleep tonight." He growled in an ominous tone. You pursed your lips, as a wash of rage and fear poured over you.

You needed to say something. "N-norton, I need to know something,"

"Oh? Sure," Norton relaxed. "If that's all you had to do, I'm not sure why you had to go through so many loopholes to do it." He folded his arms over his chest, "ask me anything,"

You stared at him in disbelief, unsure of what to say. . . there was so much going through your mind at that moment that you were entirely unsure if you could even get it out. It felt. . . wrong. "I just wanted to know why you. . . love me so much." Chickened out again. You were internally frustrated with what you said, but there was no going back. You could only hope that there was some truth in what he told you.

"You're the only person I have in this place," Norton sat down on the bed to be at your side. His right arm wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you into his bulky form, making your cheeks redden again. "The only person I will ever want to have by my side, too. There's no one else who can make me feel the way you do—like there's purpose behind everything in this fucking hellhole. I'm determined to keep you. . . I can't ever lose you. That's why I said I didn't want you around the others, you know? They let you get hurt, [Y/N]. I don't want you to suffer because of anyone else, baby. It ain't right," He pulled you in for an embrace and rested his head on your shoulder, like he had done that very night. It felt nostalgic, and you couldn't deny the power that was behind it. "Norton," you breathed.

"I think the world of you. That's why it's important to keep you safe, and the only way I can keep you safe is if you're by my side at all times. It hurts me too much to know that there are fucked people in this manor that are willing to throw you under the bus for their own personal gain when you're worth so much more than they could ever be." It was gaslighting at its finest. You could only take these words with a grain of salt. In a way, it made sense. In other ways, he sounded like a madman. It seemed like you couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"Oh, Norton..." you breathed as you leaned in to his embrace, nuzzling your face into his neck as you spoke sincere words, "I'm so sorry that I ever doubted your reasoning, Norton. I understand completely."

A smirk spread across Norton's face as he reined you in tighter. "Of course you understand, [Y/N], that's why you're mine."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere norton #norton campbell #idv #idv x reader #norton x reader #norton campbell x reader #identity v #identity v x reader #yandere x you #gender neutral insert #reader insert

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you so much to @dandycandylion for commissioning me! And thank you so much for being patient ;;w;; I know this took a while, I’m sorry for all the delays. I hope you enjoy it.

Ht!Sans/Reader. tw; blood

... Your first thought was ‘I really hope that’s not blood’. Which is never a good start. 

Your hand was still on the doorknob, trained to answer knocks at this time of night with a healthy amount of caution and/or slam it shut again should the situation call for it. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust- they’d become accustomed to the comforting glow of your bedroom over the past few hours, and the way the harsh porch light blared out into the dark was taking a little getting used to. 

...

And... it didn’t help that when you saw Sans, red smeared on his skull and hands and engorged single iris staring down at you, your mind immediately started doing backflips to try and explain what you were seeing in a way that stopped you from having to come to a terrifying conclusion.

... You were already afraid. You didn’t want to admit it, but you absolutely were- standing there in the doorway in your pyjamas with wide eyes and a glued-shut mouth. Sans was a frightening enough figure already; almost twice your size, crooked blade teeth, a gaping hole in his skull and a swollen crimson eye that had a penchant for staying fixed on you for what felt like hours. But before now, that fear had been manageable; something you could look at and say fuck you, I’m going to get to know this guy anyway, because he might be nice.

...

It was hard to think that now. 

...

“S... Sans?” You said, when he didn’t move an inch, holding onto your own arms. He was being even more silent than usual. “Is... is that...?”

... Sans being silent was hardly abnormal. Nor was him staying in one place, staring, just a few centimetres closer than was comfortable. It was the look on his face that made you nervous- or rather, lack thereof... that, and the stains.

...

His eye glanced up to the light and warmth of your apartment behind you, and then back down to you again.

...

“O-oh.” You blinked. “You... want to come in?”

... A fraction of a nod. He seemed... agitated.

...

He’s shaking?

You hadn’t noticed at first, gaze only drawn to the bloodstains, and the unpleasant look on his face. But now your eyes had finished adjusting to the outdoor lighting you could see that his hands were quivering gently. His shoulders, too; bouncing up and down...

...

“... Yeah. Come in.” You said, softly, stepping aside.

He didn’t pause for even a moment- he shuffled in as soon as he registered that you’d agreed, turning sideways so his huge frame could move past you. You closed the door, gently... for some reason you felt like it was a bad idea to make loud noises right now.

... I hope I didn’t just make a huge mistake.

“... Do you wanna... wash your hands?” You murmured. 

He let out a little affirmative sound, eyelight searching the floor for a moment before he ducked into the bathroom, out of view.

...

Running water. You just... moved over to the couch, sitting down, fiddling with the edges of your shirt. Should you... should you ask where the blood was from? Should you say ‘where is it from’ or ‘whose is it’ first? Was that even the right thing to bring up? Maybe asking would make him upset... 

...

He re-emerged. Clean hands, he’d dried them too.

“O-oh.” You pointed to your own face. “You’ve still got...”

... He mirrored your movement, touching his jaw, but he just blindly smeared the blood he’d missed on his face.

“... You know what, just sit down. I’ll get it.”

... You retrieved a wet cloth you weren’t overly attached to, and returned to him sitting on the couch... he was totally dwarfing everything in your home. He’d never been inside your house before- honestly, from the way he acted around you, seemingly unable to get a single sentence out or do anything but stare creepily, you thought he disliked you. 

His hands were clenched in his lap, tight stressed eyelight tracking you across the room as you approached. When you saw him stood outside you’d wrongly labelled him as unreadable; slowly, as you looked at him more, you started to pick up on little signs. He seemed to be... bowed. Shoulders hunched, still slightly shaking, head low and hands balled into fists so his claws weren’t visible, bouncing his leg...

... Is he... trying to make himself smaller?

...

“... Here.” You said, taking a seat beside him. He was so huge and heavy that the furniture was bending under him- you were sat at an angle, trying not to roll into his now-stopped leg, and reached up with the cloth. You realised that you’d never actually touched Sans before, nor he you... and he was watching like you were approaching with a knife. 

.. He didn’t move, head fixed in place, statue-like... but he didn’t protest. So you took that as an okay, gently pressing the cloth against his cheekbone and wiping slowly at the offending stains.

...

His eyelight widened at the contact, a little, almost imperceptibly. At the same time his socket relaxed at the edge... why did it remind you of a cat being pet for the first time?

... And... he nodded his head down even further, the smallest of sighs escaping his ribcage.

... Well. You thought. That wasn’t a ‘get your hands off me before i bite them you stupid fucking human’. So I’m probably okay.

The blood came off pretty easily. Solid bones didn’t seem that conducive to liquid, so to speak, which meant gently rubbing back and forth was enough to quickly remove even the flaking dried stuff. Careful strokes, occasionally folding the cloth over to get a clean edge, running it over the defined curves of his skull... easy, and rather calming, despite all the questions that were racing through your mind.

...

It was very, very quiet. Comfortingly so. His breathing was so slow inside his giant chest that you couldn’t hear a thing; you could only feel it gently brushing over your cheeks and neck. He smelled nice, like deep forests... The faint warmth coming from his constantly staring eye became more noticeable as time went on, especially with your hand so close to his face. He was looking at your chest.

...

“... There.” His skull was now bloodless. You’d forgotten to even ask about it. “That looks better.”

Nothing. He hadn’t left his slightly hunched position.

...

“I should go put this in the sink.” You removed your hand, turning to get off the couch...

... But you were stopped by a gentle pressure, that enclosed your palm. 

