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creepswrites · 10 months ago

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MASK OF HATE (CH 2) | Michael x Reader

so when i was writing this, my editor Insisted i use a grilled cheese gif for this chapter. you'll see why... i hope you enjoy though LMAO

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago."

WARNING: graphic depiction of deaths, animal violence

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"Has anyone ever shown you kindness?" Your voice had Michael opening his eyes, blinking as he looked up at you slowly, your hands tangled in his wet, sudsy hair. He was sprawled out on the porcelain bathtub while you washed his hair, the room dim and sleepy and smelling of lavender soap. He had no qualms letting his legs and arms rest upon the rim to have extra room. You’d since become accustomed to him, no longer flushing at his nakedness, so washing the blood off his skin didn’t bother you.

You’d since bought black washcloths and a black towel for Michael so your father wouldn’t get suspicious about any bloodstains. Lounge clothes - some sweatpants and a t-shirt finally in his actual size - sat folded on the counter beside the sink, his navy blue jumpsuit in a pile on the cool, linoleum floor.

For the past few weeks, you two established a routine of sorts. Michael would get hurt or hungry and come visit you. Sometimes he'd watch you sleep but he'd usually be gone by morning. With your dad's presence in the house very touch and go, it was hard for Michael to stay for any extended period of time. Sometimes he watched you from a distance whenever you'd go in the garden but that was the extent of it.

You knew it wasn't normal for him to care about another person so you did your best to make it easy for him. No more lunging at armed police officers for you, you'd lamented to him in a joking manner. You hadn't been able to see his face but you got the impression he'd glared at you.

You'd also taken to touching him more, getting him to reassociate touch with compassion. It wasn't easy to undo years of trauma but you did little things here and there. Brushing his hands with your own, touching his arm when you wanted attention, small things. He was building a tolerance to it, you could tell. Washing his hair now was the most you'd touched him beyond patching him up after run-ins with the police.

But progress was progress.

Today, he hadn't come home bloody but he had come to you for something. He'd shown up at the backdoor, made a beeline for the bathroom, and you'd gotten the message. Bathing him had also become pretty regular, though you still recalled the first few times where it'd ended with him shaking from how overwhelmed he was by your touch.

Now, though, his gaze bore into you, staring up at you like a big lazy cat. Like a lion too content to strike. Your hands had stilled, still poised to scrub at his scalp. He needed a haircut, you noted to yourself.

"Besides me," you clarified as you resumed scrubbing in slow circles. "You don't… You're-" You huffed, trying to find the words. "I feel like people didn't care for you like you needed them to. If that makes sense."

Were you anyone else, you don't doubt he'd kill you for saying that. Instead, he just glared at you, pretty hazel eyes narrowed to slits. In anger or confusion, you couldn't tell.

That was yet another development. He'd been taking his mask off of his own accord now, even when he didn't have a reason to. The first time he'd done it had been because his hair was too long and sat uncomfortable in the mask, tickling against his ears and neck. You offered to cut it and, while it took some reassurance and thought on his part, you'd come home one day to him sitting on your bed. Scissors in one hand and mask in the other, clutching it like a child would to a security blanket. He hadn't been shaking or looking up at you with fearful eyes but his jaw had been clenched hard as he white knuckled the accursed mask. A wordless question you'd answered with nimble fingers and gentle tugging on his curls.

Having something so sharp close to his vulnerable neck hadn't been his idea of a good time regardless if it was his idea or not. He'd gotten up half a dozen times during the haircut to stand in the corner to come down from what was probably overstimulation. You were patient with him though.

You'd gotten better at reading him. He'd gotten better at leaving you clues.

In the present, he sat up and slid his legs back into the water. Wet hair slipped from between your fingers as he turned to properly stare at you. Michael was interesting to you still. You could tell he was curious about you too. He stared at you often, like when you watered your plants, washed his clothes, or made food in the kitchen. You felt his eyes on you constantly no matter what.

"What?" You asked with a small sigh, staring back at him with the same intensity.

Michael gave you a slow blink, similar to the ones Mayhem gave you as a show of trust. "Don't gimme that," you teased, smirking at him and motioning for him to sit back down. "I just- I always feel bad thinking about it, in retrospect. I mean, you grew up in an asylum alone. Didn't it-"

He interrupted you by sliding a wet hand around your throat, holding you still as though to physically stop your ramblings. Not squeezing, just holding. You got the message there: let it go. He lay back down and you resumed washing his hair, unbothered by that exchange.

Things like that were normal with him. It had freaked you out at first when he'd wrapped his hand harshly around your throat and pinned you in a doorway. But you'd slowly begun to understand him. He didn't have a way to communicate that wasn't through violence or knives.

Or hospital rooms under scrutiny, you reminded yourself with a grimace. You masked it behind a soft tune you hummed, resuming washing his hair.

Once he was cleaned and dressed, jumpsuit in the wash, you ventured back downstairs to make dinner and feed Mayhem. Michael trailed after you, hair dripping dark spots along his shoulders where it was still damp. He didn't like the hair dryer very much and only tolerated you using it to get his hair comfortably damp. No more.

“You’re probably due for another haircut by the way,” you said as you opened the fridge. Mayhem was immediately rubbing up on Michael’s leg, meowing insistently.

He looked down at her, standing comfortably in the doorway to the kitchen. You glanced over your shoulder to look at him and felt struck with the knowledge that, if it weren't for his injured eye breaking the illusion, it almost felt like you just had a boyfriend over. Your face warmed up at the thought and you snapped your head back around to stare into the white, chilled expanse of the fridge. "Umm… anything specific you want tonight?"

When you looked back over at him, you jumped in surprise when he was barely a few inches from you. Jesus, you thought to yourself. You didn't think you'd ever get used to how quiet he moved sometimes.

Michael tilted his head as he stared at the fridge with you. "I need to go shopping soon, huh?"

He didn't say anything but you could almost hear his nod.

You liked how expressive he'd gotten as the two of you began to trust each other. Little things like that made the whole thing feel domestic somehow.

"Well, hope you like grilled cheese." You snagged the almost-empty package of sliced cheese and dangled it tantalizingly. "I'll go shopping tomorrow, promise. If you want anything in particular, let me know." You said as you grabbed the bread from the cabinet. Before he could say - or, technically, not say - you spun on your heel. "Besides pumpkin pie."

He nodded once and you smirked.

Domestic, your brain said again in an almost mocking tone. You swallowed and tried to focus on the sandwiches and not the way Michael stared at you. You began buttering the bread as the pan warmed up and tried to not envision life being like this forever: painfully domestic and sweet with Haddonfield's best known serial killer in soft lounge clothes you'd bought him, curled up on the couch eating an early lunch together after you'd washed his hair.

The sound of the front door rattling open was out of place and terrifying. Never in your life had you felt as though the ground would swallow you as your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. You spun to face Michael and quickly assessed your options.

There were two doorways that led out of the kitchen - one that faced the living room and another that led into the hallway to the stairs. There was a dividing wall between the two doorways. Meaning if you could get Michael into the hallway, he'd be out of sight for at least the briefest few seconds it took your dad to walk towards you.

"Upstairs, now!" You whisper-yelled, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him towards the hallway. "Stay quiet, he'll go away soon."

Hopefully, you thought to yourself. Hopefully he will.

"You're home early." You called to him as you took your spot at the stove again, spreading butter on bread and placing them in the pan.

Your dad sounded exhausted, shrugging off his outer coat and tossing it atop the back of the couch before slumping in his chair. "I decided to come home early. It's been an exhausting week. But Myers seems to be taking a break from killing these past few days."

You couldn't help but frown. Not killing? Sure you'd noticed less blood on his clothes but surely he'd stopped altogether. So close to Halloween too…

"Cool, I was, uh, making lunch." You called out over the pan sizzling. "You want some?"

The telltale creaks of the wooden floor had your hair standing up on end. It wasn't like normal sneaking around when you had a boyfriend, this was Michael Myers you were hiding. Right under his nose. Even if your dad didn't immediately go for his gun when he saw him, you were still a liar. And an accomplice to his crimes.

"Grilled cheese, huh?" He smiled for the first time since he'd taken on the case. "Want some help? I can-" The sound of his phone ringing cut him off, making him grimace. "I'll take this outside," he sighed as he went back out the door. You sighed with relief and looked towards the doorway to the stairs.

Michael stood there, mask on, gripping a knife tight in his hand. You had no idea where he'd gotten it, since your knives were accounted for.

You tried to seem reassuring. "He's probably going to get called back into work, it's okay." Even though you'd gotten used to it, you still swallowed when you saw the glint of the knife in the dim lighting of the doorway. "He, um, he said you haven't been killing lately?"

Michael was eerily still. Just staring at you.

"Is everything…okay?" It felt a bit weird asking when he was going to kill someone again. Like it was just a casual hobby of his. "Just let me know, alright?"

He just stared at you. His walls were back up, you could tell, so you tried to not take it personally.

When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago." His gun was out, alarming you. "Have you… have you seen anything?"

"No." You swallowed around your lie, quickly turning the stove off, lunch forgotten. "No, it's been quiet. I was out in my garden, mostly."

He didn't seem convinced though. "She said he was circling around the house before coming inside."

At that, he froze. He held a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You wanted to roll your eyes at how comical this was but you also couldn't afford to break character. Scared young child of the police detective, home alone with a killer in this house.

"Where's your cat?" He whispered, glancing up at the ceiling as though expecting to hear footsteps.

Glancing around, you tried to play up your alarm. "I don't know!" You whisper-yelled. "Do you think he's-?"

"Dead, then." Your dad's bluntness made you flinch. "Myers usually kills the pets first. Keeps 'em from sounding an alarm." He didn't even try to look sympathetic as he crept towards the stairs. You followed after him as he crept silently from room to room, pushing the door open slightly before scanning the room with his gun out. It made you anxious and you kept periodically glancing towards your bedroom, dreading the impending inspection. First the hall closet, then his bedroom, then the bathrooms, and finally: your bedroom.

You felt sweat drip down your temple as he pushed open the door. Everything felt tense, suffocating you as you chewed anxiously on the nail of your thumb.

He swung open the closet door and fired at the first sign of movement.

Mayhem yowled, a sharp, piercing sound, then darted past your legs as he took off down the hall. "MAYHEM!" You shrieked in horror, watching blood trail behind him faster than you could catch him. You ignored your dad's stammered apologies and took off after your cat.

The blood trail went down the stairs and out through the back door, which had been left cracked open to let Mayhem come and go as he pleased. Now he was gone. Your heart sank as you ran outside, crying for Mayhem to come back. In the tall, mud-riddled forest it was hard to see any kind of blood trail or spot your all black cat. Minutes ticked by with no response and you fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself as you bawled.

He was your little kitty. And now he was gone.

"Sweetheart, I- I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was there." Your dad tried to explain as he watched you from the doorway. "It- It'll come back, I'm sure."

"You SHOT him!" You rounded on him almost instantly, storming up to meet him and relishing in the way he backed up in fear of your anger. "You SHOT him and now he might DIE out there!" While you didn't consider yourself an angry nor violent person, it felt vindicating to shove him and watch him stumble back. "You don't even CARE!"

"No, I don't!" He shouted, trying to scare you back. "It's just a cat! What if Myers had been there, huh?"

You felt hysteric. "I don't care about that! Fuck, dad, I care about my CAT!"

Suddenly, he'd grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you into the nearby wall, his voice hissing like a viper when he spoke. "I don't give a shit about your fucking cat. I am stressed enough as it is and I am focused on finding Michael fucking Myers, not your shitty little cat. Let. It. Go."

The sign of movement in the shadows behind him made you smile.

Michael grabbed your dad by the back of his shirt and yanked him back harshly, letting him fall to the kitchen floor. He stood there, knife tight in his fist as he stood over the whimpering man who scrambled for his gun.

You watched with an empty expression as Michael kicked the gun aside, skittering on the tiled floor and out of reach. "Grab it!" He hissed at you. Michael tilted his head down at him but he tried to not be intimidated. "Grab my gun, just-"

Reality began to settle in as shock wore off. Your ears were still ringing from the gunshots and you could smell the charred butter coming off the stove. "Michael." Your mouth moved but you didn't feel like your words were yours. "I'm okay."

A heavy boot thudded against your dad's chest and you watched him scramble to try and understand. The dark pits of the mask's eye holes bore into you, almost searching for permission.

"You've been hiding him." Your dad gasped in horror. "You've been hiding the man I've been hunting. Right. Under. My fucking nose!" He roared, struggling to get out from under Michael, only ending up grabbed like a scruffed kitten in his attempts to lunge at you. "How long!? How long has he been hiding here?!"

You didn't feel like answering. So you didn't.

He didn't like that though. "What have you two been doing? What, do you nurse him back to health under my fucking roof every night? Is that why you've been buying first aid shit?"

None of this felt real to you in any substantial way. It felt like a movie almost, a sick indie film about a serial killer you'd grown attached to finally snapping and slaughtering your family because you'd finally given him the chance to get close. You watched Michael press the tip of his knife to your dad's sternum and could almost see the anger and hatred rolling off the masked man in waves.

After all, you'd given him a hard line of not hurting Mayhem. And your dad just broke that rule.

You backed up against the fridge and slid to the floor, watching with a distant expression as Michael wrestled the man to the floor. "Yeah." You said quietly, more to yourself than to him. "I clean him. Bandage him. He protects me." A wet laugh left your throat at the absurdity of it all. "We're partners."

No point in hiding it anymore.

"M-maybe I should call Loomis, s-see if I can get you two joint rooms in the fucking asylum-!" The man below Michael yelled out, his words muffling as Michael jabbed the knife into him. Wet squelching sounds that became almost monotonous as hot red sprays erupted from the holes in his neck. Puddles of red seeped beneath the man's body and Michael seemed to relish in the thrill.

"You killed my cat," you mumbled bitterly to the corpse of the man you once called dad.

And you watched as the body ran cold with Michael's anger. He stood up, towering over you as he tracked bloody footprints as he approached you. "Hi." You said absently, giving him a small smile. "You'll have to kill our neighbor. No witnesses."

He tilted his head curiously and you just let your head fall between your knees. You didn't want to talk about this anymore than you had to. "Just- Just get rid of the body, okay? I'll clean up."

Had you looked up, you would have seen his nod.

The stench of bleach burned your nose and made your eyes water as you scrubbed at the now blood-free kitchen floor. You'd opened the windows to air out the smell but it still felt like it was suffocating. But there was no evidence anymore, thank god.

You didn't ask Michael what he'd done with the bodies. You'd kept your head down when he'd lifted it up and carried it with him out the back door and you were content not knowing. It would only serve to upset you.

Clutching the rim of the sink, you let out a long, pained sigh. Things were going to change now. Your father and Mayhem's blood was all gone, the knives would be disinfected, and Michael's jumpsuit would go through the wash again. No evidence any of this had even happened.

Logically, you knew this should upset you. It did, only in the sense that the wet plunging sounds of the knife echoed in your mind. But you couldn't feel anything beyond anger that he'd shot Mayhem. That he didn't care about you, only his work. It infuriated you to think about how little your life would change with him gone. The house was bought and paid for, you knew everything he owned would be left to you, and life would continue on.

He didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. You repeated this mantra over and over to yourself as you heard the back door open.

Michael stood there, his hands and suit stained with blood. Flecks of dark red stained the white mask in harsh streaks that made you want to hurl. "How, um, how did it go?" You tried giving him a smile but fell short. He approached you and you did your best to hide your flinch when he took your wrist. Red stained your skin and you heard the sickening stabbing again. "Sorry," you mumbled, "I should have done something to- to try to make him leave, or-"

Michael cut you off with a harsh tug on your arm. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes behind the mask, your own wide in confusion. He just stared you down, only gripping you tighter when you tried to pull away.

