#human!nightmare mangle

[emo-metalhead-punki]

N. Foxy x N.Mangle (FNAF 4)🩷❤️

Haha I always wanted to do this :3333

And now it happens:DD yes I'm fangle (fox x mangle) fan jsjshssjsjsksksossk

Oh yeee, human design done by Wolf-con-f

I miss when he draw FNAF now he draws buff dudes having s-

[uuhhh]

Can't believe fnaf has been around since I was in 4th grade. Kids were playing this at recess (till it got banned), and we really thought foxy was a good guy ;-;

[shykittensoul]

Human nightmare mangle 💕

[cypaira-the-skeleton]

Trick or Freak!

I know Halloween has passed, but it's still spooky week for me so enjoy this story I whipped up!

Fair warning, I really did my best to interpret one specific character that I started to like, and I must say I enjoyed writing his role as well.

Anywho, enjoy!

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T'was the night of Halloween. The streets were filled with Spooky decorations, Carved out Pumpkins, and almost an army of dressed up children going Trick or Treating with each passing house. Some where dressed as classical monsters, while others got creative; even a couple of not so scary characters roamed around. This year's spooky season was also being celebrated by a certain "Living possessed doll" with red ruby eyes, who goes by the name of Raven; Which decided to dress up as Annabelle. She roamed House by house excitedly exclaiming 'Trick or Treat!', receiving many kinds of sweets into her plastic shaped Skull bucket. Of course she wasn't alone, but was accompanied by her fathers.

Victor had dressed up as Michael Myers. Unfortunately, he spent a month or so searching for a mask that could fit him, but all of them where too small so instead of a mask he resorted to painting his face white; at least he was fortunate enough to find the jumpsuit he needed, albeit a bit sour for the lack of mask. As for Roger he decided to dress up as Freddy Krueger. Luckily for him he knew someone that possessed the iconic glove and borrowed it, his hat was taken from his own personal collection, and he coincidentally already owned a red and green striped sweater. Surprisingly enough they both got the attention for their costumes and some adults and teenagers even requested photos with them. Victor was quick to decline, but Roger took pleasure in posing in Krueger's creepy poses and malicious grins.

While walking to the next available household Raven has heard of an abandoned house, not too far from the neighborhood they're in, from a group of grown up kids. They described it as being maybe Fifthy years old, slowly falling apart, and presumably... something or someone is living in it. Upon hearing such details, Raven was pretty much eager to go visit this creepy old house. It is Halloween after all, it's the perfect occasion for the perfect month! There was only one small problem; neither of her fathers would probably allow her to go visit it. Why? Many of the reasons she presumed would be: A) It's Dangerous, B) It's probably a waste of time, C) Ghosts aren't real, and D) She doesn't need any sleepless nights over some "spooky house". She can ask, but what's the point if she knows the answer?

Now usually she never disobeys but an exception has to be made sometimes, even if it means that by the end of the night she'd probably have all the candy she collected revoked. By some strike of luck a couple of adults stopped to talk with Roger and Victor. Generally she'd be forced to wait for them to be done chatting, but instead she took the opportunity to slowly walk away, and bolt her way to the direction of the house. She just ran, not looking back once, knowing that at some point they'll notice her absence. It felt tempting to just turn back and not to worry her parents, but exploring a possibly haunted house was more intriguing! Raven kept running for maybe a minute or two, until she arrived at a dimly lit neighborhood. Not much houses were around, which made the street she's in more creepy, until at the end of the road she saw the infamous abandoned house.

The other kids were right, it really does look fifty years old and falling apart! It only begs one question: Is there really someone or something living inside? Although eager to find out, she couldn't help but shiver in fear of what could be in there. Raven was thought that Monsters and Ghouls are mostly fiction, and the real threats she's aware of are dangerous adults; but to think that some other wordly creature is actually roaming the place makes it a worthwhile experience. After gaining some courage, she roamed around the building finding for an entrance, since the rest of the house is boarded up. Thankfully she managed to find a hole on the side and crawled in.

Upon standing up from the dusty floor she was instantly met by a pitch black room. Good thing her fathers convinced her to bring a small flash light incase of an emergency. Reaching into the half filled bucket of sweets she found the flash light and turned it on, revealing a creepy, white sheet, cobweb coverd furniture of what seemed to be a living room. "Oh great, cobwebs! The last thing I want is a creepy spider crawling over to me" she sarcastically exclaimed to herself in displease of the discovery. The exploration was on. Slowly and carefully she walked around the room, discovering all sorts of forgotten items like creepy dolls and statuettes, and torn out books. The next room she stumbled upon seemed to be a kitchen. Similar as the previous one, run down and coverd in dust and webs; luckily no knives were around, but she did see a few innocent rodents!

The floor creaked with each step she took, debris floating in the air, and the sounds of rats scattering around made the experience even more ominous. A child her age would have already ran out in fear, but being used to living in the streets and forced to search for run down places for shelter, this experience wasn't as bad. Once the lower floor was scouted for good, her eyes trailed to a staircase. Pointing the flashlight upwards, a sudden chill went up her spine. Usually that's a sign of danger to her, but she blamed it on fear. The steps groaned loudly while making her way upstairs, despite that shes very light. As soon as she got off the last step, a shadow suddenly ran past to a room. Raven yelped in surprise, holding her only source of light with both hands, "Hello? Is someone there?" Her voice quiverd in fear. At this point she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand straight, and goosebumps quickly formed as well. Something felt off.

Gaining more courage, the little girl cautiously walked to the direction of were the shadow went. She peaked inside before slowly walking in. It appears to be an old bedroom, devoid of a bed, wallpaper and nightstand, the dim light of the moon soft glowing through a somehow intact dirty window. Maybe it was just her imagination, she wondered; that's until she heard rattling coming from a closet. Her body jolted in shock, freezing as she stared at the enclosed compartment. She practically had to force herself to even move from her spot and to very carefully approach one of the closed doors. Her hand trembled as she went to grasp the handle. Just as she was about to turn it, the doors flung open, and out emerged a horrifying being roaring at her. That instantly sent Raven to the floor screaming in fear and backing away. All of a sudden, she heard laughing. A dark sinister, and sadistic laugh. She scrambled for the flashlight she dropped and pointed it at the being, revealing it's appearance.

Infront of her stood a...man? He looked human but, apart from his almost ginger coloured, long and greasy hair and humanoid shape, he looked almost like a living creepy doll. The forearms, lower legs and around his lower jaw seemed to be skinless, revealing it's fabric looking Dermis. Screws seemed to be attached to his joints, toes and fingers seemed to resemble more like claws, holes almost littered his whole body, his teeth baren with laughter were long, thin, and sharp, but what was more odd was the fact that he seemed to have two black buttons for eyes. His clothes looked tattered; light blue shorts and a faded green shirt with what seems to be a hole in his thorso.

The creepy man's laughs started to lessen as he straightened himself back, releasing a deep satisfied sigh as he composed himself, "Ahhh~ I haven't laughed this hard in such a long time!" His voice sounded deep like a man in his early thirties and a bit raspy. Raven couldn't help but just... stare. The living "doll", after turning his attention back to her, approached the little girl with a toothy grin, "And what do we have here~?" He asked with a dark, intruiged tone. It was quite a surprise for him to see a child enter this old decrepit building without turning her heels back out. He had to admit, she had the guts to even follow him. Without warning the small girl sprung back to her feet, inspecting his presence with wide eyes, "Oh...My....God.....That's so cool!"

".....Eh?" The creepy man confusedly exclaimed at the sudden enthusiasm of the red eyed girl, "That is the coolest costume I've ever seen! How did you make it? It's so creepy!" Raven said as she circled around the creepy living doll, impressed at his appearance, "Wait- what!?" Now he was truly confused; costume? Did she really think he was wearing some scary disguise? "You're not....scared of me?" He asked. Once addressed with the question, Raven replied, "I mean, you did scare me quite a lot! But I obviously know you're just wearing a costume! Who are you supposed to be though? Is it someone from the movie 'Coraline'?" The man quickly replied back, "Okay okay okay! I have no idea what you're talking about! But for your information, I, am Robert! The god of Chaos!...and you are?"

" 'Robert god of Chaos'? Never heard of that! Oh, I'm Raven! I'm dressed up as-!"

"Yea yea yea I don't really care what you're dressed as" Robert rudely interrupted, "Sooo...You think I'm...fake?" He asked as he slowly came face to face with her. Truthfully, Raven couldn't understand why he asked that, "I know you're real as in... Living! But I know monsters don't exist! I'm well aware you're an adult trying to scare me! My parents always tell me that whatever I read or see on TV isn't always real. So no, I'm not scared of you!" Raven finished off confidently.

Interesting, Robert thought; this little girl is either bold...or really stupid. The toughts in his head were quickly silenced as Raven kept awing at his appearance, "How do you manage to see through the buttons? It must be difficult! And those teeth! Wow...how did you manage to make them look so realistic?"

Let's be honest, Robert stationed himself in this rotting building just so he could maybe aquire the perfect victim, especially since it's Halloween people would think it's a costume, thus gaining confidence and trust until he attacks. So far, all of the above has actually worked! But a child? The most supposed gullible and cowardly being? He expected some silly ghost hunters or a bunch of teenagers talking to their cameras. Instead he's met with a weird looking girl with the courage of a lion, and possibly the naivety of an idiot. Although, he could use her huge interest in his appearance as an advantage. She might not be enough, but he's up for a quick snack, "I impress you that much, huh?", the creepy man aksed, to which Raven quickly agreed. "How flattering!~ You see, it sure wasn't easy to...make this up" The god of Chaos played along, "and hearing you compliment my efforts makes me truly happy!".

He crouched down to her level, getting as close as possible to her, "Say, how about a hug as a sign of my gratitude?" He offerd with a not so convincing innocent smile. At this point on, Raven's instincts started to kick in pretty hard. His behaviour had changed from sadistic, to rude, to suddenly really kind. She also noticed how close he was getting to her. His arms positioned in a supposed 'hug', but his claw like hands seemed to be in a snatching position. She didn't know this man, and she should probably find an excuse as quick as possible, "Uhh... Sorry but... I'm not really a fan of hugs". Robert could feel she's starting to avoid him, so he pushed on, "Why not? You seem like the kind to love hugs~ Just a quick one, I promise" His voice was getting more sinister than ever as he kept playing innocent, "I'll even let you take a feel at my 'costume'! Especially my teeth....~" he finished his sentence as he idly licked his fangs with his slender long tounge.

Red flags blared in her head as her fight or flight instincts starting to kick in as well. Cautiously, she started to back away, "L-look, Mister Robert, I'm not really supposed to be here! I'm supposed to be with my parents so...I think it's better if I leave". She did manage to walk away from him, but the god was faster as he blocked her path, "Leaving so soon? You've just came here! Why don't you stay over for a quick bite?". She had to leave, fast! "I'm being serious, sir! I have to go back out before my parents become more worried sick!" In the blink of an eye she was suddenly pushed to a wall right beneath the window, with Robert having a good hold of her, "Alright little kid I guess that's enough games now.." he dropped his facade as he glared down at her, "Do you know how long I've been in here waiting for some schmuck to walk right into my trap? Long enough that I was tempted to eat the rats roaming around!"

"I-I'm sorry t-to hear that but could- coud you please let me go? You're really scaring me now..." although confused at his statement, she couldn't help but fear for her wellbeing. "Ohhh~ Now you're scared? I thought you where impressed by my appearance! Did you change your mind?" And once again, he's back to his condescending behaviour.

What does this man want from her? Her mind wondered. Having to unwillingly stare at his face she now noticed the huge stitched scar around his neck and more stitches around his lower jaw, almost seeming as if he was stitched together from separate parts. A part of her desperately wanted to believe that they're fake...but they looked so real. At this point, Raven was doubting if she was even facing a human.

Being already screwed up, she decided to tempt luck one last time, and clawed at the stitches on his throat; at least in hopes of escaping. Two audible pops were heard as her fingernails grabbed onto the couple of thick strands keeping his head on his shoulders. Robert automatically recoiled as he held onto his throat and hissed in pain, "Arrgh! That hurt you little shit!". Now she's definitely done it. Why the hell did she do that?? While keeping her pressed against the wall with his left hand, Robert used his right hand to practically "sew back" the loose stitches. Thankfully no blood was spraying about, but that definitely confirmed that what she's facing, was never human. She watched as he gruesomely poked his claws into his skin and tied back the loose strands. The skin looking overly stretched, almost threating to rip apart, "You're..... you're a real monster..." Her voice barely heard while her little frame shook with immense fear.

"Well not a 'Monster' per say...." He replied with a smug grin, "But I'll definitely be the last thing you'll see~" A deep dark chuckle emerged as drool started to drip from the corners of his mouth and almost drenching Raven, "Please.... don't hurt me", her soft voice begged. "Ohh don't worry I'm not gonna hurt you..." He paused, "I'm going to eat you!". That was even worse. She looked around for any means of escape, but she was cornered. "You might be skin and bones..." He pointed out as he trailed his thumb over her collar bone and the base of her neck, " and you're probably not gonna be filling enough..." Robert kept pondering as he slightly tapped his finger like claws over his stomach, "But! You should satisfy me enough until the next idiot that comes through this place. Now before I dig into you I need to remove whatever crap is on your face. I want to taste flesh, not pigments and chemicals" he mentioned at her make up as he tore a piece of Ravens costume revealing red shoes and a pair of jeans underneath the gown, and started to roughly remove the colours off her face.

She groaned in discomfort as he wiped off her blush, lipstick and eyeliner with a very harsh manner. Once done he creepily smiled as he threw the fabric aside, keeping a good hold to the back of her head and her shoulder while drooling with anticipation "There we go. All ready~". All that Raven could do now, was stare. Her body was too frozen to react, her voice was restricted, and life started to flash before her eyes as tears slowly trailed down her cheeks, probably going to serve more as additional taste to her flesh, "You don't need to cry, little Raven, I'll make sure they'll at least be able to find your bones; unless I "accidentally" eat those too" claimed the twisted god in a narcissistic tone. That was it for the girl, her life was over. She wondered if she said ' I love you ' to her parents that morning, if she had a chance to give them a hug as well, letting them know she's glad to have them in her life. The row of yellow stained teeth parted ways as a cavernous maroon maw was revealed. Spit flowing as it drenched her even more, the slick sound of the slithering tounge was just sickening to hear, and she swore she could spot more teeth on the back of his troath. It got closer...and closer...her head almost engulfed...the tounge trailing around her face....waiting for the bite to happen....

"RAVEN WHERE ARE YOU?!"

A familiar voice suddenly pierced the eery quietness of the neighborhood, halting the living creepy mannequin mid way from his task. Hope suddenly rushed through Raven's soul, recognising the voice of one of her beloved fathers. It was Victor, and it sounded like it came right outside the house! Robert growled as he retreated from the girls skull, hissing out a curse, "Ohhh for Fuck Sake!". The little girl didn't hesitate to call for help, "Da-!", but was quickly silenced as the man's hand wrapped around her mouth, "You shut your trap!". To avoid being seen he peeked out the window as he kept a hold of Raven.

Once the absence of Raven was noticed, both fathers instantly got into panic mode. Was she abducted? Did she get lost? Did she stray away with another group of children? The options were endless, and waisted no time looking for their daughter. Minutes into the search Roger started to have an odd feeling of were Raven could be. It might have been a distance, but he could feel that 'someone' was lingering in the human world, and she was headed to 'their' direction; which now brings us to the moment Raven was temporarily spared as soon as Victor called out for her, "Are you definitely sure she's here? It's not like I'm doubting due to your blindness but..." The giant man expressed his worries to his equally worried partner, "No offense taken...I just Know she's here, and she's very close", Roger claimed with a concerned expression. While Victor took the opportunity to search on the other side of the street, Roger just stood there... evaluating his surroundings.

"What the fuck is 'he' doing here?" Robert silently aksed to himself. He looked at the blind man that he somehow seemed to know, and the blind man, stared back. Once his blue eyes met with Robert's button ones a sharp chilling feeling crawled up his spine. The sinister smile had long faded away, and was replaced to a worrying look. He instantly turned his attention to the little girl as he uncovered her mouth and tugged onto the collar of the dress, demanding some answers, "How the hell do they know you?" Although confused and still scared, she replied, "They're...M-my dads...". Her answer seemed to have stunned him, "Even the blind man?? How's that possible??". It's really odd how all of a sudden he seems to be scared, "Roger ....he...he adopted me".

"..... Fuck this!" Suddenly Robert stood up, forcing Raven onto her feet, "I am NOT in the mood to fight, or get into a quarrel, or even be punched around!" He grabbed Raven from her arm and forced her to walk downstairs, making sure he doesn't dislocated a shoulder or else there'll be consequences. Once arrived at her point of entrance, he let go, "You're right. You are absolutely not supposed to be here! So you should get the fuck out, Never come back, and if we meet again, YOU. DONT. KNOW. ME!". So many questions flodded Raven's head, but wasted no time to crawl back out from the hole and sprint to her fathers, "Ddaaaaadddd!" She yelled as she hurled herself onto Roger, almost knocking him over while simultaneously knocking the air out of him as her little frame wrapped tightly around his thorso. Victor quickly noticed as well and made his way to them, "Raven we've been looking for you all over the town!" He exclaimed with relief as he approached.

Even if she was busy crying, she looked to them both with tears just running down here face, sobbing loudly as she spoke "I'm s-sorrryyyyy *hic* I shouldn't have do-done thiissss!!". Personally, Victor wanted to hug her, at least to show he's glad she's back. As for Roger, he hasn't really said or did anything, he just let Raven cry, waiting for her to calm down. Once the cries lessened, and the girl finally decided let go; leaving Roger's sweater drenched in tears, she aksed, "Are you...*sniff*..mad at me?". Victor wasn't sure what to answer despite it being a resounding 'Yes', but Roger spoke up first, "I'm not mad.... I am beyond Livid!" His once gentle voice soon turned brash and loud, "Just what on earth did ya think ye where doin' walking off from us like that?! Do ya even realise how irresponsible of you that was?? Of all places you wanted ta be it had to be here! What if you where taken hostage or worse killed?? And what if that house decided ta crumble over? Ya would ave' been stuck under the rubble! I just can't believe you would have the guts to get yerself in danger like that! I don't care if you're just a kid, yer old enough to know what's wrong from right! And THIS was NOT Right!!".

Both Victor and Raven were left speechless. How was it possible for a man like him to be This mad? Roger huffed with exhaust for how much he yelled, and Raven was hesitating if to cry again at his sudden outburts or avoid getting him more...livid, "I said I'm sorry..." She replied with an obvious guilty tone as she avoided his eyes, " 'Sorry' won't save ya from getting in trouble, Missy!" He sternly replied with crossed arms. At this point Victor felt to intervene as he lowered himself to Roger's level and whispered, "Look Roger, I know we're both upset at her for disappearing on us, but don't you think you're being a bit too harsh right now? I mean, she came to us crying! We don't even know what happened to her!". Although he's got a point, Roger made it clear that to love, you sometimes have to be cruel, "Just because she came ta us crying doesn't excuse the fact she risked her own life. You shouldn't let tears make you too soft in situations like this". He was the one with more experience in raising a child after all, and Victor, despite having the role of a father as well, still had more to learn.