...

You looked down, at your limb. Sans... had his huge, skeletal mitt closed around your own. It was much warmer than you thought it’d be; smooth ossified matter slightly coarsed with nicks and grooves, the shaking very faint now. Your hand the size of his palm. And before you could fully process what you were looking at, or the sensation of him touching you willingly... he brought your hand up, placing it back on his cheekbone, palm flat against his zygomatic arch.

...

Huh?

His socket lidded- he seemed droopy, exhausted.

“... don’t go.” He mumbled, with that unearthly deep voice of his. He sounded... tired. Softly desperate. Guilty? All in one tiny, close-to-breaking utterance. “please.”

...

He suddenly looked... fragile. Somebody who felt strong wouldn’t react so desperately to a single touch. It was... it was like he was about to fall apart any second... right there in your palm. 

...

“Maybe... you should stay the night.”

#commissions #THANK YOU ILY #blood #ht sans

[isbergillustration]

This is a Ghost Story: Part VII

A sensation like claws digging into my skin rouses me, and the following unearthly scream that seems to be as much inside my head as outside of it snaps me right awake. I open my eyes to see two pale yellow discs hovering inches from my face. They’ve never done this before. I’m breathing heavily, trying not to panic at the fact I can feel the insubstantial shape pressing my body down into the bed. Horrifyingly, I hear the front door creak as it swings open, followed by muted swearing.

“Should have broken into a newer place, I’m telling you.”

“Shh, dipshit. Could be someone in here.”

“Hah, well, too bad for them, then.”

I lay still, petrified. Ghosts eyes go to me, then away, then back again. Something like a clawed finger pressed against my lips, as if I’m stupid enough to speak. And then, the shape drifts towards the living room, and I hear that telltale banging of doors add to the quiet creeping of the burglars. I take the opportunity to ease off the bed, grab my phone and crawl under it, pressing as close to the wall as I can, frantically setting my phone to quiet mode. It’s dusty down here, and it is everything I can do to keep myself from coughing.

“What’s that?”

“What’s wha- oh fuck. What the fuck?”

Ghost’s general poltergeisting is getting louder, so I take the chance, dialling the emergency number. It rings for what I can only describe as concerningly long, with more baffled and eventually frightened shouts from outside.

“What the fuck, man, what’s doing that?”

“Listen,” I whisper, cutting off the operator as they try to greet me, “two people have broken into my home. They’re armed. Please send someone.”

I don’t know how much the person can hear of what’s going on in the rest of the room, but I get through the whispering of my address and hang up. Maybe Ghost hears that, I don’t know how ghost senses work, because that’s when the chaos escalates. Full haunted house movie climax, I can see things flying, hear all the doors banging open and shut again. Footsteps running, the front door slamming shut. Then the shadow flows closer again, and I see two glowing eyes before me.

“Safe?” I whisper.

A shadowy claw hand on my arm, the faint not quite sensation of tugging. I interpret it as a yes, and crawl out. I cough, at last, and my hands tremble enough that I drop my phone. My heart is pounding so fast. Ghost’s cold shape clings to me, I can feel the weird tingly cold where they intersect me.

“Thank you.”

A hand shape on my shoulder. The hint of a squeezing movement. I walk out into the living room, which looks as trashed as it sounded like. My things strewn across the floor, broken glass. The lock on my door is broken, so I shove the lone arm chair in front of it while I wait for the police. Not that it will do much good, probably. But my laptop is gone. And my wallet. The two single things of any worth in my home. Great. Great good. Fuck. Need to cancel my cards. Call the bank. Call insurance people. A locksmith. Clean the blood from the walls agai-

“What the fuck, have you been able to do that the entire fucking time?” I demand, as the bloody threats on the wall fade away.

I guess watching me try to clean it was fun. Either way, doesn’t matter, now. I sit on the floor, arms wrapped around my knees. Probably shouldn’t clean up before the police comes. Besides, I don’t really feel up to do anything, other than keep my eyes on the door. I feel the cool darkness wrap around me like a blanket.

#ghost story #digital art #my art #my writing

[rotworld]

1: Hellhound

you get an unexpected visitor on the night of a hunt.

->explicit. contains gore, murder, feral behavior, very ambiguous consent (consent not explicitly given but you have a good time), and knotting.

.

.

.

Molly says there’ll be a hunt tonight.

You’re visiting the village market together when she suddenly stops in the middle of the road, the evening crowd parting around her. Her hands tremble at her sides, her head turned towards the sky. “Do you feel that?” she whispers. “That heat? That prickle in the air? Like a storm, but I know it’s not. They’re coming. Herbs—you need herbs. Can’t be out late.” You don’t feel anything but you take her word for it. They call her Mad Molly, but only when you aren’t around to smack some sense into them. Not just anyone survives being stranded outside on the night of a hunt. You’d like to see them try.

“How do you tell the difference?” you ask her. “Between a storm and a hunt?” 

Molly taps her nose. “The smell,” she says. “Storms are wet. Earth and sky. Hunts are something else. Try and see.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Crisp autumn air fills your lungs. You smell the savory aroma of meat pies, the musk of herbs, the sharp scent of pickled vegetables, but nothing like what Molly describes. You trip on an uneven patch of road and she catches you, snickering. Somehow, she’s still twice as graceful as you, even without her eyes.

Dusk settles in the sky by the time you reach Molly’s. She gives you a basketful of herbs from her garden, flowering purple stalks of betony and clary sage. “Put the dill and rosemary over your door. The betony, you’ll want that once the night’s through. Clary sage is for the eyes, but you knew that already.” She sends you off with a stern reminder, “Stay inside. Lock your doors. And don’t get in their way.” She taps the side of her face, the whorls of scar tissue where her eyes used to be. “But don’t be scared,” she says quietly. “They can be surprisingly gentle.”

It’s a long trek home from Molly’s, back through the woods and the village square. The shadows are long and the sky dim. Children chase each other, chickens run loose, and a couple of persistent women haggle with the butcher for cured meats. But when the church bells toll, everything changes. Fear grips the market. People scatter like frightened animals. Stalls are hastily abandoned, artisan goods trampled in the streets. Doors slam and windows are shuttered. A town crier rings his hand bell and shouts to be heard over the commotion. He, too, is running. “Hear ye, hear ye! The hounds come to hunt this eve!” You catch glimpses through the stampede, fur like night sky and eyes like burning coals. The beasts come pouring from dark places, shaking the clinging shadows from their coats. You smell ash and sulfur, see the heat haze fizzling around their claws. The howling starts. You’ve never run so fast in your life.

They’re everywhere, slinking through the alleys and prowling between the trees. You see them watching, waiting, their gazes burning into you as you pass. You wonder if this is how sheep feel under the scrutiny of herd dogs. The crowd thins the further you go from town until you’re alone in the woods, sprinting for the soft glow of a lantern left outside your front door. You’re breathless when you stumble inside, hunched over, legs aching. You realize, belatedly, that you lost your basket of herbs somewhere in the chaos, but you’ll manage without. All you need right now is some tea. 

The water is just starting to boil when you hear an ungodly commotion, a wet sound, a clattering, banging and screaming. It takes you a moment to come out from beneath your table and realize someone is knocking frantically at your door, begging for help. “Please, please help me, please I don’t, I don’t want to die, please—!”

Cautiously, you peer through the foggy glass. You can just make out a young man standing there. You open the door and the sight of him churns your stomach. Vicious claw marks cut through one side of his face, leaving the flesh mangled and hanging limp. That wet sound is the splatter of blood every time he moves, dribbling from his face and his hands. The hounds will smell that, clamor for a taste of it. “I didn’t know,” he sobs. “I’m not from here, I didn’t—I had no idea what it meant! The bells started ringing and everyone ran, and I—I don’t have anywhere to go!”