His silent question felt loud in the little kitchen, even if he said nothing. "I'm… I'll be okay." But you weren't sure if you were telling that to him or yourself. "It was inevitable. I- I just didn't think it would be so soon. But, um, I knew I was… I knew I was going to be sticking with you. Partners, right?"

You didn't wait for any type of response, gesturing to his jumpsuit. "Lets, um, get you into clean clothes, yeah?"

Michael didn't budge.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he lifted his hand towards your face, dragging a bloody finger down your cheek and marveled at the way it stained your skin. A red to match his own,

And as quickly as he came, he left. His footfalls were heavy as he went up to the bathroom and left you floundering in the kitchen. You broke from your trance only when you heard the shower running. Swallowing, you followed his trail upstairs to collect his bloody clothes. You could only hope the blood was fresh enough to come out easy.

When you passed by Mayhem's food dish, you winced at the memory of your cat's blood streaked across the house. You filled his bowls and set them outside, hoping the prospect of dinner would entice him home.

It was the best you could do, really…

The cops came two days later. When no one on the force had seen or heard from him in a few days, they'd come by to check. It wasn't hard to play up your distress. The five stages of grief had hit you harder than expected. On the first day, you'd just yelled at Michael, slamming your fists into his chest as he watched you curiously. You'd wondered to yourself after sobbing over breakfast how he'd felt after his sister died. You'd only ever heard stories but you wanted to ask him.

"We found him off a backroad down the way with an older woman in the car," the officer interviewing you asked. "Do you have any idea what that was about?"

You swallowed and shook your head. "He, um, he mentioned he got a call from Gladys. That, uh, Myers was outside her house so- so he told me he was going to take her to a hotel and then go back to work." Your voice trembled as you spoke. "H-he'd been working so much, I-"

The officer gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry, kid."

Michael was easily named the killer so you weren't even considered a suspect. What they didn't know was that he was taking this opportunity while the police were busy to kill again, letting out his frustrations that had been building up.

He hadn't left you alone since your dad had died. Always hovering in doorways or your wrist if you were close enough. You knew Michael well enough at this point to know he didn't necessarily feel bad for what he did. But he was certainly capable of fearing your reaction. You could easily turn him in now, all wound up emotions like a ticking time bomb.

But you didn't. You were partners. A pact now sealed in your father's blood

Once the police left, you wanted to get out of the house. It all felt too suffocating. You just needed a moment without Michael's eyes on you, if such a thing existed. So you'd gotten dressed into proper clothes and went into town. You knew the whole town would be looking at you so you tried to keep yourself presentable while still looking a wreck.

Which wasn't hard, after everything that happened.

News reports of your dad's false crime scene would be all over the news in a day. All over the televisions, newspapers, and your dad's police buddies would be sharing stories in bars over drinks. You felt sick at the knowledge that he'd had a life outside you and your little bubble of fake domesticity with a serial killer.

It all felt like a huge reality check that left you stumbling like a drunk on the curbside.

You snapped back to your body as you stared emptily at some crummy greeting cards in the little general store. You'd been walking the aisles with no clear goal in mind and many of the other patrons simply let you pass with pitiful smiles that made your skin crawl. "I should've looked at the fridge…" You mumbled to no one.

"Hey." A soft voice interrupted your train of thought and you gave a glance over your shoulder. Laurie Strode, dressed in all black like she was attending a funeral. Maybe she was - a funeral for the town. You knew the paranoia of Michael stalking her never really went away and you felt a little bad for her. A part of you wished you could reassure her.

“Oh, um, hi.” You stuttered inelegantly. “What- um-“

“I’m sorry,” she gave you a sorrowful look. You were getting pretty sick of those. “I heard about your dad… Michael is ruthless.”

You swallowed around a lump building in your throat. “Y-yeah. I hope, um, you’re doing okay too.” You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren’t sure if it came out like a grimace.

Laurie just laughed, no joy behind her tight smile. “I’ll survive. Always do.”

You said your polite goodbyes and you left her, now even more uneasy. It was jarring to be reminded that life existed outside your little house in the forest, that Michael's actions had consequences that spread far beyond just you.

It made you wonder if Michael’s intentions were what you thought they were. He’d never leave Haddonfield. Not willingly. He’d continue killing with or without you in his life.

And that knowledge made you feel sick.

Your dad's funeral was mostly uneventful. A few of his work friends came to console you but you denied their company when you went to the cemetery. Your dad had told you many times when you were young that, when he died, he wanted to be poured into water used to help grow flowers on your late mothers grave. It had struck you as odd then but now you understood.

Guilt still ate at you. He'd probably haunt you if he didn't get to be reunited with your mom in some way, so you'd bought some daisies - her favorite, according to him - and brought them with his ashes and a bottle of water. Haddonfield's graveyard was nothing spectacular, just rows and rows of headstones. Some newer with fresh flowers and photos, some older and covered in moss and dirt. The forgotten ones always made your heart clench.

You pointedly kept your head down when you passed Judith Myers' grave. Her parents had a joint headstone beside her, a spot they'd reserved for themselves a year after she'd died. According to stories, they'd believed Michael deserved nothing but cremation. No tombstone, no funeral, just death in silence.

The fate of the Myers family had been a horrible story. Even after their son was shipped off to Smith's Grove, the family still received harsh criticisms for what they'd done. While Michael's actions were certainly the focus, some people still believed the parents had some sway in it or had influenced his behavior. He'd only been a little boy, after all. A possibly mentally ill, neglected child whose parents had, allegedly, favored Judith to the point Michael acted out.

A car crash killed them, according to the news. You weren't sure. The timings had been too close and their funerals had been closed caskets. But you'd been too young to really care about that sort of thing. Now, though, you were curious. It felt like you'd get answers somehow if you knew. Regardless, Michael was left without guardianship and became a ward of the state, locked away in a hospital for fifteen years. At first, the town didn't know what to think of him. The poor, unstable boy who now had no one waiting for him if he ever got out. Many villainized him, of course, but some wanted to see him make a full recovery. They saw a traumatized child who needed help.

It was only after Michael broke out of Smith’s Grove and killed again that public opinion on him changed.

You pushed those thoughts away and focused on kneeling before your mothers grave. Your fingers were still damp from the wet earth you'd pulled out as you'd dug a little hole for the flowers all on autopilot. The little flowers looked nice, spots of white and yellow against mucky browns and greens. This wasn't that different from gardening, you thought to yourself as you added the water into the jar of your father's ashes. Not that different at all.

It felt a bit weird. But it was his wish. After everything you'd done, the least you could do was honor that. Besides, you didn’t really think you could cope with having the jar of his ashes in the house you’d let him die in. So you poured the water over the flowers, dirt under your nails as you showered them graciously.

You'd never made a habit of talking to your mom's grave. Your dad did it a few times and you'd seen people doing it before but there was just no appeal to you. Talking to air felt weird and you weren't exactly going to start now. You'd never known your mom, she didn't need to hear your stories.

She’d died when you were young so it wasn't like you knew her. The concept of a mother meant more to you than who she specifically did. When you were growing up, sometimes you'd feel a longing absence that she wasn't there but the woman buried beneath your feet still meant nothing to you. A stranger whose photos lined the walls of your dad's bedroom - photos you would probably store in the attic. Like you'd never really known them. A part of your dad died with your mom anyways so the symbolism felt right.

He’d always go on and on about how much you looked like her, how similar you two were, that sort of crap. Now, staring at her headstone, you wondered what she’d think of you.

The feeling of eyes on you has become commonplace for you now. An is-ness rather than a concern. So you didn't even bother lifting your head. Just slumped forward, cross-legged, and picking at the dirt under your nails, flicking it at the daisies. "Do you ever miss them?" You asked aloud. You knew Michael was close enough to hear, especially since you were alone. "Your parents, I mean. I doubt you miss your sister too much. I mean, I heard what you did with her headstone when you killed those high schoolers." The bitterness in your tone was not missed but it didn't feel right to put words in his mouth.

"I'm still trying to decide how I feel." You sighed, poking at soft petals. "I never knew my mother so I can't miss her. She wasn't part of my life, only her ghost was. But I don't know how I feel about my dad dying. It always felt like I was competing with her for his affection. He loved her so much and could barely spare me a passing glance…" You swallowed and your throat clicked. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd have been happier if I had died and she'd lived.

If Michael Myers had to be the one to hear your confessions, at least you knew he wouldn't tell anyone.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled. "It's weird. I haven't decided if I hate him for that yet. If I hate him at all, even." When you looked up, Michael was staring down at you, face hidden behind the mask. You almost envied his ability to simply hide his feelings away. You'd never been able to avoid wearing your heart on your sleeve. "Do you ever think about if your parents wished it had been you instead of Judith?"

The silence felt suffocating and you broke into a helpless sob. The kind of crying that you did when no one was around and it felt like nothing was ever going to be okay again. Michael sat down beside you in the dirt, silent companionship through your tears.

He didn't say anything. But he didn't have to.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher fanfiction #halloween 1978 #michael myers #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #mask of hate

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luv-kakashi · 3 months ago

Text

One of us is dead

chapter seventeen - nightmare

chapter sixteen | chapter eighteen

The cabin was slowly starting to look like home... well at least a home. Fewer cobwebs marked their territory across the room and the floorboards creaked less often as we tiptoed around them.

Between the odd missions here and there I managed to slip away from the village and deliver small bits of furniture and trinkets I had collected. A rickety chair by the fireplace, an old shelf I had found discarded in the marketplace, and a few cushions I managed to sew together in my free time.

It wasn't much, but every time I walked in, I felt a little more at ease. The once-empty, cold walls now held warmth, though faint. There was something comforting about it, knowing that this place, away from the village, was just like my little attic world with Sumire.

"Sumire, have you ever fallen in love?" I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I sat cross-legged in front of her. The sun filtered through the window, casting warm patches of light across the room, and her fingers moved deftly, mindlessly braiding my hair.

She paused for a moment, her touch still gentle, though I could feel the weight of the silence between us. Sumire had always been the stronger one, not just because she was my older sister but because her spirit was unshakable. Even after all the pain, after everything life had taken from her, her heart remained whole.

"Love..." she murmured, her voice thoughtful, distant. "It's different for everyone, you know? It's not just about romance, Y/N. Sometimes love is... fighting for someone, protecting them. Sometimes, it's giving up everything for them." She sighed, and I felt her fingers tighten slightly on the braid.

"Do you remember the day I quit the Academy?" she asked. She took a deep breath, and I could hear the pain in it. The kind of pain that was buried so deep that time could never truly heal it. I swallowed hard, my heart tightening in my chest as I nodded.

I remembered it as if it had happened just yesterday. The day Sumire lost her mobility... The day everything changed. She had left the house that morning, perfectly healthy, excited even. My big sister, the one who would become a kunoichi strong enough to protect our family, our future.

But when she came back home, it wasn't the same Sumire who had left.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. The sound of her struggling footsteps as she was carried through the door. Her face pale, eyes wide and filled with terror. Her once-strong frame broken, and her spirit shattered as our mother screamed in horror. I could still feel the chill in the air that day, the way my legs had gone numb as I realized something terrible had happened. something none of us could undo.

"Your injury..." I whispered, my voice catching in my throat as I tried to suppress the flood of emotions that always came with this memory.

Sumire smiled, but it was a small, sad thing.

"I wasn't supposed to come home that day..." Sumire's voice wavered as she paused, her fingers running absentmindedly through the ends of my braid.

"Aren saved me," she finally said, her voice soft but filled with an old ache. "We were forced to battle each of our classmates... part of some twisted training exercise. I just... I wasn't strong enough to protect myself."

I froze at the mention of Aren, the name pulling me back to old memories I hadn't thought about in years. He had been one of Sumire's closest friends at the Academy, always by her side, and I remembered him as the bright, determined kid who never let anyone push him around.

"I was getting overwhelmed," Sumire continued, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of emotion. "It was like everything I had learned, everything I had trained for, just disappeared the moment we were pitted against each other. I could feel myself falling behind, my chakra running low... I couldn't keep up." She shook her head, her eyes distant as if she were reliving the memory.

It's a memory that all of us who went to the Academy in Kirigakure have. The chaos of the training ground flooded with the blood of our classmates fighting against each other in the hopes of being made Genin. Many of them desperately clinging onto a thin thread of life. My stomach twisted at the image.

"And then... there was Aren." Her voice grew quieter, almost as if she were afraid to say his name out loud. "He threw himself into the fight, right in front of me. He took on my opponents, all of them, without hesitation. He was... relentless."

Her hands stilled in my hair, and for a moment, the room felt suffocatingly quiet. I wanted to say something, to tell her it wasn't her fault, but the words stuck in my throat.

"Aren wasn't supposed to protect me," she said after a long silence. "We were supposed to fight together, as equals. We promised each other that as soon as we were out, we would run. Run away from it all. But in the end, he paid the price for my weakness. He fought to keep me alive, and when he couldn't fight anymore..." Her voice cracked, the words catching in her throat.

I squeezed her hand gently, trying to ground her, to let her know I was here, listening.

"And even then, I barely even made it out alive."

"I was supposed to die that day, Y/N," Sumire said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But Aren saved me. He gave me the chance to come home... and I regret that I never told him how I felt about him."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and I could see the pain etched into her features, the burden of unspoken emotions she had carried for so long. My heart clenched as I reached out, placing my hand over hers, trying to offer some kind of comfort.

"You were in the middle of a battle, Sumire," I whispered, my voice gentle. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

She shook her head, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "But I knew, Y/N. I knew how I felt about him even before that day. I just... I never said it. I thought we had time. I thought... I thought I'd always have him there, by my side."

"I was too scared," Sumire continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what it would mean if I said it out loud. Scared of losing him if I told him the truth. And now... now it's too late. I'll never get the chance to say the words I love you."

I squeezed her hand tightly. "You didn't lose him, Sumire. He's still with you. Aren... he cared about you too. That's why he protected you. He wouldn't want you to carry this regret."

A single tear slipped down her cheek as she looked at me, her eyes filled with a grief I could barely comprehend. "I just wish I could've told him, Y/N. Even once. I wish he knew..."

I pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as the weight of her emotions finally spilled over. "He knew, Sumire," I whispered into her hair. "I'm sure he knew."

For a long moment, we sat there in silence, wrapped in each other's embrace as the quiet of the room filled the space around us. Sumire's sobs were soft, but each one pierced through me, a reminder of the pain she had carried for so long.

"He was my everything," Sumire whispered against my shoulder, "He made me feel wanted, he made me feel heard. I try not to dwell too much but sometimes... it's hard not to think about what could have been, you know?"

"I'm so sorry for making you relive this, Sumire."

"I.. I just have so much love for him with no one to give it to," she said as I felt her solemnly smile against my skin. "I would rather talk about him than have him become a fading memory."

Sumire slowly sat up as she wiped away the last of her tears, "And that's my second cry of the day!" she chuckled.

"Second?" I questioned as I looked at her quizzically.

"It's October 14th, Y/N" Sumire muttered as she watched the realisation dawn on my face.

The day that our mother died.

Talks of peace negotiations have been echoing throughout Konoha, finally providing an end to the violence and bloodshed committed on the front lines.

Yet at the end of the day, it is all talk. Kushina sensei, Shisui and I have been dispatched to the frontlines, on the border between the Hidden Grass Village and the Land of Earth to support Minato sensei.

The chill of the night air cut through the silence as we made our way through the dense forest bordering the Hidden Grass Village. Moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting pale shadows that seemed to dance with every step we took. The tension in the air was palpable, and despite the hushed murmurs of peace talks back in Konoha, the reality of war still lingered heavily around us.