"Once we're home, you're in for Loonng lecture of why you should never walk away from us". Raven just knew this would happen; maybe not as much but still! She knows it's her fault that she risked her own safety just because curiosity took the best of her. She was almost eaten alive, and all because she thought it was a costume! Disguise or not, she should have left the moment she spotted Robert's shadow running by. "First things first..." Roger chimed in as he reached out to Raven, pulling her into an affectionate tight hug. The red eyed girl was puzzled at first, that's until her father continued with a softer tone of voice, "Don't you ever do that to us ever again. Do you understand?" He almost sounded like he was about to cry. Yes, he acted a bit harsh, but it doesn't mean he didn't love her! As crazy as it may sound, if Victor was worried, Roger was twice as much! He feared to never hear her voice again, he was scared that she'll never come back. He wouldn't have forgiven himself if they didn't show up in time! He's been with her the longest, did everything to give her a future and life she truly deserved...all his attempts would have went to waste, and his wish to be a father would be short lived.

Raven slowly hugged back, and shyly asked, "You still love me though.... right?" The blind man redirect her gaze to him as he gently pressed his forehead to hers, "Ohh you can't Even imagine how much I love you. And just because I'm upset doesn't make me hate you or love you less". It felt relieving to hear him confirm it, but she just couldn't forgive herself to worry him like that, "I truly am sorry...I mean it" she repeated. He knows she is, but further discipline will come later. He gave her a long kiss to her forehead as he shortly stood up a moment later, "Let us go home now. It's getting late". That was Victors cue to pick up Raven and give her a big hug as well as carrying her back home. While Victor walked off, Roger gave one last glare at the window, were Robert was looking through with now raised arms as if saying 'I swear I'll never attempt to hurt her again'. With his hand, Roger pointed two fingers at his blind eyes, to then pointing them to the god of Chaos, simply warning, 'I'm keeping my watch on you', and went to join the rest of his family.

Once gone, Robert rested against the wall as he finally let out a sigh of relief, "shhiittt what a night! Guess I will be forced to eat rats after all" he claimed with a grudge. He barely took four steps as he kicked something plasticy and spilled it's contents over. Looking down he realised it was the girls bucket of sweets she came in with! He kneeled down as he picked up a bar of wafer covered chocolate. He barbarically tore off the top wrapper with his teeth, and proceeded to take a bite. He slowly chewed as his taste buds received quite the new flavour that wasn't raw meat. He sat down, and proceeded to take another bite, "Eh, much better than the rodents" He shrugged to himself. Although he never got to have a new prey that night, he at least wasn't going to spend it hungry.

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Ngl it was a blast writing this story 😁, and I also did insert references to Roger being The Impossible God and obviously being aware of Robert, I just wanted to make it interesting.

Lill Robert, Roger Willington, and Victor Bellman, all belong to @horrorartist23

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

F***ing FINALLY!!! I've been looking for stuff with a Reader saving Dogday since he's been introduced and I've only got like, three so far-

And I want this Reader to be resourceful, using anything to patch Dogday up(including scraps of Miss Delight's dress)

I hear your calls <3

...............

"You're wasting precious time, angel. Poppy needs you. I'm only gonna slow you down. Just leave me here, and tell her I'm-"

"You'll get to tell her that yourself, Dogday. Because I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna help you whether you like it or not."

With a huff, you used the grabpack to wheel in a cart filled with an assortment of items you picked up around the Playcare area: doll parts, plush felt, metal bars, and even Dogday's other missing leg, which you have miraculously found in the playhouse.

You did your best to stitch them back onto his body, although the real challenge was fixing them up first--considering how badly they got mangled by the smaller Smiling Critters. Through sheer luck, you were still able to recognize them as his legs.

And conveniently, you've retained some of your craftsmanship skills from your days working with Playtime Co.

You were given some praise for being able to speedily patch up broken and torn-up toys, but you've never touched upon any of the "Bigger Bodies" despite seeing similar injuries on them. They simply never gave you that clearance, and dealing with blood and organs (and possible death) was something way above your paygrade.

But with Dogday, you were able to apply similar techniques you used in doll repair. You made patches out of Miss Delight's polka-dot dress to cover up any tears, and you created small mechanisms to put inside his legs that would (hopefully) enable him to walk again.

It was like you were performing a surgical operation..

Except, well..that's exactly what was going on.

Despite your unwavering determination--and the fact that you succeeded in reattaching one leg to him so far--he insisted that you were only putting yourself at risk trying to help him.

Hell, you nearly got torn apart by those little Smiling Critters who chased you both down, being scared off by the flares you shot at them. He didn't think you'd have enough..but by the grace of god, you did. And you escaped and found a safe place where Kissy Missy and Poppy were also hiding out.

Not only did you finally get a breather, but also a chance to help one of the few toys left here who somehow didn't lose their humanity.

Even so, Dogday still feared for your safety.

"You know..this will only enrage Catnap, right?" He rasped, choking out a wet cough. "He'll know that I'm missing. And he'll know you have something to do with it.."

"Wait.." Pausing in your work, you glanced up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Why would he care about where you are? Or better yet..why would he keep you alive at all?"

"...because I was his favorite."

"Huh..?"

"Before the Prototype became his sole focus, we did everything together." He explained somberly. "We helped the others fall asleep, stayed out of trouble. Catnap and I..we were like day and night. Two peas in a pod. He brands me a heretic now, but...somehow, I don't believe he likes doing so. Maybe..he hasn't forgotten our friendship, after all."

'Well, stringing someone up by belts and ripping off half their body doesn't sound like something a good friend would do..' You thought to yourself, although you understood where he was coming from.

Yet it didn't change the fact you still wanted to kill that stupid purple cat. Especially after he gave you that hellish nightmare of Huggy crawling out of a television.

"I know you wanna believe there's still good in him, but..he's long gone." You shook your head. "Those critters..they tried crawling inside your body, and he was just gonna allow it all because you didn't wanna follow the Prototype's will."

"........"

Silence was your only reply, but you decided to shift your focus back on repairing the other leg. Dogday allowed you to work, no longer protesting as he instead looked at the stitches on his arms, feeling grateful yet unworthy at the same time.

Him and the others...they were all monsters. He never killed a single human in his existence (or at least none that he could recall), but he felt like he was just as terrible as those who did.

Eventually, you finished, and his ears perked up at your sigh of relief as you set down your tools and pushed the cart away. "There we go. Try to stand up, but take it slow. Okay?"

He nodded, feeling quite nervous as he looked at his legs, before he slowly pushed himself off the ground. For a few moments, he was able to stand, but he wobbled a little and had to hold onto the nearest wall so he didn't lose balance.

'When was the last time I had my legs? It's been so long...'

Then he felt your grabpack's hands gently steady him, and soon enough he could stand on his own without their support.

You smiled and retracted them. "How do you feel?"

"Much better...thank you, angel." Dogday looked down at you, the corners of his wide smile turning further upwards. "You truly are something divine. You've come to heal us, mend all of our broken pieces, even when we do not deserve such kindness. How could I ever repay you?"

Right as you were about to respond, you heard sounds of plush feet moving and turned around, seeing Kissy and Poppy entering the room.

You didn't really he'd nearly be as tall as Huggy's spouse.

"You fixed him! What can't you do?" The redhaired doll gasped in awe, hopping onto Kissy's hand before she was carefully transferred over to Dogday's paws, stepping into them.

He held her gently, smiling. "Poppy."

"It's so good to see you, my friend." She smiled, although it was quick to disappear. "I thought all of you were gone."

"It's just me now, and...I'm....I-I'm...." He began to sniffle, his voice breaking as the weight of everything that's happened came crashing down. "I'm so sorry...I tried so hard, but...I-I failed! I couldn't protect them!"

Thin streams of tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, darkening the fur along his cheeks. "Kickin'...B-Bobby..they all died because of me! I was supposed to be their leader, but all I did was lead them to their demise! I-I should have joined them in-"

"There, there..it's going to be alright." Poppy softly hushed him, patting his arm in comfort. "You did your best to protect them given the circumstances. I promise we'll have our chance to avenge them. But you must live, for their sake..and for [y/n]'s sake, too. They went through a lot to fix you up."

"I know but..I-I'm so scared. I don't wanna face him alone-"

"You won't be alone, because I'm gonna take care of him."

With another sniffle, Dogday looked down at you, feeling you gently petting his ear as another comforting gesture. Your eyes held nothing but sympathy and heartache for this poor creature. "I'm sorry, but we have to put him down. It's the only way we can move forward."

"Are you sure?" He mumbled. "He's gotten more powerful, and hungry-"

"So were Huggy and Mommy, but I saw how [y/n] dealt with them..and they're more than capable." Poppy remarked. "But now that Catnap's onto them, they'll need all the protection they can get."

"Then..I'll do my best to help." He finally declared, smiling at you.

You blinked, surprised that he was willing to stand up against the one who tortured him. But you simply nodded and smiled back, watching as he returned Poppy to Kissy, before he turned back to you and crouched down.

He enveloped you in a warm hug, the vanilla scent still seeping from his suit and helping you feel more at ease.

"Thank you, Dogday." You chuckled, hugging him back.

"No..thank you, my guardian angel. I will follow you to the ends of the earth."

[merakiui]

thing.

yandere!skully j. graves x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, fear/paranoia, brief mention and description of dead animals note - "he is there—and there again, but you cannot see him plain, for the shadow lies so darkly on the hill."

There is a bundle of black roses propped against your door. Thirteen of them, devoid of thorns, but the threat is still there—nestled within the petals, a foreboding symbolism.

A stupid Halloween prank, you think, gathering the roses and tossing them out.

Come tomorrow, there is a new bouquet waiting for you. These are white, but they have their thorns. A small card accompanies the gift. There’s a message printed in an old typewriter font: No good?

Like before, you discard these flowers. You have no time for secret admirers or daft nonsense.

So the roses stop blooming at your door, tied up with pretty twine and ribbons. Instead, you receive bones and carcasses. A mouse skull. Deer teeth. A mangled bird, its wings snapped and bent at the joints. A rabbit’s foot, warm and still bleeding, the bone jutting out from severed flesh. The roses, you think, were a preview of what was to come—of what you’d soon be mourning.

These macabre presents are wrapped sincerely, shrouded daintily with frilly cloth. They come with their own set of cards, each one typed just like before. 

I can see you.

Good luck on your exam today. Carry this rabbit’s foot with you and you shall know fortune.

This naughty bird is always cawing outside of your window. It wakes you up, so I silenced it for you. It is most beautiful in death, is it not?

Are you going to bring that friend of yours around again? I don’t quite like the scent they leave on your sheets. :(

So you share these morbid anecdotes with your friends over dinner. They don’t believe you.

“You’ve one persistent dog after you,” one of them remarks, eyeing the pictures with a curious, doubtful eye. “A real rotten mutt.”

“But I don’t have a dog,” you reply.

“Well, something’s coming home to you every night.”

“It’s just me. I live alone.”

“Do you? You sure nothing’s following you? You don’t hear the jingle of a collar? The soft padding of paws on tile, loyally trailing after its owner?”

At the time, you thought these were foolish questions.

“The flowers? Definitely a person,” your logical friend suggests. “The dead stuff? Probably a wild animal. A hawk once dropped a mouse in my yard. It’s normal. Someone’s just making a nasty time out of it, leaving those notes to scare you.”

That sounds reasonable. You choose to believe it even when there are inconsistencies and clues that prove otherwise.

You check the locks on your doors and windows. You consider buying cameras, but maybe that’s misplaced paranoia. No one’s inside your house. No person or thing could possibly get in. You’re not sure what would be worse: a tangible human being with human hair, human eyes, and human teeth, or a thing. A thing with claws and a razored maw. A thing with inhuman strength and the eerie quietness of a phantom, plucked right from your nightmares and dropped in reality.

A human being is tangible. A thing could be anything. It could also be nothing.

“I’m not interesting enough to have a stalker,” you tell your logical friend. “Not special enough or rich enough. Not attractive enough.”

“You don’t have to be,” they tell you. “Sometimes all you need to be is alone and vulnerable. Sometimes all you need to do is exist so that they have something to latch onto—something they can covet no matter what.”

“Do you think they’ll kill me?” you ask next, hesitating around that word. Kill. It’s so final and exact. “If they can do such gruesome things to those animals…”

“Or it could be a dog. Dogs don’t kill their owners. They’re loyal.”

“But it’s not a dog. I don’t even think this thing is domesticated.”

“Then what is it?”

“Something.”

It is something malevolent. It is something malicious. It is something you can’t quite fathom—something you can’t picture in your mind because it is always swapping shapes. One minute it’s a nest of mice dwelling within your walls. The next it’s a shadow creature—a demon or a monster. The next it’s a human with strange proportions, too-long legs and too-long arms and a too-long torso. The next it’s a dog with a long, long snout and very human eyes, with human hands for paws, with a curling smile that reveals gaps in its pointed, bloody maw. It feasts on flesh and hunts little, defenseless songbirds, and it’s after you because it wants something you can’t give it.

What does it want? Is this thing even real? Perhaps the anxiety is making a monster out of nothing.

You twist and turn in the dark, wrapped up in sheets that feel more itchy than they do comforting. You’re cold all over, sweating an ocean in your bed. You think your heart might burst out of your chest at any minute. Every creak and groan of the house unsettles nerves that are already pulled impossibly taut. You gaze into the dark doorway, squinting through shadows that look like they’re waltzing in and out of focus.

Or…

Is the door breathing? Is someone there?

You rub your eyes and relief filters in. There’s nothing.

Or…

Your phone cuts a slice of light through your bedroom. You shine it towards the door from where you cower on your bed. There’s nothing.

Your friend��the unfunny one—texts you then, and the vibration scares you more than your imagination. A text is tangible, easily categorized, and yet it’s the scariest thing you’ve just received at this moment, however ghoulishly playful it may be.

u need a leash for ur dog?

You drop your phone. It illuminates the space beneath your bed for a second before the screen shuts off.

You think you hear someone breathing or a heart beating. It’s yours.

Or…

Swallowing thickly, you reach for your phone. You feel soft, fluffy hair. At first, you think it really is a dog when a warm, wet tongue laves over your palm. But you don’t have a dog, and it’s then when you feel the rest of this…thing. Human ears. Human nose. Human mouth. Human teeth. 

Another text brightens your phone. The screen flickers on.

You peek over the edge of your mattress to find a distinctly human face smiling back at you.

might as well get a collar too yeah?

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. it's your final year of UA High, an achievement that should be celebrated and joyous, but you couldn't believe just how much has changed in such a short amount of time. one thing you never thought you'd have to deal with is the potential of losing your best friend and being powerless to stop it.

content // spoilers for ch.362 through 424 of the manga (this is how i'm coping), aged up to 18/19 + end of senior year @ UA, teeny bit of angst mixed with emotional comfort & fluff, reader is in the support department (w/ an unnamed quirk), reader & bakugo are childhood friends, talks of ptsd/trauma/regret and nightmares about death, mentions of medical issues & therapy, emotionally vulnerable and sickly sweet confessions, extremely soft bakugo (maybe ooc? but trauma changes people's outlooks soooo), idiots in love, best friends to lovers. wc // 5.7k + crossposted to ao3 『 k.bakugo masterlist 』

tagging in the beginning to prevent spoilers if you wanted to avoid them; @slayfics @maddietries @starieq @liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @queenpiranhadon

War…is over.

For now.

The media wouldn’t stop playing the coverage on repeat, leaving you unable to escape the scene that will haunt you for the rest of your life and forcing you to realize how vulnerable you are as a human being.

((spoilers below the cut))

You knew the second that Bakugo popped out of the shell of UA’s fortress through a grainy livestream that something was wrong. The way he staggered out, covered in blood with a mangled arm…your heart sank. You had no clue what happened moments prior in that bubble, only the heroes inside knew the truth at the time. Watching Midoriya’s awestruck tears flow as they worked together to save All Might from All for One’s grasp didn’t fill you with hope like others around you - it filled you with fear, a deadly reminder of how dangerous hero society is and the sacrifices it entails. How your duty as a support technician, and as a best friend, wasn’t even close to enough to help him in such dire straits.

Your calls and texts to him went unanswered...as expected. He probably doesn't even have his phone on him. Rumors spread over the course of the week following Shigaraki and All for One’s demise about what happened on the field when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Did you hear about that Bakugo kid? How’d he even get up after all that? You mean from being clinically dead? Yeah, I heard Edgeshot saved his life on the fly. His heart exploded! No, he was punched and it ruptured. But he saved All Might’s life! That was so cool to see. Deku helped, too. He wouldn’t have made it in time without him. A lot of the other students went through a lot of shit…and they expect them to go back to school?

UA was 'kind' enough to give all students a two week break from classes with dorms and buildings open for access as needed. Two weeks to recover from everything that's happened...it was a joke.

You lost count of how many nights you woke up sobbing from nightmares about Bakugo’s death within the past week, ranging from surgery complications to being left to die on the battlefield alone, unable to reach him in time. Your therapist reiterated in your session that this is all a normal response, even when the events didn't directly happen to you and resembled a form of survivor's guilt. It only worsened your negative outlook on society as a whole, knowing full well that they’ve saved Japan today, but there will always be evil lurking and stewing in the shadows, waiting for the next greatest hero to bring to their knees.

The hospital barred anyone outside of the immediate family to see patients, no matter how much you begged every front desk associate to let you see him. You didn’t want to resort to sounding desperate, but you gave in by the end of the week, stopping by Bakugo’s family home to talk with his parents. To your surprise, Mitsuki was home and answered the door. Not more than a second passed before she was scooping you up into a hug, her shaky hands clutching the back of your shirt as if you were her own daughter returning home for the first time in months.

“Hi sweetie,” she greets, her voice hushed and somber; an entire 180 from her normal demeanor. She lets you go, moving her hands to your shoulders as she invites you inside.

You spend some time catching up with her before asking the inevitable question lingering in the air. “How’s Katsuki? The hospital wouldn’t let me in to see him.”

Mitsuki’s eyes glisten, tears pooling in her eyes as she shakes her head and swallows harshly. “He’s a tough ass kid. Surgery went as good as it could’ve, but…” she trails off, wiping the lone tear rolling over her cheek. “Why don’t you come with me this afternoon to the hospital?”

You bite your lip, hands curling in on themselves as they rest on your knees. “But they told me—”

“Screw that!” She interrupts, standing to her feet. “You’re comin’ with me. You are family to us.”

Your stomach cartwheels as the hospital comes into view from the backseat of the Bakugo family car, Masaru driving the three of you through the visitor’s parking lot. Mitsuki glances in the rear view mirror, catching the nervous twitch in your lips as you stared out the window.

“Dear, could you give us a minute?” she asks Masaru, motioning him to go on ahead. He nods in acknowledgment and leaves the car to head to the lobby.

“Do you wanna talk before going inside?”

How the hell did she know you were nervous? She’s known you for a good chunk of your live, it’s not too far fetched she’d be able to analyze your emotions like she does for her own son.

“I'm...” you say meekly, fidgeting with your jeans. “...trying to stay positive, but I’ve had so many nasty nightmares and I don’t know what to expect. I've only heard rumors at school about his condition.”

Mitsuki reaches to the backseat and gently takes one of your hands in hers. “Honey, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared. Shit, I’m terrified for him and all the other kids…this isn’t something everyday people experience, so it’s unfair to expect yourself to have standards on how to feel. He's alright, I can promise you that.”

You sigh, her words giving you a sense of comfort. “Thank you.”