You let him in. He comes stumbling through and collapses, sinking to his knees against the wall. His cloak is torn and the clothes underneath ragged, everything saturated with blood. The first thing you do is clean the wound and cover him in gauze and bandages, anything to staunch the flow and cover the metallic scent. He croaks miserably, pale as death. You aren’t sure he’ll make it through the night, but you’ll do what you can.

“The bells mean there’s a hunt on,” you tell him, sopping up a red, watery mess oozing from his chin. It makes little difference now, but if it were you, you’d want to know. “The hounds are just doing their job, hunting for monsters and infernal things. But we have to be careful. They’ll attack anything that gets between them and their prey, and blood excites them.” 

“Monsters?” the young man says weakly. “Infernal things? What does that mean?” 

You shrug. “I’ve never seen one. It’s just what I’ve heard.” 

“Then how do you even know it’s true? What if they’re just running amok out there, killing whoever they want?” 

“I just know,” you insist. It’s a common rumor whispered around the village; humans are the real prey. The stories of monsters are just to keep them obedient, never getting in the way of a hunt. But Molly told you it’s not like that. She said she saw something. The hounds, she whispered, weren’t what took her eyes.

“Doesn’t that scare you?” the young man presses. “Not knowing what a monster even looks like? Whether or not you’d recognize one if you saw it?” Thin, bony fingers wrap around your wrist. He has claws, you realize, your heart skipping a beat. “It should,” he purrs. His teeth are inhumanly sharp. Eyes flutter open and shut along the uninjured side of his face, yellow and glowing like a creature of the night. He stands, suddenly steady on his feet. Your blood runs cold as you understand that his corpse-like complexion is natural. More hands unfold from beneath his tattered cloak and slam you back against the wall. 

“Let me go,” you say quickly, a frightened tremor sneaking into your words.

The monster you let into your home leans in close, smirking. A long, forked tongue slithers along your jaw. “I don’t think so,” he hisses. “I’m staying until sunrise. If the hounds come, you will send them away. If you don’t…” His jaw cracks at the joints, unhinging, his mouth opening even wider revealing a maw lined with rows upon rows of teeth. “Then there will be nothing left of you come morning.” Just like that, he drops you, watching you squirm on the floor with cold amusement. “Get up,” he says. “We have to prepare.” He doesn’t wait for you to begin shoving furniture against your door, lifting the heavy oak table as though it weighs nothing. You slowly climb to your feet and stand there, paralyzed.

“It won’t work,” you say.

He stops, dropping a chair and letting it clatter loudly to the floor. You regret speaking when those eyes flutter open in shut again, fixing you with an unnerving glare. Silently, he slinks towards you, backing you into a corner. “It will,” he says lowly. “You’ll turn them away or you’ll die. It’s that simple.” 

You swallow a ball of cold, hard dread stopping up your throat. He doesn’t understand. There is no turning away a hound. A long howl cuts through the silence and you both look at the door. Another howl rises in answer, much closer than the first. A glow like distant fire burns in the woods. The monster grabs you with three hands and shoves you closer to the door. It stands behind you, draped against your back with a claw pressed threateningly against your throat. You hear a beast’s trotting steps, leaves crunching along the path to your home. A large silhouette looms outside. There’s sniffing, and then a low growl. Something scrapes against your front door.

“Huuuuuman,” comes a low, velvety purr.  It almost sounds like a man, distinctly masculine but with a deep, animalistic rumble coloring every sound. “I see you standing there. Good evening.” 

“G...good evening,” you manage to stammer through the shock and fear. You had no idea hounds could speak. You can’t make out a face, canid or otherwise, but you see his eyes glowing in the dark, red and blazing. 

“I smell something delicious,” the hound says. “May I come in? I think you might have an uninvited guest and not even know it.”

You take too long to reply. You hear the sound of flesh peeling, the monster’s jaw unhinging behind your head, and scramble to force out the words, “There’s no one here but me!” 

The hound lowers itself. You hear more sniffing, see unnatural shadows swirling beneath your door and seeping into the house. “Are you certain, human?” the hound says. “I’m not often wrong.”

“I’m sure,” you say, as firmly as you can with hot saliva dribbling on your shoulders. You hear one last frustrated, sniff, a huff, and then the hound’s footstep’s retreating as he slinks back the way he came. Neither you nor the monster can quite believe it at first, remaining perfectly still until the fiery glow dissipates and everything is dark outside. The next howl is far, far away. 

“Good,” the monster mutters, sounding nearly as exhausted as you feel. He shoves you away and begins throwing anything else he can find into the barricade. “Now help me with this—”

He smells it only a second before you do. Sulfur. Burning. Hellfire. The unearthly glow sparks to life right outside your door once again. Time slows to a crawl as the monster turns, looking back at you with a snarl frozen on his half-mangled face. All of his eyes open wide and you hear just the beginning of a frightened whimper before flames erupt from the barricade. The fire is red like blood and the force of it bursting through knocks the monster back, sending him sprawling to the ground where it circles him, engulfs him like a living thing and eats him alive.

You can’t tear your eyes away as the flames take the shape of the biggest dog you’ve ever seen, wolf-like and ferocious, one massive paw on the monster’s chest as its maw tears his belly open and rips into his guts. The terrible, sharp stench of death seemingly burns away, overpowered by cleansing smoke and fire. The screams will haunt you for the rest of your life.

When you come back to your senses, the inferno has disappeared. Rings of scorch marks are seared into the floor around a charred corpse so horribly mutilated you couldn’t begin to guess at what it once was. A man crouches over it, licking his bloodied lips. You know he’s the hound. His wild hair writhes with shadows and the fire is still burning in his eyes. He turns to you, stands to his full height, and you fight to keep your gaze respectfully above his collarbones as you realize he’s completely naked. He takes a step towards you. You take two stumbling back.

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” you say, helpless. If he decides to kill you, there’s nothing you can do. “He told me to lie to you. He threatened me.”

“Lucky for you, you’re a terrible liar,” the hound sneers. He stalks towards you like you’re prey, a snarl pulling at the corner of his lips exposing the teeth that just tore the monster apart. “Did no one ever teach you not to open your door to strangers on the night of a hunt?”

“I didn’t know!” Any further excuses die on your tongue when he shoves you, barely more than a gentle push on his part but it knocks you to the ground. He’s on you before you can squirm away and you realize suddenly just how big he is. He’s enormous, a good head taller, all rippling muscle and faded scars. And he’s—you don’t look, but you can feel that he’s hard. His cock twitches where it’s nestled between your bodies, smearing precum on your clothes. “Please don’t...don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to,” he says, but it certainly stings a bit when he rakes his claws down your body and shreds through your clothes. He ignores your protests as he shoves the fabric aside and then his hands are on you. He has claws like the monster, but even thicker and more frightening. Somehow, they barely graze you even as he caresses your skin. You flinch when he leans in suddenly, but he doesn’t bite you. He’s smelling you, you realize. His nose grazes the hollow of your throat and he licks you, a rumble building in his chest. “This is what I smelled,” he murmurs. 

You don’t understand. He doesn’t bother to explain, either, but he pulls back far enough to meet your eyes. You expect him to reek of sulfur, but without the fire, there’s only the lingering scent of the forest. His gaze wanders your body and he presses his hand against your chest, right over your pounding heart. 