"Stay alert," Kushina-sensei whispered, her voice low but steady as she led us through the rugged terrain. Her long red hair was tied back and hidden beneath her cloak. She moved with a quiet and daunting. Beside her, Shisui was a shadow, his gaze focused and vigilant.

I followed closely behind, every muscle in my body taut with anticipation. It felt surreal, being here on the frontlines after hearing so much about the rumored ceasefire.

But words alone couldn't erase the bloodshed, the pain, and the loss that had been carved into the lives of so many. Even if the negotiations succeeded, it wouldn't bring back the fallen or heal the wounds left behind.

Kushina-sensei paused, raising a hand to signal us to stop. We crouched low, and I could hear the faint murmurs of voices up ahead. Hidden by the underbrush, we peered out, our eyes narrowing as we spotted a small camp just beyond the trees. A group of Iwa-nin were huddled around a fire, their expressions grim and weary.

"Looks like they're setting up for the night," Shisui murmured, his voice barely audible. His eyes flicked to Kushina-sensei, waiting for her command.

She nodded slightly, her gaze sharp. "We'll avoid direct confrontation unless necessary. Minato's orders were clear: gather information, disrupt their operations if possible, but do not engage unless absolutely necessary."

"Understood," I whispered, gripping my kunai tightly. The cold metal against my skin grounded me, reminding me to stay focused.

We moved silently, circling around the camp with practiced precision. Every rustle of leaves, every crack of a twig underfoot sent my heart racing, but I forced myself to remain calm. This wasn't like the missions back in the village, the menial tasks or even the more dangerous ones we'd faced before. This was the reality of war, the kind that didn't care about peace talks or negotiations.

As we reached a vantage point overlooking the enemy camp, I glanced over at Shisui. His expression was unreadable, but there was a determination in his eyes that I'd come to recognize. He was ready for anything, as always.

"Y/N," Kushina-sensei's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Keep your eyes open. We're looking for anything that might indicate their plans. Supplies, maps, anything."

I nodded, steeling myself as I scanned the camp below. Every detail, no matter how small, could be crucial. But even as I focused on the task at hand, the uncertainty lingered in the back of my mind.

What did peace truly mean? And how much more blood would be spilled before we could reach it?

After gathering as much information as we could, Kushina sensei drew her hands together, her fingers dancing through a series of hand sign- a signal we agreed on prior to the mission to fall back from the enemy camp.

Her eyes locked onto ours, and with a subtle nod, she signaled for us to fall back.

We retreated silently, the forest swallowing us in its dark embrace as we slipped away from the enemy camp. My heart pounded in my chest, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Shisui moved ahead of me, his movements swift and silent, like a shadow passing through the night. I followed closely, my senses on high alert, every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig setting my nerves on edge.

Once we were a safe distance away, Kushina-sensei slowed her pace. "Good work, both of you," she whispered, her voice still hushed but filled with relief. "We need to relay this information to Minato."

Shisui nodded, his gaze steady. "It looks like they're planning to fortify their position along the border. If those supply routes are disrupted, it could delay their operations significantly."

"I think Shisui's right, from what I could see from their scrolls, they plan to dispatch more than 1000 Iwa-nin to the border. Lord Hokage said that many of our platoons are undergoing medical treatment, so we are already shinobi down. If we can stop those reinforcements from reaching the front lines, it might just give us the edge we need," I continued, glancing between Shisui and Kushina-sensei. "But we would probably have to split up."

"Splitting up divides our forces, but I would rather you weren't at the frontlines, Y/N. You're still a genin," Kushina said as her expression softened as she gazed at me. "I'll go support Minato, Shisui, Y/N do you think you could delay their operations and ambush their reinforcements?"

Shisui glanced at me, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "It's risky, but if we work together, I think we can pull it off."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. "We'll do our best, Kushina-sensei. We'll buy you and Minato-sensei as much time as we can."

Kushina's gaze softened further, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. "Alright, but be careful. Both of you. Shisui, keep her safe."

"Of course, sensei," Shisui said with a reassuring smile. "We've got this."

"Anyways, enough ninja talk. Let's set up camp here, we have been travelling far too long and we should get a little bit of sleep before heading out," Kushina sensei said as she set up a small fire.

"I'll keep watch and wake you up in a few hours," Shisui said as he sat against the tree.

Kushina-sensei nodded, stifling a yawn as she pulled out a blanket. "Sounds good. We'll need to be sharp for tomorrow." She glanced over at me. "Get some rest, Y/N. You've earned it."

I hesitated, glancing at Shisui, who gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I've got it covered. You just focus on getting some sleep."

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly, setting up my blanket. I gazed up, staring up at the stars that peeked through the canopy of leaves. The soft crackles of the fire and the gentle rustling of the trees lulled me to sleep.

The rain fell in torrents, a relentless cascade that blurred the world into a wash of gray. The sun refused to show its head as the rain plunged down. I stood alone in the middle of an endless field, the tall grass whipped and flattened by the wind. The horizon stretched on endlessly, but the rain seemed to close in on all sides, a suffocating curtain that shut out the rest of the world.

October 14th... I remember this day so vividly.

"Y/N Uzumaki," a voice called out from behind me, sharp and cutting through the relentless rain like a blade. I turned, the storm's fury almost muffled as I took in the sight of the woman standing a few feet away. She was tall, her posture commanding and unyielding. Her presence was eerie, made even more so by the plain white mask that obscured her face entirely. No eyes, no mouth, just a blank, emotionless facade that hid everything beneath. The mask gleamed dully in the dim light, casting an unsettling contrast against the darkness surrounding us.

"You can call me Reaper-sama," she said, her voice resonating with an authoritative edge, yet there was a strange, almost mocking lilt to it. It sent a chill down my spine, sharper than the cold rain that continued to pour relentlessly around us. "I'm here to help you train."

I couldn't tear my gaze away from her, the rain pooling at my feet as I tried to gauge her intent, but the mask gave nothing away. She stood there, completely still, as if she had all the time in the world, as if she was waiting for something… waiting for me.

Without warning, Reaper-sama unleashed a barrage of kunai, each one slicing through the rain and grazing my skin. The sharp sting barely registered as adrenaline surged through me. My legs pushed against the mud, my heart pounding with every step as I sprinted toward the house, ignoring the burning sensation that tore through my muscles.

I vaulted up the wall, my hands scrambling against the wet surface as I hauled myself to the rooftop. Gasping for breath, I pulled myself over the edge and froze.

There, leaning against the railing, was my mother. Her long red hair, usually so vibrant, was soaked and clinging to her body. She shivered, the cold rain pricking at her pale skin, making her look smaller and more fragile than I ever remembered. Her azure eyes, the ones that used to light up any room, were dulled and tired, staring out at the storm that seemed to mirror the chaos in my chest.

"M-Mom?" I choked out, my voice barely a whisper, the rain drowning out everything else.

She didn't respond, her body swaying slightly as the wind whipped around us. I took a shaky step forward, my heart pounding harder now, not from the fight, but from the overwhelming fear that something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"Mom!" I called out louder, but she didn't even flinch.

"Y/N my love!" she called out, "That woman... your father has asked her to train you!"

Panic surged through my veins as I scrambled to my feet, the cold concrete tearing at my skin."Mom, get inside! That lady, she'll hurt you!" I shrieked as my feet scrambled to get to her side, tripping along the way.

But my legs felt like lead, and the ground beneath me was unforgiving, throwing me down again. The world seemed to move in slow motion, each second dragging on as I fought to stand. My cheek stung, but the pain was distant compared to the terror coursing through me.

I looked up, and my heart stopped.

Reaper-sama was already there, standing behind my mother, her white mask gleaming ominously in the rain. She held a kunai to my mother's throat, the blade pressed too close for comfort. My breath hitched as dread took hold of me.

"Y/N don't worry! Father wants me to help you train," Mom shouted as she watched me run towards her panicked.

Reaper-sama chuckled darkly, her grip tightening on the kunai. "Now then, Y/N," she said, her voice cold and mocking, "Use your blood manipulation... and save your mother."

I froze. Blood manipulation? The words echoed in my mind, foreign and terrifying. I didn't even know how to begin. My hands trembled as I stared at them, the rain washing away the blood that had been drawn by the kunai earlier. I have never consciously used my blood manipulation before. In the Academy, I never realised that my cuts and bruises healed over so quickly because of it. Now, I was shoved in a corner with only one escape.

Reaper-sama's grip tightened on the kunai as she stared at me, her white mask reflecting the cold, unrelenting rain. "You're running out of time, Y/N," she whispered, her voice cutting through the storm like a blade. Without warning, she yanked my mother back, then pushed her forward, sending her teetering over the edge of the rooftop.

"NO!" I screamed, my heart lurching in my chest as I watched in horror.

My mother's eyes widened in shock as her arms flailed, searching for something to hold onto, but there was nothing. Time seemed to stop as she tumbled through the air, the rain swallowing her scream. My body acted before my mind could catch up, my feet sprinting toward the edge, my hand reaching out desperately.

The blood that trickled down my arm dripped relentlessly, as if sensing my desperation. Each drop stretched unnaturally, forming a thin, wavering rope that wrapped around my mother's body, just barely holding her in the air. My heart raced, a flicker of hope igniting in my chest.

But before I could even exhale the breath I had been holding, the blood cord burst. It dissolved into the rain, vanishing like smoke in the storm. Helpless, I watched my mother slip from my grasp, falling through the downpour with a sickening finality. Right at my fingertips.

My scream tore through the rain as the impact of her death hit me. The sound of her body hitting the ground below echoed through the empty street, drowning out even the rain. Her eyes pried open. Her mouth desperately tried to cling to air around her to breathe. Arterial blood stained the concrete below, trickling into every crack and crevice in the road.

A pair of arms wrapped around my small figure as I grasped onto Reaper-sama's arms, her words drowned out by my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I wanted to pull away, to scream, but my body felt heavy and numb. Her voice was soothing, too calm for what had just happened.

"Come with me, Y/N," she murmured, her tone almost hypnotic. "You'll be stronger, you'll never have to feel this helpless again. I'll teach you to control your blood, to save those you love."

My eyes were still fixated on the spot where my mother had fallen, her lifeless body lying far below. The rain continued to pour, relentless, washing away the blood that had failed to save her. My breath hitched, my vision blurring between tears and rain.

"Come," Reaper-sama said, her voice commanding yet gentle. And despite every instinct telling me to run, I found myself nodding.

I jolted awake, my heart racing, and sweat clinging to my forehead. The remnants of the nightmare clung to my mind like a dense fog. My hands trembled as I sat up, cracking my knuckles.

That nightmare. I hadn't dreamt of that day in months. But tonight, it returned with a vengeance, as vivid as ever. My pulse throbbed in my ears, and I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to steady my breath.

'Please forgive me, Mother' I pleaded as I gazed up at the night sky.

"Can't sleep?" Kushina asked, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up from her sleeping bag.

"Sorry for waking you up," I whispered as a pink twinge of embarrassment dusted my cheeks.

"You were cracking your knuckles so much I was worried you might start breaking your fingers, you know. Is it a nervous habit?"

"I guess so," I muttered sheepishly, twirling a strand of hair in between my fingers.

"Come here," she whispered, opening her sleeping bag, patting the empty space next to her. Hesitant, I stared at her quizzically, confused at her foreign gesture. Usually, when my mind swallows me from the inside out, I do what Sumire always did with me; play with my hair.

I shuffled towards her bag, slipping and stepping over the broken twigs and bark around the campfire as I laid next to her on the bag. "Your hair has gotten longer since you've arrived in Konoha, you know," she whispered, tucking a loose strand behind my ear.

"Wait," Kushina muttered, pulling out a hair clip from her hair as she clipped my loose strand, "Sleep tight, Y/N."

The soft strokes of her hand against the back of my head slowly lulled me to sleep as I laid in her arms, swallowing the scent of her warmth, the cracking and the crackles of the fire gradually dying down into the early hours of the morning.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Love is a curse.

Anyways, I am on exam leave (again) which means I have to channel out the demons inside of me which scream to write, write and write. I can't wait for this academic year to be over. I don't know why 17 year old me thought I wouldn't be academically challenged by choosing an academically challenging degree (lets be honest all degrees are challenging). I have said the word challenging too much.

But we're getting there! We're hitting plot arc no 1. Thank you for all your support so far! It means so much to me and little me who never thought she'd gather up the confidence to post her little drabbles and thoughts.

Love, Suri

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symphonicsoul · 2 years ago

Text

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ "Can you just let me keep my Oath?"

But to who? He didn't hear him. That Oath was made to Valkoinen Pilvi and he just can't be that boy anymore. If he becomes that boy again then - then the blood will taint him faster than he can stop it and once pure white will become dyed a violent red.

It would be the only way he would truly become the color of his lineage. What kind of twisted irony is that?

The only way he could ever share his father's hue is when he is dyed red by the color of the blood he's split. When he's dyed with the color of death. He could never and would never be what they wanted of him.

But that's just it.

It's what they wanted of him and that thing was not him. It was upholding their Oaths to Pilvi and he doesn't know how to give them that.

'Yes you do.' A small voice chimes at the back of his mind. 'You haven't been away from me for that long, Makenshi. You know exactly how to give these ingrates what they want. I trained you better than this, didn't I?'

So there is a bit of a sigh that escapes him as he shifts his form to pull himself back. He cannot touch without permission. He cannot do what is not wanted. He cannot be who is not loved.

So he cannot be this.

'Move demon. You have no purpose here.' Another voice in his mind sounding a bit too much like his own.

He didn't know how to be a King. He didn't know how to fulfill an Oath made so many years ago he couldn't remember dancing it. Pilvi could. Pilvi did. It was burned into as if it was just another way to breathe.

There wasn't enough love in the universe that could change what he was. So the new moon would once again remain as alone as he always was. The rules and standards of Misterican society were not something he was accustom to navigating. So he would do the only thing he knew how to do at this point and that was what he was told.

'Apologize.' He can hear that same voice scold but he knows it should be said in words he's not supposed to say and he finds the concept of doing so, so utterly nerve wracking that it makes his entire body tingle with the anticipation of what would happen if he dared to do so.

So instead he's sighing again, and letting himself set there with a hanging head and his eyes closed as he tries to gather his wits about him so he can find it in himself to -

"Anteeski." He sounds. "Tottakai. En koskaan ottaisi sitä sinulta."

These are the words he needs to use and he knows how to do so. He knows what rules to follow and how to be a proper King. He needs to serve his people and to do so correctly. The good of the people will always come before his own so even if speaking in such a way is a bit awkward compared to how he usual conducts himself - this would be the best way of making a point.

"I am not being considerate of all that's occurred. Please accept my apologies. Sometimes I have a habit of letting darker thoughts get away from me. I wouldn't dream of taking your Oath from you. From any of you - and I cannot tell you what to do with your emotions. She was a cruel woman and you have my sympathy that you had to go through what she's done. I will be more mindful in the future."

The tears have disappeared from his eyes, only to be replaced by half moon jade that is busy keeping his vision focused on the forest floor.

Enough damage has already been done. He doesn't need to undo anything that could happen unnecessarily. Lady Tiamat has stopped singing. A low hum is all that leaves her as she focuses on her work. There is only so much time left now and he doesn't need unstable hands destroying more than they already had.

He doesn't know how to explain that every one of his memories has already been destroyed, that this boy could not possibly taint them further than they are already. He does not know how to say that it doesn't matter. He can't make himself any clearer that he'd do anything it took to not be in any more pain than he already is, yet still it just keeps hurting.

He doesn't want it to hurt anymore, but it persists. The cracks in his heart run deeper by the second, the air in his lungs igniting itself to steal away his breath yet again.

Most of the pain is because his memories are already tarnished like worn silver that had once been beautiful.

