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strangerivy · 3 years

Text

The First Night

Summary: Y/N sits on the roof reflecting on the events of the day working her way through her grief of loosing two people she thought of as family. Levi goes up to comfort her and bring her back from the darkness that threatened to consume her. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Death | Violent Depictions | Swearing | Grief | Loss Word Count: 1.8k Author’s Note: This is so sad, I cried a little writing it. I promise my next story will be a bit happier 💜

|| Masterlist | AOT Masterlist ||

Year 844 - Summer

It was a clear night sky, not a single cloud anywhere, but it shouldn’t be this beautiful out on a night like this. On a night where you cursed the world and wished you could turn the clock. It shouldn’t be this beautiful out when they aren’t here to see it. It should be storming out just like it did earlier, the sky should match how you felt. Anger, hurt, heartache and pain. So much pain and not just physically.

You looked up into the sky watching all the stars shine lighting up the world in a soft glow with the moon. It was beautiful, something not too long ago you only got to see through a hole in the ground. Now you would give anything to have that again if it meant you all would be together right now.

A sob racked through your chest as you looked to your left and right to see the spots that once held your two dear friends were now empty. Your bandaged and broken body protest with each movement but you couldn’t stop the tears of your grief. The medic protested to you getting out of the bed, but you ignored it spitting a string of curses and insults at them, not able to lay in that damn room for another minute, you needed air, somewhere to cry alone which is how you ended up here. You wiped the tears that had escaped with the back of your hand letting out a broken laugh, wincing from your wounds.

“Shit, I thought we were done with this,” You grumbled to yourself looking back up at the sky giving up on drying your tears and letting them fall freely now as your friend's voices from the previous night echoed throughout your mind.

You should be dead. There was no doubt in your mind that you also should have joined your two friends in death. If it wasn’t for Lev- you sighed heavily another sob ripping through your chest as you stopped that thought before it dragged you down further than you had already fallen. You folded, head in your hands as you cried to yourself, elbows propped on your thighs as your legs dangled off the edge.

The images of what happened played through your mind almost as if you were torturing yourself with it.

The day seemed to be going as planned until the rain that is. Where did this storm even come from? It was clear just a moment ago and now it was pouring down rain and the wind was blowing with a force and to make it even worse a fog has rolled in with it making it so you couldn’t even see five feet in front of you. You had lost part of your squad already from the poor visibility caused by the weather. Levi had pushed ahead to use the rain as cover to locate Erwin Smith in the center of the formation.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” You worried turning your horse to follow Furlan and Isabel.

“Of course he will!” Isabel responded brightly, always the ray of sunshine in any situation.

You, Isabel, and Furlan went back in the direction you thought you heard the sound grenade go off hoping it was your squad that had sounded it, the rain started to come down harder and you had to hold onto your hood to keep it from blowing off, your arm also helping keep the rain out of your face.

You heard the hooves of more horses and looked over to see two cloaks, Flagon looking behind at the three of you.

“You guys are okay,” Flagon seemed relieved at seeing the three of you, but he then looked confused noticing there was a missing member from our group.

“Where is Levi?” He questioned and you tensed a little but kept a blank face as you all kept moving forward.

“We got separated in the fog,” Furlan lied, Flagon seem to accept the answer though which is what mattered. You looked out ahead of you wiping your face of the rain and that’s when it happened. It was quick, you didn’t even see it coming. Your horse veered to the right almost knocking you off it from the sudden movement. You looked up your eyes widening with fear. An abnormal had your squadmate, Sairam, dangling in its mouth blood dripping out of its mouth. It didn’t stand upright like most titans using all four of its limbs allowing it to move faster than most titans as well. Flagon yelled for Sairam to hang on charging at the beast. It was quick to finish of Sairam before grabbing Flagon who yelled at you three to run.

You trembled with fear as you watched it clamp down on Flagon’s body cutting him in half with its teeth and empty stare in its eyes while it stared at the three of you chewing. You should move, you should run but the shock of the scene in front of you had you frozen.

Isabel was the first to move and then Furlan going after her. You quickly regained your composer joining them. You and Furlan trying to distract the beast as Isabel went for the kill. The titan was quick though snatching her quickly by her head, lowering her kicking body down before severing her head from her body you and Furlan watching helplessly tears streaming down both your faces when Isabel’s screams ceased.

Furlan in a blind rage went for a kill but the titan was too quick, you tried to save him, but it grabbed hold of your cables slamming you to the ground hearing something crack from the impact, you let out a strangled cough feeling pain shoot throughout your body at the movement. You heard something hit the ground next to you, you tremble afraid of what you would see but you still turned your head a scream leaving your lips when the top half of Furlan laid right beside you. You looked up at his face holding back sobs as Furlan’s face stared back at you with an empty gaze.

You rolled over flinching when that same pain shot through you again. You ignored it pushing yourself further, standing up gripping your blades. You stared at Titan with a dark glare, if you were going to die you were going to do it fighting. You gripped on to your blades tightly shooting your cables moving quickly, using more gas than you should be dragging your blades deep up its arm and it let out a howl of pain before moving to grab you, you were quick to dodge but this titan was also quick to snagging your foot before you could react to its movement again. Another crack had you let out a scream as your ankle throbbed in the titan's grip feeling like it was crushing it.

When you looked up at the face of the titan, tears streaming down your face, it almost looked as it had a sickening smirk on its face as if it were mocking you knowing that it had won. That it would have killed you all after eating you. With a final burst of energy, you swung your sword up slicing the knuckles of the hand that held you. It dropped you and you hit the ground once again with a loud smack another round of coughs racking through your body a trail of blood dripping out of the side of your mouth.

It was hard to breathe as you laid there, staring up at the dark clouds overhead, you wish you could see the sky one more time. You wished you could see snow in the winter and the flowers in the spring. You weren’t done yet but that wasn’t up to you now. The sky disappeared as the hand of the titan blocked your view. You let out a shaky breath the tears flowing freely as you braced for the end. You silently wished Levi goodbye, praying he wouldn’t beat himself up over this. You closed your eyes waiting for the grip of the titan an odd sense of peace washing over you, but the hand never came.

You opened your eyes to see a flash of green sliced through the Titan pulling its attention from you and towards its attacker. You let out a gasp spotting the raven-haired man. You watched as Levi screamed in agony after each twist and pull of his gear slicing the titan repeatedly until its body didn’t have a spot on it that didn’t have a deep slash. Another blow had its head flying clear off till he finished it off with the final blow to the nape its body finally slamming to the ground steam coming off its decomposing corpse.

Levi landed on his feet his ebony hair hanging in his face almost hiding the tears that fell from his cheeks.

“Levi…” You whispered wincing in pain as you pushed your way up to stand. Levi’s head snapped up his eyes wide as they landed on your broken body. His strides were quick as he made his way to you pulling you to him as you collapsed causing you to let out a small groan in pain. His body shaking with tears for your fallen friends.

“You’re alive,” He said almost like he was confirming it for himself. That at least one of you survived.

Your cries were too loud for you to hear the footsteps behind you, the man behind you with an unreadable face as he watched your broken form. He reached out gently touching your shoulder making you jump at the sudden contact. You flinched at the sudden movement gripping your chest where your broken ribs were. You looked over your shoulder to see Levi standing there with broken eyes as he watched you fall apart quietly. You sniffled wiping the tears once again you slowly turned grabbing a hold of the crutch next to you. Levi reached down helping you wobble your way to standing on your good foot getting the crutch ready for you to lean on.

You both stood there in silence staring at one another, he slowly raised his hand touching your cheek wiping a stray tear away. You let out a small sniffle as you felt your eyes begin to water once again. His hand slowly snaked to the back of your head weaving into your hair before pulling you into him as your sniffles turned to whimpers. You buried your face into his chest staining his white-uniformed shirt with your tears. He moved his other hand around your waist holding you even closer to him.

“I-I-I’m s-s-so-rry,” you cried into his chest your body trembling, you felt his hands grip you tighter “I- I should-I should have been able to stop it.” He grabbed ahold of your upper arms pushing you back enough to look at you. He was angry now.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Y/N” He gritted his teeth “You’re not going to blame yourself for this,” he pulled you close once again, you stood still your tears starting to slow down now as he held you rubbing soft circles into your back.

“I miss them,” you whispered after a few moments of silence, he let out a small sigh his breath tickling your neck.

“Me too,”

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fic #levi aot #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi attack on titan #furlan church #isabel magnolia

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flatfootmonster · 4 years

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Running Past Empty

(read on A03 here)

Red seeps into my sweater. I didn’t even have time to use my newly honed anger because whoever ran into me, and spilt whatever this is, is long gone. I can’t even see the cup they must’ve been carrying. Whatever it is, it’s sticky. But it can wait. It has to wait. Voices and horns build to an overwhelming chorus behind me but it’s dampened by a fog that I summoned. I can’t focus on noise right now; I have to cross the road.

“Fuck. Fuck. Are you OK?” One of the voices is a panicked buzz in my ear—and too close. Much too close. I feel sick. “Jesus.” That sound hisses between teeth; steam escaping a kettle that boiled too long.

“I’m fine, I need to go,” my words are thick, stammered through numb lips. Sangwoo was just there. I can catch up with him. He’ll probably scoff over the state of my sweater, say that I’m a baby that needs looking after. I don’t mind when he teases though.

A shackle attaches itself to my arm. “You’ll stay there.” The buzzy-buzzy bee is persistent. I think I hate it.

There’s no time to look at whoever this fuck is that won’t listen, and I won’t reply either. I pull away with so much force his hand might’ve come clean off because his grip is still there as I leave him behind. When did I get so strong? I’m moving now, that’s all that matters. I’m moving fast and it’s OK. The bee follows though, like the memory of the hand, but the fog cuts in front of those sensations. I’m blocking them out because I have somewhere to be.

My feet beat the pavement, each step smooth and measured. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this coordinated before. It’s because of Sangwoo, I’m sure of it. He gave me things; I can shout now, and I can pull away, I can run. He never said it would hurt though. Pain jolts up my legs—a familiar hurt but this time it spreads, it bleeds from bone to vein to nerve ending. When I find him I’ll rest, and catch my breath, too. Lungs shouldn’t be so difficult to inflate. Maybe I need more exercise. That’s probably it. Does he play sports? I should know that.

Skidding to a jittery halt, I take a second to find my bearings. It’s no surprise the buildings that tower over my head are unrecognisable. They choke out the sky with dirty fingers of brick. I get disorientated a lot, you see. Plus, I was running towards the point I last saw him rather than pay attention to this road or that. Yet he seems to slip around the next corner when I think I’m gaining ground, the only thing I catch is a glimpse and even that is on the peripheral—right on the edge of the earth. Can’t he hear me? I’ve been shouting, haven’t I? Maybe this is a game.