“I want you,” he purrs. “I’m going to have you.” You nod shakily. What are you going to do, fight him about it? You just watched him burn his way into your house and kill somebody in a flurry of fire and entrails. “Turn over. Let me taste what’s mine.” You hesitate. He doesn’t ask twice. You’re flipped unceremoniously onto your stomach, breath catching in your throat when he tugs your hips higher. 

You feel his breath, scalding like chimney air, against your sex. The wet press of his tongue on your flesh makes you flinch and whimper. It’s hotter than you expected. The warmth is just shy of painful. You bury your face in your arms, face heating in embarrassment, as he laps at your sex like he’s starving for it, saliva dribbling down his chin. You find yourself shivering, moving back against his face, whining when his hands catch your hips and hold you in place. 

You think that growl is pleased, almost affectionate. He adjusts his position ever so slightly, his thumbs pressing into tender flesh to spread you open. And then his tongue is inside of you. You cry out in shock, the sensation foreign and overwhelming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. His tongue is long and thick, twisting inside of you, opening you wider as he makes encouraging sounds. “That’s it,” he hisses, licking a lazy circle around your entrance. “That’s it, human. Let me in.”

It’s not long before you’re shivering in his grasp, gasping, even begging. You hear a chuckle, feel his tongue leave you empty and wanting. “You’re ready,” he murmurs. You hear a slick sound. His hand on his cock, maybe, but you don’t get the chance to look and see. His claws land heavily on your head, shoving your face into the floor. He’s going to fuck you like an animal. The thought drifts almost absently through your head as he mounts you, blankets your back with his body and begins rutting his hips against you. His length, hot and pulsing, shoves between your thighs in teasing thrusts, letting you feel how thick he is. What can only be a knot drags against your sex, the friction making you whine. “Do you want me, human?” he growls. “Do you hunger as I do?” 

You make a noise, something humiliating, needy, more animal than human. It’s exactly what he wants. With a playful bite to the nape of your neck, he presses his cockhead against you. He pushes slowly, patiently, his hands smoothing along your sides. You hear him speaking against your skin, rumbling into the side of your neck or your shoulder. The words are low and indistinct but you feel the intent behind them, the desire in every sound. “Fuck me,” you beg him. He makes a bestial sound and with a harsh, forward motion, spears you on his cock. 

It’s blinding, the pain and the pressure, but it’s so good, so filling. Your fingers scrabble over the floor with nothing to hold onto. The hound rocks his hips, driving into you harder and faster, building a rhythm that makes you see stars. “Fuck, just like that,” he pants against your ear. “You take me like you were made for me.” He sinks deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. You can feel him in your stomach, can see the bulge of him through your skin. It’s impossible to hold your voice in, every thrust dragging a yelp or a whimper from your lips. “Don’t hold back,” he growls, nipping at your ear. “Scream for me. I want my brothers to hear you. I want the whole village to know you’re mine.” 

You won’t last long, and neither will he. The exhaustion of the night catches up with you, the primal terror, the relief, the lust burning in your veins. You feel the hound losing rhythm as he loses himself to his frenzy, groaning and growling, driving into you with bruising thrusts. He tries to force his knot inside of you and it won’t fit, you’re sure it won’t. You try to tell him it won’t and he makes a truly inhuman sound, a laugh and a bark and a roar all at once. One of his claws lands on your head again, keeping you trapped and still as he rotates his hips and pushes harder, fucks you harder, drives his cock as deep inside as he can get.

The sound is small. The muted, wet pop of something locking into place. But the sensations are too much, too good, too painful. The force of your orgasm nearly leaves you unconscious. You feel him cum, hear him let out a long moan as his hips move in frantic little thrusts against your ass. He stuff you full and collapses on top of you, his legs hooked inside of yours. You gasp for breath as he keeps rutting, still riding the high of his climax. You smell blood. You feel his jaw come unclamped from the space between your neck and shoulder, his tongue lapping gently at the wound. 

He shifts slightly and your hips are dragged with him, the pull on your insides making you wince. “Sorry. We won’t be going anywhere for a while,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your hair. He soothes you with a hand along your side, peppering kisses between your shoulders. “Hunt’s not over. I’ll have to leave as soon as I’m able. Are you well? I didn’t hurt you?”

You don’t feel terrible, all things considered. There’s a deep soreness that might bring regret in the morning, but mostly you’re content. His heat, the fire at the core of his being, dampens the worst of the pain. There must be some magic at work. You can’t believe he’s still inside you. “I’m okay,” you say slowly.

“Good.” The hound nuzzles his face against you, taking in your scent again. You could almost call the behavior affectionate or gentle, a stark difference from how he fucked you earlier. 

Molly’s words come back to you, the strange little smile on her face. You have some questions for her in the morning.

#rotpeach writes #teratotober #i know theres a lot of overlap with werewolf tropes in this #so i'll do my best to make the werewolf day even more intense! :>

[satorinnie]

love and war

pairing; gojo satoru x f!reader

genre; angst

wc; 3,6k

warnings; jjk manga spoilers

notes; i think its obvious the ending is a bit rushed but i still tried my best :/ got the motivation to write the ending but then lost it again...but i wanted to post it today so here it goes. would love to hear feedback on it!

it wasn’t meant to play out like this. no, he wasn’t meant to find out about it, not like this at least.

that was the last thing you ever wanted.

everything was going so fine, maybe too fine, but still, nonetheless, things were perfect between the two of you just this morning. how did it come to this?

he was looking at you, blindfold off, crescent blue eyes reflecting each emotion he held so so openly. the only times you saw him this vulnerable was when the two of you had talked about his past, his regrets, and what if’s. his eyes were full of adoration at that time, looking at you like you were a pure blessing from the heavens, an angel sent to save him from his drowning thoughts, to let him be himself.

but now, now they were looking at you with so much hurt, anger, regret, and oh so heartbroken.

you had seen, witnessed, first-hand what the receiving end of gojo’s furious gaze ended with. it wasn’t pleasant, that’s for sure, and you had sworn to yourself you would never be on the receiving end of it.

oh, how the tables have turned.

it was understandable why he was so mad; god knows you would be too. because you, who had delicately pieced back his broken heart and trust after the events of getou, had now broken it, by your very own hands at that.

how did it all come to this? you had no idea. you knew starting a relationship with him was wrong and off-limits from the very beginning, but the temptation had surpassed your rationality just like eve when she bit the apple. you never thought you’d fall this deep down the hole, so deep that you forgot–no, ignored your true mission.

to monitor gojo satoru and sukuna’s vessel and kill them when you got the order.

it was last year when the head sorcerers in england had given you this mission. if gojo was unbeatable and unrivaled in japan, you were the same in england. perhaps your curse technique wasn’t as strong as his, but it was versatile and a very reliable technique.

after itardori yuuji became the only sukuna’s vessel, japan wasn’t the only country sour about the thought of it; in fact, it had caused a panic in europe as well. and as england was the country that ruled the jujutsu world in europe, you were assigned with monitoring the vessel and the owner of the six eyes. they wanted their eyes and hands on the boy with the infinity.

but you befriending everyone there, joking with the curse himself, and becoming lovers with the one and only gojo satoru was definitely not how you planned for things to go. it spelled trouble from the beginning, getting close to the shaman who had an ego and power rivaling the gods. but, unfortunately, you were now too deep to just leave without explaining everything to him, and even hoping for a chance that he’d forgive the lies you fed him throughout your times together was a little farfetched.

how could you make him believe that everything you said was genuine, and out of true love? the answer was you couldn’t because the betrayal in his eyes was enough for you to gulp down those hopes, taking a deep breath to prepare for the argument that was about to come. “look–satoru, please let me explain and don’t jump to conclusions.” you lifted your hands in front of you as an act to calm him down, walking closer to him with a futile attempt to hold his hands.