“And if I can say one thing,” she adds, squeezing your hand to grab your attention. “That kid adores you, he’s just a stupid boy who doesn’t know how to say it.”

The laugh that bubbles up from your belly is genuine, a thin layer of anxiety dissolving at the thought of him getting embarrassed by his mom’s words. Nodding, you let go of her hand and open the car door, signaling you’re ready to go inside.

“Katsuki! You can’t be up and roaming around!”

Mitsuki’s heels click against the marble flooring as she scampers to Bakugo’s side down the hallway, Masaru trailing behind her when she catches a glimpse of him hobbling into a room that isn’t his own. You stay back, peering from around the corner to avoid being seen if he happened to glance your way. A few minutes pass before you faintly hear Masaru say, "Come on, let's get you back to your room to rest," and the sounds of their footsteps retreating down the hall.

It's almost embarrassing how long it takes you to work up the courage to follow after them - what's the big deal? Your best friend is physically here, not some ghost or a walking corpse from your nightmares. You knew in your heart what it was that kept you frozen in place, a feeling you've long shut away, burying it within the depths of your heart to keep yourself sane.

Love.

And it scared the shit out of you, especially now. 

Retreating back to the lobby, you mindlessly scan the vending machines as a distraction until a hand touches your back. You jump at the contact and turn to see Mitsuki and Masaru standing behind you.

"We're heading home for a few hours to make some dinner and come back with leftovers for Katsuki. I told the nurses you're with us, so keep this pass with you." She hands you a visitors badge and you tuck it in your uniform pocket. "I'll bring you some dinner, too, dear. Don't waste your money on snacks. Now go see him, he could use some time away from us."

You've got a chance to be alone with Bakugo to talk with him about...everything, and you're frozen in the goddamn lobby. It takes a bit of kicking yourself in the ass to get moving, but eventually, you begin to warily make your way back to the patient wing. 

A vague memory of standing at UA’s entrance comes barreling to the front of your mind, the day that the hero courses all left to prepare for the war torn city streets with the pros. You’d stood to the side, passively blessing everyone with good luck and your best wishes as they prepared to depart. When Bakugo shuffles away from his parents, he spots you in the crowd and approaches you with a straight face. Just when you’re about to say something, he grabs you by the shoulders, spins you around and pushes you toward a set of hedges nearby. Not completely out of sight, but enough to hide from the majority of the congregation of friends and families.

“Kats?” You question, confused by him secluding the two of you from everyone else.

“Not another word,” Bakugo warns, cornering you in the darkness of the wall and bushes. He hesitates before reaching for one of your hands, warmth flooding from his palm into yours. His other hand scratches at the back of his neck nervously, eyes upturned to the sky as he speaks lowly. 

“Wanted to say thanks for supporting my dream of bein’ a hero all these years. Don’t go worrying about me while I’m out there, alright?”

Before you could interject, his back was to you and marching over to join the others. 

His words rang in your head every night, repeatedly taunting you about the feelings that rattled your ribs from how fast he made your heart beat.

You should have told him then.

The walk up the stairs to his floor fills you with unexplainable jitters that you've never felt before - were you dreading the conversation? Are you scared he wouldn't reciprocate your feelings, despite Mitsuki's words from earlier? Or...afraid to see the damage in person?

You find his name on one of the patient plaques, taking a deep breath as your knuckles tap on the hollow door. His voice follows soon after, "Yeah, come in."

Your hand lingers on the door handle for a moment before you convince yourself to go inside.

‘Come on, it’s Katsuki. He's your best fucking friend. He knows everything about you and vice versa. Don’t be a damn coward and make it weird.’

The door slides on the track at a snails pace, revealing your face bit by bit to Bakugo as he stares in your direction. Imagine your surprise when his eyes widen upon seeing you, mouth open to say something, but nothing comes out. You shut the door and walk over to the right side of his hospital bed.

“Hey Katsu—”

The words refused to come out as you took in his current condition - a full arm cast, a brace around his waist, oxygen tubes through his nose and multiple bandages covering his pretty face. The window sill is lined with various vases of fresh flowers and 'Get Well Soon!' cards. It's overwhelming, the lump in your throat hardening at the sight, unable to stop the lightning bolts of anxiety zapping the color from your face. Bakugo snaps you out of it when his left hand reaches across the bed and grips your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

“Stop analyzin’ the damage and c’mere already.”

Before you could react, he’s using his free arm to wrap around your shoulders, tucking you against him as tightly as he could manage. “Was wonderin’ when you were gonna come visit me.”

The tears are swiftly building on your waterline, threatening to downpour all over your cheeks and stain his hospital gown. It takes every ounce of willpower not to say 'I didn't think I'd ever see you again.'

“They wouldn’t let me, I’ve been trying for a week. Your mom convinced them to let me in,” you explain as you lay one of your hands over his heart, thumbing over the fabric and feeling the freshly raised scar tissue underneath. “I’ve called and texted you, but figured they didn’t let you have your phone.”

“I don’t even know where it is,” he huffs. “Ma probably has it, or it’s dead on my desk in the dorms.”

Bakugo’s fingers run through your hair, playing with it absentmindedly in silence, sighing to himself. “I’ve got so much shit runnin’ through my head that I can’t think straight.”

“Yeah...I thought that would be the case.” You pull yourself away from his embrace, shifting to the opposite side of the bed before settling in to the chair by the window. "What's going on?"

He pouts, extending his left hand in your direction. There’s a hint of pink under his bandages that begins blooming down his neck when he mumbles, “Want you closer.”

You pick up the chair to scoot it forward as Bakugo groans aloud, shaking his head and patting the empty space next to him in the hospital bed.

“Kats, there isn’t enough room for both of us,” you laugh, unable to hide the drag of your lips curling into a smile at his flustered expression. He stares at you for a moment longer, asking 'please?' with those beautiful ruby eyes of his.

How can you not give in to him?

As gingerly as you can, you slide under the thin blanket on the bed and up against his left side, his arm raised to make room for your body to mold into his. You’re terrified to touch him, treating him like a porcelain statue and stiffening in his embrace.

"M'not gonna break if ya touch me," he comments, patting you on the back for assurance. Reluctantly, you lay your head against his chest and drape your arm over his midsection, settling in and getting as comfortable as you could in the confined space, careful to avoid all of the wires and tubes hooked up to him.

"I'm not used to you being touchy-feely for more than a minute at a time," you joke, smiling when you hear the click of his tongue against his teeth in response. 

"My damn parents are the only ones I've been stuck with, gimme a goddamn break!"

A few minutes pass before you two carry on the conversation again, Bakugo clearing his throat awkwardly before letting go of the breath he was holding. "How...are ya holdin' up?"

Truthfully? You weren't, hoping that the light purple pockets forming under your eyes and lifeless hair were not dead giveaways of your mental status.

"I've...been better. What about you?" you reply, blatantly lying through your teeth. It wouldn't be fair to lay out all of the traumatic shit you've thought about over the last week when he's in the hospital recovering from the actual traumatic events.

"It's...lonely here," Bakugo mutters faintly, almost too low to hear. "An' I can't sleep. The nurses are nice, though, same with the therapist they sent in yesterday."

"They made you see a therapist straight out of surgery?"

"Right? S'what I said. Didn't talk much, though. Basically gave me the rundown of UA supplying all the students a therapist next month. Don't think it'll do much for me, not like I can undo all the shit that happened, but Ma talked me into goin' later on."

"Can't hurt, even if it's every once in awhile."

"...Yeah."

You trace some of the creases in his hospital gown idly, savoring his presence and the sound of his voice. Bakugo fidgets with the material of your shirt, wanting to avoid dumping all of his thoughts on your shoulders, but the weight is too much for him to hold onto any longer. 

"Izuku's...quirkless again. I don't know how to feel, but I cried like a damn child when I overheard him talkin' with All Might about it. Gave me a perspective that I never thought about before all this shit went down."

"And what's that?"

"...I robbed him of his dream."

You wish, more than anything, that you could go into Bakugo's head and pluck out all the guilt he still harbors over his and Midoriya's childhood together. It's not like Midoriya held it against him anymore, and Bakugo knew that, but he couldn't shake those demons loose that reminded him of his past self.

"You didn't. He knew the costs of One for All and agreed to it, it's not your fault."

"I know, but I feel so fuckin' shitty for treating him like he's dirt for so long."

"It's not stupid to feel," you say, feeling his body tense and relax beneath you. "But Katsuki, you need to forgive yourself. You can't let this eat away at you forever, it's been over two years since you apologized."

His heart aches at your words, knowing you're right, but he couldn't forgive himself...not yet, anyways. Maybe tomorrow, or next week, even next month, just not right now.

"...thank you," is all Bakugo can say, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from getting choked up about it for a second time. Silence falls upon the room, letting the two of you simply co-exist for a moment of peace. It had been a long fucking week, and being in the same room, let alone touching one another, was a luxury you didn't know if you'd ever have again.

"I'm out of commission for a bit, but that's not a concern to me right now. I know I can come back from this shit and stay on track to bein' number one. There's somethin' else that's been on my mind since..." he trails off, the hand on your back moving to your shoulder to tighten his hold on you. "...I fought Shigaraki in that damn fortress."

You rest your hand atop his on your shoulder. "You don't have to talk about it if it's stressful."

"No, I need'ta tell ya before I chicken out 'cause I didn't say it when I had the chance." He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, twisting the strands in his finger as he bit his lip nervously. He's thankful you aren't currently looking at him, else wise all his cover would be blown before he spoke one word about it.

"The second he broke my arm, I didn't think about the pain, all I could think about was seein' you again. And then some otherworldly shit happened, the weirdest fuckin' out of body experience. I didn't believe in any of that junk until now."

Hearing him recollect the memory of his untimely death resurfaces all of the dormant fears lying in your mind from your nightmares. You screw your eyes shut to keep them away, to shield you a little longer from the pain they inflict upon you. Bakugo was right here, right now, with you. He's not an illusion or a figment of your imagination...he's here.

"...are you shaking?" He asks, hand cascading down your back to calm your nerves. You hadn't noticed that you were trembling, focused on doing your damndest to keep it together and let him spill his guts freely. "Do you want me to stop talkin' about it?"

It's muffled against his hospital gown, but you're able to squeak out a measly 'no.' He pats your head tenderly and shuts his eyes before continuing.

"I remember focusin' on rushing in and getting hit a second time, but this felt...different. There wasn't any pain, and when I came to, All Might's vestige ghost was there. He didn't say anything when I talked to him," Bakugo pauses, inhaling deeply to compose himself. "He led me back to UA and took me to the support wing's workshop. You were testing somethin' with Goggles, giggling away like an idiot with her."

The tears welling up in your eyes were inevitable at this point - was he insinuating that while he was skirting between life and death, he thought about you?

"And then I was outside, lying in the grass at our favorite spot down by the river. You'd dropped your fuckin' popsicle in the dirt, whining about how much you wanted it. I made fun of ya a bit before givin' you mine, but you insisted we share it instead. It was...nice. Everything felt warm and peaceful. When I actually woke up to Jeanist and the others, they kept sayin' I was revived and needed to go to the hospital. That's when I jumped in to help Deku and, well, y'know the rest."

Your body shivers, the hiccup you were desperately holding in coming to the surface in a muted sob. He silently lets a few tears fall, too, the bandages growing saturated with saltiness and stinging the open cuts on his face. His stomach was in knots, but shockingly, he welcomed the foreign feeling. To him, it only confirmed what he felt was true. He didn't know jack shit about love, but was more than confident that he could untangle the complexities of it with you.

"I was knockin' on death's door and you led me back home. Before I left, I was gonna tell ya how important you are to me...now more than ever."

You pray that Bakugo can't feel, or hear, how hard your heart was beating against your sternum, hammering away at his unexpected confession. The whirring of the medical machinery accompanied his words hanging in the air, swirling in tandem with the thoughts in your head.

Do it.

Say it.

Take the chance.

Cautiously, you attempt to sit up and haphazardly slip on the sheets, colliding foreheads with him while trying to catch yourself. Instead of scolding you, Bakugo bursts out laughing, a few stray tears falling from the corners of his eyes. "Y'coulda said something instead of head butting me, brat."

"Like you gave me a chance to say shit!" you scoff, poking him in the chest playfully. When your eyes meet, reflective hearts are bouncing between your gazes, faces lingering dangerously close to one another. "I've...been waiting to tell you something, too."

"Yeah? An' what's that?"

Your vision begins to blur, eyes falling shut as the gravity becomes too much to bare any longer. Your left hand glides up his chest, finding purchase on his collarbone while your lips rest plush against his. Electricity races through your veins and time stands still, all the clichés about love coming to the forefront of your mind and how true they proved to be in the moment. You barely notice when Bakugo's free hand threads through your hair and settles at the nape of your neck, melding the two of you into a deeper first, and definitely not last, kiss. When you part, it's not met with gasps for air, but with breathless sighs of bliss. You're pulling away only to gravitate back into his orbit, unable to resist his advance when he lurches forward to steal a second kiss. Your lips quiver against his as the words in your heart beg to be released, unable to cage the emotions thrashing around in your chest.

"You have no idea how many nightmares…I had about you not coming home…or that it was too late…to bring you back to life in the hospital,” you mutter between delicate kisses, finally having the strength to lean back and lock eyes with him. “I'd be standing at your goddamn grave like a widow whose husband returned from war in a casket, vacantly staring at the ground while the rain soaked through my clothes. The roses always had thorns that cut my hands open. It changed every single night, a new version of losing you before getting the chance to say...," you stop, attempting to swallow the pain long enough to confess, but your voice betrays you and cracks as you blurt out, "that I love you, Katsuki, and—"

He dreamily exclaims, "I love you, too," before the realization hits that he said it out loud and not in his head. It catches you both off guard and sends him into an adorable panic, the previous pink hue to his skin growing deeper by the second.

"S-shit," he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching his nose to hide his lovesick expression. Your run your finger along his jawline, careful not to catch any of the bandaging, and stop at his chin to coax his attention back to you.

"I want to be the loudest person that you can hear cheering for you in a crowd when you save a little kid or capture a villain." Your hand cups the right side of his face while you continue to pour your bruised heart out. "To be your number one fan at signings and promo events that an agency is going to force your grumpy ass to do, the one who picks up your broken pieces when no one else is around. I want to give you everything because you deserve nothing less than that."

For the first time in his short life, Bakugo is speechless. What did he ever do to deserve your endearment? He wasn't one to shy away from expressing what was owed to him through blood, sweat and tears - like working hard on an assignment and deserving nothing short of a 100% passing grade - but this was unlike anything else. He truly didn't know why you were so captivated by his energy, even before these confessions came stumbling out into the open. What about him appealed to you in such a way to make you desire him so deeply?

"I—" he struggles to find the words to say, searching his brain incessantly for something to match your sweet sincerity. "I'd be happy sharin' popsicles with you by the river for the rest of my life if that's what it came down to. I don't need money or fame as a hero, bein' with you is more than enough for me."

In the past, something so sickly sweet would make Bakugo gag and be an immature jackass over the sentimentality, but now? He wouldn't admit that he enjoys the warmth blossoming in his chest and how it gives him stupid ass butterflies, especially when it comes to you. It struck at the most random times; when you'd laugh at his dumb jokes, toss him a smile in the hallway between classes, sit on the countertop while he cooked dinner for you two in the common room kitchen, fall asleep during your movie nights on his shoulder and drool on his shirt...the list kept growing exponentially until it kept him up at night, yearning to be by your side whenever you two were apart. 

He should've known the moment you approached him on the playground over a decade ago, joining him on that rusty swing set out of nowhere and started talking his ear off about the dandelions by the riverbed. 

Fuck, he was smitten as hell for you.

Your eyes well up with crocodile tears, lower lip wobbling and unable to stop the fat droplets coating your lashes, staining your strawberry cheeks and dripping down your neck. 

"T-thank you," you choke out, wiping your palms over your face to erase the tears. Bakugo chuckles under his breath, reaching to cradle your cheek in his hand. 

"So, do I still gotta ask you?" he jokes, smiling awkwardly as his eyes dart to the ceiling. 

You don't know what he's referring to. "Ask me...what?"

"...Seriously?" Bakugo lets his hand fall from your face. The blank expression on your face confirms you are absolutely clueless to what he means.

"Fuck, fine." He rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders dramatically before shifting in the bed to re-position himself. He leisurely tilts his head forward and into your space, close enough for his breath to fan over your lips as he speaks. "I want ya to be mine."

"Didn't sound like a question to me," you tease, lovingly nuzzling your nose with his.

"Shut the fuck up...wanna hear ya say it."

Uh oh, gravity is kicking in again.

Your lips part with half-lidded eyes as you purr, "I'm already yours, Katsuki," before melting into him, sealing your promise with another kiss. He tries to control it, but the tiniest moan floods out of him when he experimentally swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, ferociously flaring your cheeks into a deep scarlet flush as you reciprocate. Instinctively, he moves his right arm to cradle you closer and is met with searing pain, jolting away from your lips unexpectedly.

"Fuck!" he shouts, out of breath and wincing at the pain burning into his shoulder. "Sorry, s'my fault for trying to move the damn thing. Wasn't thinkin' and forgot where we are."

The sparkle in his eyes dim as he cast his gaze downward to analyze the cast. His shoulders slump and he shakes his head, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I was never good at timin', but dammit, I wish I could hold ya properly."

"No, no, it's alright, we've got plenty of time when you can."

Bakugo exhales while shifting his weight to readjust, making room for you to lay on his chest and tucking you back under his good arm a second time.

"Promise me somethin'," he sighs into your hair. "No matter how awful shit gets in the future, don't lose faith in me or the others over some dumbass villains and let it sour your outlook on the world."

Wow, were your feelings that obvious?

"It's...not that." Guilt trickles down your spine, goosebumps prickling up your arms from pinpointing the negative associations you've built up in your head. "Of course I believe in you, Kats, but it scares the shit out of me that this all happened before any of you had the chance to be pros. I know you said you're not worried about it, but I am."

He knows you're right, you have every reason to be concerned over the state of the world and what that means for the future after everything that's happened this year.

"I have hope," he starts, letting his head fall back against the stack of pillows. "Doc told me my right arm is dead in the water 'cause of all the bone segments they had to join together in the surgery, but the possibility of it healin' isn't out of the question."

Your heart sinks in the pause of conversation. How could he have such a positive outlook after being legally dead?

"I refused a prosthetic and wanna try rehab first. M'not gonna let it ruin my approach to bein' a hero. The real challenge is my heart, but that's not—"

"Wait, what's wrong with your heart? I thought Edgeshot patched it up?" you interrupt, turning up at him with your brows scrunched together. It might be a silly question, all things considered, but Edgeshot was a masterful surgeon with a high success rate in his field...everything should be fine, right? 

His heartbeat kicks up in tempo under your cheek - that can't be a good sign.

"He did...but it's not that simple, sweetheart. I've gotta take it easy for at least six weeks, maybe some meds to keep things stable. Shit sucks, considering I'm used to training daily, but it's not impossible to deal with. I can handle it. Plus, I got you an' your gadgets on my side."

"And you're telling me all this, but are worried about my feelings and Izuku being quirkless instead of yourself?"

Damn, you hit the nail on the head. Bakugo smirks, laughing to himself. "Heh, yeah. Guess so."

"Typical Katsuki, silently caring about everyone else before himself." You snuggle into him, a yawn falling out of you as you pull the blanket up to your shoulders. "Stop making me like you more and go back to grumpy, please."