“Did you call them?” Someone snaps those words out and they snatch my attention. I turn to find a mother looking down at a child. He’s holding skis. That seems odd but what business is it of mine what a stranger chooses to carry around? He used to carry me around a lot—Sangwoo did—and no one said anything about that. “Did you?” she presses, fear in place of impatience. What is she scared of? The shadows the buildings cast make their faces dark, features as indistinguishable and ruddy as the bricks. I can’t even see which direction their blackened eyes are pointing.

“Yes, yes. I did. I can’t make them get here any faster,” the kid replies but the voice belongs to the bee—it’s still stuck in my ear. When I blink their faces are pressed to mine, breath hot and sickening as their words decompose in their mouths. But there’s still no detail. The expanse where their features should be is pale, cold, and blank—a human-sized dead worm. I don’t want to look at them. My stomach squeals as my heart thuds once against my ribs in protest and they’re back in the shadows, merging with the buildings, voices melting and flowing into the cement that links brick to brick to brick. They are inconsequential—irrelevant to life; dead worms wriggling back into ashy soil.

If I stopped to catch my breath maybe they’d come back into focus, I'd find detail and explanation, and perhaps the buzzing would subside. I could maybe help with whoever it is they need to call—or mediate their disagreement. But I don’t want their faces so close to mine or their breath misting my vision—I have to go. Time is running out. It’s ticking away, it itches beneath my skin.

It’s a narrow alley next, I chose it simply because this way avoids streets and voices and worms and bees. There’s only one voice that I’m looking for—I’m desperate for it because I’m drowning and it’s a diving bell; I need it to get to where I’m going.

A man stands in a cobwebbed archway, phone pressed to his ear while glasses slide down a greasy, porous nose. He mutters, again and again, the same thing, “keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing.” His eyes don’t focus, they skitter this way and that like a spider, roaming the scratched wood behind him and the grey concrete beneath him. His face is grey, too, and when his eight-legged eyes find me the greyness spills over him. He’s a statue now and I’m glad because his gaze crept and crawled along my skin, his voice was needle scratching vinyl. A broken record. A broken, tired, useless record. Does he even understand what the fuck he’s saying? I know I don’t. It’s nonsense.

The narrow walls give way to a square but it’s empty, all I can hear is an alarm coming from somewhere—everywhere. It echoes from concrete planes the same way it bounces around the walls of my skull. Ignoring it is as simple and irritating as muting the agony throbbing in my veins. I still don’t recognise where I am. Slowing, the pain embeds itself deeply in bone, my marrow vibrates with every serrated inhale. Razors are in my lungs trying to cut their way out, climbing up my throat; the scores they gouge ooze with frigid sap.

There’s a stand. It was empty before, I’m sure of it, but this won’t be the first time I’m wrong. It’s a cake stand, too far away to make out details past that. There’s a girl, standing with her back to me. Something about her stance is familiar but memories are on the other side of the fog, I can reach them if I want yet I have no desire to. She’s fumbling around in her pockets frantically. Behind the counter, there’s a blank slate of a man and one red round cake sat between them. He holds a bag of white icing in his left hand.

“His name? What’s his name? Isn’t there any ID?”

“I couldn’t find any. There’s nothing,” her voice is the bees' voice as well. Too low to be authentically hers, it’s familiar but not in the same way her stance is. It should be odd, and it is, but I’m used to slipping and sliding around the wet tiled surfaces of reality. I’m used to things not making sense. And I’m used to being solely focussed on one thing so that it didn’t matter how reality is consumed by my abstract senses.

The man sighs, looks down at the cake before addressing it mournfully. “OK sweetheart, it’s going to be OK. Hold on,” he reassures the sticky, red surface beneath his bulbous nose. I suppose it’ll stay unnamed unless they’re going to write sweetheart on the top. Why doesn’t she know the name of the person she’s buying a cake for? And why is the bee still stuck in my fucking head?

My body jump starts, every atom eager to move. I lurch forward, transitioning into an easy run, eating up the ground in long strides. Between the waves of discomfort and crushing loneliness pressing down on my sternum, I feel fluid and capable. My form flows and slips, if I just trust in the magnetism pulling at me I’ll find the sensation of belonging that my atoms are begging for. I’ll slip down the right cracks when I find it; I’ll write the correct letters; I’ll outrun the concrete.

I need to catch up with him. There was something off—for days and days it was off. I did something, or he did, and I can’t unpick it. I don’t know where the stitching went wrong to unthread and rework. If I catch him I can, I’m sure. If he just listens…

I promised, you see. Wait. What did I promise? No—that’s a stupid question; It doesn’t matter if my brain cells can’t recall because my body seems to be making up for that ignorance.

A wall towers above the building in front of me. It doesn’t seem to be a part of its surroundings; there’s no adjoining structure or roof to give it relevance within this rigid environment. It’s a misfit—I can relate. There’s only one thing that marks it useful. Up top, an old advertisement is plastered down with crumbling, infertile glue. Its corners are peeling, weather-worn, dull, and barely discernible. But I can make out a pair of bulbous eyes in a green face—I see a squat animal. There’s my compass. I’ve found my bearings.

An alarm’s going off again. It’s different somehow, in the way one hymn is different from another but when you’re outside the church—when you’re skulking around in the graveyard—it simply sounds like another incessant drone. I cover my ears, it needs to be blocked out. It can’t dictate my route. But it’s loud. I don’t like it, and—just like the composting heat of the stranger’s breath and the stinging, grabbing bee—I don’t want it.

My skin prickles under the scratching hands of ticking minutes and seconds, counted out by a silent omnipotent force, pressing down on my sternum. My surface area needs to be peeled off because it burns. Everything is so fucking distracting. If my lungs were working like normal I’d sigh as all those things dull once more; the fog is back. It looks more like a veil now—cascading and shimmering in its divisive nature.

I round a corner where those spherical eyes were beckoning. This area is flattened. A building was demolished here and all that’s left is gravel, dust, and rocks. The debris forces its way into my mouth and fills my throat; I am the ground—desiccated and ruined. But I’m not sad because this is where I’m supposed to be, it’s how I’m supposed to be. I’m sure of it.

But how do I find belonging?

There’s a new sound, a beeping when my lazy heart thuds against my rib cage. Maybe it’s a timer about to go off, but if it does go off and I don’t find him, then what? I can’t let that happen. He’ll be gone. Gone forever. I’m losing time, running on empty.

My gaze devours the gravelly tarmac and the bare walls, desperate for the merest taste of a clue. It’s just dust, everywhere is dust and nothing—like me. Where do I go? There should be an opening somewhere, maybe on the floor, steps leading down. There’s nothing though. There’s only stillness but I swear I hear him, his voice saying my name, muffled like he’s hiding in this silly game we’re playing without rules. He’s the childish one.

The wall.

In the centre of the ruins, where the frog sits on top, there’s an old bricked up doorway. It’s the only entrance—or exit—and I can’t go back the way I came. I just can’t.

Bum.

There! It’s not a bee. It’s him. And now I know.

Logic slips away, just like that mother and child did, as I run at the wall and throw all my strength at it. The barrier punches right back, sending me flying away from the threshold. The floor hits, if there was any air inside of my body I’d be winded. Hesitation doesn’t weigh my mass down so I scramble to my feet and run towards that same spot. Those nondescript breeze-blocks will give way, they don’t know how strong I am now but I do. I’ll prove it.

My chest bursts again. The beeping stopped—the timer is done. In its place there are footfalls, bouncing from the concrete behind me, voices reverberate and buzz—a stampede of chaos that I’m trying with every last molecule to outrun. I never did understand it and now I don’t have time to learn. I don’t want to understand, not anymore.

“Hold on, sweetheart.”

Bum!

He’s here. He’s waiting for me.

“Stay with us.”

Maybe the statue came to life or the child became solid again, maybe it’s the girl with the cake or the man selling it. Maybe it’s all of them. I don’t want them, I don’t need any single one of them—

This time the explosion makes everything reverberate, the ground shudders beneath my feet as buildings sway in a sickening dance. Brick fingers are pushing into the sky, choking the sun. Cracks appear between the bricks and there’s light there—on the other side. I will do it, they won’t catch me. They can’t catch me.

The light says this is my last chance.

When I collide on the final assault my lungs tear themselves apart under the force of a silent scream. It’s been clawing at my throat, dying to be freed. It sets fire to salted rivulets the razors made before heat surges to a flashpoint. I’m turning inside-out. My burnt skin is splitting, the marrow is lava. The air in my ruined chest is ash.

I’m combusting but no concrete punch lands; the floor doesn’t hit my back;

Four, twenty-eight PM, the fifth of the eighth.

Water sloshes manically, slopping against a surface it found to break the cascade. It’s cold—the water is, and so is the air pouring down my throat. Haggard breaths send ripples across the crystalline surface, it’s the first thing to break through static-filled vision, pale and unblemished skin is the second. Everything is bright—pure.

“Bum?!”

Sight recovering, my gaze devours mint green tiles. I can’t grasp why it feels so desperate; notions and memories of panic and pain are slipping away like sand through my fingers. A squat green shape, two bulbous eyes staring at me from the sink, becomes the focal point as the black and white dots fade. It’s a ceramic frog, two toothbrushes and a half squeezed out tube of toothpaste sticking out from its back. It’s clean and simple, a faint smell of genuine pine lingers underneath the tang of generic shower products. Nothing is out of the ordinary, everything is exactly as it should be, so why does it feel like I’ve been pulled inside-out? Or maybe outside-in.

“Bum! Where are you?”

He’s calling—that’s all that matters. That fact didn’t change in whatever seismic shift occurred. “Sangwoo?” My voice trembles, lips and tongue feeling as unpractised as an infant’s, but it doesn’t hurt to speak. Why would it hurt?

If the water is cool, it’s nothing compared to the tide of relief that pulls me under, leaving my skin tingling and the fine hair on my body upright when he bursts into the bathroom. Why would I be relieved? He’s always here. We’re never far away from each other, people gossip over how inseparable we are.

His face. I can see his face. It’s close to mine as he kneels, breath warm on my pebbled skin but it doesn’t twist my gut. There was something nauseating in that dream.

“I’ve been calling you for… for I don’t know how long. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. It was silly to worry. But I’m sure I checked here…” he stops, bowing until his forehead is pressed to my shoulder and huffs a laugh. He shakes his head, the imbalance of understanding that we’re sharing is echoed in a weak laugh.