His memories tell him that Valo was one of his closest friends, but the canyon of distance between them now is filled with bitter hurt that's been barely smoothed over.

His memories tell him that Revon was one of the kindest souls he'd ever met, but the more-recent harsh threats and refusal to see him make Sielu afraid of even a slight misstep lest he invoke that anger again.

His memories tell him that Aamunkoitto was one of the most attentive friends in the world, but there's nothing but guilt attached to taking any of that attention for himself lest Valo need it more.

His memories tell him that Pilvi was a soft, curious boy with nothing except love in his soul, but that same boy is now explaining what Sielu should think and feel about the supposed beast he's become.

His memories tell him that they were happy a long, long time ago. It feels like a taunt more than a comfort. Now more than ever, it feels like a taunt or cruel joke.

"... She wanted it to hurt," he chokes out, trying to just manage keeping his grip on the bag.

"She wanted to hurt me," he practically whispers, pushing his already-exhausted voice further just so he can get to the point he's trying to make. "She liked it. She said... she said that- that I was the most beautiful when I couldn't breathe because she burned me with my own Mist. Over and over for nine years. She didn't care. But... but you do. You said so yourself. You said just now you don't want to hurt me, so... which one is the one I should care about? You did what you had to. You didn't... want to... so can you please just let me care? Can you just let me keep my Oath? Just that much... and... and figure the rest out later."

If there is a later. If there's enough time left. He doesn't know whether he wants there to be or not.

#v; uncertainty and displacement #tw; long post #tw; dissociation #tw; abuse #tw; self deprecation #tw; self hatred #tw; hallucination #aquaticsoul #the conductor of my symphony || aquaticsoul #he said 'sorry' and then 'of course. i would never take it from you'

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tvrres · 3 years ago

Note

Okay, I had one for Angel, maybe an angel x fem!reader where the reader is almost sucked up into the ufo and our poor bby is worried? Just some fluff and stuff <3

and please don’t feel the need to rush take your time! Love ya 💕

— BAD MIRACLE

✦ pairing: angel torres x fem!reader

✦ summary: it's dumb luck you ended up at the haywood's ranch. it's even dumber luck that you didn't die there.

✦ note: yeah i listened to jennifer saunders' cover of holding out for a hero while writing this and yeah i made it deeper than it needed to be. it's a little sad i'm ngl

You weren't even supposed to be here.

This was all because of your stupid phone charger. If it hadn't disappeared from plain sight, your phone wouldn't have died before your alarm went off the next morning. You would have been to work on time and your boss wouldn't have let you go. Running into Angel, an old friend from high school, would have ended with plans for a coffee date that would never come. Instead you asked him if he knew any places hiring.

At first, you were glad things ended the way they did. You liked working with Angel. He had gotten taller since graduation and built some muscle that suited him well, but inside?

Inside, he never changed.

He would often visit the furniture department of Fry's to ask if you needed help, even though he was far from well versed when it came to Tempur-Pedic beds. You would laugh and tell him you were fine, to get back to electronics before he got in trouble again. So what if you guys were friendly? So what if maybe it was a little more than that?

After a two months of this, he invited you over to his apartment to watch some psychological thriller on Amazon Prime of all things. It was a fine movie, but you were too busy thinking about how your knees were touching. Neither of you moved them. When the end credits rolled and your can of Sprite was empty, Angel slid his hand into yours.

"I promise next time I'll take you on a real date," He muttered. You felt a smile creep onto your face before nodding. "But I think you're really great, (y/n). I want to spend more time with you if that's cool."

"That's cool." He looked relieved when you said this even though you couldn't imagine saying anything else. Afterwards, you guys talked and you're pretty sure he convinced you that ghosts were real that night. He seemed pretty certain there was one in the laundry room downstairs. Then he walked you to your car and hugged you goodbye.

There was a tension as you pulled away and you thought maybe he might kiss you. But he didn't, and that was okay. You guys had plenty of time.

It was only a few days after this that the Haywoods entered your store. Angel texted you, saying he was heading out to do an install and that he'd be back later. You sent him a thumbs up emoji before returning to work. Later finally came and Angel strolled up to where you stood by the display couches.

"How was the install?" You asked in a cheery tone, mostly just happy to see him. He looked around, pretending to be casual.

"Fuckin' weird," You furrowed your brows.

"Weird how?"

"Like extraterrestrial weird."

You let out a small laugh. Angel wasn't exactly a conspiracy nut, but he did let himself get lost in the idea of it sometimes. "What are you-"

"Look, just meet me at electronics after you clock out," He whispered as if someone was listening. "It could be nothing, but it could not be nothing." You gave him a suspicious look.

It was most certainly not nothing.

The unmoving cloud was enough to convince you, but nothing struck pure fear into your heart quite like feeling Angel's van stall on your way off the Haywoods' property. "Shit." Was all he'd said.

"Shit?" You looked at him frantically. "Shit, what do you mean shit?" Angel didn't answer you, instead quickly undoing both of your seatbelts. Your heart sank at this as you realized what his plan was. "I am not going out there and neither are you!"

"(Y/n), these are fucking aliens and they will crack this fucking van open like a goddamn piñata if they want to!" He grabbed your hand roughly and looked into your eyes, causing a sudden calm to wash over you. "Just don't let go of me and we're gonna be fine." You barely had time to process his order before he threw open the driver's side door and pulled you out behind him.

You narrowly escaped death once, which was more than enough for the both of you. OJ Haywood was not satisfied with this, however.

So now here you were, reloading film into a bulky camera being operated by some gruff and acclaimed filmmaker you had never even heard of. You sat nervously behind Angel the rest of the time, running your thumb over the label on your walkie that read BATTLESHIP. Despite everything you'd been through, everything you'd seen, the cloud, the power, that. . . thing (Jean Jacket as the Haywoods called it,) none of it felt real.

The only thing keeping you grounded was the constant string of voices coming through your walkie. It was truly a sight, watching OJ on his horse trying to win an impossible race. Jean Jacket loomed over him and you wondered how something so large could seem so weightless.

As the man released a colorful parachute at the last second, the entity turned on a dime to avoid it, giving Holst and his camera a perfect shot of it. It quickly retreated high into the sky, making you breath a sigh of relief as Angel cheered. A weight lifted off your shoulders, seemingly drifting away just as Jean Jacket had.

"It's over!" Emerald's voice crackled through your walkie. "We got it, y'all! The feed started going in and out when, when that guy got got, but we should be covered with the film camera. Right, Holst?"

The man was silent. You took this as his being in awe, disbelief at what he had just captured. His walkie beeped before he spoke into it. "The light," He gazed at the sun that hung low in the sky. "The light, it's, gonna be magic soon." You didn't know what he could have meant by that, but there was sudden foreboding energy in the air.

OJ felt it too, asking over the walkie what he meant. The man didn't answer, having already grabbed his other camera and standing from where he was. You tapped Angel, who was still staring in the direction Jean Jacket had disappeared. He turned to see Holst leaving the safety of the tent.

"Wha- no, no, where're you going?" His voice was frantic. The man turned back to the both of you.

"Angel, (y/n)," he said somberly. "It's gonna be alright. We don't deserve the impossible." Your blood went cold as he stepped fully out into the open.

"Hey guys?" Angel spoke into the walkie. "Holst just said some creepy, cryptic shit, took his camera, and he's heading up the mountain. Over."

You cupped your hands around your mouth and hollered at the older man. "Dude, what the hell?!" The same pit of fear from before welled up in your stomach. "Holst, come back!" Behind you, Angel got up from his seat and moved to where Holst had been before.

"Fuck it." He muttered, looking through the viewfinder of the camera. "He's crazy, right?" You searched for Jean Jacket in the sky frantically, still yelling for Holst. The being seemed to notice him quickly, flying down from the clouds at an incredible speed. It came close to the tent, causing you to quickly pull Angel down onto the ground with you. You both watched helplessly as it descended upon Holst and pulled him up into the air in a cloud of dust.

Then, just like that, he was gone. Your eyes were wide as saucers as you stared at where he had been, fighting every instinct you had to look up. You began to search for your walkie on the ground in a panic, knowing OJ and Emerald had seen it, hoping they knew what to do next.

In your distressed state, you didn't notice Angel stand and walk towards the edge of the tent. Once you did, a scream caught in your throat. He backed up, staring at Jean Jacket in disbelief. It slowly started closing in on him.

"Angel!" You cried out, getting ready to run out to him. Before you could, the tarp that covered you flew and wrapped around Angel and sent him rolling down the mountain into a barbed wire fence. You were about to slide down after him, until you heard Holst's screams echoing right above you.

It was nearly on top of you, so close the metallic scent of blood filled your nose. So you crouched back down and stared at the dirt shifting in the wind, hand over your mouth as you whimpered in fear, not daring to breath. That stupid fucking charger.

You were sure the only thing that saved you was Jean Jacket noticing Emerald by the stables. The wind of it rushing towards her knocked you over, your hair whipping wildly in the air. Once it was gone, you quickly made your way to Angel.

He was tangled up in the barbed wire and tarp, cuts from it littered his skin. "Angel!" You turned him over and tried to feel for the end of the wire. Your fingers bled, but you ignored it the best you could. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you scared the fuck out of me, oh my-"

"(Y/n), get to the house," He was breathing hard and trying to push your hands away from him. "You can make it, go!"

"No!" Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you fought against him. "No, I'm not gonna leave you here! We have to stay together and we'll be fine, that's what you told me!" The sound of Jean Jacket destroying the stables and Emerald's screams only made you panic more.

"Now I'm telling you to go!" He turned to where the animal clicked loudly. "Go! Before it comes back!" You looked over your shoulder at the house before turning back to Angel.

"You better not fucking die!" Was all you said before turning to sprint towards shelter. You nearly tripped more times than you could count. In your peripheral vision, you could see Jean Jacket move behind the mountains behind you before losing sight of it. You prayed to whatever higher power could hear you that Angel would be okay. That they all would.

"HURRY (Y/N)!" Angel called from behind you. "IT'S COMING!" Your stomach sank as he shouted and you tried to move faster, but the house was still out of reach. Suddenly, you felt as if gravity was no longer working and the dust around you swirled.

Angel watched with horror filled eyes as you were lifted off the ground, felt his heart pound in his ears when he heard your screams. He tried to free himself quickly, knowing there was nothing he could do for you, but refusing to accept that.

You reached for anything you could and by some kind of divine intervention, your sweater sleeve became tangled in the branches of a nearby tree. Jean Jacket still pulled on you with an unbearable force, the wind roared around you so hard you thought you'd go deaf. You fought against the pressure as best you could, forcing your other arm down to grab the tree branch. Clenching both fists around it, you hung in midair. The branch threatened to slip out of your hands and you could feel blood being drawn by its rough surface.

Then, just as quickly as it disappeared, your weight returned to you and you hit the ground with a thud. Not before falling through the branches of the tree, cutting your skin and clothes on the way down. You kept your eyes down for what felt like eternity. The air was silent aside from the steady breeze that had been there before, but you didn't trust it.

Angel stared at your limp body from afar, assuming the worst. He could feel a lump forming in the back of his throat, not even noticing the figure Jean Jacket had started to transform into. He watched as Emerald marched towards where OJ was hiding out and waited until Jean Jacket was distracted with her. Once it was, he finished untangling himself and ran to you. The wind burned his eyes and he wasn't sure if it was sweat or tears that streamed down his face.

Your breathing was still frantic as you looked in the direction of the arena, where Jean Jacket was unfurling itself into some cosmic horror more terrifying than before. You didn't have the energy to be afraid, however. Right as you were going to lay your head on the dirt once more, you heard footsteps rushing towards you. With a cough, you tried to support yourself on weak arms to see where they were coming from.

Angel fell to the ground next to you and pulled you into a suffocating embrace. "I fucking thought you were dead, (y/n)!" You don't remember when you started crying, but at some point you were shedding silent tears into his shoulder while you felt his shaky breath on yours. "I thought you were dead!" You let out a through a sob. You were bleeding all over each other and the only thing you wanted was to be right back on that sofa in his stupid apartment. Before you knew any of this existed.

You both pulled away from each other to examine your injuries. He looked over the bleeding cuts on your palms and you looked over the ones on his arms. You were in the middle of scanning over his dust covered face when he pulled you into him again, this time planting his lips on yours feverishly.

It was a desperate kiss, one he was afraid wouldn't last. You kissed him back just as wildly, trying not to let him know you were crying again in fear he would stop. Finally you pulled away, face shining with tears. The sun had started to sink in the sky.

There was a muffled boom in the distance and you both turned to the direction it came from. A cloud of smoke floated in the air, what remained of Jean Jacket slowly emerging from it. Angel stood on weak knees and helped you up as you did the same.

The drive to his apartment was a quiet one, your hands were still shaking as you tried to unlock your car.

"You don't have to go home, (y/n)." Angel said from where he stood behind you. You smiled in spite of yourself.

"You've done enough for me these past few days," You turned to him with a sad smile. "You need to rest, it's okay."

He stared into your eyes with an empty gaze. It hurt to see him looking so hollow. "I don't," He cleared his throat. "I don't want you to go home." Silently, you pulled him into another hug. It mirrored the one he'd given you the very first time. "Okay," you said. "I just need to get a few things."

When you walked into your bedroom to retrieve some clothes, you saw your old phone charger. Right where you had left it.

Feel free to send in more requests y'all otherwise it's just going to be more of my self indulgent bs

Also, and this goes for any request, if you the sender are not satisfied with your written response, please reach out to me and I will redo it to your liking!

#angel torres #angel torres x reader #nope 2022 #nope jordan peele #angel was a geek in high school and i'll die on that hill #also is this slightly ooc #maybe

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thesevro · 4 years ago

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wanna watch / gojo s. + nanami k.

𝖌𝖔𝖏𝖔 𝖘𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚 + 𝖓𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖎 𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2.3K words

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: where gojo and nanami decide to get greedy. together. 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: explicit smut, voyeurism, polygamy, one mention of bondage, cum play

HIS AND THE other man's legs cross at almost the same time. Both are trying their damnedest to hide the largest secrets they could ever keep.

Gojo watches you move about with probing eyes. Ignores the innocence of your routine, how you bustle innocuously about with a distracted frown on your face as you kindly prepare coffee and tea for them and yourself. The scent of ground beans fills the air with thick redolence but he can only imagine the smell of your hair as he pulls it back with his hands. This happens in one of his fantasies. In another, he has his face buried in your locks as he fucks you from behind.

I bet she would taste sweet. The thought is such a prominent fantasy that he almost sees you there on the counter, legs spread, clothes as much of a mess as he can make you. He imagines sticking his head between your legs. Listening to the melody of your name spilling from your mouth. He swallows, tries to calm his nerves. He's never been more grateful for the blindfold over his eyes.

Nanami's eyes, hidden from behind his goggles, conceal none of his other tells. He half-fools himself into believing no one can see how his head tilts downward ever so slightly to eye the swell of your ass as you bend over to fetch a bag of coffee grains from a low cupboard. How he lets his eyes greedily devour the sight of the skin on your stomach as you reach for a coffee mug on a shelf high above your head, shirt rising. His jaw tightens. He has too many tells.

Want to bend her over that counter and fill her up.

He wants to run his hands over your stomach. Hook your thighs around his head as he eats you out. Slap your ass until you beg for him to keep going because he knows he can just be that good.

Must she really maintain perpetual seduction? I would like to enjoy her here. School policies could go and suck my—

The two men have the same thing on their minds. The same hedonism. The same nasty thoughts of fucking you until you see stars and cry their names. Makes their brows furrow ever so slightly, their breaths stutter in their chests.

Natural seductress, the pair concludes at the same time.