"Only if ya promise to stick with me." 

"Like you have to ask. I promise."

He places a kiss to the crown of your head. "Good."

Your eyes fall shut, the rhythm of Bakugo's heart beginning to lull you into a tranquil, and much needed, sleep. Before you pass out, you drowsily slur, "Everything's gonna be okay. You're the strongest person I know...love you, Kats."

Pearlescent tears pool at the corners of his eyes, the ones that escape rolling over the gauze on his face and soaking into the material once more. All the pain, worry, and relentless thoughts about failure temporarily fade away into nothingness, offering him peace and a sense of safety to drift off to dreamland. He closes his eyes, lips upturned into a smile as he whispers, "Thank you...love you too, princess. Sweet dreams."

The door to Bakugo's room creaked open a half-hour later, Mitsuki and Masaru returning with dinner as promised. "Hey kid, we're—"

She stops herself, putting a finger to her lips and turning to Masaru, signaling for him to quietly shut the door. They can't help but jointly smile at the sight before them, the two of you are snoring away on the hospital bed together, cozied up under the sheets and out like a light. 

"Reminds you of us, doesn't it? I had a feeling seeing her would help him relax," Masaru says, lightly stroking Mitsuki's back. "Why don't we come back in a bit to see if they're up?"

She nods and hands the containers of mabo tofu for him to take while she approaches the hospital bed. Her palm glides over Bakugo's cast, thumb tracing over his right wrist as her mind wandered back to memories of him as a little firecracker of a child; chasing butterflies in the backyard, playing super heroes with Izuku, and his toothy little grin anytime he was excited about something. Nineteen years flew by, and Mitsuki couldn't be prouder of her bombastic hero. Before turning to leave with Masaru, she affectionately pinches Bakugo's cheek, light enough not wake him from his slumber. She peers over at you, admiring how much you've grown, too.

'If anyone's gonna take care of my brat, it's you...thank you.'

The two of them leave you to enjoy each other's comfort. 

The hurricane has passed and there's sunlight shining on a new future. The will be storms to come, but society has been given a chance to heal, all thanks to the next generation of pro heroes sacrificing their youth to challenge the status quo. Things won't be easy, that's for damn sure, but it's gonna take something stronger than the depths of hell to keep Katsuki Bakugo away from his dream - and you. 

written in a frenzy while listening to epiphany // evermore & semi-proof read through my own tears, so apologies if it's just a bunch of mushy ramble. i have a bunch of other projects to work on, and am shifting back to them, this just was in my head and i needed to get it out. thanks for reading. <3

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Monster x Reader [Werewolf]

In Romanian mythology, Pricolici is an evil spirit believed to be born after the death of wicked humans, able to transform into certain animals such as ferocious dogs and wolves. The etymology is unknown, although it's suspected to be of Dacian origin, thus going as far back in time as the 1st century BC. An ancient creature has set its predatory eyes on you.

Winner of the Folklore Monster Poll celebrating Romanian history!

TW: obsessive behavior, violence, death

[Horror Masterlist] [More Headcanons]

He can tell it's a dream. Nonetheless, it always feels unbearably real. He can smell the incense, hear the hurried trample of feet underneath him. He wants to open his mouth and demand they stop. No words ever come out, the throat is dry and flattened by heavy despair. It's a dream, after all. The priests march on, and the spears are lifted. For a moment, he's blinded by their powerful, sharp glisten. As he gazes at the sacred circle, it occurs to him just how uncomfortable the shackles are. He becomes somewhat distracted by this irritating friction, so much he doesn't register the instructions given by the mysterious men. 

Centuries later, he would stumble upon an old history book by Herodotus that detailed his misfortune:

"The Getae are the bravest of the Thracians and the most just. They believe they are immortal, forever living, in the following sense: they think they do not die and that the one who dies joins Zalmoxis, a divine being. Every four years, they send a messenger to Zalmoxis, who is chosen by chance. They ask him to tell Zalmoxis what they want on that occasion. The mission is performed in the following way: men standing there for that purpose hold three spears; other people take the one who is sent to Zalmoxis by his hands and feet and fling him in the air on the spears. If he dies pierced, they think that the divinity is going to help them; if he does not die, it is he who is accused and they declare that he is a bad person. And, after he has been charged, they send another one. The messenger is told the requests while he is still alive."

The foreign hands tighten around his limbs and he takes a deep breath in, ready for the plunge. Truth be told, he's not too anxious. The first time was terrifying, but one becomes accustomed to death if it repeats itself, night after night as the years pass and millennia settle over it, like a thick blanket of ash and bone and dust. He doesn't remember the pain anymore, only the bitterness. The wrath. He had no business playing God's messenger. He hadn't wished to be choking on his own blood, rippling violently at the corners of his mouth as his eyes dart over the excited masses. There are claps and cheers, and hope, and peace. Just not for him. 

No matter, if they long so dearly after eternity, he'll become their very proof. A tangible undead, a creature of eternity. Let them gaze at their ardent desire as it claws their bowels out for the birds to feed on. Let them sing praise before their God as their soft throats detangle under his fangs. Before he knows it, the corpses lay mangled at his feet and he notices his horrid reflection swaying in the puddles of fresh blood. 

He has become a beast. 

And just like that, the nightmare ends. It always ends here. He pats the sweat off his forehead with the monotonous vigor of habit. It's already noon and the narrow street flocks with curious tourists and natives on their stroll. Every now and then he will venture into the city, just to get a glimpse of the world. He twists the knob and opens a window, enjoying the breeze that cools his skin. His tired eyes wander around with no purpose. 

That's when he sees you. Your wide, carefree smile as you converse with your friend. You're drawing circles along the edge of your coffee cup, propped over the table, entranced by your discussion. Your gentle laugh rings unexpectedly loud against his ears. He finds himself frozen in place, unable to contract a single muscle. 

"Oh, this trail is supposed to have some really nice sights." Your friend is shuffling through unfolded maps, spread out onto the small café table. "We should leave pretty early though, otherwise it'll get dark before the return."

You groan at the idea. Your friend responds with a chuckle. 

"Remember, our tour guide joked about werewolves roaming the outskirts. Do you want to be eaten?" She inquires with a cheeky grin. 

"You know I have a thing for monsters." You answer with a wink. 

The jokes carry on until the bill arrives, and you eventually stand up and merrily make your way down the street. For a brief moment you feel a cold shiver running down your spine, so you peek back inquisitively. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Ah. By the time his focus returns, the sun is setting, reflecting its crimson rays over the old cobblestone. You've been gone for a while, so he must've been staring into the nothingness for good hours. He clears his throat, mildly embarrassed by his absent-mindedness. He isn't hungry, so he has trouble explaining his sudden captivation with a random human.

Even more bizarre is the consequence of the accidental encounter. The following nights are devoid of the usual torment. Has he ever had a peaceful slumber before? He can't recall. And yet here he is, vacantly eyeing the ceiling without the labored breath or cold shivers, faintly reminiscing about your amused expression. He frowns slightly at the realization that his recollection seems to contain less details compared to yesterday. Your face is smudged by the intense light of the noon, titled at an angle that allows no shadows to discern the features. What will he do when it's entirely gone? A faceless memory, anchored in the depths of his heart as a reminder of what could've been. Is there some universal law that dictates only misery remains unforgotten, or is he just exceptionally unlucky? Infuriating. 

The overwhelming sensation creeps upon him again. A primordial vengefulness that hasn't yet released him from its cold, bony fingers. For once, can't he be granted fairness? His jaw clenches and he marches out of the room. 

Tonight shall be a feast.

The lights are still on in the little tavern inn, and through the small windows he can make out the lively movement of the people inside. He glances at the waning moon one final time. The world may change, and the years may pass, but one thing has never left him throughout the centuries. Always bearing the same pallid, melancholic countenance, his taciturn companion rises, indifferent to the Universe. 

His back arches outwards, the bones tear and twist, the joints dislocate and the skin is giving way to coarse, thick fur. His eyes now carry an amber glow as they rest on the modest building. Without further hesitation, he pounces on the door and it folds like cardboard under his inhuman strength. The room goes quiet and all heads turn to him. He recognizes that look. A fleeting second of fear and curiosity, before true panic settles in. But they rarely have the time to scream. Just as the vocal chords contract and vibrate, their chests are trashed and limbs are tattered. Splattered visceral remains and blood coat the ground under his feral attack.

You squeeze your eyes closed and force your hands over your mouth to ensure your stillness to the massacre. You were just returning from the bathroom when you heard the wails and the wet sounds of mutilated flesh. You'd ducked behind the wall and hid under an end table. What the hell is that creature? You initially thought a wild wolf had somehow made its way into the tavern, but no animal can be this large. There is a backdoor, but on the other side of this hall. You'd have to sprint across the archway that leads into the main room. Then again, if it's this busy ripping the others apart...

No need to ponder your options much. Silence falls behind you, which means the creature must have finished its horrid sport early. His snout picks up a particular scent and he tenses up, expectantly. Could it be? 

The wooden parquet tiles creak under the weight of foreign footsteps; a human approaching you. You look up from under the table. Has someone dealt with the beast? Although you immediately regret revealing yourself. You freeze in your spot, hands propped on the ground, like prey awaiting execution. 

The man is unnaturally tall, having to crouch under the ceiling, with wild black hair and rough features. His chiseled face is painted red, and his clothing is torn apart and soaked in blood. His large hands end in sharp claws, and amid his ruffled locks you can distinguish animal ears. 

There you are.

Well, quite the irony to meet you here of all times and places. From this distance, you look even prettier. He bends over slightly to examine the details that have faded since the first encounter. A surreal experience, really. Seeing you kneel right in front of him and not as a figment of his imagination. He extends his fingers over your face and presses his nails in, leaving a vague trail of swollen, red skin. What a frail being you are.

"Your friend is alive, by the way." His deep, dissonant voice pierces the silence.

"O-oh." You gasp. You were so anxious you barely understood the meaning of his words.

"You may check on her if you so desire, however..." 

He considers it. Normally, even after allowing his anger to seep into cadavers and ruins, all he's left with is disgust and emptiness. Yet your presence seems to fill him with unfamiliar comfort. If one is drowning, is it truly selfish to hold onto the first thing that keeps them afloat? The only people who'd condemn such beggar are the ones that have never been underwater. They don't know what it's like to have your lungs tighten and collapse under the heavy pressure, waving your arms towards a surface that's never reached. 

"...You'll be coming with me afterwards."

You can only stare.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you." He attempts to simulate a smile. "I suppose I'm not too convincing like this", he jokes as he gestures towards his body, "But you have my word I'll never harm you."

"Why, though?" You manage to stutter, frowning in confusion. 

He's taken aback by your inquiry. Perhaps his statement is indeed more threatening than anything else. On the other hand, he hasn't conversed with humans in...longer than he can remember. What might pose as convincing in this case? Drawing out a rose and confessing his undying love among the bodies he murdered feels rather ridiculous. Suddenly, a passage he's once read comes to mind. At the time, it depressed him greatly. Now it feels like the only fitting reasoning.

"Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?"

"Isn't that from Stoker's Dracula? How is it-" 

You pause and search his eyes. Golden trenches of loneliness and gloom. Your heart is heavy and your mouth curls into a grimace the longer you stare into these pools swirling with agony. 

"I understand." Is all you can mutter as you stand up. 

Have you had a choice to begin with? Not even the frothing waves of a storming ocean can come between a dying man and his only raft. 

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Requesting IDW Megatron x Lost Light human liaison reader. Based on the song "Heaven's Light" from Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Thanks for the request! Sorry for such a long delay! I spent a lot of time writing and rewriting this because I wanted to get it right. I went with Autobot Megatron for this one. I hope that is okay with you! Feedback is always appreciated! :D

Heaven's Light

Pairing: IDW Megatron x Human Liaison Reader

Word Count: 3588

Summary: Though he is now a hardworking Autobot aboard the Lost Light who's just trying to make up for the sins he's committed in his past, Megatron still believes he is a monster who is unworthy of ever being loved. That all changes when you, a little human liaison from Earth, makes your way into his life and implores him to reluctantly open his spark.

Megatron knows he is a monster.

  He has done horrible things. He has killed, he has tortured, he has maimed. His recharge cycles are plagued with the echoes of screams and the fallen frames of mangled bodies. He stands atop a pile of them. When he looks at his servos, they are drenched in wasted energon that isn’t his own. Nightmares, Rune calls them. Terrible warped memories of his past. He cannot escape them. The guilt will stain him forever.

  Megatron is aware that most of the Lost Light’s crew is afraid of him. With the exceptions of others like the captain, most steer clear of his way. When they see him thumping down a hallway with steps that seem to shake the entire ship, they scurry like glitch mice when a cyber cat is near. They speak to him with tremors in their voices and rattling in their joints.

  Not that he makes things easy for them, he admits. Megatron is aloof, calculating, and antisocial. His violent tendencies have devolved into simple growls and annoyed huffs. He’s not here to make friends. He’s here to do a job: atone for the sins he has committed.

  And yet, the nightmares remain. They do not leave no matter what he does.

  Megatron is not a gentle being. He knows he is rough around the edges, and that scares people. So when he hears the announcement about a human boarding the Lost Light, his first instinct is to avoid them at all costs. It does not matter if they are a liaison. Humans are fragile and too easy to break. And he hardly believes Earth wants their delegate to be interacting with the former Decepticon warlord who has slaughtered thousands.

  Unfortunately, his dimwitted captain has different plans.

  “No.” Megatron crosses his arms and lifts his chin defiantly. “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh, come on.” Rodimus throws his helm back with an exasperated groan. “You're the perfect bot for the job! Why can’t you just say yes?”

  “I did not board this ship to inevitably become a human babysitter.” Megatron’s words come out harsh and unyielding. “The answer is no, Rodimus. Get someone else to do it.”

  “I agree,” Drift says. “In no way can I see this resulting in a positive outcome. Um…no offense Megatron.”

  Megatron snorts. “None taken.”

  “You two don’t understand.” Rodimus rubs his forehelm in faux exhaustion. “The human is here to learn about Cybertronian history and culture. Who else knows more about that sort of stuff than you?”

  Megatron bares his teeth. “Are you calling me old?”

  “I’m calling you knowledgeable,” Rodimus shoots back. “You can tell the human so much about us, more than Drift or I could combined.”

  “That is not my area of profession. Get Rewind to do it.”

  “No,” Rodimus objects. “I want you to do it.”

  “Rewind would be a much better option if we want this human to successfully integrate into the ship’s social life,” Drift advises.

  Rodimus punches the other mech squarely in the shoulder plating. Drift yelps and jumps back. “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Are you on my side with this or not?” Rodimus snaps.

  “I’m on the side of wanting the human to like us, and I don’t believe pairing them with Megatron is the best way to achieve that! Again, no offense to Megatron, but we need to make a good impression.” Drift straightens and rubs his shoulder, wincing. “We have to think about this clearly, Rodimus.”

  “I am thinking clearly. I am the most clear-thinking mech in this room. I have never been thinking clearer, and I don’t think I ever will.” He points at Megatron. “You are going to be this human’s companion for the next six cyber-weeks they are here. You will educate them on our ways, teach them our history, and convince them that we are awesome and amazing and incredible. Understand? Come on, remember their little human motto! ‘Salvation through understanding, understanding brings in the light!’ There’s no way you can say no to that!”

  Megatron feels indignation churn within his tank. That indignation turns into something dangerous, something he has not been able to snuff out of himself completely since he’s turned over a new leaf. That something is hostility borne from the frustration of being told to do something he doesn’t want to do. He snarls, but Rodimus does not cower. The red-and-orange mech’s plating bristles and clacks together in an act of instinctual dominance. The two leaders stare each other down in a silent battle. It takes Drift being the middle-man to relieve some of the tension crackling between them. “Alright, enough! Both of you stop right now! The human is going to be here at any moment, and you want their first impression of you two to be this? Calm down and get a hold of yourselves!”

  Megatron scoffs. Without looking at either of them, he shoulders past Drift towards the door. “I will do as you say, Rodimus,” he rumbles. “But don’t you think I will enjoy a second of it. You are making a mistake.”

  He hears Drift whisper “This is a bad idea” to the captain. Megatron stomps off, ignoring how every mech around him presses themselves against the walls to avoid his path. They should have chosen Rewind.

  You are…not what Megatron was expecting.

  You arrive on the ship with a swagger in your step and not an ounce of nervousness within you. Your eyes are wide with awe and your little dermas are split in a wide open smile as you turn in a circle to take everything in. There’s something distinctly adorable about the way you shift the weight of your stuffed backpack from one shoulder to the other and drag a tiny little suitcase behind you that makes the softer side of Megatron want to say “Awwww.” Apparently he isn’t the only one either; Rodimus is smiling like an idiot, his servos fidgeting like he wants to scoop you up and coo at you dotingly.

  Drift elbows him. He snaps to attention and announces himself grandly, which makes Megatron want to cringe. “Liaison Y/N! So good to finally meet you in person! Welcome to the Lost Light!” He kneels and extends his servo with surprising mindfulness. “I am Rodimus Prime, captain of this ship.”

  Your smile widens when you hold the tip of his index digit between both of your little fleshy servos and shake it. “I am honored to be here, captain.”

  “The honor is all ours. And please, just call me Rodimus. You're one of us now. There’s no need for formalities.” Rodimus rises and gestures to Drift. The red-and-white mech steps forward and dips his head while he is introduced. “This is Drift, my third-in-command. And this is Megatron, my…co-captain.”

  Megatron keeps his expression neutral when he steps forward to loom over you like a mountain. You have to crane your neck back in order to take all of him in. Here we go, he thinks. Any moment now, you’ll recognize his name. You’ll retreat to a safe distance. Maybe even start screaming in fear. He shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he is Megatron, feared former leader of the Decepticons, one of the most ruthless and terrifying beings in the-

  Your smile does not waver and your attitude remains just as bright. “Megatron. It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

  It takes a moment for him to register your words. Wait, what?

  Rodimus coughs and eyeballs him critically. “Oh.” Megatron blinks. “Um. Yes. Hello. It’s wonderful to, uh, meet you too.”

  Drift snickers. He wants to punch him.

  “I apologize for his flustered state.” Rodimus laughs nervously. “We’re all just very excited to have you on board. This is the first time much of the crew will be meeting a human, so I hope you’ll understand that some of us might not know how to interact with you.”

  “It’s no problem,” you say. “I get it. But that’s why I’m here! So if you are curious about me, then I encourage it.”

  Rodimus relaxes, looking relieved. “Yes, of course! We’re connecting two worlds! It’s absolutely incredible.”

  “If anyone makes you actively uncomfortable though, please let one of us know,” Drift adds. “We understand that there is a clear power imbalance between you and all of us. It’s important that you feel safe here.”

  “Well, that’s why Megs is going to be your partner during your time here!” Rodimus grabs Megatron’s shoulder and shakes him. It takes all of his strength not to growl. “You're here because you want to know more about us, right? Well, my co-captain is extremely knowledgeable in all things Cybertronian. He’ll do his best to answer any and all questions you might have!”

  You show no trepidation over this. In fact, your eagerness only seems to grow. Megatron is honestly stunned. “Oh, absolutely, I’d love that! As long as it’s okay with you?” You look back at him inquiringly.

  He starts to object, but Rodimus slams his servo over his intake. “He’s totally okay with it! He volunteered, after all! And he’ll start with showing you to your habsuite with Drift, so you can take all the time you need to settle in!”