And, powerless to the forces that move me, I reach for him—we’re magnets, we can’t be anything else. “I promised,” the sentiment tastes familiar, spawned from the crumb of a memory that slips beyond reason. What did I promise? Worry ebbs away and nerves soften because he feels right: skin clear, hair soft, and his heartbeat is so strong—like it usually is, like the rest of him. But maybe the vehemence in his grip says he understands the words, that somehow, in the hangover of an abstract dreamscape, it made sense to him. If anyone was going to understand the things I say that I don’t even comprehend it would be him. It’s always been him.

“I think maybe it was a bad dream,” he sighs.

“Me too. Maybe we were stuck in a nightmare together.”

He looks up, the troubled tightness in his face melting away and leaving only easy, weather-worn memories in their place. “Like when we were kids?”

Humming, I stroke through his hair. I’ve sat here long enough for my fingertips to wrinkle. The darkness seems vague, another era—another universe entirely. Yet, at the same time, it lingers over my shoulder, hidden only by a veil. The urge to look behind is dwindling, just like any solid dream fragments I could share. What does it matter anyway? “I think I spilt something on myself but—” I stop and frown at the floor. Apart from the small puddles of water, it’s clear. “I don’t know where my clothes are.”

His mirth turns rueful. “Probably kicked them off somewhere that I’ll find later. Cmon, the dryer just stopped, you can put something fresh on.”

I try to sit but my muscles are infantile, too. “Whatever that dream was, it zapped my energy,” I sigh. Even my lungs are exhausted.

He shakes his head, fingers dipping into the tub. “It’s cold. How long have you been sitting here?” he tsks the question to a close. We look after each other, it’s just what we do. “You’re gonna freeze if you stay here any longer—and it’s dangerous to sleep in the bath,” he tuts again as one arm slides around my shoulders, the other beneath my knees.

I’m not given time to disagree but I try anyway. “You don’t have to—“

“Shush. You’ve done this enough times for me—well, for the five minutes you were bigger than me anyway.” He grins down while plucking my mass from the water with casual ease. Contrary to my words, I soften against him. We have different strengths that we lend each other, you see. It’s always been that way. I know that. I remember.

The journey is a quiet ceremony; we migrate from one room to another before I’m eased into a kitchen chair, wrapped in a fluffy, white towel. The clothes are still warm, Sangwoo stays centred and focused as he helps me dress. I’m quite capable of doing it myself, just like I could have walked here on my own two feet, but he’s persistent. There is always a dire plea in his eyes when he silently lends his hands to whatever task needs doing, and it’s fulfilled with a gentle touch and stern focus. It feels like repentance or supplication, and so earnest that I can never fight it.

He’s always been determined, since the day we first met. Gripping tight to my sleeve, Sangwoo wailed until my mum came to investigate and forged an alliance with his mum. The rest is history. He can’t possibly remember that day but that doesn’t stop him from swearing otherwise—says he knew we were soulmates and that it was a matter of life or death to hold on with stubby, sticky fingers. After all this time I’m schooled to the silly, sweet things he says, letting them be without anything more than a grin and a shake of my head. Yet there’s something shiny about that memory. It shimmers in the ancient light of a summer evening and, for whatever reason, I forgot about its existence; slept too long and lost track of identity and time and place. Seeing it there, reflecting true warmth, drapes a comfort blanket over my consciousness; I want to bask in our history.

Those same fingers that gripped my sleeve back then now drag a sock up my calf, but they possess a few decades of knowledge beneath their fingerprints—they are no long stubby or sticky but calm, attentive, and skilled. He smoothes the wool flat and tugs at the seam over my toes to make sure it sits perfectly.

“Do you wanna listen to something?” His movements effortless, Sangwoo turns to the fridge and items are taken out and placed on the countertop: eggs, milk, butter, a bar of chocolate—flour and sugar joins them from the cupboard. I’m transfixed by every last detail and action, every syllable that falls from his lips without it being translated within the confines of my upside-down skull. My body is righting myself and so I’m simply happy to sit here, snug in warm, fresh clothes and absorb. “Maybe the tape you made last week, or—I don’t know. Which one is your favourite today?” There’s a note in his words that proclaims years of experience when it comes to my quickly evolving, and perhaps fickle, favourites. And, of course, there would be.

There’s no radio up here, we’re too far out to get signal, and so when we go to the lake to fish or swim we take the old cassette radio with us. A blank tape will be ready in the cassette slot to record songs as they’re aired. We have a kitchen drawer full of compilations, Sangwoo’s precise scrawl can be found on the case of each to note the date and song list. His methodical ideology doesn’t just stop at me, there’s notebook after notebook of days gone by filling shelves around this small home. Moments are recorded in detail as if to prove our existence in this world; we are here in this universe and this story will be left. It never fails to cast a spell of enchantment over everything.

“Bum?” Feet planted before mine and a crease between his brows, he’s observing me. “You’re spacing out,” he mutters before pressings a palm to my forehead, “but you don’t have a fever. Do you need some fresh air?”

I think he’s right. Air sounds good. I like the air where we live—it tastes freshly baked as opposed to the staleness lingering everywhere else in the world. “OK.” He weighs me up with his measuring gaze when I get to my feet but there’s no reason to worry, strength is restoring itself and even the memory of pain is unintelligible now. “I’m OK.”

“I’ll bring you some tea.” With that, he’s back to whatever it is that’s being conjured, and I’m trusted to get on with my own job—as simple as it is. A kettle full of water is placed on the stove while I retrace the path he made carrying me in his arms.

Just past the bathroom is the front door. I say door but it’s mostly window; two large panels that make up top and bottom of the portal are crystal clear. It’s flanked by massive windows, too, because why wouldn’t it be that way up here? Where a panelled wall is required you have it, but if there’s any chance to capture a living portrait you do just that.

Wood clanks against wood, the door swings shut as I venture out onto the porch. That sensation of experiencing something for the first time settles again, like a dewy web, yet it’s not discomforting. It doesn’t spark curiosity either because I’ve known since we came here that I’ll never get tired of the stretch of cosmos that wraps itself around these stone walls. It stretches this way and that. Green trees that sway in the breeze, dancing to a silent tune, build behind the house, rising to lofty peaks. There’s a handful of hiking routes that wind their way up there. Before me, the pines subside and flow towards the lake. The body of water below glints and shimmers; a mesmerising world of fluid secrets. The amber-blue sky stretches on forever, when the sun sets its understudy arrives and millions of diamonds provide a twilit reverie. Every day is like the first, and at the same time utterly unique. The secrets whispered are always slightly different, the shapes the stars make are always evolving.

This place might not seem much to some, or most for that matter, but it’s everything to me. Eyebrows tend to rise when people know we live together out here, like a couple of hermits, but we’re beyond caring about the thoughts or assumptions they paint. There were times we tried to be apart, building independent lives, but things would spiral into chaos and confusion; bad things ultimately happened. It was never worth the discomfort of trying to squeeze ourselves into empty slots in a puzzle when we never came from the same box in the first place. We found this peace right here, our belonging, and it really doesn’t matter what the world outside thinks.

Besides, we’re not hurting anyone.

“Here.” I didn’t hear the door open and neither do I flinch with his apparition.

My gaze shifts from lush, green leaves to earthy, rich irises. The pleasure found there is fertile enough to coax a smile. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, and why shouldn’t it be? The mug offered is steaming—chamomile by the smell of it, probably with a little too much honey.

“Thank you.” It’s sighed while I inhale the scent and let it wrap around me along with every other element within reach that’s whole and perfect.

“And there’s that smile,” he coos the gentle tease. I’ve always loved the way he teases. His humour is mildly provocative but it soothes instead of stinging, the worst side effect being blushes. It makes up for my quiet demeanour and—if anything—he preens under the laughter that always comes easily from his audience of one. Sometimes my rare sarcasm trips him up, too—it’s served extremely dry. I have to admit a hunger in my gut is fed when his knees buckle under unforeseen hysterics. “You look much better,” he adds, expression mirroring the one he just shone a spotlight on.

“I feel much better.” To prove the point to myself, my toes wiggle within their thick, woollen confines. Everything feels as it should again—better than it should. Energy coils itself deep in muscle and bone, eager to spring into action. Reaching out, I sate that desire. My fingers brush against his cheek while a pinprick of panic plucks at my imagination over what I’ll find. There was no need to worry, there’s nothing other than him. Past the stubble, he’s warm and smooth—soft even. Most wouldn’t attach that adjective to Sangwoo but, then again, no one knows him as I do.

He sighs, his eyes close, his head tilts into my touch. Yes, he is soft.

“I’m glad.” Hand finding mine, Sangwoo’s grip weaves around my fingers until they are entwined with his. There’s a ring he wears, a gift from me. It’s never been removed no matter what graft is demanded. There should be no surprise in seeing it where it belongs. “If you stay out here too long you might catch a cold.” To highlight the gently presented advice, and with an added chuckle, he ruffles my damp hair. “At least get dry first if you want to take a walk.” A light kiss is pressed to my forehead; a full stop for his nurturing thought. I bookmark the moment, recording every last atom vibrating around and within. I’ll return to this page—over and over and over. I just know it. “I have a cake to make,” he adds, taking a step back. A new spark of enticement kindles in his gaze, hoping that he’ll provoke some curiosity—or at the least hunger.

Where I know him well, he matches that—step for step, word for word, breath for breath.

“Cake? What kind of cake?” I can’t hide the eager giddiness in my voice, I wouldn’t attempt to either.

“Chocolate.”

My stomach rumbles on cue. “What’s the occasion?” Honestly, I don’t care, I’m already fantasising about the dessert induced coma I’ll fall into later, regardless of the reasoning behind it. Sangwoo is a magician in many things and baking is one of them.

A casual shrug is offered as a response before words follow. “It just felt like a cake kinda day.” Taking another step backwards, he’s halfway over the threshold. “If you’re around in about twenty minutes there’ll be a bowl and spoon to lick clean.” There’s another grin, full of mischief, and eyebrows that quirk before he disappears back into the warmth of our home.

I’m caught up in the sweetest quandary. My legs long to pace earth and my fingers ache to touch pine, but the cosmos isn’t going anywhere right now… whereas that bowl and spoon might.

His argument is compelling; Sangwoo knows my weaknesses. But we’ve never truly needed anything to persuade ourselves or convince the other. Nothing binds us here aside from free will, shone and reflected back in equal measures. He is me and I am him. We can’t breathe alone.