And you are the first to break the immense focus that has narrowed their visions to mere thoughts of fucking you into oblivion.

"What are you two looking at? You've been staring at me like a bunch of hungry dogs since I came in." You pretend to wave them away, still grinding up coffee with one hand. Boiling tea whistles in another pot. "Shoo, shoo~~ I don't have any food on me."

"Bunny," Gojo starts, rising from his seat with a hand already at the hem of his uniform. Ready to pull it off. Nanami follows. "There's something much tastier right here in front of us."

"Yes." Nanami reaches you first. He will never admit it but he has not always been the best at repressing his need for you. "I must agree with Gojo, for once. You would taste so much better."

"Oh." You smirk. "So you were watching?"

Gojo pauses. Then he laughs. Realizes something.

"You put on such a show for us... on purpose?" Nanami asks this with his teeth nipping at your ear. Gojo lets the man enjoy himself. You two have always been able to show him the naughtiest shit. Sometimes he wonders if Nanami was a sex god in his past life. Occasionally... the blonde had been able to show him, his natural enemy, a very, very good time as well.

"Well. I don't see why I couldn't have done that." You chuckle softly in response to Nanami's query, reaching for Gojo. He kisses your hand. The inside of your wrist. Then he gently pushes Nanami to the side so he can raise you up on the counter.

Nanami cocks his head at Gojo as the other man pulls back to switch the boiling tea off. The blonde raises a question with his eyes as Gojo only crosses his arms and leans back into the counter.

"Only feel like watching today," Gojo says, shrugging.

"Aww," you whine, pouting at him from your place. "But I want you to join us! That was the whole point of my show. Won't be the same without you."

"Careful bunny," Gojo warns, wagging a finger. "We both know that Nanami gets jealous easily."

"...Uh, no, he doesn't." You and Nanami share a dubious glance with each other. "Well, Nanami and I both know you can be a very big dumbass sometimes. Always bouncing around with candy. Always copping a feel of my ass and Nanami's man tiddies whenever you get the chance—"

"Alright honey. That's enough." Nanami molds his mouth into yours. His hand clasps your hip. Another hand grasps the side of your neck in one large palm. You shiver at the hold he has on your neck. Spread your legs wider so he can stand between you.

Nanami slips a hand between your thighs. His fingers explore very familiar territory. He's touched you here many times before.

Your shoulders tense as he slides two fingers along your slit. You wind your fingers through the back of his hair. Let it be a small anchoring point for you as Nanami fucks you with his fingers.

"Nanami, fuck," you swear as he flicks your clit, and this makes Gojo and Nanami himself shift in place to adjust their pants. "Don't make me wait. Let's make this a good show for our audience."

You lace your fingers through his tie. Pull it off and toss it in Gojo's direction so that it lands to hang over his shoulder. Gojo cheers. You and Nanami kiss once more. His tongue warms yours in your mouth. You get the smallest openings to get a taste of his mouth.

He makes sure you keep your shirt on. If anyone were to walk in... well, Gojo wouldn't be fired on the spot, he was much too valuable. You would be allowed to remain with your position as the second strongest sorcerer, too. Him... well, maybe he could just become your concubine.

But he slips two of your buttons off. It shows enough skin for him to mark. He is careful not to leave any above your collarbone as he pulls away from your mouth to nibble and bite at the flesh bulging from your bra.

"Wish we could take it all off," Gojo murmurs as he watches Nanami ravage you. His pants have come undone. He holds his cock in one hand. Strokes it languidly as he listens keenly to your pants and Nanami's grunts. He loves the sounds you both make.

"Maybe putting your cock in my mouth would make things a little better for us," you suggest with a wavering smirk. It disappears completely as Nanami pulls your panties off. He throws it in Gojo's direction as well. Let it be another token of appreciation for their most loyal viewer.

Gojo shifts again as your pretty undergarments land right on his shoulder. He almost strides over to you and does exactly as you asked of him. But control has always been his one point of mastery, unlikely as it seems.

"Let's let you and Nanami enjoy this by yourselves, bunny."

Nanami fingers your slick folds with insidious circular motions. He doesn't stop these motions as he undoes his belt. You push both his hands away to undo it yourself, and to do it properly. It's always been satisfying to unbuckle the length of leather from around his hips. More so to let him wrap it around your wrists. But you have no time for that.

The tongue of the belt hangs just by his hips as you pull his boxers down. You conjure a condom from a pocket in your skirt, grinning slyly at Nanami as he stares down at you in bewilderment. You slide it over his cock. He tenses with the work of your skilled hands, stomach clenching. Absent lube, you briefly wet the rubber with spit to let Nanami's travel to your cunny be a smooth one.

Nanami cups your bottom with a hand. Half your ass hangs over the counter, just enough for the position to stay comfortable but far enough off the counter for him to lead his cock into your cunt. His eyes close as you grab his goggles between two fingers and pull it off his face. He presses his forehead to yours and gives you a chaste, simple kiss. You wrap your hands around his neck to kiss him with the same affection, smiling gently into the kiss. The moment between you is so intimate Gojo nearly feels guilty for bearing witness.

"Gonna get inside you, darling," Nanami murmurs, pulling away from the kiss. He buries his face into your neck with his first slide into you. His breaths come out in grunts. When you whisper his name with that wonderful breathy tone that comes from you every time he or Gojo fucks you, he almost moans.

Nanami possesses this sweet inclination towards fucking you nice and slow in the beginning of a round. But the threat of a peeping Tom (would likely be, unintentionally on the boy's part, Yuji) looms over your heads and frees him of his inhibitions. His first thrust is slow. Gentle, even. Then he pounds into you so hard your body reacts and twitches on its own.

"Fuck! Nanami!"

He does this. Again and again. Creates a rhythm violent enough to crack the counter as his knees meet it with each thrust. Even Gojo doesn't notice. Too much of his focus lies on enjoying such a glorious show.

The sounds of his cock fucking your pussy are downright filthy. Force Nanami to be forthright and he would accurately call them pornographic. Your moans are just as salacious, and the closeness of each sound of pleasure that escapes your lips makes him rut into you with harsher vigor. You bury your head into his shoulder. Cry out into his neck. He can feel the sounds on his skin.

The cold metal of his belt buckle cools the hot skin on one of your thighs. The roughness of that leather rubbing to a part of you so close to your cunt makes your pussy convulse. Nanami pants quietly at the overwhelming sensation of your hole squeezing him. He turns to Gojo with hooded eyes. They widen once the sight before him comes into focus.

"Darling," he grunts out into your neck. "Look at Gojo."

Gojo doesn't notice yours or Nanami's gazes. He ruts into his hand, pumping it over his cock in wild motions. He's thrown his head back in ecstasy, luxuriating in the memorized images of you drooling while Nanami fucks you and the face Nanami made only a minute ago as you clenched around him particularly tight. His throat bobs as he feels himself near his peak. He pants. Breaths the beat of a hummingbird's wings. The man looks absolutely ethereal fucking his own hand.

He notices how the sounds of your fucking have stopped. He pulls his head back forward, concerned but still dazed with lust. He blinks at you and Nanami. Eyes following movement as you hold a hand out to him once more.

"Join us, baby," you insist.

"You look needy," Nanami intones with a ghost of a laugh.

Still, Gojo hesitates.

"Gojo." The firmness in Nanami's voice makes him impossibly harder. He and the other man stare at each other with sin in the eyes. "Come." Nanami curls a finger, beckoning Gojo over. "Make her cum."

And this time he is not willing to protest.

Gojo saunters over to you. Presses a kiss to your bruised mouth and another to Nanami's. He strokes his cock while slipping a hand between the close proximity of yours and Nanami's hips. His fingers find your clit quickly.

You start another rhythm. A more desperate one. You hang just on the edge of your high. The muscles in Nanami's abdomen are tight. Gojo is just as close. Not so far behind. And when your hand slips downward to let him fuck your palm and fingers, he has to lean into your shoulder to keep himself from falling over.

You are the first to unwind. The two men look up to commit the sight of the peak of pleasure on your face to their memory. They savor your moans. Nanami fucks you a little harder. Groans as the hot fist of your pussy squeezes him, milks him. His balls tighten as he empties load into you.

Gojo leaves a mess on your hands as he cums. Sighs into your neck as his eyes roll back. His body shudders with Nanami's as he cums with the other man almost simultaneously.

It takes some time for your bodies to relax. It is dangerous to hang around here, with Gojo's cock in your hand and Nanami's length in your cunt. But this was a good show. One you put all efforts into perfecting.

Nanami kisses your neck tenderly before pulling his cock out of you. You shiver as it slides from your cunt. Nanami wipes at the wet slick between your thighs with a handkerchief while Gojo buttons your shirt up again. They baby you while their cocks hang out like monstrous masses. You almost laugh. It's vulgarly comedic.

Nanami smooths your hair and kisses you again, then steps back to fix his own clothes. Gojo sets your collar straight and smiles tiredly at you, then rests back next to you on the counter to pull his pants up. You raise a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning against Gojo in exhaustion.

Your eyes catch something, and before you can fix your hair you see the white streaking your hand. You blink dumbly at the mess on your palm. It's sticky between your fingers. When the idea comes to you, a feline-like sense of danger returns to your features.

"Gojo, Nanami," you call. Gojo looks to you with a smile that falls immediately as you perform what you know will not be the denouement of your show. Nanami observes your actions with a dipped head and a growl forming in his throat.

The two men are forced to undress once more as you lick at Gojo's cum with the indecency of a starved minx. Tongue between your fingers. Cum sliding down your throat as you lap it all up.

This time, you lock the door. A good idea on your part. Because the round lasts well into the afternoon. Many knocks sound on the door as you enjoy yourselves.

It is a delightful way to spend a day at work.

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starry-blue-echoes · 2 years ago

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OOOOOOOOOO I FORGOT THAT'S WHY THE MOM WENT TO THE CONFESSIONAL, THAT'S ACTUALLY GONNA BE SUPER USEFUL

Oh I can absolutely see that happening. They'd been mailed the testing results and it was pure chance that led to Pucci reading it first, and it shakes him to his very core

however, I don't think who Pucci was actually related to would be in the initial results. The result? Pucci stewing in this and trying to figure out what the hell this could mean for possible weeks since..... well, we saw from canon, Pucci tends to try and handle things himself from behind the scenes to avoid hurting others

and just...... Pucci slowly investigating and putting together the pieces. His knee jerk reaction was to just waving it off as adoption. It couldn't be that his mom cheated because the results said there was zero biological relation, so maybe she just hid the fact he was adopted? But no matter how much he turns the house upside down, even using Whitesnake to get into the walls and under the floor, he couldn't find any adoption certificates

so he expands his search. Starts considering..... other possibilities. Less documented, less legal possibilities

it was a complete accident he began connecting things to Domenico. Nothing more than a joke between the two because of their shared birthday and hospital, a "oh haha, imagine if I was his supposedly dead twin, how soap opera would that be" comment they'd laugh about

but then Pucci thinks about it for a bit too long. They were born barely a few minutes apart in the same hospital only a few rooms down from each other. Dom had made a few comments about how similar Pucci looked to his own father. How the two of them got their Stands at the exact same time. Pucci's mother's strange discomfort around the Pucci Family

it felt circumstancial. Like the only reason the pieces were fitting together was because that's how he was looking at it

he doesn't believe it, doesn't want to believe it, doesn't want to think his mother would do something so cruel like stealing a baby and replacing it with a dead one

so he asked her on a whim one night, justifying it to himself as confirming this theory is nothing more than stretching the facts to fit and paranoid delusion so he can go back to the drawing board with a fresh start

but that doesn't happen. His mom doesn't laugh it off. Doesn't look at him like he's crazy

Instead she freezes and looks at him with fear in her eyes and that was more than enough confirmation

they fight. It's loud and emotionally charged and above all things desperate as both sides realize the other is slippng through their grasp. But the both of them are stubborn and don't back down and ultimatley becomes their undoing. Pucci refuses to let this be swept under the rug while his mother desperately tries to keep an exposed secret hidden

eventually Pucci leaves. He bolts from the house like a bat out of hell and for a moment ponders going to Domenico, before deciding against it

then he remembers the strange blonde man who first gave him the arrow

also in regards to Perla and Dom, I had a Thought, specificially tying into Pucci's mom's illness. What if sometime after he disappears, she ends up passing but in her will is the secret she's been shouldering for so long, and naturally the Pucci's are told about it. Dom connects the dots and figures that since it's been confirmed Pucci left by his own violition (you never knew with Stands after all) the only place he could've gone was to the weird blone guy who gave him arrow in the first place

Hey would you be interested in the idea of Pucci and Weather being swapped? As in the mother took Enrico instead of Domenico.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

that's honestly a really interesting idea because of how much and how little it might change things because like. This does bring into question how their interests and desires would change what they do and want, not to mention how there were some aspects of the situation that were specific to them

For example, would Pucci still want be a priest? And if he did, would he still end up hearing his "mother" confess her sins in the confessional booth? Would he even take interest in Perla???

And Domenico? What about him? Off the top of my head I can't think of any way to learn the truth of Pucci's relationship, so would he even learn at all? Not to mention, Domenico's style is more to confront things outright, so the racist detective agency likely wouldn't even get involved

Honestly, the only thing that stays somewhat intact is Pucci meeting with Dio and obtaining the Arrow, which leads me to how I think the AU will go

simply put, there is no tragedy. Pucci never crosses paths with Perla and Domenico never learns of Pucci's relation to him.......

or at least at first

let's say Pucci ends up accidentally cuts himself on the arrow one day. After all, he did keep it in his pocket unwrapped, it was only a matter of time for him to accidentally cut himself. He falls ill temporaily, but after a few hours ends up bouncing back and now with the addition of a weird spirit buddy who only he can see

however, unbeknownst to him across town Domenico collapsed at the exact same time, burning up from a fever, and was seemingly miraculously healed hours later also with a weird spirit buddy

and well....... Stand Users are attracted to each other after all

it starts as little things. Passing eachother in the street, going to the same diners at the same times, so on so forth, and it was honestly only a matter of time before it was revealed they both had Stands. Their "friendship" was definitly one that sparked out of nessecity rather then actually having anything in common, but with the both of them desperate for anyone who could prove they weren't crazy, they took it

and honestly, I can see their friendship being more "frenemies" in the begining. They don't hate eachother, but they didn't quite get along. Maybe for some fun :) something that really starts to bring them together is meeting another Stand User who has...... less that pure intentions and almost killed them, and they had to work together to fight them off? But yeah after that, their friendship becomes more..... solid, so to speak

the truth of their relationship is going to be a fun reveal, especially since I doubt Pucci's mother would forget the name of the family whom she stole a whole ass child from, so learning Pucci and the family's remaining son had become close friends? That's going to stress her out immensely, and it does raise the question of whether she tells Pucci vs Pucci finding out

I'll admit, I'm not fully sure how Dio falls into things here. Maybe if things go the route of Pucci Finding Out, it could lead to him running away from home and seeking out Dio? But that might be a bit too much of a reaction, so maybe some added layer of tragedy happens ontop of the reveal too

however, the why and how aside, Domenico is 100% chasing after him, he's not going to let his Bestie go off all by himself

#averting fate #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #stone ocean #stone ocean spoilers #jjba part 6 #jjba pucci #enrico pucci #whitesnake #jjba weather report #weather report #jjba perla #perla pucci #jjba dio #dio brando #curlyhairednerd

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sleepysnk · 4 years ago

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i am in pain, that is all. listen to the song while reading.

Ghost of You

Pairings: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, alcohol usage

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Reiner's honey eyes opened, his head pounding as he was suffering another hangover. He wasn't even sure what time it was, it had to be past 10 A.M. he was certain of that.