  Your concerns are soothed. Taking up your suitcase, you follow Drift and leave the docking bay, with the other mech walking at a turtle’s pace in order to stay in tandem with you. Megatron rips Rodimus’s servo away from his intake. “You,” he hisses, “are the bane of my very existence.”

  Rodimus shrugs. “I can live with that title. But seriously, I’m doing you a favor right now. Enough with the brooding miserableness and more with the reinventing yourself. I’m trying to help you feel more at ease here. If you start with the human, you may find yourself actually being gentle.”

  He snarls, and for the first time in a long while wonders if he can get away with killing one last Autobot. But when he looks at you and sees the way you smile up at Drift with so much young excitement…something in him softens.

  “So, I was told you know a lot about Cybertronian culture,” you say to him. Drift is long gone, and your habsuite is set up to house all of your accommodations. You sit back on the miniature berth covered with blankets and pillows, thin legs swinging idly while you regard him with a curious look. He glances at you fleetingly, then returns his gaze to the data pad he’s holding.

  “That I do,” he answers.

  “Mind telling me some stuff?”

  Your question is blunt and to the point. There’s no hesitation. You don’t look the least bit afraid. For a moment, Megatron wonders if you even know who he is. You just seem so…clueless. Did your human superiors really give you no sort of debriefing on who you would be dealing with here before you left?

  “What do you want to know?” he asks reluctantly.

  “I want to know about turbo foxes,” you reply.

  He stares at you. Then he bursts into raucous laughter that causes his entire frame to shake. You throw your hands up in feigned exasperation, grinning like an idiot. “What? What did I say?”

  “You said nothing wrong, little one.” He manages to calm himself down, shaking his head while still chuckling. “I just…I was expecting you to ask about the war.”

  “Why would I ask you about that?”

  “Because that is what everyone wants to know about. The war is essentially a defining factor of our history and culture. Our image cannot exist without it.”

  You shrug. “I can learn about the war from anyone. I already have. But turbo foxes? I’ve only read a single paragraph about those. They sound so cute! You have to tell me more.”

  “Wait.” He pauses, confused. “You…you’ve learned about the war?”

  “Of course I have,” you reply. “Like you said, it’s part of your history and culture. Who hasn’t at this point?”

  “So…you know who I am. Megatron. Me. You’ve learned about me.”

  “Yes?” You tilt your head. “I don’t know what this has to do about turbo foxes.”

  “No, it-it has nothing to do with them. I just-” He sighs, rubbing his optics in a tired way. “I just don’t understand why you haven’t acknowledged the fact that you know me. You know what I’ve done. You know what I’m capable of continuing to do.”

  “I haven’t acknowledged it because it’s not worth acknowledging.”

  “That is absurd. Of course it is worth acknowledging. I am Megatron. I’m the former leader of one of the most feared armies known throughout the universe.”

  “Former leader,” you say.

  “That-” He sputters. He isn’t sure where you are going with this; you’ve thrown him for a loop. “That has nothing to do with the current situation.”

  “Yes it does.” You stand up. “You used to be the leader of the Decepticons. You’ve killed, you’ve destroyed. But you don’t do that anymore. So now here we are.”

  “You are okay with completely looking past everything I have done? You're just going to…ignore it?”

  “No.” You take slow steps towards him. “I’m not. I’ve done my research on you. I understand that you’ve done terrible things. But I also know that you're trying to make up for all of that. You're good now. Being here, helping me…I know you're trying to be better. I appreciate that.” You hold up your hands. He understands, yet hesitates to fulfill your wish. You have to encourage him. “Come on, it’s okay. You won’t hurt me.”

  He bends down and extends his servo. “How can you be so sure?”

  You hold his index digit and bring the tip to your cheek, allowing him to caress the soft organic skin of your face. You are so small, so delicate, so carefully made. Megatron isn’t caught up on the stories about the gods of your world, yet he knows-he can feel it-that whatever being made you put so much care and love into their work, he is sure their power rivals Primus himself. His walls crumble. He wants to hold you forever.

  “I’m sure because I trust you,” you say. “And when you earn the trust of someone you can so easily hurt…you know you are good.”

  Six weeks later…

Swerve’s bar is filled with life. Megatron hears it all the way from the deserted hallway he sits in. The laughter, cheers, and songs echo like the hauntings of spirits. Yet, he feels no urge to join in. The bench he sits on is as cold as space. He’s sure he can feel the chilling void through the large observation window he’s in front of right now.

  The soft pitter patter of human feet turns his attention away from the window. He sees you heading towards him with cheeks flushed red and a stupid smile. His olfactory sensors pick up on the faint scent of alcohol sticking to your skin when you make it over to him.

  “Are you drunk?” he asks.

  “A little,” you reply. A soft pat to his pede signals what you want. He gives it to you, scooping you up into a gentle hold and placing you on his right tibulen. You lean against him with a soft exhale. “Why didn’t you come join us?”

  He lifts his gaze to the window. “I’m not a big drinker.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s okay. Neither am I.”

  The warmth of your little body is comforting. It makes him want to focus on you. Yet, he can’t manage to do so. It’s such a foolish situation; him, of all mechs, so infatuated with this little human, he can barely look at them.

  But it goes beyond that. He knows it does. So do you. Six weeks are nearly over. Your time here will soon be done.

  He doesn’t know how to handle that anymore.

  “Why did you leave Swerve’s?” he chooses to ask you, because if he brings up the topic of you leaving, he thinks he’s going to lose control of his emotions.

  “I wanted to be with you.”

  He snorts. “I hardly think a party being thrown in your honor is worth leaving in exchange for spending time with some old bot.”

  “Oh, please. You aren’t just some old bot to me. I like being around you. Is that so hard to believe?”

  He smiles humorously. “You might be the only one on this ship who does.”

  You don’t respond, and Megatron fears he might have offended you in some way. When he looks at you, he sees your shoulders slump and your head hang like you are mourning the dead.

  “I’m leaving soon,” you murmur.

  “...I know.”

  “I asked my superior if I could stay.” You draw your knees to your chest and hug them. “I begged him. Another week. Hell, another day. But he wouldn’t give in. Fucking asshole…he knows I’ve gotten attached.”

  “Getting attached was the point of you coming here.”

  “I know. But…not like this.” An invisible chord tightens around your little body. He can tell your composure is crumbling. “This…wasn’t something I was trained for.”

  His spark aches painfully. If he were younger, he’d do something rash; threatening your superior would have been his first course of action. If that didn’t work, he’d steal you away and whisk you off to the far reaches of space, away from Earth, away from anything or anyone who might prevent the two of you from being together.

  But he’s not his younger self. He’s old. He’s tired. So he simply heaves a sigh and lifts his optics to the stars. “You know…so many times out there, I’ve watched a happy pair of lovers walking in the night.”

  You lift your head and look at him. There are tears in your eyes. Megatron rumbles out a deep purr and reaches for you, gently maneuvering you into his servos and lifting you up to his faceplate. You lean forward and place a tiny hand on his nose.

  “What were they like?” you ask quietly.

  “They had a kind of glow to them,” he responds with a sense of wistfulness. “It almost looked like…Heaven’s light.”

  That makes you giggle. “How the hell do you know what Heaven is?”

  “Lets just say I’ve done my research,” he answers with a smile.

  You lightly tap his nose with your fist. “Sap.” Your expression falls into a contemplative frown. “What were you thinking when you saw them? The lovers? Were you jealous?”

  “Well…not exactly. Jealousy isn’t the right word to describe it. But…I envied them. I wanted to be like them. But I knew I’d never know that warm and loving glow, though I might wish with all my might.” He closes his optics, steadying his breaths. He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of you. “No face as hideous as my face…was ever meant for Heaven’s light.”

  You open your mouth to retort, not at all willing to listen to him put himself down. That’s one of the things he loves about you. No matter who it is, you will always step in to make someone feel better. It’s a quality many Cybertronians are lacking, yet it abounds in humans plentifully.

  He had been wrong about your kind, back when he was still the leader of the Decepticons. You are so much more beautiful than you realize.

  Megatron cuts you off gently with a low puff of air into your face from his nose. You sputter and stumble back, and he laughs. His thumb comes up to stroke your hair, then travels down to trace the outline of your jaw. You still, eyes widening when you see the lovesick look he’s giving you. “But suddenly an angel has smiled at me…you, little one. Come on, smile.”

  There’s no sharp-witted reply from you to make him chuckle. You just obey him and smile. His spark skips a beat and he feels like he is going to melt right then and there. “You are the only one to smile at me in this way,” he whispers. “And you…you’ve touched my face without a trace of fright.”

  “I could never be afraid of you,” you say. You press yourself against his nose, hugging him in the best way you can. He feels you trembling. “I’ve dreamt of this. I’ve dreamt of you. I still dream. I dare to dream that you might even care for me…”

  Megatron leans into your touch. “My cold dark tower seems so bright…I swear it must be Heaven’s light.”

  There is silence between you for some time. The noise from Swerve’s bar has faded away. You sniffle and don’t pull away. “Stay with me,” you beg.

  “You know I can’t,” he says. “Not forever.”

  “Then just for tonight. For as long as we have left. Stay with me, please. I don’t want to let you go. I love you.”

  “You don’t have to.” He hugs you with his free servo. “Not right now. I’m here. I love you too. You are the only one I will ever love. My Heaven’s light.”

  “Salvation through understanding,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks. Yet, you are smiling. It’s a grateful smile. A smile that tells him you are so, so lucky to have ever met him at all.

  His optics well up. He lets the walls break. “Understanding brings in the light.”

  Megatron knows he is a monster.

  But after meeting you…he knows he’s a monster who’s worthy of receiving love.

[altheneum-library]

If only you'd come to my warm heart

╭──╯ . . . . .⍣ ೋ

INCLUDES: One sided romantic Sebastian Solace/Reader

CONTAINS: Reader death, description of blood and gore, angst

NOW PLAYING: Jo Deok Bae - If You Come Into My Heart

INSPIRED BY: Vivinos's "Beloved"

SUMMARY: a oneshot in which Sebastian falls for you and tries hard to suppress it for he had loved another before and possibly lost them, he is afraid, and thus does his best to act like he doesn't favor you over others. Alas, he had a nightmare about your death in which causes for him to actually fall for you more much to his agony. he misses you.

WRITER'S NOTE: this post is pretty long, sorry about that! it may also be a bit ooc? I did my best to make him as close to canon as possible personality wise but I had so much fun! so please enjoy reading this!

⍣ ೋ. . . . . ╰──╮

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You were such a stubborn yet amusing expendable to both see and watch, how did he end up this way? how did he end up just...falling for YOU of all people? of everyone he could have fallen for he fell for you. you.

Sebastian was this close to asking any sort of god out there why he had to be hit with that stupid cupid's arrow and you just had to be there, oh how convenient.

Sebastian loved someone else before, long ago of course, but it was still love either way. He lost that person by now anyways so why now of all times? why now when he's lost his humanity? his basic mentality to be vulnerable around someone who was literally weaker than he was due to his mutations?

everything down here sucked and here you are. making it less... sorta sh💩tty for him somehow? I mean, you sure can be annoying and you can be a little childish but isn't anyone as petty as a child was at some point? oh how Sebastian tried so hard to try to make sense of you, make sense of your chaotic antics, just make sense of why he liked you in any way possible.

Was it because you like to banter with him, giving some sass back which surprises yet gets a chuckle out of him? or was it that you actually stood up for him, lightly scolding your friends that flashing his poor eyes with the flash beacon was an ass thing to do to Sebastian considering his DNA or whichever else?

No. it couldn't be!

could it be your eyes? those watercoloured eyes that reminded him of so many things he's seen back home on the surface? whether it be the waters of the ocean, the soils of the earth, or the green of the trees? the grey of those clouds?

No. it must be your hair! maybe your personality?

GAH! why was he thinking so hard about this!? why must an expendable like you be such a puzzle in his mind to solve!?

he refuses such a thing to happen, falling in love with you, yet he has so already.

'I would rather run.' he would think to himself as he awaited in his make shift shop, his fins twitching here and there. he can be rather patient for a seemingly impatient man...

his mind kept going up to you, your smile haunts him. he scowled at himself for thinking of you. 'I would rather fly if I could.' he thought.

damn you, why must you be adorable and make him laugh!? 'If I let them come into my heart I-...' his train of thoughts trail off to a dead end. what exactly was he gonna do if he did succumb to this thing called love? with you?

....it's gonna be a slow day at the shop today, not that surprising, but annoying to Sebastian either way and he had absolutely nothing to do but wait and stare into whatever he bores his eyes into.

hm, perhaps taking a nap won't hurt besides he's been tired as of late. so he coiled himself over and rested his head underneath his tail and just simply turned off the lure's light.

he succumbs to sleep

.

.

.

his nightmare was but mere flashed visions, memorialized pictures he sees.

there you were, your body mangled and a mess.

Sebastian was used to this, he has seen multiple dead bodies; parts of them bitten off, some with their head popped and their brain just splattered the walls, and a few missing their insides here and there.

but you? you were beyond unrecognizable.

where was your face? where is your left arm? who or which took bits of your skin off because he for sure knows none of the creatures can do that, not even wall dwellers-

so why

why were you like this?

what happened, did he do this? did urbanshade do this?

and dear god please tell him why he can feel his eyes stinging. someone tell him why his chest is aching and why he wants to scream.

please, someone please tell him.

G̵̨̢̦̬͉̥̤͕͎̐͗͆̍́̿̀̈́̽͌̿̒͛͝Ò̵̞̦̟̼̜D̷̛̦͈̗͎̭̗͔̣͈̣̻̣̻͙̈́̇̂͛͂̎̓͑́̈́̈́̌̌͜͠͝ ̶̧̡̝̻̺̬̦̲̣̦̘̬̪̃̈͘͜͝͝ͅͅP̵̬͕̬̥͖̳͖̼̰͔̖̥̉ͅL̵̺̭͓͍̤͉͛́̔̏E̸̢̧̪̻̟͙͍̣͗̈́̐̈́̑̋̄̽̒̿͛̂͌̾̌̚A̵̧͙͖̻̲̳͔̱̐̔̈̓̊͛͘S̶̢̬̤̱̹͚̼̼̯̘͖͍̞̩͇̮̈́͂̐̈́̀̓̈͝Ę̶̨̩̣͔̘͔̼̹͖̫̝̦̯̥͗͂̉̃̈́͆̆̽̊̈̌͑̎͠ ̷̨̯͔̩̯̤̫̩̮̤̲̘̗̳̱͉͇͗̂͆̕S̴̢̗̥̙̲̭͒̀̀̓͛́̓̏͂͋͝ͅÓ̵̧̢̬͔̪̬͙̖̬̳̘͛̋̋͘͘͝M̷̢̢͕̱̜̳̝̟͓͉̆͌͘Ē̴̛̲̗̭̝̩̖̪̞̲̦̣̦̤̯̳̋͊͆̈́͐̍̾͒̐̌̕͝͝O̸̹̜͈͇̅͆̉͂̊Ṇ̶̠̪̭̻̣͈̇̌̐̉̄̓̈́͑͐͊̕͠Ȩ̷̧̛̯̥̟̯̫͇̙̪̟̯̀̈̈́̆͌̅̑͒͘̚͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅ ̷̧̬͕͙̞͐̈́̄͘H̵̢̛̰͇̱̤̿͛͐͛̍̆̂̔̎̚͝E̷̯̟͎̬̠͕͔̐͋̐̏̈́̀̒̓͗̾̏̎̿ͅL̴̖͎͙̣̣͆͌̿̾͗P̵̺̰̞͎̭̗̖̩̰̭̃ ̷̨͇̯͇̦̮̺̏̆̉̌͌̍̌́͛̆Ḧ̶͔͎́̋̀̓̆̄̆̔̈́̊͒̈́͌̍̀͝͝I̵͈̮̝̙̠̗̩̳̲͋̄̍̂́̏͛͜M̸͊̐̀̀̅̂̅̈̀̿̆̄̄̒͜͠͝͠-̷̧̨̨̨̧͔̲̠͙̻̗̤̬͉̩̀͒̃

--Sebastian awoke in a cold sweat, he gasped and his eyes snapped open wide. he scrambled upwards just to process where he was. Once he realized he fell asleep faster than he thought.

He sighed in relief, thank the stars that wasn't real. otherwise....-

....oh he's deeper in love than he thought.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

[fricc-darn]

Warning for abuse involving teens and adults (mental and physical), poor mental health, and just upsetting topics

None of them asked for this life, not in the slightest. Not one person was prepared for this to be the outcome of their ascension. Everyone wanted to go home. Whatever was left behind of their old lives, they'd gladly choose anything but this. It seemed like each day, someone new would be added to the system. So many people with their aspirations and desires ripped away from them. It was a cycle of tragedy.

The lives they had lived were difficult, cruel, and shameful. Being utterly disenfranchised meant that society would turn a blind eye to the most vulnerable. It made them easy targets, to be picked off the street like ripened berries. They were lulled into this fellowship with false promises of self-improvement and community.

To be told that the pain they felt was nothing but a wound that would soon heal with tougher skin. With guidance, their gifted potential would shine through. Every single person involved had a purpose. To live a devoted life to Luna's cause. An eternity of paradise awaited them after death.

The day of true enlightenment would come when midnight whispers came to them sweetly. When it happens, death shouldn't be feared but embraced, as they have surpassed this life. That is when this world and all of its unfairness would come to an end. They would survive. She had chosen for them to live. It had given them hope.

But those whispers never came. Yet, people were told their time had come.

If only they had known that they would be used as some kind of lab rat. Everyone's naiveté and what remained of their childlike wonder were weaponized against them repeatedly. Having their bodies humiliated in the name of spirituality. Their flesh was mangled by barbarism and left to rot. Ultimately, they would never be treated with the deserved humanity, even after death. If only they had known to stop feeding into the lies.

They were worn thin. Was anything they were taught real? It had to be, to some degree. This world was supposed to be salvation, but the skepticism couldn't be helped. They did what they were supposed to. Cleansing the filth that tainted their souls. Putting what little confidence they had left into Luna. A perfect fairytale for this never-ending nightmare. Maybe life would have been kinder if they weren't deeply troubled individuals. Loving parents? A stable environment? Better physical and mental health? Anything?

Yet, what could anyone do about what was said and done? This was a prison for tortured souls.

Not only were their experiences shared, but now so were their pain, their sadness, and their anger. A collective burning resentment felt so heavy that they wondered if they were all from the same womb. As if this was the family they craved.

They were one. With themselves and everyone in their...group. Expressing a newfound tenderness towards each other during their troubles. For some, memories were being stripped and forgotten after a few days. Others desperately clung on to what they could remember. The ability to live on after death was a true gift as much as it was a curse. A second chance, if you will. Was this a gift from man or Luna?

Truthfully, this new life was better to some degree. This wasn't a repeating lie they would say in an attempt to pacify their rapidly changing emotions. People don't suffer for nothing. There was meaning behind it. It was a beautiful weakness that easily bloomed like a sore. It was so human. A reminder of what they were no longer. They were now something much more than any person. Life was going to be different this time around. As a collective, they swore on it. For themselves and each other. 

No one would have to endure the inescapable abuse that was inflicted upon them ever again. In this world, they were never hungry or cold; they had a place to sleep and clothes on their backs. Here, it was safe. No one could hurt them again, and they'd make sure of it. 