#killing stalking #fanfic #post canon #yoon bum #sangwoo

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randomguywithwords · 4 years

Text

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 14 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 14: A Lonely Road

AO3 Link: Here

Previous Chapters: 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

–––––––

Dabi pulled the hood over his head as Geten and him crossed the runway. Someone was waiting for them at the hangar, their silhouette visible against the bright lamps.

“That’s probably one of Skeptic’s men,” Geten whispered to him. Dabi nodded.

As they neared, the stranger stood at attention in a blue-collar attire. “Apocrypha, Dabi,” He greeted, bowing. “Skeptic has informed me you need a vehicle for transport. A motorcycle, was it?”

“Yeah,” Dabi replied. “Only thing I can drive.’

The Liberation soldier nodded. “We’ve managed to procure a couple for you. Take as many as you want, and good luck on your assignment. I will update Skeptic accordingly.”

Gesturing to the row of motorcycles inside the hangar, he bowed once more and left for the air control tower nearby.

“Crazy how spread out you guys are, how have we not noticed you all?” Dabi shook his head in astonishment as the two of them walked over to the bikes.

“We’ve hidden ourselves well. And stop calling us like we’re not you,” Geten said.

“Mmhmm…” Dabi murmured distractedly, scanning his choices. He pointed at a dark blue motorcycle. “That one.”

“Why that one?” She sounded genuinely curious. “Don’t tell me it’s –”

“Yep, it looks the coolest. Let’s go.” Dabi grinned, beginning to enjoy this mission as he leapt onto his new ride.

Sighing, Geten got on behind him. “You know we’re on a time limit right? The group will move again in a few hours. This better be fast.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Sheesh.”

Geten grumbled. “I could just use my ice. We’d save at least ten minutes.”

“And show everyone? You’re not in Deika City, girl. You get questioned or arrested for using your quirk in public.” Dabi tossed her a helmet, joking, “Safety first.”

She knocked it aside with a snort. “I know, it’s not like I’ve never left the city before.”

“Oh yeah?” Dabi said as he revved the engine. “2 dollars says you only left the city...less than 5 times.”

He couldn’t see her expression since he was facing forward, but she didn’t reply for a second. “I’m not taking that. Shut up.”

Chuckling, Dabi started to move. “Might wanna hold on. Don’t worry, I won’t burn you.”

He heard more grumbling. “I should have learnt to drive.” But she put her arms around his waist. They felt chilly. Were they always cold?

Then they were off, entering the main road. The ride would be roughly half an hour. And Dabi was surprised by how much he enjoyed it. It was silent besides the engine sounds. The roads were mostly empty, and the cool night air made his coat flap in the wind.

He basked in the feeling. It had been a long time since he could cruise on an empty road in the countryside. He was hoping this mission was Shigaraki cooking up some bullshit for Geten, because he could tell there was something definitely up with this entire assignment. Whatever it was, Geten was taciturn about it.

Alternatively, the assignment was real and he could spend a night (or hopefully three) away from Deika City and the monotony burning some folks. Win-win.

Geten was quiet behind him, the only semblance of her presence being her two arms firmly latched onto his stomach, not too tightly – Thank god, but he noticed how whenever he accelerated, she gripped it a bit tighter.

Just like me and Sensei…

The memories pulled him into the past as he rode. Dabi remembered him teaching a young Touya how to ride a motorcycle when he was...14? It wasn’t easy at first, but he had to learn to get around. They didn’t have the convenience that Kurogiri or Ujiko provided. The villain street life was hard, but he chose to step into it. He had little regrets.

He remembered sitting behind where Geten was, holding on tightly to Dabi as they cruised through empty towns and abandoned industrial estates on their jobs. His mentor didn’t mind then, so...he wouldn’t mind now.

And speaking of empty towns, the road turned onto one, with the two of them riding through a small, two-lane town, one not meant to house people, but to serve as a pass-through.

His eyes flickered towards a store on his left whose lights were on. A convenience store. And…

Wait, is that…?

Dabi screeched to a halt and hopped off the bike.

“Why’d you stop? What – oh.” Geten saw what he was looking at as she disembarked too, taking off her helmet.

It was a body. Beaten up bad, with twisted limbs and fist marks on his shredded clothing. It was propped up against the side of the building, an oddly peaceful final resting place. There was a smear of blood that stretched from the road all the way to the side of the convenience store.

Dabi squatted down and inspected it. Couldn’t have been more than three days, since no fluids have been expunged. Doesn’t smell too bad, so decay hasn’t been long, or it has yet to start. Organs are probably decomposing now, though.

Damn, can’t believe I actually remembered Sensei’s lesson.

“Hold on, that’s one of us. He’s an advisor for Black Regiment.” Geten said.

“Seriously?”

“His quirk gives him incredible speed. And…” She looked at the road. Dabi followed her gaze. It was more blood. On the road.

“He was running from there, not too long ago, since he still looks...fine.” Dabi looked at the road they were heading.

“You don’t think it’s our assignment?” Geten wondered.

Guess this assignment isn’t Shigaraki’s bullshit after all.

“Thump.” He heard movement. His head flicked upwards. Instinctively, he unleashed a stream of fire.

“BANG!”

Geten gave a surprised yelp, clutching her arm, but to her credit, her other arm was instantly thrust out in retaliation, but nothing happened. “Wait, what?” She gasped.

Shit, it’s not...is it? Whatever, think later.

Dabi unleashed a torrent of fire at the rooftops, where silhouettes shifted around. He counted five.

Dabi grabbed Geten by her uninjured hand and dragged her into the store. It would serve as cover.

“Are you alright?” Dabi turned to look at Geten, who was looking at her arm.

“Yeah, it’s not a bullet. It’s some dart.” She held up a small capsule with a needle at the end. “But I can’t…” Her voice trailed off as she tried again. Nothing.

“Fuck.” Dabi growled. “Never mind. Stay hidden.”

“What are you –”

Rushing out of the store, he swept his right arm upwards to summon a wave of flame that disintegrated the incoming volley of bullets that any idiot could predict. Igniting his left hand, he counterattacked with a fire blast, which got some of them. He heard two screams.

Amateurs.

With a growl, he leapt out of the way, just as some snaking tendrils shot towards where he was. Using your quirks now, eh?

He fired off another plume. The attackers ducked.

Dabi knew he couldn’t scorch the buildings too much or it might be noticeable. The law didn’t know about the PLF, but they knew about the League. Leave too many of his burn marks, and it’ll screw him over.

Guess I’ll try this new move. Having only practiced it thrice this morning – Felt so long ago, he thought, he prayed it would work.

Keeping his left hand summoning a continuous stream of fire to cover him, he drew his right fist back and concentrated. Your fingers. Just the fingers.

His left arm began to singe from the effort. It stung like a bitch. He gritted his teeth.

Now or never. Fuck you Endeavour, for making me learn something.

He thrust his open palm forward and withdrew his left simultaneously. From his fingertips, tendrils of fire as thin as rope shot forward them like burning lassos, weaving through the air in a snake-like fashion. But he didn’t need accuracy, just the width.

With concentrated power, they managed to cover his whole field of view in terms of range. Just as the men left their cover, The tendrils seared into their flesh, and with screams filling the silence, they dropped down from the roof, slamming into the ground with sickening cracks. Three cracks.

Shit, if they’re not alive...Three stories, they might still make it. So there’s three on the ground, and probably two on the roof, assuming no funny business with any quirks…

Raising his voice, he said, “You guys have ten seconds to come down the ladder before I burn all your friends to ashes.” Then his gaze lowered to see Geten standing in front of the convenience store, waiting. He gave her a ‘wait a while’ gesture.

Five seconds passed before the two of them climbed down the ladder, all while begging, “Please don’t shoot!”. Dabi grinned. They looked hilariously pathetic.

When they reached the ground, they knelt down with their hands in the air. Dabi approached them while giving the ‘all ok’ to Geten.

“If you two move,” Dabi said, “I’ll burn you alive.”

The survivors quaked as Dabi bent down and picked up one of their guns. Colt revolver, .45, definitely modified.

Having done it a thousand times, he disassembled the gun with fluid motions without much thought. It was one of Dabi’s first lessons to him. Picking up one of the bullets gingerly, he inspected it and saw that it was identical to the bullet that had struck Geten. He dropped it to the ground and crushed it with his foot.

“All right, you.” He pointed at one of the men. Psych. He opened his palm, and a blast of fire was accompanied by a guttural scream. The other covered his mouth to stifle a sob.

When he was done, he turned to the other and asked, “Did you kill that guy?” He pointed to the body of the Liberation Front advisor that was still lying there.

“No! I swear!” He shook his head vigorously, clasping his hands together to beg for mercy. Seems truthful.

“Who put you up to this?”

“I – I don’t know!” He choked out.

“Oh yeah?” Dabi ignited his palm and stepped forward. He whimpered, “Please! I really don’t know! We were just paid to do it!”

“I want a name.” He placed his burning hand on the thug’s leg. The thug’s whimpers grew into raw wails.

“I – I don’t know!”

“Try again.” Increasing the firepower, the thug began to scream.

“M – Mesa!” He managed to say through the agony.

“Is that a street name or his actual name?”

“That’s all he told us! I swear! That’s all! Please!”

Could be lying. Whatever, I won’t get anymore out of them. These low-class trash don’t seem like the type.

Dabi sighed and rubbed his face. Looking around, he was glad the town was deserted. Even the convenience store lights seemed to be the thugs’ doing. It would make cleanup way easier.

“You might wanna cover your ears for this one,” He told Geten, standing up and gesturing for the two of them to leave the alley. The alley looked funnily similar to all the other ones he burned. Just like old times.

Once they were on the pavement, he turned around and raised his hand. Can’t have people knowing we were here.

“NO! PLEA – AHHHHHH!”

No point remembering them.

––––––

Hi. Enjoy. Inserted AO3 link because again, long chapter.

I actually wrote this and the next chapter (I thought they could be one chapter at first), then the word count hit 3k and I realised I misjudged. Anyway, I do have chapter 15′s backbone done but it hasn’t been edited yet. So expect to see it next week as usual (I’ve surprisingly managed to keep to a schedule on this story, somewhat).

Also please, I’m not going for a “Geten is damsel in distress and de-powered” and Dabi has to be the knight in shining armour. That was not my intention whatsoever. It’s the fact that she prides herself on her admittedly powerful quirk, so taking it away for a while will be a very interesting way to see her character.

Here’s to hoping I can write that properly. It’s gonna be doubly hard because next chapter is still Dabi’s POV. So...might drink my sorrows away if I screw that up. Nah jk, but I technically am legal to drink, so ._.