Sighing, he sat up feeling his head spin for a moment; his mouth felt dry and his head pounded from the splitting headache that pulsed around his skull. Reiner noticed the many beer cans that littered the ground, the stench of alcohol filling his nose making it scrunch.

He reached for his phone, the bright light making his skull ache even more than it did before. A few notifications from Bertholdt and Annie were visible on the screen, not like Reiner cared, he wanted a text from the person he missed most.

(Y/N).

There's your coffee cup

The lipstick stain fades with time

Reiner couldn't remember the last time she was in his apartment. It had to be weeks even months ago, the last time she was there was when they broke up. He had totally forgotten when from all of the alcohol he consumed.

What hurt the most was that Reiner still had some of her things, including her clothes, a few pairs of underwear, makeup, hell, even some personal items. All those things reminded him of her, but even then, he couldn't get the energy to throw them away.

If I can dream long enough

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

(Y/N) and Reiner had broken up one month ago. Their relationship had unfortunately turned sour, the two argued so many times that even she couldn't count how often it happened throughout the day. It was unfortunate seeing what happened, Reiner didn't think she'd end it, but she did.

She packed up her things and told him it was over after arguing during the night.

Reiner was angry at the time, but after a while he realized what he had done. He broke the person he loved the most, pushed her to her limit, and caused her to walk out of his life. Forever.

Reiner really wished he could say he was fine, he lied to his friends that he was.. but inside he wasn't. He knew he wasn't okay, but admitting it to others was something he didn't want to do.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Even then, Reiner can still replay memories of him and (Y/N) dancing in their apartment together at odd hours of the night. The memory always brought a smile to his face, she was so clumsy when they first tried, but Reiner helped her learn.

Reiner would put on random songs and twirl her around the living room when the moon would shine during the night. She was so beautiful then, Reiner was certain she was his soulmate.

He always recalled the way he would feel during those moments, the way his heart would swell whenever she smiled or giggled at the way he would dance; or the way his fingers would slightly tickle her waist whenever he would dance with her. Reiner would do anything to relive all of it.

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

After the breakup, Reiner turned to unhealthy ways of coping.

He turned to alcohol, sometimes he'd pass out at the bar and Bertholdt would have to come and take him home. Other times he would get so drunk he could barely stand, all of it was to forget everything. Even if it didn't last very long.

He still loved (Y/N) and he hates that he could never change what happened. Reiner knew deep down that the truth was he would never be able to undo what happened, she would never love him again. That's what made him drink even more, he wanted to forget the truth.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

Her old shirt was still on the floor where she left it before she left him.

He could recall so many memories within her clothes, whether it be a skirt she wore to a date, or a shirt she wore and he ended up taking off; all of it brought back memories for the blonde.

Reiner was the only one who understood (Y/N), she was the only one who understood him.

It was almost like they were destined to meet each other, that's what Reiner would say anyway. He believed that he finally had his soulmate, but why was she taken away from him? Why?

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

But I know better now

He remembers when they first met.

Reiner met her when he was a senior in high school, she was a new student and he ended up bumping into her on the first day. Ever since that day, he was there to show her around and he made her feel like someone; like she wasn't just a student, but a person who belonged.

They were so young then, many people found it hard to believe that they were high school sweethearts.

They were together for three years.

Reiner always asked the question, maybe things went bad because they were so young? They were just 17 when they got together, teens, kids, they weren't mature or old enough; they were just teens in love.

Maybe Reiner was too dumb to think that his relationship with (Y/N) would last, maybe there were signs at the beginning that he just couldn't see.

He was just a teenager then.. who was he to know this would all happen?

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Reiner still sees her when he's drunk or hungover, he sees her walking into the room they once shared with breakfast in her hands, ready to give him a good morning kiss.

At night he sees her wearing that pretty sundress, the one she always wore whenever she wanted to dance with him. He still remembers the patterns on it and the way the dress would show the skin of her thighs whenever he twirled her.

He always had a smile on his face whenever he'd see her. His heart would swell the way it did before.

Then once he blinked.. she would disappear.

Reiner would break down after that, he would sit on the couch for hours with tears going down his cheeks. Whispering small apologies, and feeling his chest tightening whenever he remembered all the horrible things that had happened.

He just wanted to reach out and hold her again, he yearned to feel her skin against his one more time; to tell her that he loves her still and he'd do anything to have her be his again.

"I'm so sorry (Y/N).."

Those words would constantly be repeated until Reiner would pass out on the couch or in his bed.

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

Reiner stood up, his mind cloudy and his body aching for more sleep. He headed over to the medicine cabinet and popped a few painkillers.

He wiped a few tears that escaped down his cheeks, his chest tightening again.

"Please.. come back to me (Y/N).." he sobbed.

#Spotify #anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #reiner braun #reiner x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic #aot angst

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years ago

Text

The worst possible thing.

*stares at this long and hard.* Fine!

@kingcreativityau you know who is responsible for what comes next.

Yes @hunter-with-a-tardis I'm looking at you

Janus was pacing the floor. He didn't like this one bit.

“What's taking him so long?” he wondered aloud.

It was a rhetorical question and the sides who were sitting here waiting couldn’t answer him even if it wasn't. No one liked this plan. It hadn't even been a plan. It was half an idea Logan and Janus would have dismissed at once if Virgil hadn’t been in the room and overheard Janus mumble about it. Harnessing Virgil’s given powers and undo what king had done.

It was too risky to even consider. Janus didn’t need Virgil to point out all the ways it could go very wrong. To everyone’s shock Virgil came with a solution though. He'd take king up on his offer and finish the gallery, ask him to teach him to get control over the shadows. If king took a liking to teaching, which Virgil thought he might, he'd keep doing it and eventually Virgil could lift the curses and they all could get back to helping Thomas.

Janus had wanted to argue. Sure king enjoyed instructing others in skills he felt more proficient at. He recalled King teaching him to duel not too long ago. He also remembered what happened after the student caught up though. King storming away and then, after he'd managed to get out of king's obstacle… how he'd been cornered, the panic the punishment for daring to upset the king in any way. No this was their mess. Virgil was not yet on king's bad side. That was a card they couldn't waste on something that risky.

But Logan had been writing and Janus was convinced he'd say something similar. And Virgil was more likely to listen to Logan so he'd waited.

He should have known Logan would never just dismiss any idea out of hand.

Somehow they'd all agreed to see if Virgil could get a first lesson. And soon Virgil left them to practice with the king every day. Which should be a comfort right? King clearly enjoyed the activity and he was not suspicious of anything. That was exactly what had Janus worried now.

Because king wasn't the only one enjoying the lessons. Sure Virgil still seemed terrified of the man, but whenever he returned he was deep in thought, sometimes with a small smile on his face. The one that said: I just did something right.

He'd been looking at them oddly too, like he was figuring out a complicated puzzle.

Something was off but Virgil refused to talk about it. Something about a promise he made.

A click of a pen echoed through the mostly empty space and Janus' head snapped up.

Logan needed his attention.

He was scribbling down something as fast as he could and handed it over. Janus read it over. It was a long ramble, but it came down to one thing.

“I do have faith in Virgil. It's king I’m worried about. One perceived slight and…”

Janus touched the mark on his face. The memory of it's creation very vivid in his mind.

“Aw, you do care,” Virgil's voice came from behind him. Janus whirled around.

Something about what he saw took him back, to a time when he had two misfit friends who didn't hate him. Before the fight.

Maybe if was that mischievous smirk or the way he carried himself as if he couldn't care less what other people thought. Except now he really seemed to mean it.

His clothes weren’t back to normal by any means. They were upgraded though. From a dark version of Roman's original outfit to one reflecting the fitting in upgrade. Except Virgil wore a few medals pinned on his vest. As well as applying Virgil's black and purple with white detailing color scheme.

He also wore a dark purple hooded cape instead of a sash.

Most startling of all, he looked genuinely comfortable with it all.

“Virgil? Is that you?” Janus asked.

Virgil nodded, still smirking. “Indeed it is,” the deep terrifying voice of the King boomed and suddenly he stood behind him hands delicately resting on the youngest side’s shoulders.

But Virgil didn’t even flinch.

“Dear Anxiety made so much progress, I felt he deserved a promotion. I offered him the title of Prince,” king summoned a dark crown in his hand only to immediately clench his fist and make the image disappear. “but he is so loyal to those he considers friends he wouldn't even consider to take my light half’s title,” King praised fondly. He stroked Virgil's hair for a moment. “So he is my head counselor now on top of creative minister. And you should all be happy to know, he made a plea on your behalf.” King waved his hand and suddenly Patton was six years old.

“Wha… I can talk?” Logan gasped astonished.

“You explain the conditions to them. I have to get back to work.” And just like that, King was gone.

“You did it?” Janus asked perplexed this was too good to be true.

“King did. Don't take his generosity for granted,” Virgil warned sternly.

“Virgil, kiddo…”

“You shall not address me like that!” Virgil hissed, his voice booming, twisted and sinister, a dark aura flaring up, making them all step backwards in shock.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Names are for friends and allies. After what I heard… you’ll have to earn my trust back,” he explained a little calmer. They all froze in horror. King told him… of course he did. He'd have to be a fool not to.

“These gifts have conditions attached. Morality you can get back to your own age with good behavior, the reverse is true as well though. Logic your voice can not speak ill of the king and what you do say about him will find it’s way to us.

Any and all communication to the king must go through me. You remember my shadow?” the creature in question appeared next to Virgil.

“He'll… assist you when I am with the king. Ask him if you need to ask me or king something. Oh and fair warning….” Suddenly they all fell to the ground. Crushed by guilt and fear and desperation.

“I’ll do anything to protect Thomas from having to live without us ever again. I won‘t permit you to anger the king. Understood?”

They all nodded as they whipped at their tears.

“Good. Dismissed.” When they looked up Virgil was gone. Only his shadow remained. The creature stared back at them looking heartbroken. “I’m sorry,” it whispered.

“This… might be the worst possible thing,” Logan muttered as he helped Patton up. While the two oldest sides discussed their situation Janus stared in horror at the tragic looking shadow.

How could he have let this happen?

Janus opened his eyes. He was sweating, his heart was racing. What was real, what was a dream? He looked around. He was in his room. He got up to his knees and tapped a rhythm neither he or his neighbor had heard in years. Virgil used to wake up from nightmares like this. Not sure about reality and scared to leave his room. So they came up with a system. Notes weren't an option when you didn't want to turn on the light and alert Remus someone was awake to play with him. So they made up their version of Morse code.

‘What is going on' was always the start of such a conversation. It was just a long series of rapid light knocks. The first reaction, ‘I hear you' was a flat palm against the door. Then you wait for the other to respond. Virgil's response was quicker than he expected.

‘Patton. Small. Logan. Silent. Twins. One.’

Janus nodded. He hadn't dared to hope that all of it was a dream.

‘you?’ he asked. Though he doubted if Virgil could know what to tell him to assure him he wasn't currently being tutored by king. ‘Scared. Confused. Angry. Sad.’

Janus bit his lip. Virgil didn't use the code for pupil. If there was any real plan like in his nightmare Virgil would mention it. He’d been on the other side of these conversations often enough. Yes, everything was… well not fine but not as horrible as he'd feared. All he had to do to keep his dream from happening was not leave Virgil alone with the king. And… maybe figure out how to tell Virgil what had happened all these years ago.

Janus got ready to knock. There was a knock that meant to convey empathy. To be a comforting reminder that Virgil was not alone. But halfway through he remembered another pattern. One Virgil would always close the conversation with. It was almost an alternative for goodnight in these conversations. But it meant ‘Sorry’. Janus' scales stung with the thought of that word. But if he knocked the pattern… it wasn't the same right?

He took a deep breath and started out with: ‘Thanks.’ He readied his hand it was just three knocks long… But the very thought was agony

‘Welcome. Good night.’

Janus sighed as he heard the reply. Perhaps another time.

‘Good night.’

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @antiredhuman

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #king creativity #kingcreativityau

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babygirlkiki1016 · 4 years ago

Text

Masterlist

Chapter 9: Love Vs Rage

Chapter 10: A lovely Bond

My hand clasped over my mouth at the words I had spoken, I didn't mean for it to come out. It was as if on instinct, but Thorin didn't seem to mind, he didn't take his eyes off me. And for the first time since the beginning of this trip, I saw love and adoration in those ocean blue orbs. His cheeks turned light pink at my comment, slowly he stood his chest almost against mine.

"You love me?" He muttered, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "How can you love me amralime?" It was him, the same rough voice from earlier, he is the one who called me that.

"I don't know, but when I'm around you, your who my heart belongs to. It's why I left because I thought my feelings were getting in the way. I thought love was getting in the way but it was rage, I can't blame you no matter how much I want to. And I admire your bravery and courage, but throughout this quest, each piece of my heart had attached itself to you. Maybe it was your leadership or your kind words, or maybe it was something entirely different but I'm positive about one thing Myis Ravos (My raven), I love you. And...I forgive you." Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held in a sob the best he could but failed. His strong arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled his face into my neck.

"I love you too...Promise you won't leave again, promise me that we'll stay together no matter how hard this journey gets. Cause losing you just for a few hours broke me, I didn't want to move. I didn't want to do anything without you by my side." My hands slid up his back, but before I could enjoy the warm hug from him I felt his wound.

"I will if you promise to let me treat your injuries." He chucked but groaned as it hurt his chest, I helped him sit back down. The rag in my hand ran over his skin again, wiping away the blood and dirt from the surface. "Promise me you won't be so reckless, I don't know what I would do if I lost you." He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles lightly.

"Same goes for you." I couldn't help but smile, I didn't feel angry anymore. I felt loved and happy, I haven't felt like this in a long time. I kept cleaning the blood off, and when I was finished I took a step back to see if I missed anything.

"Alright, get into the bath I'll bring some lathers." As he begins to undress I rummaged through the basket of pink and purple bars, none was a manly type of smell but I highly doubt he would mind. "I have lavender, and cherry but beware both will make you smell like a woman." He laughed and turned around in the pool, the ends of his hair were now wet. I had this weird feeling to get in there with him, my legs rubbed together in excitement. Quickly I dismissed the thought and handed him the soaps but before I turned away he clutched my arm.

"Join me, for I am not able to flex my body like I'm used to. I believe I acquire assistance, I might just miss a spot." His fingers reach to the hem of my shirt, slowly undoing the ribbon tying it together.

"You've been bathing yourself for many years Thorin, I think you can handle this on your own." I didn't stop him from sliding my shirt down my shoulders, nor when he started to undo my bindings.

"I won't look if that's what you worried about, I trust my men but they sometimes can't help but let their eyes wander. I don't want them to see you bare." His touch leaves me, and he looks away so I'd be more open to the idea of joining him. He did have a point, I care for these dwarves but sometimes urges can take over. I shed the rest of my clothes, letting them join his that remained on the stone. He tensed up for a second as he felt the water move, he knew I was in now. "Lavender?" He held out the bar of soap, which I gladly took from him. His breathing became more rapid, he was nervous for I was too close.

"Nervous my king?" I said sarcastically as I ran the soap over his back, he leaned into my touch like it was heavenly.

"A little, I've never been in the presence of such a beautiful woman." He glanced back at me for a moment before turning forward again, he really wanted to look. "The things I said before, I didn't mean them, I meant something entirely different. At first, I was just being rude, but over time I fell for you. When I called you weak and a burden, I wanted you to go home for I do not wish to see you hurt. And when I called you a whore, it was because I was jealous of the stares the rest were giving you." Elrond was right, this entire time he loved me, but what about what he said at the bridge? Is this all just a plan to make me help him?

"And what about the bridge, when you were talking to Dwalin?"