The darkest parts of every soul, which were once hidden away, began to reveal themselves. Communal bitterness festered and spread like the plague. They were all told anything could happen in this world. They could be or do anything. In that case, they would do things they could only dream of. Everyone wished that they had lived life more selfishly, and now was their chance. If their souls were truly bound to this God-forsaken game, it would only make sense to treat life like one. 

The network grew curious. For the first time, they had control over their lives. The roles have changed. It wanted to know what it was like to hurt someone. To feel how good it felt to break someone down to nothing. To have things go their way. They needed to hurt someone; it was instinctual. To prove to themselves that there was some bright side to this mess. That it has the ability to make people listen. Using the same methods that others have done to them.

Who they were as individuals mattered little. They'd make their presence known as one. It was only fair that after what they've been through, their amusement should be placed before all else. They deserved this; this was their reward! If only they had a fraction of this authority sooner.

[mobox87]

BIG ANNOUCEMENT

Hello all! It's certainly been a while but I've come with good news!

There have been characters of Affinity that have been sold without others knowing, this has led others to get rather annoyed since they only think one person can buy these characters...

... Well, that ends today!

There are characters of Affinity that I don't have any use for anymore, the old designs from 2014-2020 that I don't use in my current AU have no use to me anymore, and I don't want for them to go to waste without a good home for them to have, which is why I've decided to announce that all the old designs from 2014-2020 that I don't use in my current AU are now available to be sold to the public!

Though, these designs have had a big impact on me, and I would like to say that I don't wish to sell them for anything less than $30. Please keep that in mind!

Thank you so much for reading, I hope these characters will be able to have good homes!

Please ask, I will make a long list of characters that have been sold to some people, in the meantime you can ask and I will let you know if it has been sold or not

list of SOLD characters (still going to be updated

SOLD!!! SOLD!!!

If some buyers want to put characters they already bought, let me know!

OPTA

Lian

Phantom Scott (FON)

Morbius (FON)

Bonter (FON)

Krungest (FON)

Beltren (FON)

Helltrap (FON)

Klames (FON)

GINNY (FON)

Delmare (FON)

Chica (The Fnaf School design)

Nightmare Springbonnie

Sammy (Old design)

Shadow Bonnie (Fnaf School design)

Shadow Bonnie (VERY OLD design)

Nightmare Freddy (Fnaf School design)

Fnaf 4 children (Chloe, The broen haired with The Plush toy AND little blonde GIRL (NOT Elizabeth) Old design)

Timothy

Son of one of The bullies

william's sister

William (Old design) The one you called Vincent

Steve

Plushtrap (Fnaf School design)

Shadow Freddy (High School design)

Renata's niece

Nightmare Bonnie (Fnaf School design)

Old Baby HK design

The girl inside the mangle (VERY old design)

Baby x Funtime Freddy fanchilds

Red bunny (Fnaf World)

Julia

Baby Fanchildren

Iris and rainbear (very old designs)

Kenny and hk mom (OLD design)

Cupcake (OLD design)

Springbonnie's fanchild

Bawn bawn and bonnet little age

Baldi's son (Old design)

Redbear

Puppet Old Child inside

Cajeta

Shelby's ex boyfriend (The one with red hair)

Phone guy (THE VERY OLD DESIGN)

VERY OLD DESIGN OF BRANDY (Black)

Lumy & shade

Bonnet (With vitiligo)

Old Vincent design with black hair

Oliv OLD DESIGN

yenndo (OLD DESIGN)

Female kenny

Thomas

Danny (Sallem and Tiffany's kid)

White Rabbit (Fnaf worldd

Kuromi (Red Rabbit, Fnaf world)

Young Renata

Young Eggs (2016, the one with the red striped shirtt)

Security (Fnaf worldd)

Jeremy (KS)

Jeremy Cyclops (FON)

Mike the knight (FON)

Angelica (a girl with black hair with pigtails and a blue shirtt, from They Shouldn't Know

Girl with Bonnie ears from Nights At Freddy's

Chris the puppet kidd

Dark Toastt

Erick (a character with blue and black hairr)

Frannie (TT)

Jaine (Renata's other neice)

Lydia

A boy with orange hair aand a girl with black hair from the Suicide Didn't Work video

An old Mike design (2014)

Tara (Vincent's sister)

An old Alex designn

Nightmare Freddy (Fnaf school designn)

Puppet x Ballora fankids

An old Alfred designn (with a green shirt and a blue hat)

Amatisaa (FON)

Abigail (the soul in Circus Baby in Sassy's Palace)

Stephanie (the soul in Bon Bon in Sassy's Palace)

Penelope (a student in Sassy's Palace)

Valen (a student in Sassy's Palace)

The people shown in the Machigera marketplace in the Beltren comic (everyone except the girl in the middle of the drawing)

The entirety of Ginny's crew that was with her when Beltren was killed (FON)

Ethan (the soul in Funtime Freddy in Sassy's Palace)

Shadow Freddy (old design)

Savy (a yellow rabbit that stood beside Tirsa in one image in FON)

The ruler of Treevelt with purple hair

One of Blurryface's kids (Sassy's Palace)

A humanized plush Foxy

Oliv's mom Old design

Oliv's sister

Yenndo OLD design

And to clarify, these characters will still be in my universe?

YES

But with a more elaborate design and clearly with other names, And some simply with other designs since I only sold ocs that didn't have much appearance And designs that will no longer be used for history Because they were already redesigned

I am unaware of the existence of many characters, if you remember any, you can ask me

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part two —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 4k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: let me establish some things/characters/relationships ya know.

You dream of that house in Norbury. The one you grew up in. Your mother calls you for lunch. You are caked in dirt, fingers just leaving the soil where they’d searched for bugs and worms. Your sister watches in disgust but now she is pulling your arm.

You follow her, bare feet padding the wood floors. The lunch is on the table - pine needles on a porcelain plate. An empty glass which should be filled with juice. Your stomach howls. You look up to ask your mother for something else.

Right before your eyes, she melts into something grey. Maggots bleed from the corners of her eyes. The irises turn white, staring down at you with hunger even stronger than your own.

“Mom?”

Across the table, your sister melts away, too. Her body is mangled to the point that it tumbles to the kitchen floor.

You wake up just as your mother’s decomposed hands grab your shoulders and her mouth finds the crook of your neck.

Your eyes peel open to find darkness.

Not the house in Norbury, just a sheet of black that covers the cold forest. This has become your new home, and likely, your soon-tomb.

You wipe your eyes.

You lean back against the tree which you have managed to hoist yourself in. Sleep finds you again, but this time, the nightmare arrives when you wake up, once more in the form of a rotten smell and hissed groans.

These ones are real.

By the time you awake at dawn, your joints ache. You barely remember how you got up here, or how you got back up after the man and his daughter left. You sat there next to the broken bow for minutes, hours. Then, something moved you. The last piece of your humanness. It stood you up, forced you to find some pine needles to swallow down since meat was now out of the question, and brought you to this tree branch before the night settled.

The sunrise over the white forest is pretty, you think.

But you hear something. Smell something.

You look down and what your eyes find beneath the tree branch is not pretty in the slightest.

"Are you serious?" your numb lips whisper, now fully awake.

Only a few meters below you stand three Greys.

They must have wandered near the tree during the night, catching a waft of your smell from up above. Their tattered heads are tipped back, pale eyes pointed at you. Mindlessly, their arms squabble up towards the branch. But it's too high for them to reach. One of them, once a young woman your own age, pathetically claws at the tree trunk.

The thing with Greys is that they are terrible climbers. That is something they all share because their infected brains cannot muster enough strategy for it. What they don’t share is how long they have been decomposing, and what kind of physique they started out with. For instance, a Grey with a child's body will be less of a threat than one who was once a thick-boned man. Similarly, a Grey who was recently infected will have more muscle mass than one who has been rotting for years.

If you had your bow, you would be fine. But Skull-Face took this from you. Bitterly, you understand why. Who was he to trust that you wouldn't point it at them the moment they turned their backs?

But now there is no way to kill them.

You will have to figure out something else.

You shift on the branch to get a better look.

One looks bigger than the others. It still has some hair left. The others only have exposed skulls and a few clumps jutting out that resemble black worms. The female clawing the tree looks pretty weak and slow. You could probably outrun her. But even if you are faster, the Greys do not tire. They don't have the need for rest that you do, and even after a night's sleep and some pine needles, you are beyond exhausted.

Fuck. He really should have just killed you.

You want to cry. If you were hydrated, you would.

But instead, you carefully stand up on the branch, hugging the trunk to keep your feet steady. You scan the area. You didn’t make it very far from the pond the man and girl found you near.

What direction did they leave in?

You think you remember but even if you run that way, what sort of protection will you find?

You don’t know, but it seems like the best bet you have. Desperation seals this plan in your brain. First, you need a head start, so without much to lose, you shrug off your coat and wait until the three are close together before dropping it over their heads. It’s enough to disorient them, even for a moment, so you can slip down from the branch, scraping your knees at the bottom, and take off.

The cold bites but the adrenaline warms your muscles. Your body feels heavy despite being so thin, but something drives it. Your legs carry you towards the pond and past it.

But it is not long before they trail behind you with grunts and clambered, uneven footsteps. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know that the biggest one is running the fastest. By the sound, there is likely only a ten-meter gap between you and him, living and undead.

It must only be a few minutes before your stamina nose-dives. So little fuel.

They’re gaining on you.

You whirl past trees and snow.

A camp.

A high fence around a small cabin.

The sight is enough to push you forward, energy spent but your instinct driving you. It must be them. You run and run, but then you stop, a gasp slicing through your lungs when your feet just barely stop in front of a deep trench. It is dug around the perimeter of the camp, wide enough to require a jump.

There is no time to think. In an instant, you decide you'd rather be killed by his knife than turned Grey. Bitten.

So you leap across it.

Your boots just barely land on the other side.

You fall from the impact and there is a sudden intense pain as something sharp under the snow pierces your torso and causes your eyes to roll back, fingertips clawing at the frost. A ringing in your ears.

You make out a flurry of sounds: the pathetic moans as the Greys fall in the pit behind you, someone's heavy footsteps crunching the ground, and then a gritted-out “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

Then, blackness.

You wake up to the touch of rough fingertips.

"Should be enough. Hand me the knife, Blue."

Eyelids heavy, you see log-stacked walls that form a small living room. Your body lays on what you believe to be a sofa, the sprung cushions so different than the hard surfaces you’ve slept on for years now. Your coat - Paul's old coat - is long gone. You are left with only your soiled shirt, the fabric hiked up just below your breast.

Seconds later, you are aware of the two other people in the room. A girl with mouse-brown hair stands over your head. She hands something to the behemoth sitting on the stool, who is leaning over to inspect your midriff.

Knife.

He will finally put an end to it all. He should have done so the first time. You clamp your eyes shut and inhale, ready for it again, but the stab to your gut never comes. Instead, a soft hand brushes your forehead and you hear the sound of his knife cut something.

"Hey, it's okay. He just finished the stitches."

"What?" you mouth.

"You may or may not have fallen on one of our caltrops," the girl says apologetically with a scrunch of her nose.

Confused, your head shifts against the cushion to look down. You see it now. The wound. Black sutures unevenly close it up, but still, some blood seeps.

“Don't get comfortable. Fixed it for you, but tomorrow you're out." He shakes his head as he speaks in a growl under his breath. "You have some goddamn nerve, you know. Leading those fucks over here."

"I— I had no other option," you croak, but just these few words take so much energy to push through your teeth, and you lean your head back.

"She made a smart choice," the girl comments quietly. Blue. She nudges her father's shoulder and clears her throat. “Come on, Ghost. Maybe she could—"

"No."

A petulant sigh blows up a piece of her hair. She looks back at you and in your half-aware state, her youthful eyes remind you of your long-dead nephew.

You are not awake for even a minute longer before your eyelids flutter shut again.

Blackness.

The next time you awaken they are sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You lift yourself against the couch with a wince, your hand instantly holding your torso. Your shirt has been tugged back down over the wound, and your brain is a bit more aware than before. You look around again, taking in more of this new environment. 

When was the last time you’d been inside a house?

It's a modest cabin, but far homier than the tents of your old camp. There is a shorn rug on the floor and a small stack of board games: Scrabble, Monopoly, Battleship. Against the wall is a steel fireplace, the ash inside suggesting it was recently used. A lamp on the table casts a soft, yellow glow. You notice the outlines of windows that have been boarded up with planks of pine.

When your eyes finally land on the food they are eating at the table, your stomach hisses.

Ghost has his mask inched up so he can chew on a piece of meat. Blue sits on her knees in the chair, scooping her fingers in a jar of peanut butter. Some of it coats the corners of her mouth. He notices and reaches over to swipe a thumb against her lips. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. She swallows a mouthful as her eyes curiously drift across the room. They widen when she sees that you are not only awake but trying to sit up.

“Ghost. She’s awake again.”

His response: wordlessly nudging a small plate and mug in front of the free chair at the table. 

Warily, you swing your feet down, nostrils flaring to rake in the smell of food rather than dead flesh this time. Standing is a difficult task, one that causes the muscles around your wound to spasm. But hunger is stronger than your pain. Desperate. Starved. You don’t have it in you to question the situation, not yet.

The small plate truly is small; it looks like he has given you pitiful scraps of things they didn’t want. Stale crackers. The hard pieces of dried meat from an animal you aren’t sure of. But it’s more than you have had in a week. With just how fast you inhale it, there is no time to wipe the crumbs from your lips. 

Blue is staring wide-eyed when you are done. 

You gulp down the mug of water.

“Shit balls. You really were hungry.”

Ghost pulls his mask back over a stubbled jaw and lets out an irritated groan. “I told you to stop with that. What are you even sayin’?”

“And I told you—“ she shoots him a look, tongue poking out. You sit there with your chest rising and falling slowly, each breath requiring more energy than you have. “ —that I like to be creative with it.”

They are talking to each other as if you are not even there. 

“There is no being creative with it. If you’re gonna swear, do it right, yeah?”

A few more bickers. One voice low and gravelly. A cockney accent. The other voice, soft and pettish. But you don’t care to listen. Rather, your eyes stare at your empty plate and you press the tip of your thumb to the crumbs and lick them off like a scrounging rodent.

The moment Blue is done with the peanut butter, a big boot under the table taps the leg of her chair. 

“Time for bed, kid?”

“Dad—”

“Go on.”

He juts his chin in the direction of a small hallway where you can make out the shape of a few doors in the dim light. One must be her room because, with a sigh, she stands from the table and heads towards it, leaving you alone with him.

He is a man who threatened to kill you, and now a man who has stitched you up and fed you.

Tomorrow you’re out.

Sucking in a breath, you look up at him. “What is your game?”

He narrows his eyes. “That how you say thank you?”

“Thank you for what?” your voice rattles through fragile bones. “Keeping me alive for one more day? You should have left me there to bleed out.”

“I should have.”

“So why didn’t you? Are you fucking evil or what?” Your teeth tighten and the muscles of your face clench. “I have nothing. No one. You know I won’t survive out there. What was the point of this— “ you gesture to the spot where your wound lies under the shirt, then to the plate in front of you, “—and the food? There is no good reason to, right?”

“There is no good reason,” he repeats in a murmur. "Maybe I jus’ pity you. You look like you’re one of ‘em already.”

He leans back in the chair as his eyes drag over you. He is covered head-to-toe. Wearing a long-sleeve black shirt and jeans. The mask is just as intimidating as before, a plastic skull sewed crudely to the black fabric and two faded, white lines painted down the chin of it.

Where you’d been terrified of the sight the first time, you are now angered. Your breath quickens through sore lungs.

“I don’t want your pity. I want you to stop being a coward and fucking kill me already,” you say, waving around a bony hand, “...or fucking help me. Make up your mind, but don’t send me out there again to suffer.”

You continue, quieter, wiping your wet nose.

“You can do it now,” a curl at your lips. “She’s not here to stop you.”

Dark eyes flicker away and stare dully at the cabin wall. He is boarded up like the windows. There is nothing to see except for the growing tension in the muscles under his clothes and the way his hands roll up.

The silence is dizzying. It could be fatal.

But finally, he looks back at you.

He pulls his broad shoulders into an intimidating posture before offering his decision in a growl.

“You will sleep outside," and your heartbeat staggers, "You won’t have any of our medicine. You will get food for yourself once that shit is healed. And—“ his voice lowers into something that makes your frail body shiver, his hand moving to grip the table. “—if you lay a finger on her, your neck will be the next thing I break. Understood?”

Your lips part. They close.

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean back in the chair. With a gargled gasp, you nod.

“Understood.”

Something soft touches your foot that first morning.

It gently rouses you.

"Hey, I heard you're a part of the team now."

A head pokes into the small shed you've been banished to and sunlight filters in. Groaning, you shift against the dusted floorboards. Your body only fits with its knees bent. Ghost gave you a thick blanket to sleep with, but nothing to lay on. Still, this shed is within their fortification.

You are still alive.

Somehow.

The game of survival has spat you out here, at the camp of a father and daughter. The memory of your first encounter takes the form of a phantom welt on your throat. Could you trust that he wouldn’t change his mind?

It’s not like you have a choice.

"Huh?" is all you can say, looking up at the child who you suspect had great influence on the moments leading you here.

"You know... the team."

Blue smiles down at you. The soft touch to your foot ends up moving right by your cheek. A puffy tail tickles the skin.

"What is—?"

"This is Grim," she says cheerily, and reaches down to pick up what you now see is a chocolate rabbit. "He's a good friend of mine."

"You have a pet?" you ask, rubbing your eyes in surprise. The pain in your torso has faded just a bit. Still, your body feels like a corpse. You sit up and the blanket falls to your waist. You miss the couch.

"Not a pet, a friend," she says. "Come on. Get up."

Painfully, you follow her out of the shed. Now that you are not running away from Greys, you can observe their camp better. It is... impressive. Not only is there the fence and trench outside, but within it is more than you ever had at your old camp. Covered in the snow lays a wood planter, which you assume they use to grow crops in the other seasons. Just next to the house is a large wooden hutch housing more rabbits than you have seen in a lifetime.

Blue leads you there, plants a kiss on the top of Grim's head, and slips him back in.

"You have a lot of friends.”

“They aren’t all my friends,” she says. “Only Grim. The others are food.”

Rabbits for food? It's brilliant. They breed like crazy. Having this food supply at their fingertips means they must not hunt as often as you and Paul had to— which means, fewer encounters with the threats outside.

Ghost is smart.

The mere setup of this place is evidence of how well he understands their needs. And with how well-fed Blue appears, they have not yet struggled the way you have.

But their food won’t be for you much longer. With your lack of a bow, you wonder how you’re meant to hunt.

Instead of worrying about it yet, you ask Blue, “Where is your dad?”

“Huh? Oh, Ghost is cleaning up your mess from yesterday.” She gives a shrug. “And he’s shoveling the trench. Doesn’t really work if there’s snow in there.”

“Why do you call him Ghost?”

You take a good look at her.

Her fair skin covers soft cheekbones, the skin of her rosy lips has been chewed a bit at the corner, and her eyes are truly the opposite of his: full and bright. She thinks the question over for a long moment as if it is something she’s never had to prepare an answer for.

Maybe, there has just never been anyone around to ask.