I’m rambling. But yeah I felt the need to point that out because I don’t wanna offend any feminists or something.

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livesbeneath · 5 years

Text

six feet between.

pairing: noah x female mc (harley blanco)

summary: to be caught trespassing in a cemetery is bad enough without a preceding criminal record. he knows visiting westchester is risky, and that being out in the open isn’t the smartest idea, but he finds it somewhat therapeutic, maybe in a sickening way, to occasionally come full circle after his stops at the ruins.

word count: 1.9k.

author’s note: after around a two(?) month hiatus of sorts?? i have written something i don’t actually HATE??? i had this idea last night at three am after playing a chapter of ilitw, and wrote a large portion of it then, so i apologize if it’s a little hard to follow! i’m proud of how it turned out, especially when considering the way the noah / mc relationship ends as in ilb. all forms of feedback are appreciated! please try to leave a comment if you can!

disclaimer: i do not own these characters (except harley). creative liberty has been taken to make this story unique, and i do not intend to use it for profit in any way.

The oldest headstone in the Westchester Peace Cemetery dates back to the 1700s, specifically 1768. It honors a woman named Eliza Rosemund, who was thirty eight at the time of her death. The quote etched on her tomb is worn, but reads something like: “beloved mother and daughter, go gently.”. There is a noticeably large chunk missing from the top of the grave.

Noah Marshall has been by this plot so many times that he can rattle all this information with ease. A run of the mill bystander would think it was Ms. Rosemund he was visiting so often, but anyone who knows him would know that this isn’t the case.

That is, if they had mind that he was there at all.

As he makes his way over the fence, something he’s mastered by now, Noah takes note of the way fog seems confined only to the burial grounds. He shakes his head and plants his feet firm on the dirt below, then crouching down behind a headstone. Precautions are always taken to make sure he’s alone at times like this. Carefully, he turns back to inspect the way he came, relieved to see only the woods that normally guard him from the public eye staring back. To be caught trespassing in a cemetery is bad enough without a preceding criminal record. He knows visiting Westchester is risky, and that being out in the open isn’t the smartest idea, but he finds it somewhat therapeutic, maybe in a sickening way, to occasionally come full circle after his stops at the ruins.

Beyond Eliza Rosemund’s grave, still along the same path, but in the more modern part of the cemetery - sits the headstone of Harley Blanco.

Once he’s sure he’s alone, Noah hoists himself up, allowing himself to drift into the fog. Maybe at a young age, he would be afraid of trudging through a sea of tombs in the middle of the night. While the thought of countless dead, dusty, decomposed or decomposing bodies below his feet is still slightly unnerving, he is aware that he is currently the most terrible thing on the premises. Guilt is the reason he’s here at all. Guilt, and longing, one could say.

With Harley’s very being split in two, her body in one place, her soul in another - he thinks it only fair to honor all of her instead of a mere part of her. He knows nothing will ever make up for missing her funeral, but he figures he’s carried anguish similar to those who attended. If not similar, the fact that what he’s done eats him alive and spits him back out every night is enough to warrant a visit.

“Shoot!” he whispers briskly as he nearly trips over a twig, grip on the homemade present he’s brought nearly slipping out of his grasp.

While in the woods earlier, he stalled leaving the spiritual Harley behind by peeling moss patches off of logs. Now, along with a bundle of dandelions he picked from outside the gate, he’s used them to make a makeshift bouquet. The fact that they’re just weeds makes the weight of the offering even heavier in his fist. He knows she deserves something nicer, especially from him. There’s no doubt in her mind that her grave is pre-decorated, though. He’s deduced that her parents must visit often, because there’s always a replenished gaggle of gifts waiting at the base of the headstone whenever he arrives.

Her parents, he thinks. God, they must fucking hate him.

His footfalls grow slower, heavier as he approaches some of the newer plots. The more recent dates that decorate the slabs crowded around the area remind him that it hasn’t been that long since that fateful night in the grotto. Being on the run makes each day blur together, which means by the time he’s stepped back to give himself a reality check, months have passed. It’s been a year and a half, but Noah swears she’s been gone for an eternity.

He’s no stranger to this feeling, of course, as he’s been professionally trained in mind-numbing grief since Jane’s demise a decade or so prior. Still, he realizes now that there was some hope back then. Compared to how things are now, his sitting alone every day at school seems overwhelmingly trivial. Still, being acquainted with grief does not make the moment he sits down before her grave any easier. Each time he does so, the slap in the face that is the fact that she’s actually dead leaves a searing mark. He isn’t an openly affectionate person, but not having her strong arm to lean on, both physically and metaphorically, is something he’ll never get used to.

Harley Blanco’s headstone in the Westchester Peace Cemetery commemorates her death back in 2017, specifically October of that year. She was eighteen at the time of her death. The quote etched on her tomb is intricately done, and clearly reads: “beloved daughter and friend, we are together always, even in death.”. His offering of a bundle of dandelions pales in comparison to the fresh roses left by her parents.

As much as he wants a cigarette in that moment, Noah knows lighting one is a surefire way to be caught. The air around him has grown colder since planting himself six feet above Harley’s coffin. The feeling that he’s being watched from somewhere, by someone, gnaws at his stomach, and he peers around his peripheral vision, careful not to move his head. With the newly plunged temperature, everything around him seems to freeze. All until-

“Noah…?”

He jumps, whirling around so fast he almost cracks an elbow on the headstone near him. Noah doesn’t know what he expects to see, exactly. Maybe it’s his mother, and she’s known of his escapades back and forth to Westchester for some time now. Maybe it’s Stacy Green, and she’s finally tracked him down, hell-bent on making him pay. While his mind could create hypotheticals until sunrise, what he actually sees surprises him much more.

There, flanked by ornate gravestones, half fog and half shadow, is a pair of glowing blue eyes.

“Harley?” he breathes, splayed out like a spider before her. “Wh-What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

As if playing a game, Harley moves with the mist hanging heavy in the air, curling around him and cheering “Found you! I win!”

Noah sits in her visceral grasp for a moment, glancing in disbelief between what’s left of Harley, and the slab of stone that marks her supposed final resting place. The feeling that she’s been beside him all along, traveling in his shadow to this spot, sinks in. Finally, he sighs.

“Harley, you can’t do this anymore. I’m gonna take you back to the ruins, okay?”

“Nooooooo…” she drawls, a tinge of orange in her eyes. “Stay with Noah!”

Slight dread pools in his stomach as he finds himself unable to stand, her lock on him too tight. The hardest part of every visit with Harley is leaving her at the end of the night. Noah is all too familiar with the fiery pain that sits in the embers of what are now her eyes. She’s gotten articulate enough over their course of their lessons to voice that she’s afraid that when he leaves, he won’t come back for her. While he’s thrilled she’s learning to feel again, he wishes he hadn’t taught her such distress.

He narrows his eyes, frowning. “Let me stand, Harley. You win.”

“I win!” the spectre cheers, twirling into the air, tail of shadow whipping past his face. Noah stands. As he dusts himself off, he takes a deep breath, attempting to look through the thick fog for unwelcome guests.

“Ssssshhh!” he hisses, finger to his lips. “You can’t be loud here!”

“Ssssshhh!” she parrots, mimicking his movements until they’re eye to eye. He notices hers are burning blue again.

A sigh. “That’s right, Harles. Nice and quiet. It’s time to get you home.”

The monster lowers her clawed hand, eyes wide, boring into his. For a moment, his blood runs cold. Noah watches as she slowly gazes away from him, off into the distance. Gradually, she floats away from him, higher than he can reach, staring out towards the exit of the cemetery. Not towards the woods, but towards town.

“Home…” she whispers. Wind carries her words to him, but the trees don’t move.

“Harley…” he realizes his mistake.

She turns to him again, eyes orange, wide as saucers. “Go home.” she states.

“No, not - not there. I meant back to the ruins. That’s your home now.”

“Nooooooo… not home! Not home! Not home!”

The wind begins to pick up, but it seems to touch him and nothing else. His jacket isn’t enough to shield him from the way the temperature drops. Harley’s eyes blaze as she grows more frantic, zipping from tombstone to tombstone, moaning the same two words over and over again. Noah holds a hand out to her, but finds himself using it to steady himself when the vortex she’s created amidst her panic threatens to knock him to the ground.

He watches in horror as the frantic ghoul grabs a headstone and pulls it from the ground, tossing it like a softball to the side. It hits the stone walkway with a sickening crunch. She makes her way to the next slab in line, repeating the process with ease.

“Harley! Harley, stop!” he shouts, holding his beanie to his head.

“Home!” she cries in return. “Want to go home!”

“We have to get out of here! Stop that! Stop it!”

Noah hits the ground as she prepares to swing again, scrambling up against the headstone dedicated to her. Harley rounds on him, desperate, but stops short when she sees his hand held out. He presses himself up against the headstone, breathing heavily. She stares, seemingly past him, back in the same trance from before.

“You’re okay, girl.” he assures her. “You’re okay.”

When she doesn’t respond, he moves to the side slightly, and she glides closer to the headstone. Noah lets out a deep breath, watching her eyes move as she scans the inscriptions on the stone. Carefully, as if touching it will burn her, Harley holds out a clawed hand to the marker.

“Harley…” she breathes.

Noah stays silent, head hung in remorse.

The monster coils back slightly, the hand that touched the stone now held over where her heart should be.

“I… Harley.” she looks to Noah and cocks her head to the side. “I Harley?”

“Yeah.” he mutters in response. “You are.”

Silence hangs between them. For a moment, he lets his reservations about being caught fade away. Harley sinks to the floor, sitting beside him as if she has legs to cross. The fact that her two forms, corporeal and spiritual, are only six feet between each other is not lost on him. It makes him nauseous to see. They were so close.

She mirrors him once again, this time looking desperately sad as she gazes from him, to the headstone. Noah watches as she reaches out to the flowers littering the base of the grave, and expects her to pick up the roses.

In a clawed hand, she presents him the dandelions.

“For me?”

He stares. The weeds look so small in her monstrous hand.

“Yeah.”

Harley looks down at the offering once more. Her eyes burn a subtle blue.

“For my cave.” she tells him.

Noah looks up at her, confused. “What?”

“For my cave.” she replies. Her free hand reaches out to him and hovers over his chest. “To… feel like home.”