"I knew you heard, at the moment I was trying to push you away. I too was afraid of what my feelings would bring, but when I noticed the rest started to be protective of you I realized they had accepted you as one of their own. I truly do love you, Uslukhuê kurdu, (Dragon of my heart). And I do not wish to push away my feelings any longer. If I may ask, will you let me court you?" I smiled at his offer, now that I think about it he was the one who courted me. The one who gave me more food in my bowl than the others.

"I believe you've already had, but I accept your offer Thorin." He sighed in relief, but something else remained on his mind.

"May I turn around? There is something I wish to do." I hummed in response and slowly he faced me, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips which I returned. "You are mine amralime, and no one can take you from me."

~♪♠♪~

After we cleaned up, I made sure that Thorin had a new pair of clothes that was stowed away in one of the chests after I bandaged his torso. The rest took their pick of the pile, and what surprised me was that they enjoyed the design upon the cloth.

"Y/n," Thorin called with a brush and a small silver bead in hand. He sat down next to me on a stool with his legs spread apart. Without another word, I sat between them, and he began to brush my hair softly. "This is the reason we dwarves keep our hair long, so our lover can braid it. It's a symbol showing that we're taken, and I'm glad I get to share it with you. What about you? What are your counting rituals?"

"We don't have much, it's normal human ways of courting. Gifting each other with flowers and chocolates, the only different thing is the wedding. When two of my kin want to marry, they need to get permission from either the King or Queen. We may have a huge kingdom but we treat it like a small town. If they receive permission then a wedding is planned, the entire kingdom will be there to see it. You'll have your party where you mingle with guests before you do the private ceremony of the night." He brushed my hair back towards him while running his fingers through it, I leaned back slightly enjoying the sensation.

"What is the private ceremony?"

"The private ceremony seems like nonsense, but it's very important. If the two wish to go through with it, they will have a bowl of paint infused with the blood of a royal. You need the blood of a royal to make it work, but each one will paint its markings on the other. It's a private ceremony because both of the two are going to be bare when this happens, after the painting is in place they will make a promise and the paint is now infused with their skin." Setting down the brush he grabbed a lock of my hair and started to braid it, he seemed focused like it was a masterpiece.

"What happens if they break that promise?"

"It depends on the situation, if one chooses to break their promise on purpose, the one who broke the promise is not allowed to marry again. For the marking burns into their skin, that way each digonisk knows that they are not to be intimate with anyone ever again. The other who remained faithful are allowed to remarry, for the symbols will disappear. However if one breaks it by accident, say a life or death situation and it is proven to be true there is a spell that the royal can cast to remove them." I looked up at him for a second, a smirk on my face as he looks down at me in slight horror.

"Still wish for me to be yours?" That look of fear was wiped off instantly, he kissed my forehead and tilted my head back up so he could finish his braid.

"That is one way to keep someone loyal, maybe my kin should have something like that. Although yes, I wish to still be with you, until death does us part." He holds out the braid he finished. "Hold it for me." I carefully grabbed the end with my fingers as he goes to braid another lock on the other side.

"What kind of braid is this?"

"Well you have to defeat Smaug, so this braid will help you keep your hair out of your face."

"Is it true that once your hair is braided you can never take it out again?"

"Only your other can take it out and fix it, if you do it yourself it shows you do not care about the courtship. Which once I'm done, you will braid my hair as the process states."

"And I can braid it in any way I want?" A mischievous smile came across my features, which he chuckled for he knew what I was doing.

"Anyway, you want." He grabs the braid that rested between my fingers and intertwined the two together.

"Interesting, perhaps I'll braid it in front of your face to give you a longer beard."

"If I die because of my inability to see I blame you." He clipped my hair with the bead and kissed my temple while wrapping his arms around me. "Who knew you were such a prankster, I think my nephews are a bad influence for you."

"Oh please you haven't seen anything yet, back in the kingdom of Larthas I was constantly scolded by my parents for always leaving presents for the maids. One time, I put a bucket of mud on the top of her door, and let's just say she wasn't happy. It took her hours to get the mud out of her hair." He laughed as we switched places, his hand stroked my leg gently. I summoned an ethereal bead making it into a solid object, on it there lied a dragon symbol.

"So what braid are you thinking of?" I wanted it to be special, something that showed it could only be made by me.

"Choose a color."

"Red (Or whatever color you prefer)." I conjured a red ribbon and began to braid his hair. (I'll leave that up to you guys, but I would do something like this.)

Everyone's jaws dropped at my handiwork, especially Thorin, the moment he got up and looked in the mirror his heart stopped.

"How on earth did you manage to do that?" His eyes lit up with excitement but I could feel the jealousy radiating off of him. He traced the design, he almost couldn't stop staring at it. "Never mind that, come back over here I'll show what I can really do with that h/c hair of yours."

@fili-is-my-lover @kirenia15 @lunariasilver @depressedchilipepper @tschrist1 @ayamenimthiriel

#bilbo x reader #fili and kili #fili x oc #gandalf #kili imagine #the company #the hobbit kili #the hobbit x reader #thorin x reader #bofur the dwarf #the hobbit x y/n #thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield fic #thorin fluff

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caydesgirl-uldrensprincess · 4 years ago

Text

Her || Crow x OC (Smut)

Fandom: Destiny 2

Pairing: Crow/Oc

Warnings: Sexual content, M/F sex, romance, some fluff, but mostly sex

Summary: Crow and Isabelle are in the mood and can't help but give in, save for the interruption from young Lukas.

A/N: I never write this sorts of stuff cause I'm terrible at it, but I thought I'd give it a go 😅

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

Crow looked at Isabelle as she laughed at something he had said. Her laugh was beautiful. He loved the way her sapphire eyes closed and crinkled, how her nose scrunched up, and how the smile spread across her face.

His heart skipped a beat. He could hear her laugh forever.

They were sitting on the couch in the living room of their shared apartment. They were just talking and drinking red wine while a random movie on Disney+ played on the TV above the electric fireplace. From the sound of it, it could've been Robin Hood. Crow wasn't really interested, he was interested in the Awoken woman in next him.

Isabelle stopped laughing with a heavy breath. She still smiled and looked at Crow. One of her legs were tossed carelessly over Crow's lap, whole the other was tucked underneath her.

"Damn, I can't believe Spider didn't bloody kill you pulling that stunt," She said, taking a sip of her wine before setting it on the coffee table.

"What can I say, it was the most effective way to get rid of the Hive," Crow replied, his hand resting on the leg Isabelle tossed over his lap.

"Maybe you should show me sometime," Isabelle suggested, leaning closer.

"You're starting to sound like a hunter," Crow's voice grew husky, "I like that."

"Only for research purposes."

Crow leaned in until their faces were pretty much touch. Isabelle was the one who closed the gap, kissing Crow slowly, but passionately.

He pulled Isabelle onto his lap as they started to make out on the couch. He dug his fingers into Isabelle's hips, bringing her in closer. She moaned aginst his lips.

Since coming to the tower, Crow and Isabelle had a lot more alone time to each other. Most of that alone time was spent tangled up in the sheets, but Crow did relearned a lot of things about his wife. Like how she likes her tea or how much of a clean freak she is. Crow also learned that he was the father a young six and a half year old, who goes by the name Lukas Aiden Sov.

Isabelle pulled away and started to trail kisses along his jawline. She nibbled Crow's earlobe gently, earning a groan of pleasure from him. Crow bit his bottom lip as his wife started to roll her hips against his already growing erection. It was like waves of pure ecstacy hitting him head on.

"The things you do to me, Hummingbird," Crow said.

"Oh, Crow, you do much worse to me just by looking in my general direction," Isabelle chuckled, unbottoning the Hunter's shirt and and sliding it off his shoulders, throwing the garment across the living room.

She trailed her hands down Crow's pecs and stomach, stopping at the waistband of the slacks he wore.

"A bit eager?" Crow chuckled, pressing a kiss just under Isabelle's ear.

"Shut up," the warlock purred, pressing another kiss to Crow's lips.

The hunter removed Isabelle's purple blouse by unbottoning it and sliding it off her shoulds. Crow pressed gentle kisses to the rise of Isabelle's breasts and the valley between them.

"Mummy, Daddy?" Came Lukas's voice from behind them.

Crow pulled his lips away from Isabelle's chest, pulling her tightly against his chest. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Yes, Luke?" He asked.

"I had a bad dream," The boy said.

"Okay, go back to your room and I'll be there in a second," Crow replied.

The sound of small footsteps climbing up the staircase was heard. Isabelle chuckled, pressing a small kiss to the Hunter's cheek.

"Look at you taking the initiative to help Lukas get to sleep," She said getting up and picking her's and Crow's shirts off the ground.

"I'm is father aren't I?" Crow stated, slipping the white button up on then adjusting the erection in his pants.

"That you are, my dear husband," Isabelle smiled, "I'll be in our bedroom."

Crow followed Isabelle up the floating staircase. He watched as she went to the room on the far side of the hallway and disappeared. The hunter chuckled before entering his son's room.

Lukas was sitting in bed, clutching an Eliskni plush (who he named McStuffy). Crow sat on the edge of his bed and took the boy into his arms.

"So, you had a bad dream?" He asked

Lukas buried his head in his father's chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was really scary," The awoken boy said, "You and Mummy died, forever, and left me alone."

"Oh, Lukas," Crow held him close, running a soothing hand over Lukas's back, "Your mother and I will always be here, you don't have to worry."

Crow pointed to Lukas's chest, indicating his heart.

The young boy nodded, "Promise?"

The hunter smiled sadly, "That's something I can't promise, but I can promise that you will have us for a long as possible."

The awoken boy nodded again, snuggling into his father's chest once more.

Crow started to rock him back and softly sing a lullaby to him. It was from a Disney movie Lukas was watching earlier that evening before going to bed. The boy started snoring softly in Crow's arm. The hunter smiled and laid him down and tucked him in.

"Sweet dreams, little one," He said, placing a kiss on the sleeping boy's forehead.

Crow left Lukas's bedroom and went to the room he shared with Isabelle. He opened the door and went in, closing it behind him.

"Lukas is out like a li-" Crow frozen in the middle of his sentence as he found Isabelle laying seductively on the bed, wearing nothing but a lacy pink bra and matching panties

"Let's finish what we started, huh?" Isabelle asked, her sapphire eyes swimming with lust.

"I fucking love you," Crow smiled, taking his shirt off again and strutting over to his wife.

He crawled on top of her and pressed his lips to hers. Isabelle hummed and returned the kiss, running her fingers through Crow's raven locks.

"Still hard," She said, bucking her hips against Crow's erection.

"It's a miracle Lukas didn't ask any questions," He replied, trailing kisses down Isabelle's neck and chest.

Crow reached behind her and unclasped Isabelle's bra. He pulled the garment off and threw it behind him. Crow pressed his tongue to Isabelle's right breast and swirled his around the nub, hardening it to a point. The warlock moaned breathlessly, tugging Crow's hair.

He swapped breasts and did the same thing. Crow started grind his hip into Isabelle's clothed core.

"Crow, stop bloody teasing!" Isabelle exclaimed, her English accent coming out slightly pitched.

Crow moaned, "Be patient, my beloved wife."

Isabelle pulled him back up to her lips, slipping her tongue inside Crow's mouth. Her hands trailed down to his belt, unbuckling it and undoing his slacks. He got the message and pulled away from the kiss long enough to take the slacks off. Isabelle pulled Crow back to her, making sure he was on the bottom.

"Isabelle," He said, admiring her body from the new angle, "you look absolutely breathtaking."

The Warlock smiled before she leaned down and started to trail kisses along his jawline again then down to his navel. Crow watched as a mischievous look flashed in Isabelle's eyes. Before he knew it, his wife hooked her fingers under the hem if his boxers and pulled them down. His hard erection spang free, pre-cum leaking from the tip.

A purplish blush dusted Crow's cheeks as Isabelle pressed a kiss to his cock. A moan left his mouth as her thumb swiped the head. Her tongue found its way to the base of his shaft and licked a line up to the tip. Crow bucked his hips at the feeling, earning a giggle from Isabelle. He couldn't help, but look at her, she looked beautiful, even if she was giving him a blowjob. Isabelle took him in her mouth bobbing her head up and down, hollowing her cheeks .

Crow let out loud moan, as his head fell back onto the pillows and his eyes rolled up to the back of his skull. His hips bucked as Isabelle's tongue worked its magic. One of her hands slid up Crow's thigh, void energy pulsing through her fingertips and onto his skin. Crow caught his breath, feeling like he was on the edge.

"Isabelle, come here, I wanna finish inside you," He managed.

The Awoken female smiled and crawled on top of him. One of Crow's hands found Isabelle's waist. He smiled as her sapphire eyes met his amber ones.

"I know I said this earlier, but have to say this again," Crow said, using his other hand to cup her cheek, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Isabelle replied with a smile, leaning down to kiss Crow.

He returned the kiss as he flipped the both of them over, so that he was now on top. He pulled away from Isabelle's lips. The hand on Isabelle’s waist found its way to her panties and slowly slipped them off her. He readied himself at her entrance, pushing into her gently. Isabelle moaned as she kissed Crow again. When he was fully inside her, he started to thrust his hips. He kept a slow rhythm as he and Isabelle moaned softly- making love.

Solar and Void mixed perfectly. Sliding, pushing, and pulling never felt so good. Crow felt Isabelle's fingers dig into his back. Surely to leave marks in the morning. The sounds falling from Isabelle's mouth was like a sweet melody that harmonized with his own.

How was he this lucky to be married to a woman this beautiful both inside and out? Crow had no idea. A woman so caring, kind, loving, passionate, understanding, intelligent, and charismatic should not even exist, it was simply impossible. But here was living proof in his arms, coming undone by his touch and his touch alone.

Isabelle arched her back against Crow's chest as he sped up his thrusting. He pressed feather light kisses to Isabelle's neck and collar.

His love for her was something he couldn't describe. Trying to would cause catastrophic results. But he would simply do anything and everything he can for her and their son.

"Crow," Isabelle mewled, her head lolling back.

Her bubble gum pink hair clung to the sweat forming on her forehead. The purplish blush on her ears spread to her cheeks, neck and chest. Crow groaned as her walls tightened around his cock.

"Hummingbird," He muttered back in her ear.

"Fuck, I'm close, Crow," Isabelle moaned, wrapping her legs around his torso, quivering under his touch.

Crow sped up his thrusting. Isabelle's moans increased, curses slipped passed her lips. He felt her tighten around him one last time before her orgasm hit, cumming all over his cock. He finished a few minutes later, his seed spilling inside her.

They both panted heavily. Crow pressed gentle kisses to Isabelle's forehead before pulling out and collapsing on his side of the bed.

He heard Isabelle chuckle, "That was the best sex, we've ever had."

"You could say that again," The hunter said.

"Wanna join me for a late night shower?"

"You know I do."

The couple chuckled again before getting up and heading to the master bathroom.

#destiny #destiny 2 #bungie #uldren sov #prince uldren #prince uldren sov #guardian uldren #destiny the crow #the crow #the crow destiny #crow destiny #destiny warlock #hunter destiny #uldren x oc #uldren sov smut

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doyelikehaggis · 5 years ago

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Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Scanny | Scott McCall x Danny Mahealani (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @childofsquidward

The collie laying on the table is patient and docile as Scott finishes slotting the cone into place around her neck. She just stares up at him with big eyes, nudging against his hand with her nose.

Laughing, Scott rubs her head. Her tail gives a little wiggle in response.

"You know, you're the only one I've seen who isn't bothered by this thing," he tells her, scratching behind her ear.

She just gives a playful yip in response.

The bell rings over the front door, alerting Scott to someone entering the animal clinic. Somewhat pointless considering he heard the heartbeat first. But Lola's ears immediately perk up, and her tail bangs against the table.