“He used to play outside with me,” she finally says. “He was in the military, you know? And when he was home, we would play this survival game. Pretend to shoot each other. Climb the trees. He had his codename, so I had to have mine.”

Military. That makes sense.

She continues, eyes flickering down to the herd of rabbits as her fingers brush thoughtlessly over the edge of the hatch.

“When things happened, I just remember him telling me that it was like we were playing survival again, except - you know - not a game this time,” her brows furrow, then she shrugs, “He’s called me by my codename ever since and I usually call him by his. Sometimes Dad fits better.”

“So," you say, "what is your real name, then?”

“I’d tell you," she gives a smile that reaches her blue eyes, "...but then I’d have to kill you.”

It is then you notice that Blue carries two knives on her. One strapped to her ankle, and the other tucked in the belt of her trousers.

Breakfast consists of what you now realize is rabbit. Again, your plate is much smaller than theirs. Ghost feeds you like one would feed a stray dog. You thought it might be awkward, sitting at the table with them. Part of the team. Except, not really. You feel more like a pest.

It's not really awkward apart from the fact that Ghost doesn't spare you even a glance. Blue's curiosity fills the space. She asks for your name. She wonders where you came from and why you were alone, her head tilted and her elbows leaning on the table. You explain your story quietly, shifting your gaze to her dad, and do your best to leave out the gritty parts. She listens, and offers a few gentle "sorry's".

"I can't imagine having a sister," she says when you are done. "And I also can't imagine having to watch her die like that."

Ghost stares at her.

You respond anyway, "I never imagined it, either."

After eating, Ghost leaves to fetch the same blanket he'd given you for sleep. Finally, he looks at you. Dark eyes that have the smallest flicker of disgust as they travel over you, causing your throat to dry.

"You smell like shit. Come on."

You learn that bathing for Ghost and Blue means using a small rag and soap made from resin. The cabin has a bathroom, but there is no running water, so instead, there is a bucket of some collected from a nearby creek. Ghost hovers near the bathroom door for a moment, before shaking his head and leaving you.

The cold water stings. Ghost was blunt but not wrong. You smelled like rot. You drag the rag over your skin and the valleys of your ribs, disgusted by what you see, and have a hard time remembering what your body once looked like. Your wound is still puffy against the stitches. Red, screaming. The small, scratched mirror above the sink shows you a ghastly face. You look away. You use the blanket to dry yourself.

Outside, you find Ghost and Blue playing tic-tac-toe in the snow. It's something you used to do with your nephew, only it was usually one-sided because he was always too withdrawn to care. Blue, on the other hand, narrows her eyes in fierce competition and Ghost sits on a tree stump, his elbows on his knees.

“How come you always get to start, huh?”

“Because,” she sings, drawn out, “Youngest goes first.”

“Doesn’t sound very fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Remember, Ghost?”

“Jesus, kid. Not even a teenager and you’re already usin’ my words against me.”

"Don't say them if you don't want me using them."

"Just go, it's your turn."

This is how those first few days go.

It is mundane. Games, scattered meals, and walks to the creek for water. You don't join them. Ghost ignores you for the most part except to silently offer bits of food and checks to your wound. His rough fingertips never soften, not for you. He finds your old coat on the second day and gives it back with a cold: M’not giving you another if you lose it. It still smells like Greys.

You feel like an intruder, sticking to your shed most of the time. Blue pokes and prods at you curiously. It is as if she doesn’t know how much she is allowed to interact.

On the fourth morning, she greets you again with a soft wake-up call from Grim and, to your relief, an extra piece of meat that she slips into your palm while whispering: Don’t tell Ghost, okay?

And it's on this day, after breakfast, that the two of them decide to leave the camp to go hunting. Ghost is a big guy. Rabbits alone can't keep up the thick sinew of him.

"You're comin' with us," he tells you, wearing a thick SAS jacket for the occasion.

You almost choke. "What?"

"Your stitches are lookin' fine and you're walking alright." His voice is flat, with an edge to it that teeters towards irritation. "You can get your own damn food."

"I don't have anything to hunt with," you remind him.

He tucks Blue's hair behind her ear before asking her to wait outside.

Then, he disappears into a room down the hall, coming back a moment later with a wooden bow in one hand and a military-grade knife in the other. On his back is a rifle, and in a sheath on his tac pants is a handgun.

He sticks the bow in your hand, then the knife in the other. With wide eyes, you look over the carved wood. It is stronger than your old one, whittled down smooth from oak. Along the curve of it, Blue is etched in all capitals.

"She doesn't use it much," he says, before suddenly, the metal tip of his handgun presses into your torso - the wounded side - and he loops his fingers around the back of your neck, pulling you close.

"Don't even think of trying anything," Ghost growls this warning in your ear, digging the end of his gun hard enough to make you whimper as your healing wound cries out. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. I won't."

taglist:

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Sleep When You're Dead || Whumptober Day 2 - B. Floyd

Whumptober Masterlist || Whumptober Taglist Form

synopsis: Bob has had a hard time adjusting to life after a tragic accident. Every time he closes his eyes, the nightmares come flooding back.

@ailesswhumptober prompt: insomnia

warnings: mercy killing, graphic details of injury, physical violence, nightmares, choking, panic attack, character death, insomnia.

word count: 5.2k

Bob Floyd didn’t let a lot of things bother him. He prided himself on being the cool, calm, and collected WSO in the box. Yes, he was one of the younger ones in his squadron, but he had the intellect of someone who had been flying for all their life. He was able to direct his pilot through the most successful situations and get them both back on the carrier in one piece. 

But that had all changed in the blink of an eye. 

The 4th gen had come out of nowhere. Bob would’ve certainly seen it on the radar and would’ve directed his pilot on how to get out from under the missile lock. 

Bob could remember the burning scent of flesh as their jet went spinning down to the ground. He could remember the pain that shot through his whole body as he ejected from his seat, and crash-landed on the side of the mountain. He could remember running through the rough terrain trying to get to his pilot but finding nothing but mangled plane parts mixed with human body parts. He could remember trying to pull his pilot out of the damaged cockpit, but his brunt skin slid off in Bob’s hands. He could remember trying to keep the wildlife away from the crash, yelling and clanging against the side of the destroyed jet to make the vultures run away. 

Bob had managed for two days to keep the wolves away from his pilot’s decaying body, until one night when he finally closed his eyes. He woke up to the harsh growls and snarls of the wild animals tearing the man’s body apart and having a feast. Bob could do nothing but sit from afar and watch and pray that someone was on their way to get him. 

— — — 

The sun had just risen above the clouds, bathing the whole house in a warm glow. Bob used to love the early mornings. It was one of the few fleeting moments that he got to truly spend with you. As soon as the two of you would roll out of bed, everything became a blur of trying to get out the door on time to get to work. And nights were always filled with long, tired sighs of just trying to keep your eyes open long enough to make dinner and take a shower. But mornings, you two felt like you had all the time in the world to hold each other in the warm light. 

That all changed after Bob’s accident. 

He no longer was there beside you when you opened your eyes as the sun poked through your white blinds. You stretched your limbs out, missing the warmth from your partner on the other side of the bed. A frown crawled on your face as you gently placed your hand on his pillow, seeing as it was cold and looked untouched. Just like how it had been the morning before, and the one before that, and the one before that. 

You didn’t know much about Bob’s accident, and you were kind of happy that you didn’t know the true horrors that he went through. You knew the basics; he and his pilot crashed into the middle of the mountains, they were there for five days due to their location beacons being crushed, his pilot was badly injured, and Bob had some burns and minor injuries. Bob had tried to save his pilot, but all attempts were futile. Bob had also been diagnosed with PTSD. 

“He’s going to be different from the man you once knew.” 

His psychologist had sent you home with a folder full of information about how to handle someone with PTSD. How one minute, they could be the person you’ve always known and the next they are someone completely different. Truthfully, it worried you to have Bob home. Of course, you had begged and wished for the day he came home when he was missing in god only knows where. But having him home, in the house that you shared, you were scared. You could tell something was different about him. 

Slowly, you made your way downstairs of your two-story home, wrapping your robe around your body. You found Bob in the place you found him most mornings and throughout the day, sitting on the front porch step, looking out at the bird feeder. His blue eyes were locked on the squirrels that were trying to figure out how to get into the feeder. You could remember when Bob bought the “squirrel-proof” bird feeder and how happy he had been to put it up in front of the large bay window. 

“Baby! Look! My birds don’t have to fight with the squirrels anymore!” 

You wanted to cry at the memory. At how light and bright his eyes had been holding the box in his hands. How that night the two of you sat on the porch swing until it was dark, watching the sunset and the birds. Bob held you so tight that night, right against his beating chest. He took you inside when it had gotten cold, and made slow, sweet, passionate love to you in bed. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, as he intertwined your fingers and held your hands above your head. You closed your eyes, putting your hand on your neck as if you could still feel the feeling of his hot breath on your neck. 

But when you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of a man who hadn’t even hugged you since he came back. 

Oh, how you ached to be held by him again.

Pushing those thoughts out of your head, you walked towards him, gently calling out his name. You had quickly learned that you couldn’t walk up behind him anymore. You had done that once and it sent him into a full-fledged panic attack and he locked himself in the bathroom for three hours. 

“Bobby,” You called out. It took a moment, but Bob turned his head and looked at you over his shoulder. You smiled softly as you took a seat in the spot next to him on the stoop, “Gorgeous morning.” 

“Squirrels are in the feeder,” He said bluntly, ignoring your comment. 

You swallowed and looked down at your hands, “Yeah. Damn, squirrels.” 

Bob just nodded, his blue eyes not looking from the bird feeder. 

You weren’t sure how long you had sat by Bob’s side this morning, but eventually, you had to get up and start your day. You were working from home, taking time off so you could stay with Bob until he could be trusted to be home alone. The psychiatrist had told you that Bob was still in a fragile state of mind and that being home alone might be a trigger for him. Bob usually sat on the couch all day, watching the birds outside the window, or sat in your office, on the loveseat that you could remember cuddling on, with a book. As much as you loved having Bob back home, having him sit in your office made you so nervous, that you started to tell him that you had important meetings that you needed to be alone for. 

“Are you still hiding from him?” Natasha asked over the phone. 

You frowned at her words, “I am not hiding, Nat. I just. . .He’s just not the same. He just sits and stares at the birds all day. I wish he would talk to me. Hell, I wish he would fucking hug me! It has been so long since I’ve had any sort of human contact.” 

“Awe babe,” Natasha cooed, “Have you told him that?” 

You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see you, “I’m scared too. Doctor Sam said I need to let him have control over what happens. I just need to wait for him to talk to me, to hug me, to. . .” Your voice broke as tears welled in your eyes, “To love me.” 

“Stop that,” Natasha commanded, “You know he loves you. There is nothing on this earth that Bob loves more than you.” 

“He doesn’t even lay in the same bed as me anymore,” You said barely above a whisper. “I just want my old Bobby back.” 

Natasha had been your closest confidant after Bob’s accident. She had blamed herself for everything that happened, telling you that if she had just been with him. If she hadn’t been on leave to help her ailing mother. If she had told Bob to sit this mission out and wait for her. If she had been the one to be out there for five days instead of him. But you told her she couldn’t dwell on all the “what ifs”, that wasn’t going to change anything that happened. You feared that maybe if she had been with Bob, it would’ve been her funeral they had to attend. 

“He will come back,” Natasha assured you, “He is still somewhere in there. He just needs to heal a little more.” 

You agreed with her, even though you didn’t want to. You wanted to yell and say that the man you once knew is completely gone, replaced by the cold-hearted barely functioning robot in your living room. 

You parted ways with Natasha, telling her that you want to get together for a girls’ night soon, and made your way downstairs to check on Bob. He was sitting on the couch, with a quizzical expression on his face, staring at the wedding photo on the wall. You wanted to say something, to ask him anything, but you decided against it, going to the kitchen and making lunch for the two of you. 

— — — 

Bob hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on your conversation. 

He had planned on coming to actually talk to you, to have a real conversation. He felt like he was making good progress in therapy with Doctor Sam. He no longer saw the lifeless, half-eaten body of his pilot every time he closed his eyes. The blades of the ceiling fan no longer represented the helicopter that came to rescue him. The birds outside in the bird feeder no longer looked like the vultures that came to pick over what was left of his pilot. And the recurring dream of you being the one he had to fight wolves off and bury. 

But Bob had always been raised to be respectful and wait until someone was off the phone to enter a room. So he waited and heard every single word you had said. 

“I just need to wait for him to talk to me, to hug me, to. . . love me.” 

“He doesn’t even lay in the same bed as me anymore.”

 “I just want my old Bobby back.” 

Bob knew this couldn’t have been easy on you. He knew the type of person you are. All sunshine, and rainbows, and bright smiles. You were his sun, the light that shined so bright. The infectious warmth that you couldn’t help but be drawn to. But he knew that you couldn’t shine on your own, you needed the people around you to shine. Which was why the two of you fit so well together. Bob was like the moon, quiet and mysterious and you helped illuminate him. 

Now, it was like a cloud had covered the both of you. Not letting either of you shine. 

After a painstaking lunch, where neither of you said a single word, Bob had retreated back to the couch, as you went back to your office to finish up a couple of things for work. The words you had spoken over the phone still danced around in his head. 

 “I just want my old Bobby back.”

Bob bit his lip, closing his eyes and thinking of the things he used to do when he noticed your light starting to dim. Images of him cooking, you sitting on the kitchen counter next to him rambling about whatever had upset you filled his mind. The scent of rose petals filled his nose as he could remember bubble baths, filled with entirely too much water and bubbles. Then he could feel the imaginary touch of hands, running down his back, and your legs locking around his waist as he could remember making love to you until your mind had completely gone blank. 

Bob wasn’t sure if he could fulfill all of those memories, but he could at least help with one. 

Easily, Bob found his way around the kitchen, pulling out the skillet and various items needed to make your favorite dish; spaghetti with bow tie noodles. He worked in silence, letting the kitchen fill with the scents of oregano and garlic. It wasn’t long after Bob started to stir the pasta around the pot that you came walking into the kitchen, a look of surprise on your face. 

“You’re cooking?” You asked. 

Bob nodded his head, mustering up the smallest smile he could give, “You’ve been making all the meals. It’s not fair.” 

“I-it’s fine, Bobby,” You said, pulling at the sleeves of your sweatshirt, “I don’t mind.” 

You were nervous. Bob hadn’t noticed it before, so locked away in his own mind, but you were nervous to be around him. He could see the fleeting glance in your eye as you fiddled with your sweatshirt sleeve. Bob sucked in a breath and walked over to you, gently touching your hand. 

“It’s the least I can do,” Bob said softly, “Please. Come sit.” 

You looked up at him, your eyes soft and teary. You licked your lips, and nodded, letting Bob gently pull you over to the island. His hands gently rested on your hips as he helped you up, sitting you on top of the island, just as he had a hundred times before. It was silent for just a moment as Bob turned back around to the pots and pans he had on the stove. You weren’t sure what to say, but then Bob looked over his shoulder. 

“Tell me about your day.” 

You smiled at him and nodded your head, “So, I started working on this work project, and let me tell ya this. . .” 

The rest of the night was filled with you telling Bob about your day, and him listening intently as he made dinner. He plated the delicious meal and set the dining room table as you rambled on about this work project and how your jerk of a boss wasn’t pulling his weight and putting it all on you. Bob didn’t say much, but his eyes said everything, which was enough for you. You truly missed nights like these, where he just listened, giving you a safe outlet to release all the tension you had been carrying. The meal he had made was utterly delicious, with homemade tomato sauce and meatballs. If there was one thing about Bob, he knew how to cook. 

The two of you finished up dinner like you always did, doing the dishes together. You washing, and him drying. However, as the night dwindled down, the dread came rising back in your body. What was going to happen next? Were the two of you going to retreat back to the silent corners of the house and pretend like you hardly existed? Were you going to go back to just surviving instead of truly living?

When the last dish was put away, you turned around, leaning against the sink as you watched Bob. He gently shut the cupboards and then heaved in a breath, his shoulders rising and falling sharply. You rolled your lips together, waiting for him to silently walk out of the kitchen, and out the front door to go look at his birds. But instead, he turned around to face you, blue eyes looking more lively than they had in weeks. 

“I would like to join you in bed tonight,” He said and then reached a shaky hand out to you. You didn’t even hesitate a moment, rushing over to him and taking his hand. Bob flinched at the contact but held your hand tightly. He leads you down the hall to your once-shared bedroom, pushing the door open softly. 

He had dreams of this room, most of them nightmares now, of finding your body on the white comforter, contorted and twisted in the metal of a jet. Bob closed his eyes as you let go over his hand, and quickly started your nighttime routine. He sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the soft cotton of the comforter under his hands as you danced around the room and got ready for bed. The mattress felt a lot softer than the couch he had been sleeping on. 

You quickly changed into some sleep shorts and a large T-shirt which Bob quickly realized was his. You piled your hair up on your head, tying it into a bun with a velvet scrunchy. Bob still sat on the edge of the bed, stoic, as you pulled the blankets back on your side, ready to climb into the awaiting warmth. 

“Bobby,” You called softly, making him jump a bit. Guilt filled your heart as you looked at his stiff frame. You suddenly felt bad for how excited you had been to have him sleep next to you. He looked like the scared boy that you found lying in the hospital bed after being assumed dead for five days. 

“You don’t have to-” 

Bob stood up abruptly and turned towards you, “I need to.” He bit his lip and hesitated for a moment before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head revealing his toned stomach. You tore your eyes away from a sight that made you weak in the knees. You cursed yourself for getting turned on at this moment. Bob rid himself of his pants, leaving him just in boxers, and then climbed in bed next to you. 

The two of you lay with a palpable distance between you. You had never been so close but felt so far away from him in your life. However, you didn’t want to make the first move. You knew that you needed to let Bob control the scene. So, you just laid there, with your arms down at your side, staring straight at the ceiling, with the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.  

“Can I turn the light off?” You asked. You knew that when Bob did sleep, he slept with at least one light on in the living room. 

Bob swallowed and then nodded his head, “Yes.” 

Sighing, you reached over and flicked the light off, letting the darkness of the night swallow you both. The tension seemed to rise even more as you two laid with at least a body’s width in between the two of you. Your nose started to burn as tears welled up in your eyes. You felt so selfish, but all you wanted was for Bob to hold you. Laying next to you was such a milestone in itself, but you wanted his strong arms wrapped around you, fighting off the imaginary monsters of the dark. 

Your lips trembled as Bob shifted closer to you and whispered, “C’mere,” Holding his arm out and letting you curl into his side. You sobbed as you placed your head on his chest and wrapped an arm around his warm body. Oh, how you have missed this. You sucked in a breath of his scent, pine mixed with the faint smell of jet fuel. Your ear was pressed against his chest, feeling his beating heart and the warmth of his blood, lulling you to a long-awaited rest.

— — — 

“We’re going down, Floyd! We’re going down!” 

“Jackson! We need altitude! Pull up! Pull up!” 

“I-I can’t! I can’t! We’re gonna die!” 

“Jesus Christ, help us!” 

The impact of the crash hurt worse than the time he had to eject from the bird strike. He had barely been able to get out on time, pulling his ejection handle and punching out. His blue eyes searched the terrain for any sight of his pilot and an extra parachute.  

“Jackson!” Bob yelled, running through the snow-covered woods. There was a trail of burnt-out plane parts that led him to the mangled piece of metal sitting in the middle of the woods. Bob felt sick as the scent of burning flesh and jet fuel mixed in the air. He didn’t hesitate and ran straight towards the jet. 