He presses her claw to where his heart is.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

#it lives in the woods #it lives beneath #noah x mc #playchoices #noah marshall #ofc the more i read anything i write the more i dont LIKE IT bt .#here it is .... my non proofread garbage #the ending is rushed but . lets say its Poetic #fics #ship: noah x mc (harley blanco)

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theguardianangel-fanfiction · 7 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Dead

Summary: It's been two years since the beginning, and only five days since Clementine met them. But somehow, things got so much worse, and Carver was just the beginning. [Season 2 AU/canon divergent. New situations, characters, etc.] Chapter 1: River Runs Cold. Author’s Note: I will be posting 1 chapter a day on Tumblr. Each chapter is already posted on AO3 and Fanfiction. I will resume posting on those 2 websites on October 1st, 2017. [Main Blog] [AO3] [FanFiction.Net]

It wasn't that Clementine couldn't run. It wasn't like she didn't want to run. It wasn't like that at all. With the shouting behind her – which came from a man at least twice the size of her seventy pound, not yet four-foot-nine frame – there was no reason not to. But there was a huge difference between not attempting to run and barely being able to.

Rain splattered down on her face, wind blowing it into her eyes and all over her, obstructing her eye sight. The mud on the forest floor was making it much more difficult to stay upright, but the surrounding trees and the darkness of the night made it even harder to figure out where to go.

Clementine slowed, as the rain began to pick up; she wiped the water from her face and quickly turned her head, just in time to hear the angry shouting that came from back behind the trees.

"Get the fuck over here! NOW!" the man shrieked, like a child throwing a tantrum. A tantrum, Clementine reminded herself, that included more than one deadly weapon. She jumped when she first heard the demand, and scrambled behind the nearest cover, a tree. A loud squelch of mud reached her ears; she didn't dare peak out to see if he'd stopped, but the sound of slow, wet footsteps was answer enough.

"Motherfucker!" he grumbled. Clementine heard more of the slow, wet footsteps, which sounded like they were beginning to move away from her. She could run. She could get away – maybe she could hide. She didn't know where. The only idea in her mind repeatedly echoed, away from him, away from all of them.

Kneeling, she peeked out from behind the tree. The man was facing away, to Clementine's left. His back – or rather his bag and several bundles – was turned to her, as he spoke, "Come out here, girl." He spat this in a condescending manner. "I'm not fuckin' around!"

There was a rock parallel to where Clementine was, to the right of the tree. Could she fit behind it? Maybe, if she was squatted down. She took the leap of faith – and promptly failed. The man turned, as soon as he heard movement, shouting something she couldn't make out. He made a mad dash towards her; with every amount of energy she could muster, she took off, away from him, narrowly avoiding the large rock, and the smaller ones that dotted the ground.

"Get the fuck over here!" came the shouting behind her.

A humongous boulder and a narrow log resting on top of it stood in her way. At the last second, Clementine dove underneath it, then swiftly stood up and continued her run forward into a patch of long, dried grass. She let out a gasp of fear as she stopped in her tracks for barely a second, nearly colliding with a female-looking walker. It let out a deep throated growl as Clementine ducked underneath its outstretched arm – and then she stopped.

Stretching across her path was a huge tree log – nearly as wide as she was tall, with several large branches stretching out that looked like they could impale an elephant. So Clementine turned back to the walker, which turned around, facing her and shambling closer. Behind the walker was the man, who said something that sounded like, "Fuck." followed by a few more choice words. He kicked the walker's thigh, knocking it down onto the ground, and then stomped on its decomposing head, effectively killing it.

He turned to Clementine, who had backed herself against the log; she grabbed a hold of the nearest branch, a thick, pointy one with several pieces sticking out, and turned back to him, holding it protectively in front of her. She darted to the left hastily as he ran at her. The man stopped just before he ran into the branches.

The man let out a shriek and yelp as she stabbed her branch into his shoulder. She took off again in the opposite direction as the man screamed, "Jesus, are you fuckin' kidding me?" Clementine's run was cut short when she stopped herself, sliding and landing on her backside. The ground ended in a sudden ledge, dropping off several feet into a quickly-moving stream that seemed to only get faster with each passing second.

Her clothes were streaked with everything from sweat to mud, and her knees both felt as though they were scraped and bleeding. He'd chased her, he'd tried to hurt her, and God only knew what the other men who'd chased after Christa had done, or were trying to do. She felt a pang of panic in her chest. It was with great, pent up frustration and fear that she screamed, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The man grabbed her from behind, lifting her up off the ground as she squirmed and fought back. He replied, "Then stop fucking running! Stop squirming!" He wrapped his arms around her, using his knee to keep her elevated as he tried to get a better grip on her. His hands rested, unguarded on her shoulders – as quickly as she could, Clementine buried his thumb in her mouth, down to the carpel bones, and bit down as hard as possible. A painful howl reached her ears as immediately as it was let out, but she held out.

She shifted his thumb slightly as the man tried to pull it from between her teeth. Clementine placed more panicked pressure on the pad of his thumb and the bone and tissue underneath with her molars and left canine – and she finally tasted the choking, irritating coppery blood, joined by a sickening crack as her captor's screams reached their highest intensity.

"ARGH – LET GO, YOU LITTLE BITCH! Jesus Christ!"

Clementine let go of his thumb at the same time he dropped her. With her mouth, and part of her nose filled with his blood, she immediately darted towards the hollowed log that lay a foot away, extremely grateful for her small size. She crawled into it hastily, and then scrambled to grab onto anything she could, as a pair of bloody hands grabbed a hold of her ankle.

"Come out of there!"

She let out a cry of fear as her nails dug into the insides of the log, and she kicked the man's hand with her free foot multiple times. Her hands slipped away from the inside of the log; he dragged her out, despite the small girl's cries and squirming. With a delicate hold against her foot, Clementine reached out to the nearest object: a thin tree. In the dark, it was one of the only things she could see. She wrapped her arms around as tightly as she could. The man's grip had loosened slightly; Clementine supposed it was his bloody and likely pain-filled thumb that was preventing him from pulling her with his full strength.

"Jesus, are you fucking kidding me?" the man repeated, lifting her lower body off of the muddy ground by her leg. But there was no way in Hell that Clementine was going to let go of her only lifeline. "Come on, girl!"

A strong, well timed tug pried Clementine's hands off of the tree – and it knocked the man pulling her to the ground.

"Kid, you are on my LAST FUCKING NERVE!" he shrieked, lunging towards the downed child, positioning himself over her as she turned. He grabbed the bony fists that she'd waved in her blind panic, and was promptly met with a kick to the chest, from one of her bent legs. Eyes wide, Clementine kicked his sternum again with the other leg.

"Stop fucking kicking!"

Growling and a clap of thunder filled her ears as a walker with torn clothing shambled towards the man. But he didn't seem to notice. The walker suddenly fell on the splintered stump, only inches away from them both. It began to reach out, and though Clementine knew for a fact that it wasn't picky about which of them it was going to rip open, she knew it was reaching out for her captor. Carefully, Clementine continued to press her feet against the man's chest, squirming and resisting so that she could move herself further left. The walker was on the right, reaching out towards the man's shoulders, and just the right amount would tip him into it. She pushed against him, legs beginning to cramp under his weight, and then aimed a well-timed kick at his groin, effectively shoving him right into the arms of the walker.

The walker grabbed his arm as he cried out. Clementine backed away, heart still pounding, and stood up, only to be greeted by a slimy, rotting hand grabbing her wrist as well. She cried out, pulling away from an androgynous walker with close to no skin left on its bloody face, when another hand latched onto her other arm: her captor. She looked over to see that he seemed to be free, and with a sickening crack, the walker's arm detached from its body. He'd pulled her away, but Clementine knew that it wasn't for her own good. No, he wanted her for himself. The two of them both hit the ground, with the arm landing a few inches away.

Clementine looked back to her left to see another walker, this one both taller and larger than the previous, greedily grabbing the air in front of it and coming straight towards them both. Just as she moved from her position and got to her feet, the walker fell right onto the man, who shouted and screamed in fear. The walker pinned him down and tore right into his throat with a horrifyingly disgusting noise that Clementine could only think of as a cross between a thump of a heavy object on a sopping carpet and a choking, gurgling noise.

She backed away slowly at first, but then took off in the opposite direction when she finally realized it – she was free. The man who was trying to do God only knew what was dead, not chasing her, and she could get away. She took off right back into the trees, away from the feasting walker and that ledge, jumping to the side in surprise when the one armed walker from earlier lunged from the brush. It fell to the ground, and Clementine turned, only to be faced with two more, thoroughly mutilated walkers. One was missing its arm from the elbow down; the other was wearing a sports jacket. Both of them had the flesh and skin rotted away from their faces.

Clementine ducked and changed direction when the walker in the jacket lunged at her, turning back towards where she'd come from, and back towards her former captor's corpse, and the reanimated corpse that was feasting on it. The walker that was feasting on the man, like the others, lunged at her, receiving a shriek in response as Clementine leapt to the side to avoid its touch. And immediately lost her footing, tripping herself on a rock. She turned onto her backside, a whimper of unease leaving her mouth as she attempted to back up. Every part of her body suddenly felt like jelly as she grabbed the first rock her hand touched – one roughly the size of her fist - and examined the walkers several feet away.

There were six of them coming from different directions, creating a semi-circle around her escape route. Clementine launched the rock at the walker in the middle as hard as she could manage to, though the rock missed by a few inches. Mouth open and eyes wide, she backed up, reaching her hand back to grip the ground. It was only after she'd backed up that she realize that there was nothing but air to grip, and she remembered the ledge.

Clementine's heart skipped a beat as she tumbled into the freezing stream several feet below, water immediately filling her mouth and nose, forcing its way down her throat.

#twdg #the walking dead game #twdg fanfiction #fanfiction #obtd fanfiction #chapter 1: river runs cold

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ask-princess-slaughter-shy · 7 years

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Princess Slaughter Shy 2 (Page 6)

An original My Little Pony Creepypasta by Zaine McCartney

“Leave it up to me and my crew.” She replied with a vote of confidence. She looked around the room and gave a wary laugh, “but we may not get it all done in one day.”

“That’s fine, just get it done.” She left Decora to do her thing and made her way over to Vextra. “Hold still while I perform a shrinking spell on you.” He tilted his head questioningly but obliged. His body trembled while the magenta aura spiraled around his body. Bit by bit his body shrunk down to the size of a full-grown German Shepard. “Now come, I’ll show you to your well deserved meal.” She took him to the room that harbored Amy’s decomposing body. Blood was still oozing from her chest, her color looked more greyish-blue now than its normal white color.

Vextra instantaneously pounced onto the body and sank his wooden fangs into the chewy flesh. He wagged his tail with delight as he devoured the corpse. Fluttershy left him to enjoy his meal in peace and wandered aimlesley through the halls.