“explain what?” a laugh escaped his throat, one mixed with desperation and madness, “that everything between us was a lie? a mission for you? how do you plan on slithering your way out of this now, huh?” his voice rising with each word he was spitting out of his mouth.

you were desperately trying to keep up the expression that you had everything together, when in fact, you didn’t at all. your hands were starting to shake because you were scared of losing the man in front of you whom you were utterly in love with. the boy with the infinity held your heart in his palms, and he had no idea about it. “nothing was a lie, alright! i know how that document looked, and i can’t lie and tell you that isn’t true, but my love for you is–”

“keep those fucking lies to yourself y/n–you know, everyone knows already. megumi, yuuji, maki, even shoko–”

“stop cutting me, gojo! i know it might be unforgivable, but you have to believe me when i say i forgot about the mission. i love you, okay? i am undeniably and utterly in love with you, and that’s why i’ve been ignoring every call, every message they’ve been sending me about the task because i can’t do it!” you were screaming now, hands in the air, trying to voice out every single emotion you were feeling in that moment.

“well, it’s too bad that i don’t love you anymore! you know, i’ve known about this for a few weeks now and was hoping you’d open up to me about it, but–”

you froze at his last sentence.

“–you what? so you’re telling me that everything that happened in between us during those weeks was an act? all fake? you were just waiting for me to open up so you could what, break my heart in a more grand way?” now you had to give it to him, not only was he secretly smart, he was also a great actor who had you fooled for weeks now. the room was silent after your words, both your eyes staring deep into each other; you, waiting for his answer.

and you watched as he opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to answer your question. but you knew what that meant; with his hesitance, you had found your answer. breaking your eye contact, you looked down at the floors of the home you used to share; you could hear your heart shattering into millions of pieces with just the sound of his breathing.

“alright,” you whispered into the air. running your hand over your face, you leaned back against the kitchen counter. “so how will this go? are you going to let me go or are we gonna have a full-on fight right now? or is everyone already waiting outside the door to capture me?” you were doing your best to avoid eye contact, it was already too heard keeping your tears from falling, and you knew one more look at the eyes you loved so much would break you.

there was silence for a few minutes, but in your eyes, a few minutes was an eternity long. the fact that he was debating the question you left was heartbreaking already. but you weren’t afraid to fight; you had come to japan prepared for the worst-case scenario, and getting to know satoru up close, you believed you had a fair chance at winning.

“–im giving you twenty-four hours to leave this country. if you don’t–you know what’s to happen.” this had you lifting your head in the speed of lightning, eyes wide mouth agape, you could only watch as gojo satoru left your shared house without sparing you a single glance.

he was oblivious to how he carried your heart out the door when he left you stranded in the middle of the kitchen.

it was an hour after your discussion, and you were still in the same spot he left you. still standing, still too paralyzed to move. the reality of things being over was just starting to weigh on you, but you knew you had to start packing because not only gojo; but england was going to be after you too.

you failed the mission. and you didn’t plan on returning back.

war is a slippery slope. what would you do? becomes what will you do? becomes what have you done?

looking around the now-empty home, you built with gojo; tears started falling from your hallow eyes. so many memories resurfaced in one moment; it was overwhelming. the day your first saw him when he was trying to crack a joke at nanami to get him to smile. or the time he first asked you out admitting he had found you a force to be reckoned with and how you had managed to bewitch him. the day you accepted, the day he made you see stars behind your eyes from pure bliss. the day he proposed living together. the day you danced around the living room with his obnoxious music playing at the back, head laid against his chest humming to the melodies. how you felt like a family when you saw him and the students act so close–

how long has it been? how long have you been pushing your actual task behind the lies and excuses you fed yourself. was that person you? the ever so stone-hearted y/n breaking her facade for the boy with infinity.

my god, my god, whose performance am i watching? how many people am i? who am i? what is this space between myself and myself?

it was all getting too much. when had you fallen down the hole to never leave again? should you be grateful, or should you curse the fact that despite all misfortune, you can still feel love and unearthly love but still for earthly objects?

finally getting a grip on yourself, your feet moved down the hall to your shared bedroom, and without wasting a glance at his side, you quickly started to pack your stuff to leave japan.

gojo wasn’t doing well himself. he thought he had finally found true happiness after all the loss he had to go through, and it all turned out to be nothing but an act built on lies. after he left your shared home, he had wandered around in the streets with no destination in mind and the cold chilly air blowing past him. his blindfold was still off, the moon making his crystal blue eyes shine even more, still with unshed tears at the brink of it—a dam about to break.

he knew he lied to you when he told you he didn’t love you anymore and only hoped the years of the facade he had to keep up was enough to fool you into believing his words when in fact, it was the very opposite. he loved you so much–so much that it broke him when he read the document that was mailed to you weeks ago. you and him were an inseparable duo–the strongest and his tamer. the boy with the infinity and the girl who held him down with gravity.

upon wandering the streets for god knows how many hours, he found himself in front of a riverbank. the light of the moon was radiating, creating a painting of a million stories for the broken boy. but while being so engrossed with the view in front of him, he had failed to feel someone creeping up behind him; with his infinity down, nanami was able to lend a hand on his shoulder. “i’m assuming you talked with her.” he broke the silence.

his silenced gaze worried his friend; they promised to keep it between themselves. while nanami believed letting the kids know would be the better choice, gojo was adamant about keeping your good image in front of them. he knew how much they adored you, and he would hate to be the one to break it to them. “i did.”

“and what choice did you go with?”

“i gave her a full day to leave, and if otherwise–” he gulped down the lump forming in his throat, “–if otherwise, i told her i would fight her.” tears now slowly starting to trail down his porcelain skin, an odd view to see for his foes.

“you did the right thing.” nanami tried his best to console him in a way. this was a new image for him; he never saw gojo break down like this; the last time he saw his best friend (he would never admit that to his face, though) like this was when he had to kill getou, even then he had managed to keep up the aloof facade. but he knew his feeling for you ran much, much deeper than that. he has witnessed what your companionship had done to him. it was what pieced him back, and now what broke him.

it’s been years since you left, but you were back now. back in japan after two years of staying away, traveling to many different countries, on the runaway from the higher-ups in england. you would’ve preferred your return to be on good news and such, but unfortunately, it was the opposite. your friends back in england had informed you about how they planned on ending gojo’s life once in for all today with a team of experienced sorcerers, and although you wanted to keep away from trouble as much you could, you couldn’t let the man you love die.

with your hood covering your face, you walked down the streets of shibuya, the once war zone that led to many disastrous events in the past years under your feet. you heard about everything; the culling game and the capture of gojo satoru, thank god those were all in the past now, and everyone was well–except nanami, and the new had broken you. just like gojo and the students, he also had a special place in your heart, his calm attitude always grounding you. you don’t think his last thoughts of you were good–considering what gojo had told you the night you left, but still, his death was unexpected news to you.

you didn’t know how you were going to approach the topic; there was a big chance they’d attack you the second you entered their line of vision, not allowing you to voice out the news–but it was worth the try nonetheless. taking your hood down, you entered a cafe; the need for caffeine after the long flight back here was strong, the anxiousness and stress not allowing you to sleep. what you didn’t expect was seeing the three first years–now third years–you loved so much sitting in the cafe chatting idly, not noticing you. you wanted to keep it that way, but on your way out, a feminine voice called out your name. “y/n sensei? is that you?”

your steps halted, freezing in your stop. the confrontation was inevitable now, causing a stir in a crowded place was the last thing you wanted so you turned around to see nobara staring at you with wide eyes, megumi and itadori behind shocked just as her. what you didn’t expect was her running straight at your engulfing you with wide arms; a big grin plastered on her face. “where were you! you disappeared out of nowhere, and gojo sensei wouldn’t tell us anything! we were really worried; you left me alone with these two idiots–you know you’re the only one who understands my pain–”

“–i’m sorry, i had to go on an abroad mission, and it took too long. it’s good to be back.” you hugged her back tightly, still trying to process the new information she threw at you. gojo had lied, and that made you question everything you believed in. had he also lied about his love for you back then? but that was for later–for now, you wanted to cherish this news and spend time with your favorite students, learn about their well-being and their stories.