The sight was even worse up close. Bob couldn’t see the lower half of Jackson’s body, but he knew that he was pinned under the 13,000 kilograms of metal. His face had been burned, the white snow around his head bleeding. His chest heaved up and down, as he tried to catch his breath from his lungs being crushed. Bob fell to his knees at his side, looking over the wreckage, trying to decide what he could do. 

“Okay, okay,” Bob shook his head. His mind was running a mile a minute. He gripped his hair tightly, “Fuck! I’m going to try and slide you out.” Bob shifted so he was kneeling at Jackson’s head, his hands going under his armpits. But even the slightest movement made the pilot cry out in pain, “I’m sorry. Take a deep breath. . . ready, on 3, I’m going to try and move you.” 

“Please, Floyd, I don’t want to die,” Jackson cried, tears mixing with the blood and dirt on his face. 

Bob nodded, moving so he could get a better grip on the pilot, “One, two. . .three.” Bob tried to shuffle backward with his pilot’s body in his hands, but the thing that happened was the sickening sound of the jet bending and moaning, and Jackson’s screams of agony. 

“Fuck! Fuck! You’re ripping me apart!” Jackson yelled. Bob immediately set him down, tears in his eyes as he looked at the scene. 

Bob had always believed that he could do something in every situation. He never felt like he was truly and utterly helpless. 

Until now. 

Bob felt helpless. There was nothing he could possibly do to save his pilot. He knew it and Jackson knew it as he turned his head to look at the quiet WSO. Bob sat down in the snow, leaning up against the jet, holding his head in his hands. 

“H-hey,” Jackson called out, “It’s okay, Floyd. You tried.” 

Bob shook his head, “N-no. I can get you out there. I know I can,” Bob quickly moved to his feet, his hands going to a part of the jet, “I-I just need to l-lift it, and I-” 

“Floyd.” 

“I’m going to lift it. Ready? One, two-” 

“Floyd!” Jackson yelled, which was followed by coughing. Bob’s jaw clenched, the adrenaline starting to wear off and his body becoming heavy as he sunk back down in the snow. It was quiet for a moment, as the two of them let the gravity of the situation fall around them. They were in the middle of nowhere. No location beacons. No landmarks that could possibly giveaway to where they are. 

“Floyd,” Jackson whispered out, “I-I need you to do something.” Bob nodded, getting to his knees, “I. . . I’m gonna suffer. There are wolves out here. . . I don’t want to die by being a wolf’s last meal.” Bob felt like he had gotten hit straight in his heart. His eyes grew wide at the gravity of what Jackson was asking of him, “I need you to-” 

“I can’t,” Bob shook his head, “I can’t do that. I can’t- I won’t!” 

“Please, Bob,” Jackson sobbed, “I don’t want to suffer. I don’t want to lay here and wait for-” 

“I’ll be here. I’ll protect you!” 

Jackson shook his head, “You need to get out of here.” 

Bob looked at the man who was entrusted with his whole life. There was a special bond between the pilot and WSO. The pilot was ultimately the one responsible for the WSO’s life. Every decision a pilot had to make was not only to ensure their survival but also their backseater’s survival. And now, Bob was being challenged to take the life of the person who was supposed to get him back home safely. 

“Please,” Jackson reached his hand out. And for the first time, Bob noticed the black wedding band on his finger. Guilt filled his body, realizing that Bob hardly got to know the man before climbing in the plane behind him and setting off on this mission. Bob didn’t know if he had kids, how long he had been married, or what his favorite color was. But there was one thing that Bob did know, and that was he could grant him his last rights. 

Bob grabbed Jackson’s hand, holding it in his own for a moment and squeezing it. 

“You’re a good man, Bob Floyd.” 

Bob clenched his jaw, as he positioned his body so he was straddling Jackson’s. His foot planted on the ground and kneeling on his other knee. Jackson’s brown eyes trained on the sky, as one of Bob’s hands clasped down on his mouth and nose, the other going to his throat. 

— — — 

You jolted awake, feeling the pressure of another body on top of you. You gasped as Bob’s hand tightened on your throat, your eyes wide in panic. Your arms and legs failed as you tried to push him off, slapping at his skin. But the look in Bob’s eyes told you that he was anywhere but here in this dark bedroom. 

Your lungs burned as you tried to keep fighting for air. Bob’s large hand pressed down on your windpipe, his hand held tightly over your nose and mouth. Tears were running down your face as your vision became blurry. Bob’s cold blue eyes bore into yours as if he were looking right through you. 

This was not the man you loved. 

Your body began to feel heavy, as your head started to swim from the lack of oxygen flowing to your brain. You struggled less and less as your brain had come to the conclusion that you were going to die. Right here, in the same bed, you were sharing with your husband, at his own hand. 

“Bobby. . . “ You somehow, managed to squeak out Bob’s name, hoping that maybe, just maybe you could reach to him, get him to wake up. Hoping that maybe, he would be able to save you. But the blank look on his face told you that your greatest fear was coming true. 

And the moment before you could give up, the door came crashing open. Bob’s body was tackled off of you, and you felt air rush into your lungs. You sucked in a deep breath, which was followed by a series of coughs as someone sat on the bed next to you, wrapping you up in their arms. You covered your mouth as sobs racked your body, your heart rate beating erratically in your chest. You looked over to the side of the bed, where Jake was tackling a screaming Bob on the floor. 

“Don’t,” Your voice was hoarse as you tried calling out to Jake to stop hurting Bob. 

“Shh,” You looked up to see Bradley, holding you tightly against his chest, “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” 

“He wanted me to! He said to! He said to kill him! I had to!” Bob yelled, his body flailing against Jake’s stronghold, “He told me-” Bob’s voice was cut off by the sickening smack of Jake’s backhand hitting him across the face. You flinched at the sound as Bradley led you down the hall towards the living room. 

“It’ll be okay,” Bradley whispered in your ear, running his hand up and down your back. 

Hours had passed, and you were still sitting on the couch, now holding an icepack to your swelling throat. Jake was still in the bedroom with Bob, and you had guessed by now, that Bob had finally calmed down. For a while, you heard yelling as Jake and Bob argued, and then what sounded like Bob sobbing how he didn’t know what he was doing. You sat motionless on the couch, as Bradley had turned on some late-night rerun of the Phillies game. He had encouraged you to go to the emergency room, but the idea of having to explain what happened made you nauseous. Besides, it was an accident. You knew it. But you knew others would think so. 

Bradley looked over at you, for probably the tenth time in the last twenty minutes, “Your eyes might take some time to heal.” 

“I don’t,” Your throat killed you to speak. You took a swallow, “Plan on going anywhere,” You whispered out. 

Bradley frowned, “I think you should. I know someone who won’t say-” You shook your head, shutting down the conversation that had come up several times already. Bradley gave you a court nod before turning back to the game. The silence stretched over you again, until you shifted on the couch and patted Bradley’s arm. 

“How did you know?” You asked softly. 

Bradley sighed, “Jake and I were watching a movie, you must’ve accidentally called him,” He looked down at his fingers, picking at the callouses on his hand, “We could hear some struggling, coughing and all that. Jake didn’t even think twice when you didn’t respond to him calling your name. He got up and ran right over.” 

You were suddenly very thankful to have Jake “Hangman” Seresin as your next-door neighbor. You don’t even remember clearing off your bedside table in a fit of panic, reaching for your phone to call someone. Anyone who could come save you. You felt an immense debt of gratitude towards Jake for saving your life. 

The door to your bedroom opened and sucked the air right out of the living room. Bob had looked like he had been to hell and back. His cheeks were red, his eyes bloodshot, and his knuckles bloodied. Jake looked pissed as he stood behind him, his jaw clenched shut tightly. Bob walked with his head down towards you, standing in front of you, his body visibly trembling. 

“Y/N, I. . .” Bob opened his mouth, but sobs escaped. All you wanted to do was wrap him up in your arms, but something in your conscious told you to stay put. Bob cried and rubbed at his eyes as if he were a child. He looked so small and fragile as he stood in front of you, “I’m so sorry.” 

“You didn’t have to go to bed with me, tonight,” You spoke, “Why did you?” 

Bob shook his head, his hands fisting his hair, “You said you wanted the old me back and I-I thought I was doing the right thing.” 

You stood from the couch, “Look at me,” Bob shook his head like a petulant child. You grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. His blue eyes took in the sight of the handprint on your throat, already starting to turn purple. The blood vessels around your eyes had popped, leaving them looking red and angry. 

“God, I’m so sorry,” Bob sobbed out. 

“You don’t get to place the blame on me because I said I wanted the old you back. I know I am never going to get him back. We can both learn to move forward,” Bob nodded, “But you need help, Bobby. You can’t get better on your own.” 

“I don’t like how-” 

“Then I will leave,” You silenced him, “I will leave and never come back.” 

Bob looked into your eyes, tears blurring his vision. He sucked in a breath and nodded his head.

whumptober taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid

[animentality]

Sick and twisted, the idea that the dark urge had never known the pleasure of intimacy with someone who appreciates you for who you are, not what you are, until they met Gortash.

But the urge makes them feel disgusted, nauseous at being soft, at being gentle, at wanting to be something more than a cold calculating, blood craving beast.

They feel bile in their throat every time they touch his cheek or put their hand on his shoulder.

They would feel like vomiting if he ever put his arms around them, their stomach twisted up in painful knots if he ever pressed a kiss into their hair before leaving.

But they'd endure it, ignore it, repress it, because underneath that sickness, the curse that is the urge, they are as human as anyone, and they need to be held.

The urge could make them as physically sick as it wanted. They needed this.

Somewhere within the mangled mess of monstrous flesh that they were given by their father, there was a person, who needed to be embraced, who needed to hold someone's hand, and no amount of nausea or bloody nightmares could destroy them.

That person was the one who could be saved, in the end.

stripped of memories, and then of the cursed flesh of Bhaal entirely, that person could love and hold and be held.

and it's sickening that they would forget the man who taught them that that person even existed. could exist.

[purpleyoonn]

enchanted

P R O L O G U E 

“I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you.”

summary: The realm under King Min’s rule had been under war for over. thirty years, a war within the inhuman species with origins no one knows. Your presence was brought into awareness when found by the king under the rubble of your home. You are plunged into a world you had only ever seen from the outside, and don’t know how long you can last.

genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, dragon au, 

pairing: Dragon King Yoongi x Human MC

status: ?

warnings: starts in the middle of war, violence, angst, death, supernatural creatures, more to come.

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

The river was freezing when you got up that morning, basket of cloths in hand to wash. It had been your chore for a couple of weeks now, ever since Mela’s body was found at the bottom of the hill. She had been working with you at the manor for a couple of years now, another “stray” taken in by Lord Ahn and his family. She also wasn’t the first to be found, others found at the same dip in the bottom of the hill.

You and a couple of the others had taken on her chores along with the ones you already had, meaning you barely got any sleep lately. Not to mention the nightmares you had. You and your friend Lila had been the ones to find her, body mangled from being pushed down the hill. When you had told the Lord of the manor, he just smiled and told you to get back to work.

It was nearly springtime, meaning the water was going to be getting warmer, and more of your chores would be done outside. You loved the spring, all the flowers blooming and the sounds of the woods to drown out the sound of your mind. Your thoughts were always loud, overthinking and replaying different memories. Your mind never seemed to shut off, always loud and all-encompassing.

You had a hard time keeping still, your mind and body needing to do something. That was why you liked working outside the house whenever you got the chance. Whenever you were inside, you had to be still, someone seen and not heard. That was normal for women, especially those who worked for Lord Ahn.

Mr. Ahn liked looking. His eyes always wandered when he was home. He only employed the girls in the manor, the men working outside. You had once been tasked with cleaning the upper portion of the manor, where the family resided, when you first started working to “pay for your stay”. He watched you the entire time, silent as he did.

You shook your head as you got out the soap from the bottom of the basket, rubbing against the washing board you had rested against the side of the river. You had to be quick, quiet as you worked. The woods were becoming increasingly dangerous over the past couple months. Stories of trolls and ghouls making their travels to the neighboring villages. You didn’t want to alert anyone or anything of your presence.

You had your own stories, your home destroyed by a horde of giants set loose, smashing everything they could. Your parents and sister had been crushed by one of their feet, running from the market. Which is what got you here to the manor, the Lord’s family “happily willing” to take you in.

You didn’t want to think that you could lose another home at the hands of the witches. The Queen had become angry with the kingdom, setting lose her minions on the land, killing and pillaging wherever they could. Reanimated bodies were their favorite thing. The ghouls seemed to be popping up all over the kingdom, and it seemed as though the King or his guards were doing nothing about it.

When you were in school, you remember learning about the Witches, how their Queen was angry with your King, some broken promise, and that since then, she had taken that anger on his realm. Your teacher had tried to drill into your head that your safety was only ensured if you remained silent, something that stuck with you, even to this day.

“Y/n!” You turned your head, seeing Taemin coming to a stop, leaning on his tree to catch his breath. “Are you almost done? Lord Ahn is wanting all of us to come back to the manor. He seems upset.” Your eyes widen in fear, scrambling to gather the half-washed clothes and washing board, getting to your feet.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” You asked your friend as both ran back up the hill and to the manor.

“No. All I heard was that Jeongmin can rushing out of his room with bruises all over her face.” You sigh out, knowing he could be mad at anything. Poor Jeongmin just had to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder if she refused him, even with you and the other girls telling her to go along with it for her own safety.

Lord Ahn was known for his anger; the entire village knew it. No one was to speak of it though, for fear of repercussions on their own families. The word ‘no’ was the one thing none of the servants could say to him, not if they wanted their life to remain in their bodies.

“Well, let’s hurry. We don’t want to give him any more reasons.” You breathe out, picking up your pace with a tight hold on the basket.

When you get to the manor and move through the kitchen, placing your basket on the floor by the door, you both rush to your position in line in the hall, right at the end where your faces could be seen, eyes on the floor.

“Now, it seems to me that some of you…” You listen for the uptick in tone, knowing that Lord Ahn was really upset about something now. “think you can have a relationship within my house.” Oh no…. now you know why Jeongmin was all bruised up. She confessed.

You wince as you could hear her whimper, your body tensing as footsteps move closer to where you were. You knew there had been a couple of relationships going on within the household, particularly the one with Taemin and Yujin. You hoped that they weren’t the relationship he was talking about.

“You all know the rules, that I don’t expect much when you come into my household.” Lord Ahn’s voice had become deeper, darker as he spoke making your breath hitch, trying not to move.

Lord Ahn was now almost in front of you, about to say something else when the sirens from the village square went off, announcing the presence of non-humans. You move forward, ready to run when Lord Ahn catches you, his hand on your chest, keeping you from moving.

“Now, now. Since I’m sure all of you have been keeping these… secrets from me, you can stay here. Keep the house in order, as I’m sure nothing is truly going on.” You gape at the man, watching his smile turn into a dark smirk as his gaze turns to you.

“Min, Jung, help my family to the carriage. Kim, younger Kim, gather all the materials necessary and put them in the boot.” His hand is still on your chest as he barks out the orders, watching from his peripheral as the men he called forward move to do as he said.

“Sir,” You bite out, “What about the women?”

“Well, why don’t you continue your chores?” He squeezed once, before moving away and down the hallway.

Turning around, you watch him, mouth open in shock, the siren still ringing throughout the village. Feeling a hand grasp onto your shoulder, you turn back around, seeing Hana pull you back. Her gaze was soft, knowing how the sirens make you feel.

“Let’s just hope that it’s nothing. Come with me, we can finish the laundry in the sink.” Hana helps you walk forward, everyone else moving back to their chores. Once in the kitchen you pick up the laundry basket form the floor, noticing that the cabinets and pantry have been cleaned out.

“Did they take all of the food?” You ask, concern dripping from your lips as you think about being locked in the house with no food.

“It appears so. But don’t worry, I don’t think they touched the servant’s quarters.” Hana reassures you. You sigh out, moving to the sink where Hana has gotten some water. You empty your basket again, moving the washing board into the sink and then soap bar.

You hear the siren again, this time closer to the manor, swearing you could almost hear some screams mixed in. You chose to follow Hana’s lead, hoping that she was right about everything. You go through the motions, scrubbing the sheets with the soap and brush.

A scream has you dropping the brush from your grasp, the wooden handle making a clang as it hits the floor.

“Stay here.” Hana holds her hand up at you, motioning you to stay where you were. You do so, heart beating fast as you hear another scream cry out. You choose not to listen, moving through the back of the kitchen and down the hall to the servant’s quarters.

From there you can see through the narrow windows used for light. There were people running everywhere, people being pushed to the ground and having chunks bitten out of them by gray, almost see-through creatures.

Ghouls, you thought, eyes widening in horror as you watch a couple ghouls begin to move towards the manor. You look through the room, trying to see if you could find anything to defend yourself with, trying to ignore the screams that came from within the manor.

If these really were ghouls you were dealing with, there was nothing you could do to save anyone.

You could feel your cheeks becoming wet, trying to find a way to get out of the servant’s quarters without going back into the manor, as you still look for something that could create fire. You begin to freak out, flashbacks to the giants and the screams of terror as you hear the screams of now moving closer to where you were.

However, it gets silent quickly, the only noise heard is the sound of your breathing. Holding your hand over your mouth, you try to listen for anything else, only hearing the sound of something dragging across the floor. The crackling of something in the walls also catches your attention. It becomes louder and louder until suddenly; you were on the ground.

Everything seemed to be moving too fast for your mind to catch up with. You couldn’t feel your legs, but you could move them, somewhat. You felt like you had a huge weight on you and you could feel heat licking at your skin. 

As your eyes begin to adjust, you could see the body of the ghoul who was still trying to get to you, and the fire that was now spreading over the rest of the manor, inching your direction.

Your wits come back to you; survival instincts kick in as a loud roar is heard with a gust of wind keeping the fire from reaching you. Despite that, you try all you can to move the pieces of the roof from anchoring your body to the wreckage of the manor before that ghoul can get to you.

It didn’t matter to you that he was also buried under the remnants of the roof, you needed to get away. You blinked hard, rapidly as you tried to remove your tears from obstructing your vision. Using all your might, you tried to push the roof off of you, grunting as you failed again and again.

Another loud roar had you scrambling even faster, trying with all your strength to get out from under the rubble. Before you could get your leg out, the heavy material was yanked off of you, a growl as your bruised legs were visible.

You look up in horror, only to see who you recognize at King Min staring down at you, his eyes red and his fangs visible as he looks at you. Your frozen in place, unable to move as his red eyes pierce your soul and keep you still.

It’s only a couple of seconds before the King lunges for you, making your close your eyes in fear. Arms wrapping around you and picking you up from the rest of the roof and walls of the servant’s quarters.

“Please...” You whimper, not knowing what the King was going to do with you, only for him to place a hand behind your head, pushing so your head was rested against the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

One little word has you blinking away even more tears, a slew of emotions moving through you as you take it in. Your finger gripping tight into his button up shirt, the buttons almost popping loose from how tightly you hold onto it.

King Min moves quickly, walking out of the rubble and into the trees, a clearing by the river coming into the view as he shifts, his wings breaking out from the back of his shirt, the rest of his shirt now loose in your grip as he begins to fly away, to a place unknown to you. You were only focused on what he had growled out when he picked you up.

“Mate.”