“Yo! Fluttershy! What’s up?” Called out a vuagly familiar voice belonging to a mare. It sounded from behind her at a far distance.

The Princess’s face contorted with anger and familiarity, she was very displeased with the incompetent pony’s use of her dead name but she also couldn’t shake trying to figure out whose voice that belonged to. When she turned around the sense of familiarity became ten times stronger as she saw a creamy white Unicorn with an electric blue mane and adorned in black-framed purple-lensed sunglasses, she had a very bright smile painted on her face. Princess felt frozen in place, she didn’t know how to react or feel about the whole situation. Her turquoise eyes shot a quick look at Pinkie Pie who seemed to also be frozen and unsure what to do.

The mare came to a screeching halt before she wound up slamming into her. “Yo! It’s been a minute since we last saw each other. I see you’ve been doing well for yourself.”

Futtershy just continued to stare at the mare unable to find her voice.

Vinyl’s blue magic enveloped her glasses and placed them up on top of her head, her violet-red eyes looking back and forth between Fluttershy’s. “You remember me, don’t you? Vinyl Scratch? DJ Pon-3? We met on the train not to long ago and you helped me move my setup.”

“Yeah. I remember you.” Princess finally said. “How have you been?”

Vinyl took in a deep breath, her demeaner completely changed in the blink of an eye catching even Fluttershy off guard. “You know, not so good. After you came into power no pony has wanted to hire me for events.” Hurt was in her eyes now, “I can’t believe you… Why did you kill them? What in the world possessed you to pinch off the sweetest most caring ponies in the universe..?”

“I… I…” She didn’t know why but her heart felt like it was being ripped apart. A knot caught in her throat that made it hard to breathe. Why was she feeling so guilty now? She didn’t give a fuck about the former Royals so why did she care now? It can’t possibly be because she cared about this common white pony and how hurt she is by Princess Slaughter Shy’s destruction, can it? She blinked multiple times to hold back the tears threatening to fall. She wanted to speak but the knot was far too large to allow the words to flow freely.

Vinyl’s eyes narrowed with anger. “I know why, because you’re a pathetic selfish pony who only cares about herself. She was so obsessed with wanting the limelight to herself that she’d do anything to get it, even commit mass murder.” Her own tears were brimming her eyes. She grit her teeth with extreme hurt in her eyes. “Didn’t you care about your friends..? What am I saying… of course you didn’t because you killed them all, except for her.” She looked back at Pinkie for a second. “You probably don’t even care about me because you didn’t care to ask me how I felt in any of this…”

“I do-do care…” Fluttershy replied though she wasn’t sure she actually meant it. Her dark side didn’t care about any of the shit she was saying but her former side really sympathized with Vinyl and her heartbreak. Her head was becoming muddied with overwhelming thoughts, her dark side and light side clashing inside was too much for her to handle, she felt as though her head was about to implode.

“If you do care… then please resign from being the Princess… give Shining Armor the keys to Equestria. Turn yourself in and let these ponies see justice for the unlawful deaths of the Princesses and Elements of Harmony. Let the land go back to normal with the sunrise and moon rise.”

The tears were streaming down her pale yellow cheeks and refused to letup. She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. Her heavy grieving heart dropped completely down into the floor. The seeds of sorrow Vinyl was planting in there were growing like a rapid inferno.

“Please, stop your tyranny while you still can. Stop before anypony else loses their life. The real you is still in there somewhere, I can see her. Let her out and step down.”

Flashbacks from the night she killed Princess Celestia flooded into her brain, making the chaos in there become worse and brining on a migraine. The way she came face to face with herself in the mirror before she went on to murder the highest Princess, the way she smashed the mirror into a thousand pieces and used the biggest piece to kill over and over again. Her head began to twitch and her eyes went black to normal to black again in a rapid pace. She glared down at the floor, her ears folded back tightly and her body beginning to shake. She bared her teeth and growled lowly as the voice of her former self broke through her mind and started whispering to her. “Please, stop this. Do as your friend says and step down. We can still put the world right. Like Twilight would always say, friendship is magic.”

“I’m still going to be your friend and see you through everything once you step down. So please, give up the throne, please.” Vinyl pleaded one last time.

She sqouze her eyes shut and slammed her hooves to her ears in an attempt to drown her their voices. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!” She repeated over and over, her eyes were now completely black and she lunged forward, wrapping her front hooves around Vinyl’s neck. She trapped her in a chokehold and kept hissing “shut up” in her ear. Vinyl gurgled with fright as she struggled to breathe, she clawed at Fluttershy’s arms but they would not budge no matter how hard she pulled. Even punching her arms did nothing. Panic started to set in as she felt her head and neck start to twist to the left, she pounded her hind hooves on the floor as hard as she could, the shockwaves that shot up her leg bones was excruciating. The bones in her neck began to make a sickening crack that even she heard before her vision when dark and she could no longer hear the noise, the noise that bounced off the hall walls and penetrated everyone else’s ears that were there. Vinyl’s thrashing body ceased and went limp which brought Fluttershy back to her normal state. She looked down at the lifeless Unicorn in despair. She shook the pony in an attempt to rouse her. “Vinyl!? Vinyl Scratch!” She cried out in desperation and shook harder but the Unicorn remained unresponsive and limp. Fluttershy’s breathing became panicky and she looked over at Pinkie Pie. “HELP!”

Pinkie was in shock at the whole situation. She had never seen the murderous pony this distraught over a death. She quickly rushed over though she wasn’t sure how much help she could provide. “What can I do? She’s dead, Slaughter Shy… She’s not coming back.”

Fluttershy dipped her head and buried her face in the soft white fur. A chilling laugh began to radiate from her, a kind of laugh that made even Pinkie Pie uncomfortable and take many steps away. Fluttershy lifted up Vinyl’s head and looked into her dead eyes. She placed the glasses over the eyes and smiled sweetly. “I’m still here, Slaughter Shy. Don’t cry.” Fluttershy said in a crude imitation of the belated DJ’s voice. She lit up her horn and disappeared with the body, leaving Pinkie to look around the hallway with the most puzzled expression.

“What… just happened?” She scratched her leg anxiously and sat down, she was getting a headache of her own now.

Fluttershy popped into her old shed in Ponyville and got to work skinning Vinyl’s body. Tearing the skin from the muscle took an extreme amount of patience and concentration with a small fillaying knife. She tossed chunks of meat, organs, and bones into the corner of the room, her freshly cleaned shoes becoming stained in blood once again. She grabbed a scrubber and hot sudsy water so she could clean the hide, not leaving behind an drop of red. She took the clean hide into her cottage and proceeded to let it dry next to the lit fireplace while she hunted for her sewing kit and a large kitchen knife. She returned to the living room where she immediately began plunging the knife into her sofa cushions and pillow and ripped the stuffing out of them. Bit by bit she filled the hide with the stuffing all while stitching up parts that were ready to be closed. She wound up using every pillow cushion and parts of her old bed to fill the hide up enough to look as if it were now her normal body mass again.

She placed the glasses back over the empty eye sockets and smiled at the stuffed doll, giving it a kiss on the snout. “There. Now you’re all better.”

“Thanks, Slaughter Shy! You’re a real pal!” Replied Vinyl with Fluttershy’s imitation voice.

“Should we go back home now?” She used her magic to make the doll’s head nod. She giggled and teleported them back to the castle. The two of them popped into Fluttershy’s room and she placed Vinyl’s body on her bed. The Princess was about to climb in bed with her when a bark at the door’s entrance stalled her.

Vextra was there, barking and grumbling. “Are you ever going to return me to my normal size?”

“Awe, but you look so cute at that size.” She giggled. Rolling her eyes when he growled in protest. “It’ll wear off in a couple of hours. Go back to your room. And don’t forget to close the door.” The door clicked shut and Fluttershy finally crawled into bed. All the teleporting she’s done today has left her pooped and it hasn’t even been two hours yet since she woke up. She pulled the doll into a tight embrace and batted her eyes at it. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you but I have the biggest crush on you.” She blushed and giggled.

“Really? I was about to tell you the same thing.” Replied Vinyl.

Fluttershy kissed the pony deeply, her mind filling in the gaps and creating the sensation that Vinyl was kissing back. Soon enough her libido kicked in and her abdomen heated up with a desire for lust. Her magic moved Vinyl down to her lower half and the front left hoof rubbed her pink clit. Princess let out small puffs of air, her face burning brightly like a firework. “Oh Vinyl! You dirty girl!” She opened up her nightstand and pulled out a dark blue strap on cock. “Look at what I found in Celestia’s nightstand. She’s not as innocent and ponies make her out to be. I can only imagine who used this on who.” She giggled and winked as she strapped the sex-toy onto the Unicorn’s hindquarters.

They kissed deeply again as the Unicorn continued to stimulate Princess’s vagina, making it become moist. Fluttershy’s hind legs twitching each time her clit was touched by the tender white hoof. Vinyl prepped herself to push the cock inside Fluttershy’s marehood, the tip of it pushing against the opening. This caused the royal pony to blush harder and her heart to speed up. Even though she found out about masturbation not too long ago she still had never had full on sex with another pony before, she was still pretty much a virgin. She’s always heard that it’s painful the first time for girls because of their hymen so to be honest she was extremely nervous for it to enter her. She gripped Vinyl’s front legs hard and gave a wary smile. “Be gentle…” She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as she felt the full length push through her tight vagina, it did hurt but not that much, she made Vinyl stop when the base of the cock met her lips. “Ah… it stings… but I’m okay.”

“Yeah. That’s to happen when the mare is still a virgin.” Explained Vinyl.

She became flustered at the word. She hated that she was still a Virgin, or well was before the cock entered her. ‘But now after tonight that will no longer be a label that haunts me every day.’ She wiggled her lower half and wrapped her hind legs around the Unicorn’s waist. “Okay. I’m ready.”

The tip of the blue cock pushed against her cervix and the squishy cylacone testicles slapped gently against her labias. Fluttershy was still blushing very hard, staring deep into the purple lenses and biting her bottom lip. Vinyl’s hips were moving slowly at first to ensure to let the vaginal muscles get used to the size inside of it. She pulled it all the way out and then back in causing the Princess to let out a series of low moans. The thrusts became quicker, the tip hitting harder against the cervix, and the balls slapping harder felt very pleasurable as well. She was now letting out squeaks and gasps while her eyes closed. Her head was spinning in circles from the whole experience. Masturbation was great but sex was even better. After a while they changed the position from missionary to Roman style (where you lie on your side and they are behind you.) This position felt even greater than the last, it made her open her mouth wider and stick out her tongue as she panted.