Scott grins at Danny when he appears in the doorway, holding two festive coffee cups.

"You've been missed," he says.

Lola's already standing on the table, barking fondly at Danny. He laughs, and moves towards her, fuelling her excitement.

"By which one of you?" Danny jokes.

Scott's eyes widen. He opens his mouth, but he falters, and Danny's already focused on Lola again anyway. Heat rushes to his face. He quickly tries to regain some composure.

"Hey, girl! Oh, you look so good!" Danny coos. "Did Dr. McCall take good care of you?"

Scott tries to bite back a smile and fails. He's getting used to hearing his friends call him Dr. McCall, more as a joke, but something about the way Danny says it gives him this fluttering in his chest.

So, when he first saw him at the start of December, it was a surprise. He'd practically disappeared off the face of the earth for two years, and then suddenly he was back in town for the holidays, to see his family and friends.

But not only that, Scott hadn't quite realized just how attractive Danny is. Was he always that good-looking while they were at school together? Of course he was, everyone knew it. But Scott hadn't exactly been out to himself at that point, so seeing Danny back from New Orleans, even more tanned, with even more defined muscles—yeah, Scott might get a little nervous whenever he sees him now.

And it doesn't help that they seem to be seeing more of each other now than they did while at school. They run into each other in town. When Scott went back to fill in for Coach while he was away towards the end of the year, Danny just kept showing up, saying he was visiting a teacher to discuss something (he is, after all, in computer programming now, so it makes some semblance of sense), and they'd talk out on the field. He bmped into him while bringing his mom lunch at the hospital.

Scott even saw him while out with Lydia two weeks ago. He was catching up with Jackson, who was also back in town for the holidays, like everyone else.

And now at work, too. The universe seems to be playing some joke on him. He doesn't mind all that much, for once. As long as this isn't going to lead to him finding out that Danny's actually been turned into a vampire, or has been possessed by some new, evil spirit.

"Thank you," Danny says, lifting his eyes to Scott. Of course, Scott's still the one looking up at him, because it would appear Danny has had another growth spurt as well as everything else.

Scott realizes he isn't answering. Just gazing. He grins, and hastily tries to not be totally obvious.

"Just doing my job," he says with a shrug.

Danny rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but I know for a fact that this clinic should have been shut for the rest of the holidays. So, thank you for seeing her anyway."

Scott hesitates at that. "Well… you're a friend. And I had to come in today anyway. And—" he looks down at Lola, who's settled back down on the table, and gives her head another rub "—I couldn't just leave this one stranded on Christmas Eve."

"We both thank you, then." Danny then holds out one of the coffee cups. "A gesture to prove it."

"God, thank you," Scott says, gratefully accepting the cup and taking a drink. "I haven't had anything all day. Or since last night. Including sleep. I might be running on three Mountain Dews and a kitkat."

Danny raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "That… can't be good for you."

Scott just shrugs again. He'll probably feel the effects later on today, since it's currently only one-thirty in the afternoon. As long as he makes it to four to head to the station to see Stiles, then he can head back home and have a nap. And maybe food.

"I didn't know the life of a vet was so demanding."

"It's the holidays," Scott explains, taking another drink before continuing. The gingerbread-cinnamon-whatever is in this latte is the best thing he's ever had right now. "Lots of people want their pets better before Christmas and New Year. A lot of strays get found with bad injuries. Currently I have—"

Barking starts up from the dog room in the back. Scott smiles, gesturing towards the door as Lola once again perks up.

"—them. Eight labrador puppies. They're under a year old. Deaton and I were trying to get them rehomed before the holidays, but it didn't work out. That's why I was coming in to work anyway, since Deaton's out of town."

"Never mind, your job is clearly far more demanding than I thought." Danny smiles, glances down at Lola, then pauses. "Do you need a hand with them at all? They sound pretty eager for attention."

"Yeah, I was gonna take them out for a walk once I was finished up here," Scott says.

Danny's grin widens. "You planned to walk eight hyperactive labrador puppies by yourself? In the snow?"

Scott just gives another shrug. "They're not too hard to handle once they're outside."

The look Danny is giving him only intensifies the fluttery feeling in his chest. It's like something's tickling him from the inside. He can feel the heat beneath his skin, in his cheeks.

"Guess that whole Alpha thing really does give you an advantage, huh," Danny says, a certain teasing twinkle in his eyes but his grin sincere.

Scott has barely gotten used to the idea of Danny knowing about the supernatural at all, never mind him making casual comments about it. And especially not while he's looking at him like that.

"I don't know if it's anything to do with that," Scott says, shaking his head. "But… sometimes, yeah. It comes in handy."

Danny nods. The puppies are still barking in the back, trying to get Scott's attention.

"Well, I think Lola could use a walk after being so good about this," Danny says. He looks at Scott, smiling. "Mind if we join you? I can be pretty good with dogs, might help to take a couple off your hands for an hour."

Scott's eyebrows raise in surprise, and his heartbeat raises itself as well.

"You… but—" he frowns, his head tilting with a confused smile "—it's Christmas Eve. Don't you wanna get back to your family?"

"They won't miss me for a little while," Danny says, brushing it off. Then, because he seems to be catching on, he rolls his eyes, and says, "Please? You helped me with Lola when you clearly already had your hands full. I wanna do more than get you coffee."

Scott's heart drops into his stomach and lurches right back up. He swallows, and tries to keep his mind on one track, biting his lip.

"Uh… yeah," he breathes out before he can think twice. "You know what? That would be great. Thank you."

"No problem," Danny says, sincerely.

They get Lola to hop off the table, and head into the back room to get the others ready. Danny just laughs when he sees the little christmas hats Scott put on the ones that were happy to wear them.

As they're getting them all on their leashes, Danny casually adds, with a glance at Scott, "And if you were up for it, I'd like to get coffee with you sometime."

Scott accidentally clips the leash to his hand instead of the collar. He winces, quickly undoing it and fixing it to its right place instead. Then he looks over at Danny and his amused grin, his heart racing.

"Like—like a date?" he asks, hardly daring to believe that's what he means. Danny was never interested in him. Was he?

Scott's quickly going through every interaction he's ever had with him.

"Exactly a date," Danny corrects.

Scott's eyes are wide. His mouth opens, then closes. He wasn't prepared for this. Sure, the thought of Danny liking him back crosses his mind after Stiles and Lydia both insisted that he did after he told them about running into him all those times. But that doesn't mean he was prepared for it.

"You can say no," Danny says, giving another casual shrug as clips the last lead on to the last excited puppy. "I just thought I might as well ask. Waiting three years to do it was bad enough, I didn't want to seem totally pathetic by waiting four to at least know what you'd say."

"Three—what?" Scott asks in disbelief, sure that he must have somehow misheard. "You've wanted to ask me out for… three years?"

"Like I said, it was starting to seem pathetic." Danny looks at him, holding his stare with a soft gaze. "But, Lydia told me that you came out last year, and after seeing you, I figured I should at least ask."

"Wow. Uh…" Scott's mind is a mess, and he can't sort his thoughts out. Except for one. "I'd love to."

Danny blinks, thrown off his own guard now. Apparently even he wasn't prepared. But he quickly recovers, as does Scott, smiles forming across both their faces.

"Go on a date with you, I mean," Scott says, as if it needs further elaboration.

"Really?" Danny asks. "Uh… today?"

Scott's breath is knocked out of him, but he's already nodding again. "Yeah, absolutely."

He didn't think anything could make the fluttery feeling in his chest worse. Turns out, Danny smiling at him like he is right now is the thing that can.

"Okay, great," he says. "Then let's get these guys out of here."

Scott happily agrees. They head out of the back door after making sure the front is locked up. It has to be an hour or more that passes as they walk the dogs through town, taking an open path into the woods, through the snow. The whole way, Scott and Danny are talking, and laughing, catching up on the years they missed and in between.

#teen wolf #twedit #twrarepair #scanny #scott x danny #danny x scott #scott mccall #danny mahealani #twelve days of rarepairs #rowing the rarepair rowboat #myedits*#childofsquidward #wait no I actually really like this one #I never Really shipped these two before but ?? they were so easy to write for ??#and they're just so Soft????

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iluvzfewdnstoreyz · 6 years ago

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Nightmare Dream Home

Afew years ago my ex husband and I moved our new little family into a cute 3 bedroom little house. It was painted blue, and therefore has since been called the blue house. The 1st week there we were in our living room watching television, when a massive shadow went up the wall behind us, onto the ceiling where a mist formed with it. It moved across the ceiling down the hallway and disappeared into the nursery. I was a die hard skeptic at this time. My ex husband asked me if I saw it. I am ashamed to say, I told him I had and that it was merely someones headlights outside. He argued that the windows were not near any road and the mist was not explained by this theory. I shrugged it off and accepted my explanation anyway.

We began having experiences hearing footsteps running down the hallway to bathroom; banging and scratching on the walls; toys turning on and off without batteries; hearing children cry outside the nursery window; large shadow and mists movement daily; a full body apparition of a woman, the kids complaining they could not sleep because "they" would not leave them alone; cold spots, lights flickering and going off, sounds of heavy furniture being moved around in the vacant bedroom; the television coming on and or going off on its own accompanied by an odd high pitched hum and sometimes a faint sound of music. I continued to find explanations for these events and ignored what I could.

As things escalated everyone in the household experienced nightmares, and some of us began sleep walking. I was one of them and I had the most frequent episodes. I would wake up under the kitchen table; on the floor in odd places; and even outside. There would be mud on my feet and other signs I had been outside. My family said I would have my eyes open but I did not respond to them like myself and I seemed vacant.

We were advised to try and get EVP. To talk to it. To ask questions. Doing this was our undoing.

We caught some low class EVP's in the question and answering stage. Nothing alarming or conclusive. Following our EVP session when we went to bed something growled. I was in bed and my ex husband was reaching up to the ceiling fan to turn the light off leaving the fan on. Something growled angrily from the foot of the bed. I thought it was our dog. I found her at my mother's feet, in the den, where she had been when I left to go to bed. We searched our property outside and found nothing. Even after all that I was convinced some stray or even my dog growling must be what we heard.

Later that night I woke to something strange. My computer monitor was visible at the foot of the bed. Standing in front of the monitor was the silhouette of my shirtless ex husband. His back was to me and he was just standing there. I called out to him but he didn't answer or turn around. Something told me to look at his side of the bed. I did and nothing was there. I looked back and my husband had vanished into thin air.

I realized that what I had seen couldn't have been a person. I smelled something burning. Then the covers began to be pulled down off of me. I froze. The air conditioner was a window unit. It began to beep and go from low fan to medium fan to high fan then back to low over and over. In unison with each fan cycle change the blinds were flipping open and shut, along with banging on the walls.

I suddenly became a little girl. I felt like all the air hang been sucked out of my body. I could not take air in to make a sound. I am embarrassed to say I urinated on myself. When I finally could take air, I gasped and began screaming for my mother like a child. I mustered the courage to finally move and reached for the door knob next to the bed. At that moment my husband came in and flipped the light on at which point it all stopped. He had been in the bathroom vomiting. His mysterious illness stopped right then as well.

I looked for a new home. I no longer was the skeptic.

Before moving I found a necklace on my dresser one day. I thought it was left there as a gift so I put it on thinking nothing of it. A couple days later I woke to a blinding headache. My husband got up to get my migraine medicine but fainted just outside our bedroom. I got up and went down too. I crawled to the kids room. I found my son first. I got him aroused enough to help walk him outside. I went back into the house for my daughter and husband. My husband crawled out while I located our daughter. She was 3 at the time. I found her tiny little body blue and unresponsive in her bedroom. I drug her out the front door thinking after I called 911 I would return to the home and lay down. I believed my daughter dead and wished to follow. My thinking was very muddled.

I went in and retrieved the phone. Passing out twice in this process. When I returned to the front door, my daughter's eyes were open. So I laid down in the yard and called for help. When paramedics and firemen arrived, I was told we had carbon monoxide poisoning. The firemen said 30 per square feet was lethal. My home was over 500 per square feet. Just short of barbecuing in the living room, no explanation for those levels was found in the home. No one in my family knew where the necklace had come from. I removed it at the hospital and left it there.

We moved shortly after that. The last night everyone was at our new home while I was at the blue house cleaning so we could collect our deposit. I was tired from the night before. The whispers and banging on the walls were relentless. I was in my bedroom when someone knocked on the door. I went and looked through the peephole and see the silhouette of a man I believed to be the neighbor across the street. I saw him lean down and look into the peep hole, then a bright light behind him appears and he turned and walked away. I opened the door and no one was there.

After shutting the door I realize he had stooped down to look in the peep hole at me. How is that possible I thought. He wasn't taller than me. Anxiety hits as it begins to hit me that the tall man could not have been my neighbor or any normal human being. My lungs seize up. I rush to the bedroom to get my rescue inhaler out of my purse.

That's the last thing I remember. The next thing I can recall I am slamming into a wall, falling from a standing position. I am in the living room. I am freezing. I have never been so cold. I looked around and was very confused about where I was. I didn't recognize it without the furnishings.

I am so cold my jaw was chattering. I wander briefly through the home trying to get my bearings as to where I am. I go into the bathroom. At this point, I begin to have a dejavu feeling, like I know, that I know this place, but I can not put it together in my head. It is fuzzy and slow moving.

I am desperate to get warm. I can see in the mirror that my lips are blue. "What the hell is wrong with me" I think. I begin filling the tub with hot water and I strip quickly climbing in.

As the water fills and my body begins to warm I see my cell phone on the floor next to the tub. It must have fallen out of my bra when I was undressing. I used to keep my cell phone in my bra along with money etc. I pick it up and call my husband.

When he answered I started crying. "I just woke up. I'm so cold."

He was frantic, "where are you! Where have you been! I have been calling you for hours. You didn't come home!"

I looked around the bathroom. I finally recognized it. I told him I was at the blue house.

"Babe where have you Been? We last spoke over 5 hours ago. Its 3am." He said.

I took about half an hour to warm my body enough that I would get out of the tub. My husband came and got me. I was too confused to even figure out how to get home on my own. I can not express how terrifying this was.

It turned out the man I thought I saw had passed away.

I don't know what I was doing in that 5 hours. It's scary to be up doing things with no recollection of it.

I don't know what happened to me that night or why. Seizure maybe? I try not to think about it.

We have continued to have issues, but very mild in comparison. We did lose one of our children to suicide about a year after moving. I can't help wonder if it had anything to do with what attacked me. Had it attacked him after leaving the blue house? He left no note. I am left never knowing.

I have accepted that there are no answers for me. My best friend lives next door to the blue house. She says that the new neighbors do not complain of having any issues. She had experienced something every time she had come into the blue house when I lived there. She has not experienced anything while on any of her visits to the new neighbors. I am too terrified to even pass the house. I do not visit her in her home. She comes to visit me.

I am a shadow of the person I once was. The events at the blue house severely traumatized me and my family. My son's death sent me over the edge into a full nervous breakdown. Which is not as dramatic as it may sound. I simply quit functioning. I closed myself off from the world and just stopped. I could not remember how to do a job I had done daily for 5 years. I had to be walked through it daily until I was terminated. I cried so much that my face was chapped all the time. Even now, 4 years later, I am struggling to reclaim my life. I pray no one else comes into contact with whatever that thing was.

Thanks for reading my story. Sharing it helps me let it go and heal. I am open to alternate explanations and discussions. You do not have to agree with me, and you can even think I am crazy. I only ask that you be respectful. Crazy or not, my life has been shattered into pieces because of what I experienced. Thank you. Shine on.

#fewdnstoreyz #ghoststories #ghoststoriesfromtherez #ghosts #ghost #ghost stories #skinwalker #stickmen

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