“come on, let’s sit shall we? we got lots to catch up on.”

it was now midnight, and you were waiting somewhere in the middle of the forest for your dreaded meeting with gojo. you managed to convince the kids into telling gojo to meet you here without actually letting him know it was you. they were excited, to say the least, talking about how you and he were the epitomai of soulmates, two pieces meant to find each other, filling up the gaping hole you both had. you were very nervous, fidgeting in your spot, hiding behind the tree waiting for him to arrive, and when you heard footsteps nearing you–you knew this was it, heart pounding like crazy.

walking out of your hiding spot, you slowly made your way over to him, hands stiff at your sides anticipating his reaction. “gojo.” he looked at you, blindfold on this time. still, you could see his displeasure from how his body stiffened at your voice, looking at you with a straight face. “what’re you doing here? i thought i told you to leave.” you sighed, walking closer to him, “i know, and i am going to leave again, but before that, i need to tell you something–” you were cut off by the powerful shake of the ground, throwing you off balance resulting in you falling to the ground.

behind you were your old friends from england, standing tall and mighty together–a force to be reckoned with; you were once one of them, but alas, that was the past. “thanks you leading us straight to him y/n.” elizabeth smirked looking at your fallen state, “you made things a whole lot easier for us.” she continued. looking back at gojo, you were surprised to see his hands locked in some type of chain. how did they manage to get past his infinity–unless he didn’t have it on in the first place. did let his guard down once he saw you? why would he do that?

“no, no, no– leave him alone, elizabeth! i swear to god i’ll rain hell upon all of you!” you stood up desperately trying to leave the makeshift cage your friend had put you in when a sudden idea came to you. it was risky, but it would save him, and that–that was all you needed, your purpose of coming here in the first place.

“lover boy is being quite over there. what is it? cat got your tongue?” she was taunting you and definitely enjoying it too. walking closer to you, she neared your face while the others were beside gojo, “you’re both fools believing you guys could be together in the first place, that’s how it works–” she was cut off by the stomp of your foot on the ground lifting a piece of rock–the one gojo was on, up to the air, away from your ex-friends. if you couldn’t save yourself, you could at least save him; apologize for your past mistakes.

from where you were, you couldn’t do much, but you used all your might to send rock flying in the air towards them meanwhile keeping gojo away from them. your cursed technique was called upon the tainted sorrow, the ability to manipulate gravity, and it was unrivaled in europe. you trained too much to reach where you were, the strongest just like gojo, but even the strong can fall, and all it takes is the blink of an eye.

you were on the ground again, but this time blood pouring from your insides, a deadly piercing through your abdomen. while you were so engrossed with trying to keep gojo safe, you hadn’t realized he was already off the piece of rock fighting the rest. and he had made the mistake of underestimating them, resulting in the struggle. but that distraction was enough for elizabeth to pierce the cursed knife through you.

one second you were on the ground; the next, you were in someone’s arms. looking up, you were met with the crystal blue eyes you had grown to love staring right back at yours. this reminded you of the moments where you used to lay on his chest, hands tangled in his snow-white hair, his hands keeping you tight against him, eyes staring at each other with nothing but love. how unfortunate things weren’t that way now. you bleeding onto his hands which hopelessly applied pressure to your wound in hopes of saving you, his blindfold now off, tears slowly caressing his face. it was a sight for the eyes. you lifted your hand up to cup his cheek, imprinting a red hand mark right where you touched him, “satoru–”

“save your breath, i called for shoko; she’ll be here any minute, and we can save you–” you silenced him with your thumb on his lips, “satoru, this was inevitable, even if you save me now, they’ll still be after me. it’ll be a never-ending cycle.”

“no, i can keep you safe, y/n. remember? it’s us against the world, baby. always has been and always will be.” he kissed your forehead, still keeping you close. his eyes were shut tight; he could feel your consciousness slipping away and knew he couldn’t save you. but can’t a man hope? and as you uttered your last words, body temperature turning cold, breathing stopping, he knew right then and there this was where he lost it all. this was how he lost the light of his world, in his own hands, between his arms.

“for what it’s worth, i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard.” and he knew those words would haunt him for an eternity. follow him wherever he went. the ghost of you will always be with him, never leaving. you will hold him down by gravity with just your soul. yet he still wanted to curse the gods for taking you away from him, his fresh breath of air, his anchor.

your love was strong, but the timing was wrong, and love decided that you both didn’t belong.

#jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst

[bakugohoex]

“we’re you two...from the future”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: language, violence, fluff

word count: 3800+

a/n: umm sorry for not posting requests, im getting through them all, so hopefully they’ll all be done by the end of the month

summary: in which you and bakugo sneak out intending to go see some stars but are met with the unlikliest of people, explaining their situation, you end up fighting alongside them, and realising just how far your relationship will go with the blond

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

You laid sprawled against Bakugo, his finger flicking through Tiktok which you had forced him to get. One hand playing in your hair whilst he did so, you were reading some manga that had come out for your favourite series. It was a peaceful mood between the two of you, no shouting, no anger just the sound of the soft music playing from your speakers and the Tiktok sounds off of Bakugo.

His rough hands felt warm in your hair, massaging the scalp occasionally which gave you a burst of love. He looked down dropping his phone to the side as he watched you read. The way your eyes would crease when a serious panel was occurring or loosen when something more joyful happened.

“Stop staring, it’s creepy.” You muttered playfully.

He scowled at you, letting go of your hair and moving his legs to make you fall on the bed. “That’s what you get for calling me creepy.”

Chuckling at the boy you drop the manga to the side, moving back between his legs as you rested your head against his chest. He wrapped his hands around your waist and put his chin on top of your head as he let you on his phone.

The boy who had no apps and only cared about the health one. It worried you and forcing him to get Tiktok had made him hate his phone even more due to spending a whole night just scrolling without realising.

“I heard there’s a new exhibition opening up tonight, we should sneak out and go.” Your soft voice contrasted his much louder one. It was angelic almost feeling like he was around an unearthly presence when you were around.

He raises an eyebrow at the thought, “if it’s another shitty exhibition then were not going.”

“It’s not, they’re doing a midnight watch the stars thing.” He smiled watching you try to find the article but unable to. The photo on his home screen reminding him of how much he actually did love spending time with you.

Another late-night outing to get ice cream and it was a photo of the both of you watching the sunset. It was cute enough, but he’d hate if anybody saw it and tarnished his reputation as confident and independent which you’d often refer to as being a dick.

“Yeah, yeah we’ll go then.” He sounded bored of the situation, but you knew him better than anybody through the unamusement he was melting inside. He would get to watch the stars with his love, and he wouldn’t have to worry about anything else.

Midnight arises quicker than usual, Bakugo was normally asleep by 8pm so nobody bothered to question him leaving early. And you, well he’d probably want you beside him, so nobody questioned that either.