“Ah! Ahh! Yes! That’s even better!” Moaned out Fluttershy. Vinyl rocked her hips harder sending waves of bliss through the royal Princess.

The next position they were in was the downward dog. Fluttershy groaned deeply and bit down on the bed sheets. Tears of ecstasy twinkled in her lust-filled eyes. The balls were able to smack against her clit at this angle brining on even more pleasure to her body. “Yes! Do me harder!” She had no idea she was so verbal, it kind of embarrasses her, but all the boasting Rainbow Dash did about her sex life seemed to actually be legit. Sex is just wonderful! It’s just a damn shame she had to wait this long to experience it. Rainbow Dash has been boasting about her sexual endevours since high school. Rainbow Dash… the damn mare whose husband left her with a nasty scar that will never heal. Rainbow Dash, the pony she watched die but is somehow alive and walking. ‘How the fuck did she come back..?’ She growled and started imagining how that whole family is going to suffer slow and painful deaths. All except for the baby, she’ll be taking it under her wing and raising it as her own. Just thinking about bow brutal their deaths are going to be sent powerful waves of lust to her genitals, thus causing her vagina to pulsate. Her body began to take over and rocked its hips back and forth with the timing of Vinyl’s thrusts.

Vinyl pulled out and lied down on her back she put her hooves on Flutterhshy’s hips and carefully guided her so she was hovering above her. Slowly Fluttershy’s lower half eased down onto the squishy blue cock. Princess groaned loudly and bucked her hips. She placed her front hooves on Vinyl’s plush chest and bounced hard on the permanently erect cock.

“Ahh! Ahh! Yes! YES!” Princess screamed out in full on ecstasy. Her body shook like an electric toothbrush until she was in full-blown orgasm then her body shook like a level seven earthquake. Her hind legs locked together instinctively while she continuously moaned until her climax mellowed out. Her front legs turned to rubber and she crashed against the soft unicorn body in heaps of heavy panting. When over half of her strength returned to her she pulled herself off of Vinyl and collapsed in the empty bed space next to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Falling asleep as fast as she did previously.

An infuriating puff of green light blinked into the dark room causing Fluttershy to groan with disdain and open her weary eyes to see where it originated from, a light-grey scroll lay on the floor just a few feet from her bed. She tilted her head and used her magic to levitate it and bring it over so she could read it.

Dear newly crowned Princess of Equestria:

I’m sure you’ll remember me, your highness. I’m Queen Chrysalis, ruler of the Changeling Kingdom. I must commend you for your ability to take out all four of those rechid good-for-nothing Princesses. And I also must say you’re the last pony on earth I’d expect to do that, you being the former Element of Kindness. You have my utmost respect, Princess Slaughter Shy. Anyway, the reason for me writing you is to ask if we could discuss a possible merger of both our kingdoms. Please get back to me soon, I loathe waiting.

-Queen Chrysalis

Fluttershy had to read over the letter numerous times to fully grasp what it was trying to tell her. “A merger? She wants to combine the two kingdoms into one?” She screwed up her face with disinterest in the idea of sharing her beloved kingdom with someone else, which is why Sunset Shimmer met her fateful end. “Nah, we don’t need to discuss anything, Changeling Queen.” She grumbled to herself groggily, still peeved this stupid note disturbed her slumber. She found it in her to send a letter back to the Queen dismissing her proposal before attempting to climb back in bed and go back to sleep. Not two seconds after the letter had been sent to the Queen a menacing green electrical storm occupied the room, frightening the Princess a bit. She shielded her light sensitive eyes from it’s blinding light until it went away, when she looked back the tall and slender bug Queen with dark green eyes and transparent wings was standing there with a dissatisfied look on her face.

The Queen glared down at the little pony that was rubbing the blinding light’s after effects out of her eyes so she could see properly. Their eyes met and Fluttershy looked a bit sheepish. “I’m not taking no for an answer, not without a civilized discussion, little pony.” Chrysalis hissed with a flick of her dark pink tongue. Her menacing echoed voice bouncing off the walls and making the air in the room grow cold.

Sleep was still trying to pull Fluttershy back down into its sweet depths, she had to blink her eyes a multitude of times to just try and keep herself awake and alert. “Ugh… does it have to be now? I just barely got to bed after a long day’s work.”

Chrysalis just scowled at her, “so you’re saying the time I took to actually come here is ill important to you?”

Princess just rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t take too much to teleport yourself, so what’s the big deal?”

This reply made her growl with anger. “I’m not going anywhere until we discuss the matters of a possible merger with our two kingdoms.”

“Fine. Fine.” The multicolored Alicorn caved with irritation. She led Chrysalis down the hall to the conference room on the lower level. She took a seat in Celestia’s chair while Chrysalis took a seat in Luna’s. There was a few brief moments of awkward silence before anyone spoke.

“So… what exactly do you want to get out of this kingdom merger you speak of?” Fluttershy was the first to ask.

“So I can feed my subjects. The only food they live on is love, and who else has more love to give than ponies? You can’t expect me to just sit back and let them starve. Plus with the ponies you decide to kill why not let my subjects feed on what love they have left before they perish?”

“Uh huh…” She commented boredly, even going as far as letting out a yawn. She still wasn’t keen on wanting to share her kingdom withy anyone. “And what’s in it for me?”

#Princess Slaughter Shy #MLP:FiM #MLP: friendship is magic #mlp creepypasta #pony creepypasta #creepypasta

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vidkid20ssimblrlair · 7 years

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Episode 13: Where There’s Smoke. There’s Fire

I watched her disappear into the night. Into the crowd of the dead. Charging through them like a soldier in the midst of battle. She left a trail of corpses in her wake. Blood decorated the ground she walked on. I was relieved that blood wasn’t mine. That she had spared me for now, but they were more pressing manners at hand. I turned my attention back to Mark who was a spectator on the sidelines now. His eyes darting between me and the car before us.

I walked over to him puzzled by the sight of the wrecked junker. An obviously dead woman sat in the driver seat. She had been dead for awhile from the looks of it. She had already started the decomposing process. She looked like all the other walking corpses, but she was truly dead. She didn’t move. Instead, she appeared to be placed in a certain position. Her head rested directly on the horn of the steering wheel causing it’s obnoxious sound to attract more like her.

I carefully grabbed it by the hair and found a knife stuck in its skull with a piece of paper. A message in blood scribbled on it. I read it out loud: “Ask David.“

“Ask David what? What you need to do is get your ass over here!” Mark shouted over at me from the other side of the car.

I pocketed the paper and use the knife to dispose some hungry corpses on my way over to him. When I got around to the passenger side I was welcomed by the sight of a very alive male corpse reaching out for me from the passenger seat.

“Man, look at him. Hungry fucker ani’t he? You think this was a setup?”

I looked at the man studying him. I had seen him before. Somewhere recently. I stared at him thinking about the note and the mess before us. Then it made sense. I began to realize who he was and a sense of dread bubbled up inside me.

“He’s the guy who shot me in the forest. Roy…David…, I babbled.

“What? What the fuck are you talking about? You alright man?” Mark said perplexed.

I raised my newly acquired knife and plunged it into his head. Then I turned around and ran towards the shed leaving a confused Mark with the car and corpses. My mind solely on Audrey.

It didn’t take long for me to realize where the smell of smoke came from. As I got closer the flames grew brighter. The shed had been set on fire. I screamed in horror and called out to Audrey. Not only Audrey didn’t appear, but David came scurrying out breathing heavily holding a bag.

“Where is she? Where’s Audrey you bastard?” I exploded at the sight of him grabbing hold of him. He pointed to the shed trembling.

“You piece of shit you did this didn’t you? You did this,” I seethed as he wiggled out my grip.

He launched himself away from me and began running at full speed ducking and dodging the dead as he ran. “Come back here!” I yelled.

I started to run after him, but there was no time. Audrey could be trapped or worse hurt in the dungeon she calls a bunker. I looked at the inferno before me wondering it was all worth it. I was scared, to say the least. I took off my jacket, closed my eyes, and mumbled a small prayer while envisioning myself as some heroic firefighter or action hero. The good guys who were crazy enough to do this shit. I rushed forward knocking the door down with my shoulder. Unlike the good guys, I didn’t do it gracefully. I fell forward landing on my face right next to Audrey’s corpse uncle staring at me. I literally leaped out my skin as I flung myself backward away from the ugly mug.

I got up dusting myself off and putting out any embers that made their way onto my clothes. The heat was searing. Almost unbearable. I could barely breathe, my eyes watered and my feet felt like lead. I noticed the corpse had fallen on top of the trapdoor and I pushed it aside. I then pulled on the handle and instantly pulled away feeling the blistering heat.

“Audrey!!!“I called out hoping she could hear me, but it was no use. I tore my shirt and wrapped a piece of it around my hand lift open the door. It took more strength than expected, but I got it open and quickly climb down.

“Audrey?” I shouted out straining to see through the smoke. I was relieved when I saw her. She was standing right in front of me. Right in the middle of the room. She appeared be standing over someone with her sword. I step forward reaching out to her. She seemed fixated on the individual. Her face twisted in anger.

“Audrey?” I whispered as she raised her sword gratefully. “What are you doing? We got….”

She then brought it down like lightning splitting the individual’s head open like a melon. I jumped at the sickening sight. She continued to strike him over and over again crying out as she did. Blood spattered everywhere.

“Audrey? Audrey! What are you doing?! I screamed. I grabbed her into a hug from behind stopping her. I was half expecting for her to turn and slap me or worse, but she began sobbing.

“Are you OK?… I don’t know what happened here, but we need to go.”

She nodded staring down at the remains of her victim. One of the dead licked up its blood.

I grabbed her arm and guided her towards the exit gently. We climbed up into what look like hell on earth. The whole shed engulfed. Embers rain down on us and fiery boards fell at our feet. The thick smoke covered us like a blanket. I held onto her shielding her from the flames.

We moved forward till we were outside under the starry night sky. The cool air bringing instant relief. Audrey broke away from me and we both hungrily took in the fresh air breathing heavily. She looked up at me looking relieved, but her expression slowly dissolved into a mixture of anger and despair. She pulled out her sword.

“I’m not going hurt you. You’re safe now. I can leave if you want,” I said sadly, but her eyes seemed focused on something else. Something behind me.

I froze and suddenly felt the cold metal of a gun on my scalp. I didn’t turn around. I knew who it was instantly.

“Don’t you have anything better to do, Roy?”

No Poll this week, because this would be entirely too long if I took to that point of the story. Matt & Nate are up next. Then Audrey is back as narrator with a poll/decision.

P.S. All previous polls are closed.

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