Instead you were met by the balcony, Bakugo’s arms around you as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both had done this too many times to count, you guessed Aizawa knew and didn’t care. As long as you two came back safe than everything would be fine.

The fall from the balcony sent a rush of wind through your hair as Bakugo’s quirk activated and you felt yourself in the air. He had gotten used to using his quirk to fly and was able to do it with a lot more ease and precision. If you let, go you’d be a goner and he’d probably have to save you.

Seeing his lips twitch he was trying to suppress a smile but instead he stayed stoic as usual. Inside his heart was aching at how you looked in the air. It was his favourite time with you, the way you looked so utterly magnificent in the air. It was a true sight for sore eyes for the blond.

Finally landing, you felt the ground under you wobbling a bit. Bakugo grabbed you which helped you a lot more than you realised. His arms holding you upright just as you two were outside the exhibition hall.

Seeing the line, he sees your bright smile and heavy breaths through the air. “i want a good seat.” You take his hand dragging him towards the line as you both stood and waiting in line.

You could hear the line shuffle before hearing a familiar voice behind you. “Baby, we always miss the midnight showings, come on whilst we’re here.”

It sounded too familiar even, like it was your own. You were about to turn around to see but felt Bakugo drag you forward. The voice ringed through your head, it could’ve just been your imagination, but it was weird. It felt like an echo of the future.

The hall was almost empty, a lot more people had bought tickets to the other exhibitions rather than the planetarium one which made it a lot better for the two of you. Underneath the stars alone would be perfect especially if Bakugo could freely watch you as well.

“Two tickets to the planetarium.” Bakugo had already bought the tickets inside but the sound of the same voice again was heard. Trying to look back to see, people had begun crowding around to get other essentials, mostly food. The person was no longer visible, and you turned to face Bakugo.

“What’s wrong?” He crossed his arms waiting for an answer.

“I keep hearing someone, she...she sounds like me.” He comes closer giving you a look before hugging you.

“It’s probably your imagination, it’s late that’s why, come on dumbass.” He let’s go of you right at the end of his talk and takes your hand. Kissing the back to bring some comfort.

You both walk in seeing an almost empty room. It was midnight on a Tuesday you didn’t really expect a lot of people but nobody really.

Both you and Bakugo sat on the back row. It was the perfect sear for him to watch the stars but also see how beautiful you looked under the white light. The sound of more people coming brought relief that this event would still occur. Bakugo’s hand rested on top of yours he watched out how there was only natural light from outside but even then, the moon did little against the darkness.

“Just sit down, we can’t be worrying about seats.” You heard the voice again and this time it seemed closer than usual, almost next to you.

Bakugo’s thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand. A comfort but as you turned to finally meet the woman you were met with a heavy shock. A scream belched through the room, everybody had gone silent, Bakugo in an instant was up ready to fight whoever it was.

“Bakugo.” The two of you shouted, the woman in front of you looked at you with cares as you looked back at her. The same eyes, same nose, same mouth, hell even the hair was a bit longer for her, but it was there. And the voice, the same shout for your loves.

“Y/n.” This time the two guys who had been standing up ready to see what had happened had spoken and this time a confusion settled between the four of you.

“Outside now.” The blond said, it sounded exactly like your Bakugo but didn’t. Rougher around the edges an even deeper voice. But it couldn’t be, the two had gotten up scurrying outside and you followed.

Apologising to the others as you left, the opened the doors again and were met with the inside of the yellow lamps. It helped to see better and this time you and Bakugo had a full view of the two.

Your eyes widened at her, the hero costume exactly like yours but more seductive, professional even was around her. She stared back at you, the younger her, the one who hadn’t experienced what was to come.

The two men stood in front of each other, Bakugo’s winter outfit on the much taller man. You had remained the same height, but it seemed Bakugo had grown to over 6ft and his much smaller self looked with a snarl. But even then, he looked the same, the same look of disgust, the piercing scarlet eyes along with the same hero costume. He may look more built and even more intimidating but having her beside him making him look almost sweet like a lost puppy and she was his master.  

“It can’t be.” You whispered out.

“Oh but it is.” The woman spoke out, “i missed that ugly haircut you used to have.”

She had said it to Bakugo’s older self who remarked back a scowl and crossed arms, something your own was doing himself, “I grew out of the Pomeranian look dumbass.”

“What the fuck shitty woman? Fucking explain what this is.” Bakugo growled, he was annoyed and confused two emotions he hated being.

You went to grab his hand and he became a lot more settled at that touch. “Did i really only settle down if you were there?” The older Bakugo muttered, he had more of an undercut but even then, you could tell it was Bakugo.

“Yeah, you were a pussy back then.” The older him glared at her, she glared back but even then, he softly pushed her to the side. “Fucking twat.”

“Don’t fucking swear in front of kids.” You and Bakugo stood in confusion at the squabble going on between the older versions of yourself.

“If you hurt me ill wake up from this horrible nightmare.” You kept whispering but even then, it was real.

The two-stop fighting and looked back at the both of you. “Let’s get ice cream, you’re paying.” She pointed at the version of Bakugo before taking your hand. “We have so much to explain.”

“Her younger self was so much better why’d she have to fucking grow up.” The older version spoke with a pissed off tone, he watched the two walk away before looking at his younger self. “The hair was shit, kid.”

“What the fuck, shut up old man, and stop talking about my girlfriend like that.” Your Bakugo remarked back, always the hot head.

The ice cream shop was only a few minutes away and both the older versions of yourself went to order. “Katsuki, what the fuck is happening?”

“They’re us Y/n.”

You pushed his arm which went back around the back of the booth. It skimmed back and forth onto your shoulder as you leaned into his side. “Way to state the obvious.”

“They could be villains, who have some sort of transformation quirk, whatever it is, the first sign of danger I’ll kill them.” Bakugo looked outside, he felt your soft fingers on his thigh out of reassurance that he was real.

The two came back with a tray of both your favourite ice cream. “We did like this when we were kids right?” She said to her Bakugo, he shrugged picking the ice cream and taking a bite of it.

“Who are you two?” You questioned taking the ice cream and mixing it with your plastic spoon to become softer. You watched the older version do the exact same thing and knew it couldn’t have been a villain.

“Younger you sure was fucking unaware.” The older Bakugo spoke a loud.

“Don’t be a twat.” She hit his arm, making him wrap his arm around her as well.

It was like an exact copy of you two on each side and it felt eerie. “We need proof you ain’t villains, if you are, I’ll kill you both.”

“We understand that but let us explain what happened first Katsuki.” She spoke his name with the same love and ease, it felt too familiar to him, like he had heard it so many times before.

You nod starting to lick at the spoon as you waited to hear, “quick version, we were trying to catch this villain, he has a quirk that can send people back in time, and the fucking asshole sent us back in time.”

You smiled at the older boy, how similar Bakugo remained in the future. How he still had the same look of disgust but when looking at you, he saw hope and love. “That’s a shitty explanation.” She continued, “he sends people back in time and follows them to kill their past self to create a loophole.” She plays with the spoon taking a hesitant pause, “we’re you two...from the future.”

“You two idiots got caught.” Bakugo began laughing as if he was making fun of your classmates before he realised. “Wa...” Bakugo kicked under the table at his older self, “you got fucking caught you dumbass.”

“It’s fine, it only lasts an hour, that’s why normally those who get sent back come back to their time but then begin to disintegrate as there younger selves died.”

“We would’ve heard about these cases.” You were confused at how this hadn’t been mainstream news.

“With no culprit, it won’t make the headlines.” She licked the spoon before setting the container onto the table. “Any questions?”

“I don’t believe I’d be that much of a dumbass to get caught, prove you’re us.” Bakugo proposed, his hands had been playing in your hair and he really wanted to imagine this was some kind of dream he was in.

“God kids are fucking annoying, remind me to never give you one.”

“He’s you.” You and your older self-speak in unison and the look of horror at the angry boy in front of him was something else.

“You better not get her pregnant at...” Bakugo mutters seeing your older self, he sees the beauty you retain. How you look like a goddess to him and how you always still remain his love.

“26.” She says smiling happily.

“Are you two married?” You ask, hoping something had occurred by now.

She goes through her pockets, the boy next to her doing the same before finding what she’s looking for. A silver band with a crystal in the middle. it was beautiful, Bakugo’s own having something inscribed on it.

“Engaged.” She shows the ring to you on her finger, it fitted her finger perfectly. Your fingers perfectly. Your Bakugo looked at the sight, he had gotten the courage to do it, to make you permanently his. You both would last forever.

Bakugo coughs to try and get out of his happiness and go back to his angry self. “Go on then, ask us the shitty questions?”

“Why were you at that event?”

His older self looking at her before rolling his eyes leaning back on the booth, “her and her obsession with the stars.”

“We had to time to kill.” She elbows his side making him give a glare to the woman. Not his normal disgusted one but one that you all knew he was joking and mocking the woman.

“What are you both in the Hero Charts?” That was the question Bakugo really cared about; he didn’t need proof anymore he just wanted to know if he made it to the top.

“I’m 5th and umm, Suki...” She let him speak, you were happy to be in the top ten that was an achievement, but you could tell the words that would come out of his older self would not be happy ones.

Before any words could come out the sound of lightening sprung out through the street. “It can’t be, he said he wouldn’t bother killing our younger selves why is he here?” She said seeing the man in the dark black cloak. “He said he just needed us gone for an hour, why is he here?”

“He’s the asshole who sent you back, let’s go capture him then.” Your Bakugo got up and but was stopped by himself.

“You’re a child, I’m not letting myself go out there and die.”

“Let go of me old man.” The tension between the two was thick enough to cut through. But there were bigger issues at hand here. The sound of the villain prowling the street, a menace ready to attack.

“You two are staying fucking put.” Bakugo’s older self-looked tired, it was in his eyes, you could see it, the years getting to the pro hero but at the sight of your older self running out, he followed.

Bakugo tried to get up but you put your arm out to stop him, “wait.”

“Y/n, I’m not letting our future selves die out there.” He grumbled swatting your hand away.

“I want to see how they work together, how we work together.” Of course you and Bakugo had fought alongside each other, but watching them, it would show the progress, your aim and how far you had gotten.

“Hiding your younger selves won’t help you both.” The villain remarked, his hand in the ready with a knife.

She grabbed a hold of him with her quirk smashing him into a wall. The way he indented the wall showed you the sheer amount of strength you had with your quirk. Your ability to not only move him with your hand but also put enough force onto the wall to break around him.

Bakugo’s hands turned yellow, you could almost see the power seethe from him, your own looking at himself, watching intentively at how his explosions had become bigger and bigger in his palm. Even without the gauntlets he had power, an excessive amount that fuelled his rage. He began to attack whilst she remained on defence, but the villain just skimmed past the explosion charging at her.

She grabbed the discarded bricks from the floor bringing your hands up to make them float and tried to encase him, but his pure strength outweighed her own as you could see him nearing her through the window. You ran out, Bakugo running with you as the four of you stood. “I told you to brats to stay inside.” His older version shouted, fire fulling him as he attacked the man who neared you. Your own allowed his quirk to activate and this in turn led to fire and explosions burning the street at how both tried to stop the villain.

You ran up to the older woman, she looked at you with care, “I’m going to teach you something.” She grabbed your hands, and you could feel a warmth from between your fingers. “Think of the rubble, the discarding bricks, anything that has broken off Y/n.”

You did so staring into her eyes, the pools of depth seeping out as she spoke with such confidence. “Keep thinking about it.” You did, thinking of the fallen rubble and discarded bricks and when you opened your eyes, it was up in the air. Both your quirks coming together to allow for it all to surround you both. You both saw the two boys hit the villain missing the reckless knife and knew that the villain was out of breathe from the force of it all.

But now there was you two, and in an instant, she shouted at you, “push it all onto him.” You followed through, everything felt heavy under the movement of your fingers, you could see her own becoming ashy and scarred but she kept a hold of the majority of the weight. You felt the weight of it all and as you pushed it onto the villain, Bakugo’s older self grabbing him to move out of the way. The villain became trapped onto the wall, the two boys came up to you both as they both went to their respective partner. “Are you okay?”

It was in unison and they both grabbed your hands, the ash and spilt skin between your fingers was evident. The action was the same and you knew it would never change, your older self turned to face you both as she glared. “You shouldn’t have come out but thank you.”

“You both did okay, it doesn’t mean anything though, you’ve both got far to go.”

“Shut it old man.” Your Bakugo grinned out, his arm around your shoulder lazily.

His older self tilted his head back in a chuckle before grabbing her hand. “We’re running out of time.”

“But we still have so many questions.” You were hesitant to ask before but now working alongside the two pro heroes you wanted to know more.

“We’ve got two minutes make it fast.” They both walked towards the villain, grabbing the unconscious body from the side. The excessive heat from both the Bakugo’s had caused fires and you could hear the police and heroes come to see the scuffle. Walking into an alleyway, you both stood in front of your selves.

“I guess I only have one question.” You looked at Bakugo and he looked back at you, his hand resting on your shoulder bringing warmth to you.

“Are we happy?” Bakugo held you tighter and the two smiled at you.

His older self began talking, kicking the villain to make him shut up. “There’s ups and down, a lot more to come but we’re happy, aren’t we?”

“We are.” He smiles at her, love in his eyes, even after 10 years of being together there was still love and adoration for her. It was something Bakugo had for you, but it had intensified along the years. It was almost too beautiful, there eyes on one another, how perfectly they fit together, it was perfect.

“Well I guess this is goodbye, have fun and…” You trailed off as Bakugo’s older self interrupted.

“Don’t do anything stupid, and wear a con…” Before he could finish the three disappeared and you and Bakugo were left alone in the alleyway. A confusion between the two of you as you both walked out of the alleyway.

“That was weird.” You muttered grabbing the boys palms.

“You’ve got that right, stupid old man bossing us about.”

“Did you just indirectly call yourself stupid?” You laughed as he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever at least I know your mine forever now.” He spoke softer, something he did when around you as you both walked through the street. The darkness around you as you had walked the opposite direction of where the fire had occurred.

“You’re such a sap.” You chuckled tilting your head backwards, he saw how strong you’d become, and it lightened a fire in how you both were so utterly in love, a perfect pro hero couple.

He held your hand tighter giving a glare, “you’re the fucking sap, baby.”

“Let’s watch the stars.” You hummed having ignored the comment and dragging him up the hill where you could lay on the grass and look right up to the sky.

“Yeah, yeah.” He held your hand tighter before you dropped to the ground and he sat beside you. You laid down looking at that the speckles of white throughout the hues of black and blue. A sight to the say the least and as you stared at the sky all he could do was stare at you. His girl, his love, his future.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders​ @the-shota-king-masayuki​

#katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou headcanons #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha katsuki #mha katsuki bakugo #mha katsuki bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero headcanons #my hero academia katsuki #my hero academia katsuki bakugo #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha katsuki #bnha katsuki bakugo #bnha katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugohoex