#I did not check his descriptions at all take pity

[toournextadventure]

movie night vii

Summary: Ghostface got you, and Tara isn't going to let him go without a fight. No one hurts someone she loves. It's time to end this.

Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: Swearing, Scream typical violence, wound descriptions, murder, grief, mention of Scream V events Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

You weren’t answering your phone.

Tara had been calling you nonstop from the hospital to Gale’s apartment, and you weren’t answering.

“It’s probably fine,” Chad said as he struggled to catch up.

As much as she wanted to believe him, he was wrong. He was so very wrong and Tara couldn’t even string her thoughts into a coherent sentence for long enough to tell him why. Why her heart had tried to jump out of her throat when she saw the text from you that simply said “gf here.” She couldn’t explain the icy fear that froze in her veins.

Why couldn’t she run faster?

Tara’s heart dropped to her stomach the moment she saw those red and blue flashing lights. No no no. She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around or answer. Her eyes were glued to Gale. Only Gale. Why was she alone? Where were you?

Gale’s tears and hyperventilating did nothing to ease the lump in her throat as she got closer.

Her eyes surveyed the entire scene before her. There was no ambulance sitting in the street, waiting to take an injured person to the hospital. An injured you. Police were just milling around, twiddling their thumbs until someone told them what to do. The only one who was attempting to help was Detective Bailey, but even he wasn’t doing much.

“Where are they?” Tara asked, finally turning to look at Gale.

She blinked a few times and let out a shaky inhale and exhale.

“Gale,” Tara said again, more forceful, “where are they?”

Her inability to focus or meet Tara’s eyes forced the air out of her lungs. Why couldn’t she look at her? What had happened to you that she didn’t want to admit? That she couldn’t admit? Gale needed to say something and she needed to say something now before Tara lost her mind.

“Gale.”

Everyone turned to face the voice. Alfie was doing an awkward jog over to where they were all standing. Tara studied his face, looking for any indication of what had happened to you. If someone didn’t fill her in soon she was going to combust. Where were you?

“Alfie what-”

“-They’re headed to the hospital,” Alfie interrupted her with his hand held up in a pitiful attempt to keep her calm.

You were headed to the hospital? That meant you were alive, right? Surely they wouldn’t have bothered taking you if you weren’t alive, that wouldn’t make any sense. Oh god, Tara’s mind was running rampant. How bad had it been? Would you be able to recover quickly? What if it was worse than they thought and they couldn’t save you?

“How bad is it?” Sam asked.

Everyone slowly turned to face Gale.

“It’s-” she swallowed harshly, “-it’s bad.”

It was only then that Tara noticed the blood soaking Gale’s clothes. Her shirt, her pants, her hands. Oh god, was it yours? It had to be, Gale seemed untouched. Tara’s hands shook even as she did her best to clench them into fists. That wasn’t enough to stop the unbearable ache of the muscles in her forearms.

He had made you bleed.

She was going to kill him.

“Sam.” Danny was next to appear, instantly going to Sam’s side and checking her over. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Chad asked. Tara had almost forgotten he had come along.

“I’m Y/N’s emergency contact,” he said. “Came as soon as I got the call, but are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said quickly, “we were at the hospital.”

His hands were all over Sam, and Tara wanted nothing more than for him to leave. She didn’t care about Sam’s little boy toy, and he certainly wasn’t doing them any favours. He needed to leave so they could focus on the real issue at hand. He was nothing more than a liability at that point.

“Good,” your Pop said as he approached; he seemed to be far more relaxed about the situation. At least outwardly. “You’re all here.”

“Don, I didn’t-”

“-It’s okay,” he interrupted Gale quickly, “I know.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before looking at Tara. “You all need to follow Tony to the safe house.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I kill that motherfucker,” she said.

“You’re going to a safe house,” he insisted. Actually, it sounded more like an order, just spoken with a more gentle tone. “No one else is getting hurt, you understand?”

No. No she didn’t understand. How could he be so calm when you were probably dying in the back of an ambulance? You were his child, how could he be so reserved? Surely he had a plan, he had to. She certainly did. She was going to find that bastard and kill him. Nothing drawn out, no, quick and efficient and gruesome.

“Aren’t you going after him?” Tara asked. Your Pop just gave her a sad look. “He tried to kill Y/N.”

“I know what he tried to do,” he said quickly. “I’m making sure it doesn’t happen to any of you.”

“But what about-”

“-you might not understand this just yet, little lady,” your Pop said, quickly shutting Tara up, “but Vitales do not charge in without a plan.”

“So you have a plan?” Tara asked eagerly. Someone’s hand fell onto her shoulder and squeezed gently. Judging by the size, it was Chad.

“I do,” Pop said with a simple nod. He let his finished cigarette fall from his lips before pulling out another one and lifting his lighter. “That plan involves you going to the safe house and waiting.”

Tara groaned and turned away. How could he expect her to just walk away? To hide away while you were dying and the one who tried to kill you was still running free? No, no that wasn’t going to happen. There was no way in hell she was just going to stay in someone else’s safe house. Carpenters didn’t hide.

“Do you understand me, Tara?” Pop asked, his brow raised and that cigarette hanging haphazardly from his lips.

“Yes sir,” she said even as her mind continued to run rampant.

Pop stepped forward and lightly placed a big, callused hand on her cheek. “I promise you, we’ll take care of it.”

His kindness was almost unsettling. How on earth did your family manage to be so kind when she could assume what they did for a living? She wasn’t stupid, she knew you weren’t accountants. It was a horrible lie, and none too convincing either. So how could your father - and your family - be so kind and gentle? 

And how could he tell her that she couldn’t go after Ghostface? If anything, she was the professional Ghostface killer. She and Sam were the ones who had killed Richie and Amber. When had your family ever dealt with Ghostface? Sure, you had held your own twice, but clearly the third time was not the charm. They had some nerve to keep her hidden while they took their sweet time.

“Go with Tony,” Pop said, giving the most reassuring pat to Tara’s cheek. “We’ll take it from here.”

With that, Pop leaned forward and gave Gale a kiss on the cheek before guiding her away. She was walking on shaky legs, and if his arm hadn’t been around her waist Tara had no doubt she would have collapsed. What had happened to you that had caused so much mental anguish to her? Tara assumed it was close to how she had been when she discovered Dewey had been killed.

“I want to see Y/N,” Tara said, turning around to finally look at everyone. “I’m not going anywhere until I see them.”

“I know which hospital they’re at,” Danny said quickly.

“I can have Tony meet us there,” Alfie chimed in. “We can go to the safe house when we know they’re okay.”

“Let’s go,” Sam said before Tara had a chance to answer. “It’s too dark to stay outside.”

Everyone mumbled their agreements before starting the walk. Thankfully the hospital wasn’t too many blocks away. Danny had his arm around Sam’s waist, seemingly holding her up, and whispering in her ear nonstop. It would have been cute in any other situation. Not that Tara was sold on him yet, but Sam seemed comfortable and that was the important part.

But she was too busy plotting her revenge to focus on how cute her older sister was being. Tara needed to see you, that was before anything else and it wasn't up for debate. After she was sure you would pull through? Oh it was on, Ghostface had better start praying that she didn't find them. If given half the chance, she would make him regret every moment of his life that led up to the moment he had attacked you.

"They'll be okay," Chad said, pulling Tara out of her bloody and violent imagination. "They're too stubborn to die."

"I thought you hated them," Tara mumbled as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "Why would you care if they were okay?"

"I don't hate them," Chad said quickly, "I just didn't trust them."

"And now?" She asked.

"I mean," he exhaled softly, "they saved Anika and Mindy." He stepped sideways to avoid running into a stranger that refused to move. "And they kept Gale safe."

Yeah you did. You did all of that even though you knew Sam and Chad weren’t your biggest fans. There was nothing any of them could say or do to change the fact that you had put yourself in danger for them not once, not twice, but three times. On your date at her apartment, in your apartment, and just now in Gale’s apartment.

Maybe you just shouldn’t be trusted in apartments, that always seemed to be the location where you got most hurt.

The hospital was cold; it wasn’t the same as when she had initially been there to visit Anika. There had been tension, of course, but everyone had been happy and laughing and having a good time. A feeling of comfort and safety surrounded them and almost made them feel like they could recover from anything.

This was different. Each sound and smell assaulted Tara's senses until her hands started to shake and her palms grew sweaty. Did they have you in a room yet, waiting anxiously for someone you knew to appear? Or were you still unconscious, unaware of anything that had transpired since the attack? Truthfully, Tara didn’t think she liked either answer.

“The hell are you all doin’ here?”

Your sister Mercy looked furious as she practically stormed over to where everyone was standing. Not that Tara could blame her, the entire situation probably had her on edge. And if she was one of the staff having to take care of you? Oh, there would be no need for explanation.

“Listen-”

“-I’m not listenin’ to shit,” she interrupted Alfie. “Pop said you were going to the safe house.”

“Tara wanted to see Y/N,” Sam said quickly. “And then we were heading over.”

“Well you can’t,” Mercy said with a rushed exhale and a shake of her head. The momentary silence settled in Tara’s bones. “They’re still in surgery.”

“Still?” Tara blurted out.

“They only got here about 15 minutes ago, T,” Mercy said, “of course they’re still in there.”

“How bad is it?” Chad asked. His hand fell to Tara’s shoulder again. She knew he was trying his best to comfort her, but it really wasn’t working. If anything, she wanted him to get away; she didn’t want anyone touching her.

Mercy sighed before shifting her weight to her other hip. “Lacerations to the face, and bullet fragments to the shoulder.”

The hospital started to tilt under Tara’s feet while they all continued talking, but she couldn’t hear them. It was like they were speaking underwater. You had been shot? They had gotten your face? How bad was it? Her mouth went dry at the thoughts that ran rampant in her mind.

“Tara.” A familiar hand cupped her jaw. Sam. “You okay?”

No. No she wasn’t okay. How could she be? It was hard enough to deal with Ghostface on his own. It brought back memory after memory of Amber. All those dates, all those spilled secrets, shared kisses. And she had turned out to be nothing more than a fake, a murderer, someone who would’ve traded Tara in for her 5 minutes of fame.

Add onto that the fact that you were laying on some cold operating table, all alone? Because of her?

“Tara?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Sam’s thumb brushed gently across her cheekbone before she pulled away. “Is there anywhere we can sit and wait?”

“I’ll take you somewhere quiet,” Mercy said softly. Still shocking, coming from someone of your family.

The little room wasn’t too far away from where they had come into the hospital. It seemed private, at least compared to the usual waiting room that was wide open for the rest of the hospital to see. At least there was a door in this one, and a small coffee pot and a basket of snacks over on a table in the corner. Simple, but Tara could appreciate it. It was the most homey space in the unsettling environment.

“I’ll come get you when I know more,” Mercy said before leaving, closing the door with a gentleness that made Tara’s skin crawl.

It felt like hours before Tony came in, slipping through the door like a shadow, clinging to the walls like he wasn’t supposed to be there. He sat down dutifully beside Tara, not too close to encroach on her space but still far too close for comfort. She knew he was only there to make sure she actually went back to the safe house afterwards.

Your family was a bunch of bastards.

“Tara?”

Her eyes flew open, the world seeming hazy before she could blink the sleep away. She didn’t know what time it was, or how long she had been there, but she had been waiting for something. You. She had been waiting for you. Tara pushed herself up from the chair, standing on shaky legs for only a moment before walking mindlessly to the door where Mercy was waiting.

“How are they?” Tara asked before Mercy could even finish shutting the door behind them.

“Restin’,” she said with a subconscious nod.

“But alive?”

“Alive,” she reiterated with a small smile. “But there’s a lot of rehab in their future.”

“Better than the alternative,” Tara sighed, chewing her bottom lip in an attempt to feel something other than immense guilt.

It wasn’t working.

“Tara.” She tried not to flinch when Mercy’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Y/N would want you to be in the safe house.”

“They nearly got killed because of me,” Tara said quietly. “I can’t just let that go.”

“They nearly got killed because of that rat bastard,” Mercy said with a surprising amount of calm in her voice. “Not because of you.”

“But-”

“-do you think they would want you gettin’ yourself killed for this?” She asked. Tara froze. “Because they wouldn’t.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing,” Tara said.

“You’re not,” Mercy shrugged. “You’re sittin’ safe.” She smiled and tilted her head slightly. “Isn’t that the best kind of revenge? Sittin’ nice and comfy while they get hunted down like the rat they are?”

Well. When she put it that way, maybe it didn’t sound quite so bad. And Tara wouldn’t lie, she was tired. She wanted to feel safe for once, not looking over her shoulder every second of the day because there might be someone following her. It was a miserable existence and she didn’t know how much longer she could do it.

“Okay,” Tara mumbled to herself. When Mercy didn’t answer, she looked up and spoke a bit louder, “Okay.”

“Atta girl,” Mercy said with a toothy grin that was almost a perfect duplicate of yours. “Let’s get you guys somewhere safe.”

Everyone seemed to already have some sort of idea of what was going on when Tara and Mercy got back into the waiting room. Sam was quick to rush over to Tara’s side, checking her over even though they both knew Mercy wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her. It was a habit. It was something Tara was getting tired of being a habit.

“Who all is comin’ with me?” Tony asked.

“I’ll go back to Mindy’s and Anika’s room,” Chad said. “It’s plenty safe up there.”

“You should stay,” Sam told Danny.

“Sam-”

“-Y/N would like a familiar face when they wake up,” she continued. “And you’re not Woodsboro.”

“Neither are they,” Danny said instantly, gesturing with his head to where all of your siblings were huddled up.

Tara and Sam turned their heads slowly to look at them. They were all talking with each other, worry etched onto each of their faces. She knew exactly how they felt; she had felt the same just knowing Sam was in danger back in Woodsboro. But to know that you had actually been hospitalised for it? Was it how Sam had felt when she was attacked last year?

“They’ve been through enough,” Sam said before turning back to face Danny.

“And I haven’t?” Danny asked.

“Never trust the love interest,” she said with a shrug.

Tara could see how much it hurt Sam to say such a thing. But it was the smart move; after all, both of their previous love interests had turned into Ghostface. They didn’t exactly have the best track record. And with you being unconscious and hospitalised, you were out for the count. That just left Danny.

“Sorry, pretty boy,” Tara chimed in. She desperately wanted to take the heat off of Sam, at least as much as she could. “Better luck next time.”

“Tara,” Sam whispered, but didn’t really do anything to actually silence her. She looked back at Danny. “I’ll see you when this is over.”

“Okay,” he said with a soft sigh. “Okay, then I’ll see you soon.”

Tara turned her head when he leaned closer to Sam. She didn’t want to see it, but she could hear them kiss. Sure, she loved Sam, but she didn’t need to hear what all went on with her boy toy. Although she supposed Sam did have to see you half-naked in her living room a few nights ago, so maybe this was the least of her worries.

When Danny walked past her, patting her forcefully on the shoulder, she finally looked back at Sam. There was a resignation on her face that Tara hated to see, even though she would bet she mirrored the look. They were both tired. They were both just far too tired. It was time for a much needed vacation. Maybe somewhere warm.

“You two ready?” Tony asked, finally coming over after confirming he wouldn’t be interrupting something.

“Let’s go,” Sam said with a definitive nod.

“We’ll call when Y/N wakes up,” Alfie said when they passed by, but no one else had anything else to add.

It was practically a silent trip to wherever the safe house was. Almost as soon as Tony led them out of the hospital, he guided them into what looked like an abandoned alley before ushering them into a hidden nook that led to a tunnel. Tara hadn’t explored much of New York, but she knew it wasn’t common knowledge that there were these tunnels all over the city. Right? If it were, everyone would be using them.

There was something utterly fascinating about the instinctual way Tony navigated through the tunnels. If it had been up to Tara, she would’ve gotten lost within 5 minutes tops. But Tony? He seemed to know every turn like the back of his hand. Was that how you had navigated them through when you took them to your family’s house the other day? 

Had it really only been a day or so ago? It was hard to believe, given the amount of things that had happened since then. Even harder to believe that it hadn’t been all that long ago since your date at her apartment. Maybe there was something to be said about the fact she was so worried about you after what was, technically, only one date.

You must have hypnotised her or something. It was the only logical explanation.

“Right through here,” Tony said as he stopped in front of what looked like the most useless, broken down door Tara had ever seen.

“You guys are so sketchy,” she mumbled to herself, but she still didn’t waste any time in opening the door and stepping through.

“I know,” he said softly as he closed the door behind the three of them.

It was a rather nice looking room, Tara wouldn’t hesitate to admit. It was only a singular room, but it was rather spacious for the circumstances. There was a set of bunk beds against the far wall, a small living room with a couch and TV, and even a tiny kitchenette in the corner. A bit nicer than most studio apartments in the above ground, Tara noted.

“The kitchen is stocked,” Tony said as he walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinet doors to show the excessive amounts of food. “And thousands of movies downloaded and ready to watch.”

“Legally downloaded?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Anyway, you’ve got everything you need to last a few days.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Tara asked. “I don’t like just sitting here.”

“Pop has a plan,” he said. “Shouldn’t take more than two, maybe three days.”

“That’s too long,” Tara said with a shake of her head. “Something else could happen in that time.”

“We’ve never failed a plan yet, Tara,” he said with a kind smile that was almost disturbing. “Don’t plan on starting now.”

“Just let them do it,” Sam whispered even as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“We’re professionals,” Tony said, now his smile turning a little too eager. A little too sadistic.

“And someone is watching Y/N?” Tara asked.

There was no doubt in her mind that you would still be a target. Even though Ghostface had attacked everyone in your apartment, you were the one coming out with nearly all the injuries. She wouldn’t dismiss Anika and Mindy’s injuries, but you seemed to be the one that was targeted. If you were left alone in that hospital, he could get to you in an instant.

Oh god.

“Mercy and Joel are up there,” Tony said quickly. “They won’t even be able to think without someone watching.”

It wasn’t enough. Tara trusted your family, sure, but two people? It wasn’t enough, even if it was your family. You were all more than trained for the situation, she knew it, but it wasn’t enough. Ghostface was smart; too smart. He could probably outsmart your entire family with barely a second thought.

But she supposed it was good enough, so she nodded at Tony once before looking around. She needed a distraction.

“Ma will be down first thing in the morning with some breakfast,” he said before backing away to the singular door that didn’t look quite so broken from this side. “If there’s any news, she’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. Thankfully. Because Tara couldn’t get herself to say anything in return.

Tony bid his goodbye before leaving, and Tara was finally left alone with her thoughts. She knew Sam wanted to talk with her; they were rarely alone anymore and she was far too nosey to just let Tara think without interruption. But she didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for that night.

“Want one of the beds?” Sam asked when Tara still hadn’t moved. “Or the couch?”

“Couch works,” Tara said softly with a subconscious nod of her head.

“Come on,” Sam said just as softly as she reached over to grab Tara’s hand and lead her to the couch.

Tara let herself fall back while Sam moved around the makeshift living room, looking for… something. She didn’t really know and, quite frankly, didn’t really care. After all, what was there to care about? Someone else had gotten hurt, and someone else was taking care of it. All she had to do was sit there, behave, and wait for the situation to resolve itself.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She wondered if you were okay. Maybe you had woken up already and were laying there with your family. They would surely take care of you, right? Of course they would, they were your family and they loved you. She wondered if you would text her, let her know you were okay. Maybe say something ridiculous just to ease the tension.

The TV flickered on and Sam nudged Tara aside with her knee before also falling to the couch. Without even an ounce of hesitation, Tara leaned over until she could lay her head in Sam’s lap. It didn’t take long before she felt Sam’s fingers running through her hair, scratching her scalp as she flipped through movies.

“You care about them,” Sam said slowly. Softly. Gently. 

Yes I do.

“I just don’t like people getting hurt because of me,” Tara answered with a shrug.

“We both know that’s not all it is,” Sam continued. Her fingers never stopped scratching Tara’s head even as she finally decided on a movie.

The Godfather. How appropriate.

“I just…”

Tara let her voice trail off into nothing. She just what? Even she didn’t know how she felt about you. Annoyance was certainly one of those feelings, but there was something more. It was so difficult to tell if it was just a fascination, maybe even an infatuation. But she didn’t trust herself to “like” anyone again. Not after Amber. You were a distraction from the pain and nothing else.

All those repressed feelings started to bubble up at just the mere thought of Amber again. Feelings of guilt because she had no idea of Amber’s double life. No idea that she would have even thought about prolonging the effects of Stab on Woodsboro. Then there was the overwhelming anger. Anger because how dare she try to use her and Sam as pawns in her game? How dare she use Tara and throw her away like she was nothing?

“They’re not Amber,” Sam said, almost as if she could read Tara’s mind. And maybe she could. Or maybe she could see all the reactions on her face that she wasn’t bothering to hide. “I can tell that much.”

“How?” Tara asked. “I knew Amber for ages and still couldn’t tell.”

“I’ve seen how they look at you,” Sam said with a shrug and quickly looked back up at the TV. “And unlike Amber, they let themselves get attacked three separate times for you.”

“Don’t put it that way,” Tara groaned. She brought her hands up to cover her face.. “It makes me feel bad.”

“All I’m saying,” Sam said quickly, “is they’re different.” Tara finished dragging her hands down her face until she could look at Sam. “And if you like them, then I can tolerate them too.”

“How generous of you,” Tara said.

“I still think they’re stupid enough to get you both killed though,” Sam continued. “And not even in a nefarious way.”

“Think they’d get a piano dropped on them?” Tara asked; she didn’t even bother hiding her little smile.

“Like Wile E. Coyote,” Sam instantly replied. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

“You’re a dick,” Tara said, finally letting a small laugh slip past her lips.

“It’s late,” Sam said after the laughter died down and the movie was barely audible in the background. “Get some sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

“Wake me if anything happens?” Tara asked.

“Of course,” Sam said with a smile that reminded Tara of her mother back when she was still capable of being a mother. A comforting smile that warmed her from the inside out and instilled a certain safety that no one else could really give her.

No one except you.

“Good night, Sam,” Tara mumbled, turning to lay on her side as she kept her head in Sam’s lap.

“Good night, Tara,” Sam said quietly right before Tara finally let the day settle on her and put her to sleep.

It felt like only moments before Tara felt Sam flinch underneath her. She sat up quickly, turning her head every which way even as her eyes refused to blink away the sleep. What had happened? Sam had flinched, had someone come in? She could hear someone walking around and setting things down, had someone snuck up on them?

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Ma’s voice cut through the haze of sleep. Just Ma. “I hope you don’t mind, I let you sleep in.” Ma is safe. “You both looked so exhausted.”

She finally managed to get the sleep out of her eyes and take in her surroundings once again. Sam was trying to act like she hadn’t been sleeping, even though it was more than clear that she had been. Not that anyone could blame her, it had been a long few days. There was nothing wrong with her getting some sleep.

Ma was still standing in the kitchenette, rummaging around and setting things out. If Tara looked a little closer, she noticed the entire array of food she was warming up and perfecting. Had she brought an entire family’s worth of food just for lunch? Actually, that probably wasn’t too far from the truth. Tara may have only met your Ma once, but she knew a homemaker when she saw one.

“Come over here and eat while it’s hot,” Ma said, “and I’ll fill you in.”

Tara and Sam gave each other a single look before standing up and making their way to the little two-person table. Ma had already made them their plates and set them down before quickly following with coffee and orange juice. It would have been enough to make Tara feel a little guilty if her stomach hadn’t decided at that moment to air its grievances at the lack of food lately.

“Y/N woke up a few hours ago,” Ma said once they had both started eating. Her hip rested against the counter. “Still a bit groggy, but otherwise okay.”

Tara nearly choked on her coffee. You were awake? That was a good sign, right? It meant you were going to make it, at least for now. That was a positive. But how else were you feeling? Mercy had mentioned lacerations to the face. How bad were they? Would you still look the same? Were you going to be okay?

“Any news on Ghostface?” Sam asked, acting as if Tara hadn’t nearly drowned in her own coffee.

“Not yet,” Ma said with a shrug. “But the boys said they’re close.”

“How do they know?” Tara asked, her voice croaky and weak. It was pathetic. Stupid coffee.

“They know,” Ma said without a hint of doubt. “Trust ‘em.”

She didn’t. Not really, at least. It wasn’t personal, but she could be forgiven for not entirely trusting people that she had no proof for. Not that she thought your family were liars, or incapable, or anything else. But she had proven time and time again that she could handle Ghostface and your family hadn’t. It was just the principle of the thing.

Ma didn’t take much longer to fill them in and tell them goodbye. She had mentioned someone else would stop by later that evening to fill them in and bring dinner, but otherwise they had the house - room? - to themselves. And as much as Tara didn’t want to be left alone, she was almost thankful for the peace and quiet.

The rest of the day and evening went off without a hitch. Tara and Sam watched far too many movies that were… not good, and played some of the board games that were left. Monopoly hadn’t gone well and had nearly ended in a brawl before they quickly called it a truce and put it away. No more Monopoly, that was the final decision of the night.

Mitch came by later that night with homemade pizza and little news of the outside world. Mindy and Anika were doing well, nothing new to report aside from the fact Mindy was starting to get stir crazy. Which was pretty accurate for her, the Carpenters wouldn’t deny it. You were also going stir crazy, apparently, and were on the verge of either fighting or flirting with every nurse that came into your room.

Tara wasn’t even upset. She had seen how you flirted with your brothers’ girls; this was on par for you.

Even though Mitch tried to prolong his stay and find something to do, Tara and Sam told him to go home and get some rest. He was sweet, probably one of the outwardly nicest ones of your bunch, but even they could see the exhaustion plain on his face. There was barely enough energy for him to argue once before he conceded and bid them goodnight.

There was no effort to stay up late and watch movies or delay the inevitable. They were tired, they were full, they finally felt like they could slow down and rest. At least Tara did, and she assumed Sam was on the same page considering she could also barely keep her eyes open. The bunk bed stayed unused as they made a small pallet on the floor in front of the still-playing TV and fell asleep.

When Tara awoke the next morning, it was to hushed whispers. She knew Sam’s voice like the back of her hand, but the other voice was still new. Although when Tara sat up and looked into the kitchen, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Danny sitting across from Sam, his hands over hers like he was trying to comfort her.

“Morning,” Tara said just loud enough to make them both jump. Good. She hoped they felt a little guilty for waking her from the first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks.

“Danny brought breakfast,” Sam said.

“Thought we told you to stay away,” Tara said as she pushed herself to her feet. She was a little unsteady, but quickly recovered and made her way into the kitchen; she supposed he could be forgiven, considering he had brought donuts.

“I was worried,” he said with a shrug. “And if Y/N tries to sneak out one more time, someone is going to strap them to the bed.”

“So they’re doing okay?” Tara asked as she took a donut from the box. Blueberry; your favourite.

Nothing more than a coincidence.

“A little too okay,” he said. “Mercy is on the verge of keeping them sedated until they’re more than, you know, two days healed.”

Tara nodded to herself while she continued to munch on her donut. It was a little too sweet and a little too thick. But she supposed that was probably what you enjoyed so much about them. Did you like sweet things? If so, it didn’t explain why you liked her. She was anything but sweet.

She grabbed the nearest glass of orange juice - probably Sam’s - and walked back over to the couch to sit down while she continued to think. It wasn’t smart for her to let you invade all of her thoughts, not when there was still a killer on the loose. A killer that you hadn’t managed to stop and that most likely had an accomplice. She didn’t have time to sit there and think about your smile or your preferences for donuts.

Wait. Your smile?

Oh god, she hated you.

The longer Danny sat at the table with Sam, the more the atmosphere felt… wrong. Tara couldn’t quite put her finger to it. Nothing was going on, it was actually the most relaxed situation she had been in in months. A year, if she really thought about it. The TV was going, Sam and Danny were acting like lovesick puppies, she had a belly full of food.

She couldn’t put her finger on it.

A creak came from the door, and Tara didn’t even bother looking behind her. After all, why should she? The only ones who could find this place were your family. There was no doubt that no one else would have any idea even of just the tunnels underneath the streets, let alone finding the safe room that, surely, couldn’t have been the only one.

Wait. That wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t just your family…

“Hello Sam.”

Every cell in Tara’s body froze. Now that. That was what was wrong. She knew that voice. It haunted her every dream, every thought, every waking moment. A voice that reminded her of Amber, of Richie, of being alone and knowing that he was going to win because of course he was, he was a cult classic icon.

Tara looked at the doorway before she could convince her body to stand up. Two Ghostfaces stood in front of the door as it swung shut, far too gently for the situation. Her eyes stayed locked to the two while she maneuvered herself around the couch, using it as a buffer on her way to where Sam and Danny were now standing.

“Lovely to see you here, Tara,” one of the Ghostfaces said. It was almost more terrifying to not know which one was talking.

“How did you get here?” Sam asked. Tara wasn’t looking at her, but felt her arm reach out and grab Tara’s forearm.

It hurt.

“Just like you,” Ghostface said. “We had a guide.”

Flashbacks of Amber ran through Tara’s mind. The room started to look like it was on a boat, rocking back and forth without giving her any chance of staying still. Someone had betrayed her again. How could this keep happening, why couldn’t anyone just let her live?

“The last Ghostface that cornered us didn’t have such a good time,” Sam said. “You might want to reconsider.”

“Do you want to tell her?” Ghostface said. “Or should we?”

What? Who were they talking to? Tell Sam what? Tara’s face pulled into a frown as she looked back and forth between everybody. Two Ghostfaces, one Sam, one Danny. What the hell were they even going on about? Maybe these two weren’t as smart as the other ones. Which Tara could’ve picked up on her own, but she had given them the benefit of the doubt.

Everyone remained silent, staring at each other. It almost felt like the entire room was daring someone to speak up, either to explain or to taunt. If it were up to Sam or Tara, she knew they would have taunted the Ghostfaces into making a stupid decision. All of them tended to have a bit of an ego problem, so it should have been easy enough.

“Fine,” Ghostface said. “We’ll make the first move.”

Tara’s entire body tensed to the point of pain. Her knees locked in place and she knew even if she wanted to, she couldn’t have moved. If they were going to come at her, she wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough. That old ache in her thigh came back as the image of Amber snapping her leg flashed behind her eyes.

Both Ghostfaces lifted their hands and Tara only thought of you. Of you laying in that hospital bed, completely unaware of the fact that you wouldn’t be getting a second date. There was nothing in the room to keep Tara safe, and she knew she couldn’t overpower the both of them. Not at once. She couldn’t even let you know.

But they didn’t reach for weapons like Tara had thought they would. No, they just reached up and grabbed their masks, pushing them back over their head until the hoods fell off and she could see their faces. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Hey Tara,” Ethan said with a smile and a friendly wiggle of his fingers.

“You’re Tara?” The other guy asked in a posh accent that reminded Tara of someone with money. She didn’t recognise him at all. “Y/N never shut up about you.”

He knew you?

“Ethan?” Sam asked. Tara still couldn’t bring herself to look away from the Ghostfaces.

“It’s not really what it looks like,” he said, his smile never leaving.

“It’s not?” Tara asked. “Because it looks like you’re the one who’s been hunting us.”

“Not you,” the other guy said before Ethan even had a chance to open his mouth. “Notice you never got hurt?”

“I don’t even know you,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

“Oh, right,” he said. He rubbed his gloved palms against his thighs before stepping forward and extending his hand. “I’m Garret.”

“I’m not shaking your hand,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

Tara knew that name…

“Garret as in Y/N’s roommate?” Tara finally asked, looking back at the guy.

“The very same,” he said with his own cheeky grin.

Your roommate. The one you had lived with for years, if your account was anything to go by. He was Ghostface? Surely he had to have known he was going after you, no one was that stupid. It didn’t make any sense. He looked far too happy and…

He had a giant bruise on the right side of his head.

“You’re the one who broke into Y/N’s apartment,” Tara mumbled. “You tried to kill Anika.”

“I didn’t mean to get her that good,” Garret said with a shrug. “She just got in the way.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

“Then have your boyfriend explain,” Garret said. Ethan quickly hit his arm, but he didn’t even flinch. “It was his idea.”

Tara swallowed harshly. The room started to get fuzzy, and she blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the haze. With the smallest move of her head, she looked at Sam and Danny out of the corner of her eyes. His jaw was clenched tight and he wasn’t even looking at Sam.

But Sam. Oh Sam. She probably had the same look Tara had when they found out Amber was Ghostface.

“What?” Sam asked softly.

“Now, just listen-”

“-Better explain faster than that,” Tara interrupted Danny. “Before I pull a Ghostface.”

“No one is after you,” Danny said in a soft voice that was enough to make Tara cringe.

“Then who?” Sam asked. She stepped back, holding her arm out so she could feel where Tara was and stopped when she was directly in front. Tara reached out to hold her hand, and Sam instantly squeezed it. “What’s going on?”

“Some idiots started the rumour that you were the killer,” Danny said. “After I met you, I knew they were wrong.”

Tara huffed. Was he really going to play Romeo? He better not be, she knew he wasn’t entirely stupid. At least he didn’t seem to be. On the other side of the room, Ethan and Garret stepped closer. If they took one more step, she was going to start swinging.

“If I could take the suspicion off of you, then you could be free again,” he continued. “Ghostface wouldn’t follow you anymore.”

“Did you tell them to hurt Anika?” Tara asked. “Or Mindy?”

“Of course not,” he said with a shake of his head.

“How about Y/N?” Tara asked.

Danny exhaled through his nose and looked over at Ethan and Garret. It’s not a no, she thought to herself. None of them were so much as making a noise, just standing there and communicating silently. About what, she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But it didn’t matter. It was confirmation enough. He had either ordered it, or allowed them to try and kill you. Someone that he was supposed to be close with, someone that trusted him. Amber’s soft smile flashed in Tara’s mind’s eye; she quickly shook her head to rid herself of the memory.

“They’re at the most risk so,” Danny sighed, “they got to choose the target.”

Ethan twirled the knife between his fingers. “Think of it as payback for all the shit they gave me over the past year.”

“Bullying excuses murder?” Sam asked. “That makes sense.” She shrugged, but the roll of her eyes gave away her real opinion.

“And it frees you up, Tara,” he continued with a dreamy sigh and a boyish smile. “Wanna go on a date after this?”

“I’ll cut your dick off,” Tara said without an ounce of hesitation or remorse.

His smile slowly fell back into a thin line. There was no way he genuinely thought she would agree to go on a date after he tried to kill you. It didn’t matter if she had admitted how much she liked you, there was no way he was that stupid. Right?

"I told you," Garret said as he turned his head to look at Ethan. The side of his head looked like it needed stitches. "You have to finish Y/N off before asking her out."

"And what's your bullshit excuse?" Tara asked when it was clear Sam was too busy looking at Danny and zoning out. "You blaming it on some sick infatuation too?"

"Of course not," Garret said with his pretty rich-boy smile. "I simply thought it sounded fun."

That. That right there was almost more terrifying than any other motive Tara had heard. He had decided on killing his roommate for fun? She could hear the blood rushing through her ears, steadily increasing until it was practically deafening.

"Sam," Danny said softly, "everything is already in play." Tara turned to frown at him even as Sam stepped closer to her. "Once the boys finish taking care of Y/N, the police will arrest a decoy and you'll both be free."

Tara squeezed Sam's hand. They were going after you again? She had to warn you. She had to text you, or call your Ma, or Tony, or something, anyone that could get to you and keep you safe. Too many people had died because of her already, she refused to let you join the list.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tara saw something drop to the floor behind Ethan and Garret. Something heavy that continued to move even after landing. No one else seemed to notice it, as Sam and Danny were still talking to each other. 

The thing stood up behind Ethan and Garret, and Tara could finally get a decent look. It was a person, in an oversized jacket with the hood pulled over their head. Some kind of half-mask covered their face almost completely, save for the eyes that were shadowed by the hood. Their left arm hung dead at their side as they slowly walked closer.

Surely it wasn't another Ghostface, right? There were already three, technically. Why the hell would there be four? Were they not smart enough to follow the script? There were supposed to be two Ghostfaces, with the exception of Roman. And so far, no one had hunted Ghostface before. Although if Tara was being honest with herself, she would take up that mantle if ever given the chance.

She opened her mouth to say something, ask who their fourth party member was. But the person quickly lifted a gloved hand to their face, holding their finger over where she assumed their mouth was. Hush. Tara knew that one. And when she saw the knife gleaming in their hand, she quickly shut her mouth and nodded once.

The figure twirled the knife once. Tara barely even had time to breathe before the tip of the blade sliced its way through the back of Garret's head, extruding from his open mouth that was now no longer smiling. Someone screamed, but Tara just watched, frozen, as blood poured from the knife.

“Holy shit,” Ethan said.

He was soon interrupted by the sound of Garret choking on his own blood.

There was a wet, sickening sound as the knife pulled back. His eyes rolled back in his head before he fell to his knees, soon slumping over to the ground. He gagged and choked for a few more seconds, with everyone watching, motionless, before he fell silent. Only the occasional wet gasp broke the silence.

Tara lifted her eyes slowly, and her heart nearly beat out of her chest when she noticed the figure hold her gaze. She couldn’t see their eyes well, but she knew they were looking at her. There were almost no emotions in their eyes at all, nothing to show that they had just killed someone and was still standing in the ever growing pool of their blood.

“That one yours too?” Sam asked. She pulled Tara back into a corner, away from everyone else in the room.

“No,” Danny said. “It’s not.”

He tried to move closer to Sam, but one look from her kept him still. If it weren’t for the situation, Tara would’ve laughed at him. But she was a bit too worried about the new player of this sadistic game. If they weren’t one of Danny’s goons, then who were they? How had they gotten into the room so effortlessly? Did your family have any idea how many people knew the location of their supposedly safe room?

Ethan stepped back, tripping over his own feet on his way to stand next to Danny. Cute, Tara thought with a sneer before looking back at the figure who was still just standing there. What the hell was going on?

“What do we do?” Ethan asked.

Little bitch.

The figure blinked a few times before their eyes widened again. They wiped the knife on their pants leg before then pushing the hood back and away from their face. It was a Ghostface move, except for the shaking of hair that had Tara looking just a little closer-

-she knew that hair.

“I knew they couldn’t keep you down,” Danny said.

You just held his gaze. The half-mask stayed put, covering your face from the bridge of your nose down. There were bruises around your eyes that really made them pop. Not that Tara wanted to see it; she would rather you be safe and healed. Your arm still hung limply at your side. Bullet fragments, she remembered Mercy saying.

“How?” Tara asked quietly. You turned to look at her, and your eyes scrunched up.

“They’re high,” Danny said. “Aren’t you?” The scrunch of your eyes disappeared when you looked at him. “Mercy gave you the Vitale special.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“It’s fine with me,” Ethan said with a shrug and another twirl of his knife. “Means I get to kill you myself.”

You stepped backward until you were near the door while Ethan stalked forward. Tara knew how it was going to go; he was going to attack, you would either live or not, and then they were going to come after her and Sam. Even though they had said they wouldn’t, Tara wasn’t so naive as to believe them. Ghostface always targeted someone who went back to the original.

Amber’s face popped up in Tara’s mind again. She wanted her gone. She didn’t get to come back at the worst time possible while you were about to have to fight off Ethan. Why couldn’t she just leave her alone and let her move on? Tara wasn’t an original, she was just some kid from Woodsboro, she didn’t fit into this movie scheme that just wouldn’t quit.

Tara squeezed Sam’s hand when Ethan stepped closer, lifting the knife above his head. He was going to kill you, and you weren’t even trying to stop him. Why weren’t you trying to stop him? You had fought so hard, why was this any different? She needed you to put up a fight, she couldn’t live if you died-

-you turned the handle on the door and pushed it open before stepping to the side.

Gunshots rang through the small room, and Tara and Sam grabbed each other and fell to the floor. She could feel Sam’s hands covering her ears, and she quickly did the same. The shots were so loud, echoing throughout the room, leaving Tara’s ears ringing. Even when the shots stopped, she could hear them.

She flinched when a hand brushed against her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sam’s hands were still covering her ears, but she opened her eyes and looked up and met Pop’s eyes. He had the same eye scrunch that you did when he smiled. It was an adorable similarity.

“Come on, sweethearts,” Pop said far too gently. Or maybe it was the fact everything was muffled by Sam’s hands.

Pop grabbed her by both shoulders and helped her up to shaky feet. Directly across from her, Tony was helping Sam stand as well. Pop’s hands didn’t let her go even as she started to look around at the room. Blood was dripping down the walls and spreading under the now three dead bodies laying on the floor.

Sam gasped.

Tara’s head quickly turned to face her, following her line of sight to Danny’s body laying on the floor near the table. It was riddled with holes that Tara assumed came from all of your brothers that were still standing around with guns hanging from their hands.

She put her hand on Sam’s bicep as gently as possible, even though she still flinched in response. But she quickly recovered and covered Tara’s hand with her own, giving her a sad smile before looking at Danny’s body one last time. Tara couldn’t imagine how devastated she must have been.

Two boyfriends, two Ghostfaces.

Sam would definitely need more therapy.

She looked down at the bodies again and grimaced.

Maybe she would need therapy too.

“Are either of you hurt?” Dicky asked from his spot beside you. You were leaning further into his side, your injured arm held close to your body.

“No,” Sam said as she pulled Tara into her own side. As much as she wanted to protest, Tara eagerly allowed it.

“Then let’s get everyone out of here,” Joel said. “We can talk back at the hospital.”

Pop and Tony led both Carpenters out of the room. Tara looked back to see Dicky wrap his arm around your waist, and Alfie was right behind you. You looked utterly exhausted and leaned heavily into Dicky’s side. She hoped you were okay. You were still wounded, obviously, but she hoped you were okay.

Tara’s mind was running rampant the entire trip back to the hospital. What had Danny meant, you were high? What was the Vitale special? She didn’t know very much about your family’s business, but that indicated drugs. There was no way you had managed to hide drug use from her. Right? No, there was no way. You were a bit eccentric, but clearly so was the rest of your family. It wasn’t possible.

That led to Tara’s next thought; how was Sam going to feel about everything? About you, the possibility of drugs, the fact that you had gotten your family to kill her boyfriend? Sure, Sam had killed her first one, but this one? This one truthfully hadn’t even tried to kill her. It was some bullshit Romeo excuse, but at least it was different. Was Sam going to hate you for everything?

Her mind wouldn’t shut up the entire walk, and even when they all got settled back in your room and Mercy started hooking you up again, she couldn’t silence the thoughts. She did her best to listen to what Mercy was berating everyone for, but nothing was making sense. It was like listening to the parents from all those Peanuts cartoons back in the day.

She did her best not to gasp when Mercy removed the mask to show the bloody bandages covering the bottom half of your face. When she was finally done, and you were hooked up to whatever you were supposed to be hooked up to, everyone finally sat down.

“We can explain,” Mitch said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Go ahead,” Tara said with a shrug. “I’ll accept anything at this point.”

“Danny wasn’t Y/N’s emergency contact,” Martha said from her spot at the long table in the room. “And none of us called him.” She shrugged. “I bugged his phone when he was in here.”

Tara had forgotten Martha was your tech guru. She looked over at you to see your reaction to the whole thing. Your eyes were open, but you were just staring at the spot right above the door. From what little you had told Danny, he had been your friend. Someone you had trusted. How did it feel to know he had been more than happy to sacrifice you for the chance at keeping his girl?

"He didn't even hide it in his texts," Alfie said with a shrug.

"Amateur," Martha scoffed.

"They won't be hurting anybody anymore," Pop said quickly before the conversation could take a different turn.

Everyone mumbled their agreements before going silent. It was more uncomfortable than nearly anything else Tara had ever experienced, which was saying a lot. She had been abandoned by both parents, left by her sister, nearly murdered by her girlfriend, killed her own girlfriend, and now had just seen three men get brutally killed. And yet, the silence of your family still trumped everything else.

Thankfully it wasn’t too much longer before everyone started talking again, laughing and joking and acting like a family again. But Tara couldn't help but notice that you were still unmoving, not even looking at whoever was talking. At one point, Ma moved until she was sitting directly beside you, talking with you until you finally nodded your head. She smiled, pressed a kiss to your head, and moved back to her original spot.

It wasn't until you finally fell asleep that everyone quieted down. Most bid their goodbyes, saying they would be back later. The kids should come, your Pop had insisted, and everyone mumbled agreements on their way out. Ma and Pop left the room to bring back some food, and Tara was left alone with Sam.

What was she supposed to talk about now? Did she apologise to Sam for her boyfriend getting killed? She hadn’t exactly done that with Richie, and this was the second time. Tara was no professional, but she knew for a fact there wasn’t some script for how to handle two of your boyfriends being Ghostface.

You shifted on the bed, and both Tara and Sam looked at you quickly. But you settled almost instantly and fell back asleep. She exhaled slowly and looked down at her hands. You were okay. Just sleeping. Yeah, just sleeping.

“We need a vacation,” Sam said, pulling Tara’s thoughts back to the situation at hand.

“Before or after therapy?” Tara asked. From her seat directly beside her, Sam gave her a tired smile.

“Definitely before,” she said with a nod. “Cancun?”

“I can work with that,” Tara said. “Just the two of us?”

“Yup,” Sam answered. She was still looking around the room, not focusing on any one thing. “10 days in Cancun, you and me, no distractions.”

“We can get everybody a t-shirt,” Tara continued.

They both laughed lightly, letting the conversation die down. Maybe talking things over with Sam wouldn’t be too awful. They would still very much need therapy but maybe they could get through it together again. Tara reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand, locking their fingers together.

“You know what I was thinking?” Sam asked once their tired laughter had died down.

Tara hummed in response.

“The next few weeks are going to be so nice,” Sam continued, squeezing Tara’s hand lightly.

“Why?”

“Y/N can’t talk.”

“Sam,” Tara scolded. But even she couldn’t deny that maybe it wouldn’t be such an awful thing.

“Should make it easy though,” Sam continued. “Now you can tell them how you feel without interruption.”

Tara sighed. Seemed Sam wasn’t going to let it go. Didn’t she know there were other things to worry about? Like the three guys they had just seen get shot to hell? Or the fact that they were now apparently part of some crime family with no known weaknesses? There was no way Tara’s admission to you was her top priority at the moment.

“This could have been a lot worse, T,” Sam said, finally turning to look at Tara. “Don’t wait.”

“Thought you hated them,” she said slowly. It was beyond clear that wasn’t the case anymore, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to do something reckless until she knew all the facts.

“I do,” Sam said. “They’re the most insufferable person I know.” She smiled. “But I trust them.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “And I know you don’t sleep with just anyone.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Tara groaned.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten,” Sam said even as Tara pulled her hand away and back into her lap. “I may not have seen much, but I’ll never get that out of my head.”

“I’m not having a sex talk with you,” Tara said.

“Were you at least safe?” Sam continued. “Condoms, dental dams, have they been checked?”

“Sam?” Tara said. Sam looked over at her. “Get out.”

“Okay,” Sam said as she held her hands up in surrender. “But you better tell them.”

Tara watched Sam carefully as she stood up and left the room. They both knew they weren’t being serious; at least Tara hoped Sam knew. But she instantly started to regret her decision to kick Sam out when she realised now she was alone with you for the first time since… well, since she had stayed at your family’s house.

And now your eyes were open and you were looking at the ceiling again, seemingly in a daze.

“Hey,” Tara said softly. You blinked slowly before turning your head in her direction.

Obviously, you didn’t say anything.

Tara stood up and stretched as she looked around the room. Danny had said you were annoying everyone, so clearly you were talking to them somehow. Couldn’t be a phone, yours was nowhere to be seen. She looked over every inch of space, seeing nothing that would suffice. Well, seeing nothing until she finally found the small whiteboard at the foot of the bed. With shaky hands, she grabbed it and brought it back to the bed, setting it down on your lap.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. She waited as you slowly grabbed the marker and started writing on the board with messy handwriting.

Better than Ghostface.

Yeah, you were fine.

“Did you hear what Sam and I were talking about?” She asked.

You nodded, and that little crinkle under your eyes came back. She huffed; of course you did. It shouldn’t have been any surprise, you were apparently good at hearing things you weren’t supposed to. Maybe it was just something you were particularly adept at.

You started writing on the board again.

Gale told me the same thing.

Tara’s heartbeat was loud in her ears.

“You first,” she said quickly. Your crinkled eyes disappeared, transforming into a frown. “You’re oldest, you first.”

She heard you exhale harshly through your nose. Please do it, she thought when you still hadn’t moved. If you said it first, then she would know how to go about everything. Because what if you didn’t actually feel the same way? Sure, you had fought Ghostface, but that could be chalked down to survival. What if she was being delusional and you didn’t really like her like that, you only wanted to get laid?

You looked back down at the whiteboard and used the hospital blanket to clear it. With a shaky hand, you started writing again. She tried to follow what you were writing, but when you noticed, you moved the board sideways so she couldn’t see it.

Never mind. She didn’t feel bad for you anymore, you could suffer for all she cared.

When you put the whiteboard back down, it took a moment for her eyes to refocus before she could actually read what you had written. Her heart was so loud in her ears she almost couldn’t read. But when she could, she almost laughed.

I like like you.

She looked up at you. Your eyes sparkled for a second before you looked back down at the board, hastily scribbling something else down.

Not just for sex.

Now at that she did laugh, although it was more of a nervous laugh than anything else. She wouldn’t ever admit it to you, but you had just eased one of her biggest worries. Tara was more than aware that she had used you at that frat party all those months ago, but she had hoped you weren’t just doing the same thing.

Now she knew better.

“We’re not in middle school,” Tara said as she pointed her finger at the first sentence you had written. You rolled your eyes. Her hands felt clammy. “But I like like you too.”

Your head turned so quickly Tara almost thought she heard a pop from your neck. The eye contact was borderline unbearable; it was like you were searching her soul. That clamminess in her hands only got worse, and she pulled them back and rubbed them on her pants. She knew you couldn’t talk, but the silence was drowning her in her own thoughts.

You erased the whiteboard and wrote on it again.

Does this mean I have to be nice to Sam?

“Yes it does,” Tara said without hesitation, all worry from only a second ago now gone. “Chad too.”

You groaned, the first noise she had heard from you since she had seen you again. It was scratchy and almost a little funny sounding.

An idea popped into Tara’s head, and before she could talk herself out of it, she nudged your side gently. You frowned at her for a second before moving over, an almost inaudible groan leaving your lips. Her palms got sweaty again as she climbed into the bed and sat down next to you. It was like you were nothing more than a puppet as she grabbed your free hand and brought it into her lap.

She felt you move and heard the marker against the whiteboard.

You won’t leave?

“I mean,” Tara smiled to herself as she recalled what you had told her in the theatre. “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”

You groaned again and threw your head back against the pillow while Tara couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling past her lips. Seemed you could dish it out, but you couldn’t take it so well. But then you squeezed her fingers and turned your head to look at her again.

“Get some sleep,” Tara said softly. “I’ll be here.”

You held her eyes for a moment before you nodded once. Your eyes crinkled, and it left a warmth in Tara’s chest. She held still as you shifted around, scooting down on the bed until you could lean your head against her arm. You left your hand in her lap and it only took a few seconds before you were out again.

Only after she was sure you were asleep did Tara lean down and press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. All the anxiety and fear from the past few days disappeared with each calm, steady breath you took. Ghostface was gone, no one would even know they were gone, and maybe this whole fad could fade away.

With the comforting thought of finally getting some peace, Tara leaned back against the bed and closed her own eyes. Sleep had never come so easily.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

[racingline3]

Man-Flu ~ Fernando Alonso

♡ Fernando Alonso x Reader

Description: Fernando has a cold but you're there to comfort him.

~fluff~

"Cariño, I think I may be dying."

"Fernando." You say softly, running a hand through his hair. "Darling, you have a cold."

Nobody could ever say your boyfriend wasn't dramatic.

The team doctor had even been around earlier in the day to check on him. All there was to it was plenty of fluids and rest.

He sniffles, "It feels worse than a cold."

You try not to smile but he's too darn cute.

"It is not funny." He says with a pout, his Spanish accent heavily lacing his words.

"You're adorable when you have the man flu." You argue as you pull the covers closer around him. "You'll be fine I promise."

"I hate being sick."

You did feel for him. Usually he was the one in control, the one whose body dictated his profession, his life.

"I know. But how about you just let me take care of you?" You suggest. "Get some rest."

He makes an affirmative noise before an attack of sneezing starts.

You make sure he's comfortable in your bed before you get downstairs to make him some chicken soup and refill his water bottle.

You're rewarded by one of Fernando's smiles when you reenter you bedroom a while later with a tray.

"Still can't sleep?" You ask.

His chest rattles with a cough, "No. Not without you beside me."

Even sick in bed, the man is still a flirt.

You climb onto the bed beside him and cajole him into drinking some soup and more water.

You go to clear the things up and leave him to get some rest.

"Don't go. Stay here with me."

You only have to take one look at him to know you can't say no to the wounded puppy look he's giving you.

So you put the tray away and lie down next to him. It doesn't take long for him to wrap himself around you like a giant koala bear.

You lie on your back and his curls up on his side and slings an arm across your torso and hitches his hip over your legs and his face resting near your neck.

It doesn't take long for his breathing to even out and you can practically feel him drifting off to sleep.

You smile at the feeling, it took a long time before Fernando had been comfortable with the notion of being vulnerable with you. He had built his entire racing persona on being tough and harsh and unreasonable.

To eveyone else he was Fernando Alonso. But with you he was just Fernando.

You must have drifted off to sleep because its dark outside when you open your eyes.

You accidently rouse Fernando from his sleep as you stretch.

He mumbles something in Spanish you don't understand and places a kiss on your neck.

You place a hand on his forehead to make sure he hasn't got a temperature and is hallucinating. But you breathe a sigh of relief when you feel his skin and its not burning up like that morning.

"What was that?" You ask

Your sigh turns to something between a moan and a laugh as he trails his kisses up your neck to behind your ear.

"I said, how did I get so lucky to have you Corazón?"

You turned your head so you can look in his eyes.

"I'm the lucky one." You argue with a pout you know is his weakness.

He shakes his head and gently takes the hand you had checked his temperature with and places a kiss on the back of it. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Fernando smiles as if he's just been told he's won another world championship.

"Now, time for you to eat something and get a good night's sleep, you will feel better tomorrow." You tell him.

He shrugs, seemingly having forgotten his self pity party, "I already feel better with you here."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not going anywhere." You tell him and seal your promise with a kiss

#fernando alonso x reader #f1 #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x you #f1blr #blurb #f1 fluff #formula 1 #apparently soft fernando is my fave?? #f1 blurb #f1 imagine #imagine #fanfic

[lilspacewolfie]

would it be possible to do a cardinal copia x reader first date but the day of the date copia ends up forgetting due to a stressful day, and expects them to be mad but ends up telling copia its ok and ends with them cuddling copia and making sure he gets a good night sleep.

Thank you for being my first request! I really hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it! <3

Content: 1.6k words, gn!reader, very little description to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, soft copia, failed date, sweet ending, just all around very soft and fluffy, no beta we die like nihil!

The little Italian place in town is quaint and surprisingly busy given its midweek. It’s a small hole in the wall, cramped but lively, with beautifully arched windows and candles dotting each table that give off a warm, intimate ambience. 

Arranging a date with Copia had proven to be tougher than expected with both of your busy schedules. But when you managed to figure out the time, Copia had insisted on this place.  

You arrived early—about thirty minutes to be exact, not wanting to be late for your first date. You’ve gotten all dressed up and probably spent a little more on a new outfit than is warranted for a first date, but you want to make a good impression. 

There’s faint music playing above you, slow and swaying. You try not to think about how long you’ve been sitting there, growing increasingly more awkward as the minutes tick by. When you finally do give in and pull out your phone to check the time, you can’t help but feel a bit troubled. It’s close to seven. Anxiety rolls through you like a storm cloud and you swallow, debating on sending him a message. You had agreed to meet at six so you could eat, and then have enough time to take a casual stroll to the Ministry together. You had hoped to enjoy the spring air, but now that's starting to feel like a dream that sadly won't come true. 

You slip your phone back into your pocket and lean on a fist, drumming your fingers anxiously atop the red and white check tablecloth. It’s probably nothing, he’s a busy man, after all. Maybe he just got held up with some last-minute things. So then why hasn’t he texted? 

Copia is the last man you would expect to stand anyone up without reason, and you know he would alert you if he was running late. He’s sweet and thoughtful—you’ve been with him for long enough to gather that he’s one to commit a bit of self-flagellation when he thinks he’s messed up. 

Around you, couples cosy up and laugh, sip wine together and indulge in the restaurant's luscious food that smells divine. Your jealous stomach growls and you swallow thickly when the waitress approaches you for the second time that evening. You can see on her face that she’s hesitant to ask if you’re ready to order, and there’s something akin to pity in her eyes. Not that you need it. 

You’re staring at the rose in the little red vase on the table when she asks: “Are you ready to order?” 

Maybe he isn’t coming. Maybe he forgot? No, no, that's a stupid thought. Even Copia would tell you that himself. You’re a priority to him. 

An idea hits you. 

“Actually,” you say, turning over your laminated menu, “I think I am.”

She smiles, pulling out a little flip book and a pen. 

—

The Ministry is quiet when you make it back, carrying hot, precious cargo in a white paper bag. Your footfalls echo on the marble floor as you traverse the old halls, passing preserved paintings, stone statues of your Dark Lord and stained glass windows that bathe the halls in colour even at night. 

You know where Copia’s office is located, near Imperators just down the hall, and so you make your way over. When you get there the hallway is darkened, but you see exactly what you expected. His door is closed and there’s a thin slither of light spilling from beneath onto the oak flooring. So, he has been held up. 

When you knock, loud enough to be heard but receive no response, worry sits heavy in your chest. You knock again and wait, but still, there’s no response. Your gaze falls to the brass doorknob which you grasp and turn, the door creaking a bit when it’s open. 

Inside is warm, the light from the beautiful Tiffany-styled lamp bathing the room in a cosy orange. His desk is at the far end in front of a massive arched window and there’s a stack of papers on his desk. When you do finally see him, you’re suddenly not vexed or hurt anymore. In fact, you have to bite your lip to keep from giggling. 

Copia is snoring softly, slumped over his old desk with his pen still balanced in hand. He looks so peaceful that you don’t want to wake him, but you know his back and shoulders won’t be thanking him tomorrow if you don’t. 

Carefully you close the door, tiptoe over to the front of his desk and set the paper takeaway bag on the chair. When you round to his side and get a good look at him, you bite your lip again and something uncoils in your chest. The black paint around his eyes is a bit smudged and his handsome face is picturesque, the wrinkles across his forehead softened by the light. 

You touch his arm first, squeezing and rubbing his bicep through his red cassock. You rest your other hand on his wild, mousy brown hair that's sticking up and stroke it down gently. 

“Copia?” You whisper, shaking him a bit. 

He stirs, inhaling and stiffening before his mismatched eyes blink open. He’s awake in an instant, flustered and a bit out of it, and you step back to let him get his bearings. 

“Amore?” He blinks at you a few times, forcing himself to sit up in his leather desk chair. He glances at the clock above the door, then at you, then back at your clothes and his shoulders slump. You watch the horror and recognition play across his face.  

“Oh, cazzo,” he swears quietly, scrubbing a hand over his face, as he looks back up at you with big, glossy eyes. “Amore, perdonami, ti prego… I… Sister wanted me to finish some last minute things and I must’ve fallen asleep and—merda…” he says, anguished. 

“Copia, shh, it’s okay,” you soothe, taking his face in your hands and stroking your thumbs across the hair of his sideburns. He leans into your hold, wide-eyed. You shake your head, smiling and he deflates, pressing one of his leather-clad hands to yours on his face. 

“But you got all dressed up and—“

“It’s okay,” you say again and you think he might actually start crying, but you’re not about to let him catch the self-flagellation train tonight. 

“I’m so sorry, amore,” he whispers again, sadly. 

“Don’t apologise,” you chide gently, “you’re tired. It’s okay. I figured something was wrong when you didn’t show. Don’t be sorry, I know Imperator has been hard on you lately.”

He winces a bit, but you lean in and kiss him tenderly, soothing his hurt like balm on a stinging wound. He relents, stroking his thumb over your knuckles, and when you pull away he sighs. You know he’ll feel awful about this for a while, but at least you might be able to help him feel less bad. 

“I brought takeout,” you flick your eyes to the paper bag, pulling back. Copia follows, taking one of your hands and you help pull him to his feet. 

He groans, and winces again, muttering a few choice swears that make you giggle. When he looks you up and down with a new form of clarity that isn’t veiled by torment, his expression relaxes. 

“Sei bellissima, amore mio.”

You lean in and press your mouth to his, brief and chaste and Copia hums, wrapping you up in his arms for a proper hug.

You take dinner back to his room, letting the relaxed atmosphere carry you both into its sweet lull. 

You borrow one of Copia’s shirts and his many tracksuit bottoms to change into while he freshens up and scrubs the paint from his face. When you’re both done, you pop Bram Stroker’s Dracula on low in the background. You lounge together on his bed, munching on the takeout pasta and drinking the wine Copia had intended to give you at the restaurant. Every time he attempts to apologise for missing your date, you silence him with another sweet kiss that tastes of wine and creamy pasta sauce, watching him blush sweetly. 

By the time you’re both finished, bellies full and thoroughly warmed from the wine, you’re both too exhausted and comfortable to move. 

Copia’s flush to your side curled around you with his head on your shoulder while you play with his soft hair. You press the occasional kiss to his temple, smelling his zesty shower cream and the heady wine on his breath. You watch, quietly amused, as he tries to focus on the movie, blinking hard and forcing his eyes to stay open. You love it when he’s like this, vulnerable and sleep-warm. You don’t need a fancy restaurant. This is perfect.

“Sleep if you want,” you tell him, trailing your fingers lazily up and down his bicep. 

“Are you sure?” He mutters guiltily, lifting his eyes to yours. There's still small flecks of black around his eyes that never seem to leave. He looks adorable and exhausted. You gently wipe away the smudge of black on the tip of his freckled nose.

“Of course,” you smile at him. “You had a long day, Satan knows you need it.” 

Copia turns his face and kisses the skin of your collarbone, adjusting again before he settles. You tug the blanket that’s haphazardly thrown over you both further up his body and make sure he’s tucked in.

He’s asleep in mere moments, body growing heavy against your side, and the sound of his slow, laboured breaths mixes with the buzz of the movie as it slowly plays out.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

#ghost #the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #ao3 #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #papa copia #papa copia x reader #x reader

[canaidliafail]

stay grounded pt.3

streamer abby x streamer reader 🌿

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [part 4]

MDI. Things get spicy here <3

not proof read // will check for mistakes later tonight <33

Your favorite class aside from sewing, was without a doubt art classes. First two hours you did still nature with charcoals or pencils and the other two you would draw modeling figures and practice on how you could translate the fabric type you intended on using in your sketch.

You were good at drawing. It came naturally to you and your teachers questioned how did you end up in fashion design and not art college. You were his favorite.

But it had been a week since you saw a sign from Abby and everything was going to hell. Last post she made was a photo of her with Nora in cosplay which only accelerated your spiral. To be fair you hadn’t initiated contact either but that was neither here nor there

“Did you not have time to draw these days ? Your strokes are very messy…” Your teacher said hovering behind you and studying your piece. You would have screamed actually and then cried and then you decided then you would bomb the city

You gave him a curt smile “I had a rough week at work” He sighed in understanding and patted your shoulder “Ah so young and already having to balance all this. I understand its hard. You can take it easy today then” he said and half an hour later came back to give your sketch an empathetic look that looked like constipation.

At the end of the day you rolled up the papers with your pitiful sketches and shoved them in your bag crinkling the edges. You felt stupid for letting someone on the other end of the world affect your life that much. Hell it's been barely a month that she noticed you ( you refused to account for all the other times you tried to get her attention by sending bits or commenting on her chat a year ago and the occasional like left on a post that made it her -for you page- )

You were at the cafe across from your college building sitting on the bar counter in front of the large glass doors sipping on the overpriced cappuccino and biting the rim of your reusable cup.

She got me a ridiculously overpriced statue. That has to amount to something, no?

Then again she did mention to her it wasn’t that different from getting me a cup of coffee…

Your mind went in circles. Did Onlyfans pay her so well that she could mindlessly toss her money left and right? It wouldn’t be such a bizarre concept to be fair. She was after all at the peak of her career with girls begging to see so much as a collar bone. You nibbled on your lower lip fighting the temptation to see her page.

Did she post gym pics ? Did she post more than that?

You went to her page and tapped under her point at the link leading you to another site with all her links. At the very top, sat a square with the short description of

“18+”

You looked around you and tapped the button and waited for the page to load. Your cheeks flushed. Her banner cropped nicely above her collar bones and below her chest where she showed her arms that were the sole focus of the image.

Her profile photo was a dreadfully common gym pic taken on the dirty mirror near the treadmill section. So effortless yet straight to the point of who she was. She knew what her followers wanted, you included. The illusion that she was just your next door neighbour and this your private chat that turned raunchy at night. You hesitated around the subscribe button.

Crossing that line came at the average cost of 20.99 per month. You pulled out your credit card and went to make an undercover account and subscribe to her profile. Hell there was probably no chance of this ever going anywhere so there was no harm in you indulging in a little more and having something to look forward to after class, right? Right.

You took another sip of your coffee deluding yourself that this didn't cause your heartbeat to spike an unhealthy amount and blamed the shakiness of your hands to your drink

Subscribed for 1 month

Came the message and there was an automated response from her account in the mailbox.

I knew I’d find you here ;)

This cocky motherfucker. You clenched your cup and started scrolling your eyes widening in surprise. There were some posts behind a fat paywall starting at 50 euros going up to 100. You occasionally shrugged one shoulder at the more casual posts and then stopped at one particular image of her with a towel low on her hips, topless with the foggy mirror perfectly censoring your chest. You took a screenshot and decided to go light a candle at the local church next Sunday.

The next photo that stopped you and made you forget that breathing was a necessity was one where she was at the beach with grey cargo pants and a tight white top,sleeveless with a wide cut on her front. The white top ,most importantly, hugged her figure not because of an elastic fabric but because it was wet.

You had never seen more beautiful and well shaped tits. You hated how well it all came together and you hated that the wet top did nothing to hide her pierced perky nipples. Of course there were 389 comments below that pic all thirsty and all equally delighted at this new found discovery that Abby had piercings.

You shook your head and exited her page crestfallen and horny. What a powerful combination. Why did you ever even consider having a chance? You were no different from all the other fans flocking to her page and your reaction to those pics were no different than a mans. You crossed your arms and buried your head in the small dip between your body and hands, fighting back tears and thoughts. Reasonably you knew that Abby did not mind how her followers viewed her as you found her often responding to those comments with her very own bold and flirtatious way. You knew that and yet it was hard to undo years of shame for your nature and Abbys sudden radio silence didn't help

_____________

It was ready. You had never worked with so many materials for something so big before but you were proud to say that the knight armor you crafted was stunning and it was a perfect fit on you. With the release of a new game you Wanted to for once be on time with a costume to wear and take some photos. Besides, it was the least you could’ve done with the company giving you early access to the beta of the game a year ago and now sending you the collector's edition free of charge. You snapped a few pics in your bedroom which in itself was fitting of the whole romantic knight fairytale theme. You tried to film a few videos and tried to post on every platform you had and once you were done with that you tossed your phone aside and went to prepare the house for the weekly sleepover that you and your friend group had

Cassie: Hey babe sorry I’m late,Just go in the bus <333

Rick: Do we have the stuff ? Should I bring mine?

You checked a box near your makeup station and opened to see how much you had left. Definitely enough for 2 cigarettes

No need. I got it

June: Open the door shitface I've been buzzing for 10 minutes

Stay there and freeze to death

Came your response and lowered the volume of your music to realize that Indeed June was here. You leaped to your door and buzzed her in leaving the door open to go take off the armor. You tried not to get impatient and ruin it in the process of taking off every garment. The door slid open wider and then shut closed. June was huffing in pain and rested her hand in front of your bedroom watching you change in spite and anger.

“You hate us all and that's why you live in a place without an elevator”

“Nice to see you too” you said with a smile and she hopped over to your side to give you a quick and tight hug

“How are you doing?”

“Shitty but what's new. Someone has to entertain the group chat with their misery” June laughed and walked out of your room to the living room and plopped down on the couch tossing her bag on the floor and grabbing your controller to change the music and connect to her account. She let phone music fill the halls and got up again waiting for you to finish changing.

You quickly threw on a baggy pair of sweatpants and a crop top and walked out with her “So should we order coffee or a drink?”

“Way ahead of you, Cassie got us our usual already and she told me she is almost here”

Few minutes later the buzzer went off and in came Rick “That’s it. I’m giving up on love. She hates me. She absolutely hates me” Behind her Cassie followed with a cardboard containing all of your coffees yelling at her from the staircase all the way to your apartment

“Will you stop it?! She literally told you to meet tomorrow! TOMORROW!”

“Yes but her tone-“

“Her tone was neutral” Rick huffed out upset and went to sit in the living room

“I take it you have updates for us with your infinite crush?” Rick sulked and grabbed her phone to start reading out loud her latest conversation while occasionally laughing at her own jokes.These get-togethers started by happening once every two months to now happening almost every day as your friend group grew close and it always helped you feel lighter and more chipper. Your phone went off with a notification and you nearly screamed.

Staygrounded69: hey

“SHE texted me. Wow I really thought I was about to get ghosted for good”

Everyone snapped their head at you

“What are you waiting for then ? Answer!!” Cassie urged you on with an excited smile. You shot up and went to your kitchen needing to be away from the others as not to embarrass yourself any further

Whats up

You free to hang out for a game?

You hit your head on the table and groaned out loud. Your friends expressed a mess of concerned sentences all asking you in their own way what happened.

“SHe wants to call and play a game”

“GO FOR ITTTTT GO GET SUM GIRL” June screamed and you shook your head

“No I won't cave in that easy”

In the distance you heard Cassie tease “Sure that you won’t do, but having her Onlyfans pic as your lock screen is not above you” and you would have given her a jab on the ribs but decided against it and went type a response

I’m not alone.

Oh?

I have company tonight but we can still chat or something?

Unless you only wanted to play a game then we can hangout tomorrow…

It was embarrassing how desperate for her attention you were. She used at best 3 syllables and here you were meeting the word limit in a school essay. You saw the three dots appear and disappear as Abby considered her response. You leaned back on the stool and checked your nails,pressing at the skin around them mindlessly.

Works for me, how was your week?

She asked and you felt your heart beat loud in your chest and cold sweat run over you. You could not entirely grasp why her giving you the attention that you craved so badly made you so nauseous and so anxious but you brushed it off to you simply having a crush that intense

It was something. Classes were ridiculously slow

Right. You’re still in college ?

Last year but yeah..I study fashion design.You aren’t?

Oh no I still am. Which is why I still vanish. Classes are A true pain in the ass

You smiled,warmth spreading all over your body. You were pacing in the kitchen while exchanging back and forth meaningless info about your day and your general life. You were surprised to know she was the same age as you but that was about as many similarities as the two of you had but that did nothing to falter either interest in the conversation.

Oh Alice just came.

Give her a pat from me <3

And in came a photo. You opened it without hesitation and were quick to keep your finger pressed on the image processing what was in front of you. Alice was comfortably seated between Abbys thighs and her head was snuggly pressed on her leg looking up at the camera. Now whether Alice was in the image or not it didn't matter cause your eyes were stuck on the fact that Abby was only in a black pair of boxer briefs and she did nothing to divert the camera lens away from that fact.

Her arm was starched out patting Alice’s head, her veiny hand on display. You fixated on those long calloused fingers and you almost moaned just at the thought of what they could do.You hated that you couldn’t take a screenshot and cursed igs safety feature of showing the other party when someone did that. You exited the image and tried to think of an answer.

Damn. She is almost in frame

Don't blame me for your wandering eyes babe

You smacked your head on the table with a loud thud and it rumbled in protest,

“You alive cotton?!” Rick called out and the rest chuckled. You checked the time and noticed you had been talking with her for a good two hours at this point and despite wanting to continue the conversation you had to join your friends at some point

“Yeah gimme a few”

Shit You almost made me blush

Almost? Damn. Better luck next time

She said and you let out an awkward half laugh half sigh not believing what you were reading and how well this had gone. You bounced your leg in distress. You were beyond aroused by this attitude. Be it the photos, or her attempting to make a pass at you, you could feel the inevitable burn and ache in your core. You let out a scream and heard a glass fall and rick cough

“The hell?!”

“What happened?!”

“I’m gonna kick you for that what the fuck”

Came their voices in startled unison

Well Ill have to leave you high and dry. My friends are calling me

Go have fun. Talk to you tomorrow ?

Sure :)

They ran into the kitchen expectant and you let out a mumbled

“She said talk to you tomorrow”

You were sure you had lost 89% of your hearing capabilities from their cheerful screams.

____________

At precisely 4 am you decided to give up on sleep and left the living room trying to step around the bodies sleeping on the floor amongst the pillows and blankets going to your bedroom for some privacy. The ache was persistent and you had to do something about it. You locked the door and unlocked your phone going straight to Abbys Onlyfans. There was a message there

A video behind a paywall. A paywall of 250 euros with the caption “was thinking of you” and right below the video was a separate message

You closed your eyes the minute your fingers slipped and purchased the video. A video unlike anything else on her profile where she wore a sleeveless baggy t-shirt and the same boxer briefs you saw on that photo she sent you earlier that evening. She was sitting on her gaming chair with her legs spread and the camera was placed on the bottom cropping her face out. You watched as her fingers teased the waistband and in came her voice

Were you thinking of me?

It was lower, suggestive unlike how she usually talked. You pressed your thighs and pushed your back against the bedframe falling deeper between the pillows. Your hand laid comfortably on top of your tummy an inch away from the elastic band of your sweatpants. You circled the area hesitating to delve deeper but when you saw Abby initiate the notion by slipping her hand beneath her underwear you did the same, your body having a mind of its own.

Are you touching yourself for me baby?

She asked and you almost let out a breathless quiet “yes” but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. You mirrored her circular slow movements and hated how painfully slow she went about it and as if she knew exactly what you thought she added

Are you getting impatient ?

You bit your lip trying to hold back a moan. Her voice reeked of sex and the eroticism of her moves drove you insane. Your head was spinning and when you dared to outpace her you heard a very low breathless sigh come from the video and echo in your head. The video ended there and your eyes shot wide open in disbelief. You checked the time. It was a 3 minute video.

Fuck

You thought and closed the tab leading back to the chat on onlyfans. A new message was there

-Enjoyed it cotton?-

Fucking fuck

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x you #tlou2

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 37

The night was long as Kyle said.

All the liveliness of the marketplace disappeared the next night and it felt as if the winter’s cold hadn’t gone away.

The candles held in the children’s hands fluttered with the wind. Small sobs escaped from the mouths of people who were wiping away their tears in the dark.

It was a quiet night. The longing and cries that were buried during the day seeped out in the dark.

I looked straight ahead at Kyle, who had his eyes closed. Why did he look more solemn and pitiful than those who were crying?

It was a night where two hours felt like a whole day.

*

I sat in the hamster house and stared at the system window seriously.

Underneath the familiar signboard, [Love Love Corner~❤], were items lined up. The background, which was normally translucent blue, changed to pink.

‘Did it update? I don’t see any particular changes though.’

I flipped through the pages and the system popped up as if it had just woken up.

[(ˉ﹃ˉ)]

Hey, Hey. Stop sleeping. Did you stay up all night or something?

I’ve been thinking about it since before, but the system strangely mimicked people. Like being tired, or feeling angry or embarrassed.

‘Though it’s nice since it feels like I have company by my side.’

I laughed and the system blinked. It showed me a different emote.

[(づ￣//￣)づ]

An emote waving its hands towards one direction.

I looked at the direction it was pointing. There was a small banner and underneath that banner was an item.

‘You made a banner just for this one item?’

Why so flashy.

I narrowed my eyes and viewed the banner the system spent its entire night on making. If I didn’t, it felt like the system would feel disappointed in its wasted efforts.

Let’s see. Valen…….

―Squeak…… (Are you serious……?)

[Today is Valentine’s Day! Try sharing your love to your fated partner!]

Hey, this…….

I stared at the system window with a puzzled expression on my face. If you had the time to make something like this, you should’ve made something more useful! I didn’t give you Miracle Points just for you to do this!

I crossed my legs and pointed my finger at the system.

How about making cookies cheaper! You know how much I lost from buying so much this time!

[（＞人＜；）]

The system displayed an intimidated emote.

……Was I too harsh?

I felt a little bad as I saw it sweating profusely.

Alright. I’m thankful you put in a lot of effort just for me. Who knows. Maybe it’ll be something useful. It looks to be an item that goes into my inventory, so I could take it with me and use it whenever it’s necessary.

‘Let’s see what it is first.’

I read through the description of the item called [Almond Chocolate].

Made with the highest quality almonds and freshly squeezed milk, with cacao grown from the sunniest place…… okay, whatever. It’s delicious. As for its ability… [Makes the person who eats it feel happy!].

―Squeak. (Come out.)

[ ε=ε=ε=┏(゜ロ゜;)┛]

I furiously kicked at the system window as it ran away. You’re telling me to pay 43 Hearts for something like this?

While I ran around the hamster house, the study door opened.

It was of course, Kyle.

He looked less tired than yesterday but still haven’t recovered fully yet. There didn’t seem to be any injuries.

I paused and called the system.

‘Hey, system.’

The system blinked with a [(⊙_⊙)？]. I took a deep breath and checked the remaining Hearts I had.

60 Hearts.

‘I’ll give you ten more, so can you add an extra chocolate option for me?’

It displayed an emote that looked like someone rubbing their chin. Where did it learn to do that? It hasn’t been long since it opened the store, yet it already became such a businessman.

‘It’s not a big deal. Just a fatigue recovery chocolate. I’m giving you extra Hearts for my request.’

I gave the system the puppy eyes. A nodding emote along with a [Loading……] sign came up.

Kyle walked over to me. I obediently climbed up onto his hand.

You must be very tired.

However, as the leader of the knights and the Grand Duke of the North, he couldn’t say a single word about how difficult and tiring it was.

That’s why, it’s times like this that I should…….

―…….

O-oh. Okay. Kiss me all you want. ……And stop eating my fur.

“You’re cute today too, Cashew.”

After kissing me for a whole ten minutes, Kyle reorganized my fur.

Somehow, I felt like my energy has been sucked out.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t received kisses like these for a while. Not only did they feel longer than usual, but I was also out of breath. I laid face down in his palm as if my soul was drained out.

Then, as if to comfort me, he shared some unexpected good news.

“You remember when I tried to inject something into your body? I apologize for what happened back then. That won’t happen again in the future. He told me that trying to force mana into your body could be bad for you.”

―Squeak squeak! (That’s right! You made the right choice!)

I jumped and sat up straight. Then, I patted his thumb with my small paw as if praising him. I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing. Listening to my words so well!

“You’re that happy? Besides your slow growth rate, there isn’t anything wrong with your body. Let’s wait a bit more and see. If anything does happen, we could always take you to the demonic beast specialist. No matter what, I’ll save you.”

I’m worried about your life, yet you’re worried about my own.

I turned around and checked the system window next to Kyle.

His lifespan had about a month and a half remaining.

I had no idea what remaining incidents were left for him, but I knew that there was one major event before the season was over.

*

“Ahem.”

I stood in front of Kyle’s door and cleared my throat.

Strangely enough, I always felt nervous whenever I stood before his room. The previous time I stood before his door, I felt nervous because I made a mistake, but today I just felt a little embarrassed.

The system worked faster than expected. In the 10 minutes it took Kyle to kiss me, they added an additional option in the store and raised the price.

Honestly, I wished the system had forgotten about the price raise, but there was a red line drawn across with the number 53 written next to it.

As a result, I only had 7 Hearts left. Once upon a time, I had over 100 Hearts……

This is all for Kyle. For Kyle.

I shook my head and knocked on the door lightly. Kyle’s voice was heard from inside, telling me to come in.

“It’s you.”

Kyle took off his glasses.

I walked over to his desk with the chocolate clenched tightly behind my back. He waited for me with a soft smile on his face.

Don’t smile like that. It’s making me feel strange.

I ignored the heat coming up to my ears and held out the box of chocolates to him. He obediently accepted it with a puzzled look on his face.

“What is this?”

“You will know once you open it.”

Kyle untied the beautifully wrapped pink ribbon and opened the box.

I didn’t look inside before giving them to Kyle, but there were round pink, white, and black chocolates filling the box with the center……

“…….”

“…….”

Hey. System.

Hey. Stop hiding from me.

“Did you make these yourself?”

“……Ah. Uh. Well. Yes. It just so happened…….”

Something was written on top of the large chocolate heart.

To my beloved Kyle, His Highness.

I felt like hitting my throbbing head a few times.

Why didn’t I check this beforehand. Why did I give him this. I should’ve seen what was inside before giving it to him!

My clenched fist trembled. Once I return, I will definitely get my revenge on the system. I’d only feel better once I either give it a premature death or grab it by its collar.

I wasn’t sure if Kyle understood my feelings properly or not, but he stared at the chocolates for a long time before picking up a round piece and putting it in his mouth.

“I had no idea you were good at making desserts too.”

“It just so happens that I’m good at various things.”

“But why the chocolate all of the sudden?”

“……From where I came from, today is the day where you give chocolates to someone you respect or are thankful for. It’s not a big deal, but I just remembered as I saw the calendar…… ah. It’s a traditional event passed down from generation to generation, so please take it.”

The situation was embarrassing, so I prolonged our conversation by rambling.

As soon as I finished my gibberish, he picked up another round chocolate and put it into my mouth this time.

“Then I must give one to you too. Today is February 14? I’ll keep it in mind from now on.”

“…….”

He laughed.

It was the most relaxed smile I’ve seen in a while. How can he smile so well when he looks colder than anyone else?

I relaxed my fist and squatted down. I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, but I couldn’t raise my head.

Was there an effect in the chocolate that makes your heart beat? Or perhaps I was so embarrassed that I had arrhythmia.

I shut my eyes tight as I listened to my heart thump.

The chocolate he gave me melted in my mouth. It was so sweet that I started to feel strange.

Surely, it’s just the chocolate.

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

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#tngdh

[v1olentdelights]

Dandelion Wishes

Conrad Fisher x sister!reader Trigger warning: the reader is referred to as bug in a sibling affectionate way? also food is mentioned a few times, and the reader is sick, but nothing descriptive. Summary: On a particular fall Monday, you are reminded that all your dandelion wishes were well spent. a/n: idk if this is good or not. I have it as a college student because I am a college student... there will probably be more pieces within a college setting. Also, I gave my sister the nickname of bug so I put it in here lol.

When choosing what college to attend you tried not to think about your brothers, both of which were in college now. Not only your mother and brothers, but also your Laurel, Belly, and Steven encouraged you to apply anywhere and everywhere. So that is what you did, you applied to as many colleges as you could. But when you got the results, you were hesitant about your first choice, Stanford. You didn’t want to seemingly follow in your eldest brother’s footsteps, but that was the college that seemed to suit you best. After careful consideration, you were officially accepted to Stanford.

When fall came you packed up half your life in boxes, it was a weird sight to see. Your brother Jeremiah had demanded you let him go through your clothes with you and then later go shopping with you. He was sure you would end up wearing pajamas all year long and he refused to accept that. Though it turned into him making fun of your clothing and putting on some definitely too small shirts. It was moments like these that made you regret all those dandelion wishes to grow up quicker. 

You quickly realized how serious this was, hearing that your freshman year at college would be difficult is something completely different than actually living it. Jeremiah and Conrad constantly fussed over you and how you were doing. For Jere, that meant constant texts and calls throughout the week, he also sent you care packages that either contained snacks, sweatshirts, socks, and other little bits and bobs. For Conrad, that meant checking in with you via text after every day and getting dinner every Monday evening. 

This beautiful fall Monday you found yourself struggling to stay awake in your 9am class. As the day progressed it only got worse, your body was aching more than you thought possible and you were sure there was a marching band smashing around in your head. If your luck wasn’t already bad enough, in your final class of the day (ending at 4:30) you had a pop quiz on the chapter reading that was due yesterday evening. As you were walking back to your dorm it started to drizzle, though you thought nothing of it as it was a usual occurrence. What you weren’t expecting was for it to pour, the rain helped mask your tears. 

Drenched by the time you reached your dorm, you found yourself taking as much pain reliever as you could and slipping into pajamas before settling down at your desk to complete the overflow of assignments.

A while later a knock broke you out of your trance, pulling open the door you were rather surprised to see Conrad with a small smile on his face. You had forgotten about the weekly Monday dinner. But it was wiped from his face as he took in your disheveled appearance, he slipped into your room as you began protesting. After surveying the room he turned to you with a facial expression that was walking the fine line of understanding and pity. “I am going to go make you some soup.” Finding his way to your cupboard he pulled out a can of chicken noodle soup and a bowl and found his way out of your room with ease. You just sat back at your desk and began typing away before the thought of sleep could even cross your mind. 

“Here, I brought you some gatorade too. I don’t know how much water you have been drinking.” Turning to him you saw your mother for a second, sometimes when he was concerned he had the same face your mom makes. 

“Connie, I can't. I have midterms coming up and I have already missed homework from yesterday. You understand.” And you were right, he did understand, but he also knew what it could do to you if you didn’t take a break. 

“30 minutes, bug, just to eat and take a quick power nap.” You huffed but knew that retaliating would only result in him physically forcing you into bed, so you started to shuffle some papers to the side. Conrad took over as he set down your soup. The second you put the spoon in your mouth you knew you were done for. You were too consumed by the newfound warmth that your food provided you to notice Conrad putting your stuff in your backpack and stuffing it in your closet behind your things, so you couldn’t find it.

He pulled up your roommates desk chair to sit next to you and talk about his day. He told you all about his advanced statistics class and how he thankfully made it to the bus before it began downpouring. At that you made a mention that you had got caught in the rain and that it probably added to your foul mood. He just rubbed your arm for a moment with a sad smile on his face.

It was no secret that you were struggling. He had heard from some of his friends that they had seen you in some of the libraries at odd hours of the night. When you finished your soup he took the bowl and set it in your sink while you managed to pull yourself in bed. 

“Can you read to me Connie?” He thought you sounded like a little kid again. It was moments like these that made him regret all those dandelion wishes to have you grow up quicker. 

“Of course, bug.” He pulled up your desk chair towards your bed and pulled the book off your bedside. It was a book that your mom used to read to you. You had your comforter pulled up to your chin, holding a brown bear stuffed animal with bright blue eyes that Jeremiah had surely gotten you. 

He had read for about 5 minutes before you were fully knocked out. After quietly moving away, Conrad pulled out your school bag and began sorting out your homework into classes and what was due when. He made some flash cards for your science class in hopes that it would help you with memorization. On top of all that he tried to work on some things that weren’t big assignments, of course on another piece of paper so you could look at it and attempt it yourself. 

—

You had surely slept more than 20 minutes, it was now dark outside and your heater had turned on. Looking around the room in your state must have been a sight to see, the comforter was still pulled up to your chin, your cheeks were reddened and had marks on them and you could barely see your because your eyes felt glued shut. But you could spot the very familiar figure sitting at your desk. 

“Connie?” Your voice broke as you called out to him quietly. You were instantly glad that your roommate decided to stay out for the night. On your bedside there was a glass of water and some motrin for you to take, you sat up as you did so. 

“Bug?” He sounded just as tired when he lifted his head from the desk. Looking back at you with bleary eyes, standing up from his spot he came over to you and put the back of his hand to your forehead, just like your mom.

“You still feel warm. Did you take the motrin?” You simply nodded your head. Quickly you wrapped your arms around his stomach and pulled him in close for a hug. It took him by surprise, but after a moment he reciprocated while softly running a hand through your hair. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” it came out as barely a whisper. 

It was times like these you were reminded that your dandelion wishes were spent well. Having wished that your brothers would always be there for you was the best wish of all, one you still made to this day. 

—

By the end of the week you were feeling better physically and mentally when you saw that you had passed the midterm you had been worried about all week. By Friday you felt like you could finally breathe, so when your mother asked that you and your brother come home for the weekend, you could easily say yes.

Almost as soon as you stepped out of the car you were being picked up, eliciting a squeal. Jeremiah had wrapped you up tight before spinning you in a death grip of a hug. 

“I’ve missed you kid! I think you've even grown a bit” As he set you down he pressed a kiss to your head. You swat him away as he comes in to pinch your cheeks. Though you were still a bit dizzy, you spotted your mom sitting next to Laurel on the porch, you hadn’t expected the Conklin's to be here. But you were swept up into another hug by Steven who ruffled your hair and said something about being proud of you. Belly was right beside her mom with a big smile and a big bouquet of flowers.

“Welcome back!”

Stepping up onto the porch both Laurel and your mom stood up with bright smiles, as soon as you were close enough, both of them pulled you into a hug. 

“We are so proud of you, sweetheart.” Laurel said as she rubbed her hand up and down your back. You mom kept pressing kisses to your hairline, you could feel the tears slipping that she tried to hold back. 

“My beautiful beautiful girl, you look so much older now!” her smile was as bright as the sun. Laurel patted your back lightly. 

“Let’s get you inside and fill you up, I made your favorite.” Everyone piled into the house and as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, you caught a whiff of what you assumed to be your favorite dessert as well.

It was times like these that you are reminded that all your dandelion wishes were well spent.

#grace writes #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty x reader #tsitp x reader #tsitp fanfic #conrad fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher x reader #tsitp x you #summer fanfics #x reader #conrad fisher x sister!reader #x sister reader #x female reader #jeremiah fisher x sister!reader #susannah fisher #belly conklin #steven conklin #college fic #comort #brotherly love #please do well!

[ultralightpoe]

hear me out hear me out, tear you apart by she wants revenge. thinking very enemies to lovers hate fuckin kinda thing. obviously its really up to you but this song is very hot lol

Tear You Apart- Aemond Targaryen

Description: Aemond hates you and you hate him, but why did he feel so freaking good all the time

Authors Note: BUCKLE IN BITCHES! Also my requests are open for April, take a look at this post to see the request event and send some in! Happy April!

Warnings: Smut, adultery, fun fun fun

Word Count: 2924

Enjoy!

Got a big plan, this mindset maybe its right

At the right place and right time, maybe tonight

And the whisper or handshake sending a sign

Wanna make out and kiss hard, wait never mind

Alicent was punishing him. Not that she would ever admit to it, or he could ever prove, but it was just something he knew. Because there was absolutely no reason that you should be seated next to him as this gods forsaken dinner. 

Aemond had known you had entered the second his spine locked up, nervousness and anxiety racking through him as he risked a glance in your direction to see that you were already looking at him. You had walked in, a smarmy smile laced on your face, with your arm laced through your new husbands and a dazzling necklace across your neck. 

You squinted a bit at him before turning to whisper something in your husband's ear and Aemond found himself squeezing the goblet in his hand and trying his best not to sneer or rip his nephew's head off.  

You had chosen the bastard over him. How pathetic. So scared of your own emotions that you ran to the easiest target rather than facing the fucking truth. 

A smug feeling filled his chest at the thought of you moaning his name while in bed with his cowardly nephew, that feeling quickly being washed away by the sound of his mothers voice. “Lady Y/n, how radiant you look. Dare I say….glowing?”

His hand tightened across the goblet again, red blinding his sight before you answered with a small laugh. “Not yet, but not from lack of trying. I swear.”

Your voice was bragging and he tried not to laugh. As if his nephew could actually give you any form of pleasure. Not after you had Aemond.

“I do apologize for our seating arrangement, you are in between my two boys tonight for the meal.” Alicent smiles before passing you and moving to greet her old friend. You turn to Aemond and give him a polite smile before turning to Jacaerys and kissing his cheek. 

Before Aemond could remove himself from the table your husband was blocking his path, pulling out your chair for you and kissing your head, leaning down to mutter a soft “Remember the plan” before moving to his own side of the table. 

Aemond loses sight of him the second he is away from you, because he cannot seem to drag his eyes anywhere else. Gods, he hated you. Hated everything about you. From the perfect hair to the gorgeous eyes all the way to the natural way you seemed to win everyone over. Witch.

You move your head to make eye contact and the second you do his heart stops dead in his chest. It was annoying that you still had this power over him. 

“If you look any closer you might burn right through me….prince.” You smile, batting your eyelashes the way you always knew riled him up. It was like you enjoyed pissing him off. 

“Good. Last I checked we were supposed to burn the witches.” He replies, trying to keep a nonchalant attitude. He knew the second the smile laced your features that he was correct, you really did enjoy pissing him off. 

“Well since I am a witch I feel quite free to lie. By the way, your eye patch looks dashing tonight. Really brings out the purple of your eye.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe if you play nice with your nephews I’ll take pity on you.” 

He was so close to responding before everyone else took their seats and he was left in silence while you turned your attention to the king. Only you weren’t actually paying attention. 

You played it normal, and Aemond nearly jumped out of his skin when your hand met his under the table, a soft touch from your pinky onto his. 

He tears his hand away, turning to glare at you before you roll your own and lean back, a heat traveling across his skin when you wink. 

You were mocking him. He knew it. 

“Aemond, is it true that you and Lady Y/n grew up together?” Lord Stark asks, forcing Aemond to drag his eyes away from you. 

“Indeed. We had studies together.” You answer for him, smiling lightly as you leant forward to grab your goblet. 

“I taught her everything she knows.” Aemond says this as he looks to his nephew, that smug feeling returning again as his nephew sneers. That’s right, I made her cum long before you. 

When he glances back to you, the conversation moving away from him finally, you are already staring at him once again. This time your eyes are hooded, and he knows that you caught on to his jab. 

“I believe I taught you a few useful tricks myself.” You whisper, before turning away to talk to the person on your right. 

His entire body is aflame at the memories and a harsh anger rises in him. Of course you would do this, marry his nephew then rub it in his face. 

You had led him on. You had tore him up as though it was nothing.

Late night, and passing, mention it flipped her

Best friend, who knows saying maybe it slipped

But the slip turns to terror and a crush to light

When she walked in, he froze up, believe its the fright

You ignored his existence the rest of dinner, not that Aemond minded because he got many opportunities to glance at you this way. 

He watched the way you fixed your hair and the way your hand caresses the bodice of your dress when you bring it back down. He looks at the exposed part of your neck before his eyes catch on the pulse point. 

How easy it would be to just lean over and bite you the way he knows you like. How easy it would be to reach his hand up your skirt and- Your eyes cast to him before he can finish the thought and he soon realizes that everyone is staring at him.

“I apologize, I seem to have dazed off.” He rushes out, trying not to get embarrassed under your gaze. “I do not feel well, I believe I should return to my chambers.”

Before anyone could argue his request he is out of the chair, burning through the room and heading to his own chambers across the keep. It was uncomfortable to walk due to the aching hard on he now wore, and he was desperate to make it to his rooms to fix this problem.

He felt like a stupid fool. You probably barely thought of him, and here he was pining after you. Pining after the traitor.

By the time he pushes the door to his chambers his chest is heaving and every piece of him feels as though it is on fire.  Ragged breaths consumed him as his fingers worked to tear off his leathers. 

“Fuck.” He curses, when his finger snags on the leather of his riding pants, hopping out of his boots to hop on the bed. His back hits the cushion of it and he stares at the ceiling for a moment so he could calm down and focus.

He could not think about you. He hated you. You betrayed him and he hated you-

Before he could stop himself he reached down, a moan slipping from his lips as he touched himself, your face flashing in his mind. No no no. This was wrong and he hated you. 

But that didn’t stop him from sitting up, working himself faster as he imagined you above him, moaning to him just as you used to at the speed you liked- fuck Y/n. fuck fuck fu-

Y/n.

You were there. In the doorway with wide eyes and a blush on your cheeks as he stopped short, a ragged whine passing his lips when he realized. 

Its cute in a way, till you cannot speak

And you leave to have a cigarette, your knees get weak

An escape is just a nod and a casual wave

Obsessed about it, heavy for the next two days

“I wasn’t…” The lie begins to slip from his lips before he can stop it, but halfway through he realizes that he shouldn’t have to lie. You had seen him do this countless times, how was today different? 

You were married. And you shouldn’t be here.  “Leave.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, eyes welling up as you take a step back before you turn. Only you don’t leave, when your hand touches the door you risk a glance over your shoulder to where he is still sitting, still completely bare to you. “I’m sorry you hate me.”

“I’m not.” He sneers, face heating as your eyes track across his body. “You are a lying whore.”

“Indeed.”

“And you took everything I gave you and threw it away.”

“If that’s what you believe.”

You stared, unmoving, as he stood and walked closer. Everything in him screamed to pull you close and he was infuriated that even after all this time he still craved your touch. He still dreamt of having you in his sheets just as you used to. 

“You should leave.” He whispers, his chest meeting yours as he looks down on you, hands clenched at his sides to keep from grasping them in your hair like he wanted. 

“I should.” You reply, leaning your nose up to touch against his. The second your skin meets his he is gone, hands whipping up to your hair as he pulls you in for a rough and ragged kiss. 

It's only just a crush, it'll go away

It's just like all the others it'll go away

Or maybe this is danger and he just don't know

You pray it all away but it continues to grow

Maybe if he just got you out of his system it would be better. He could hate you from a distance after this and everything would be fine.  But the moment his lips touch your own he knows he is a goner. 

A warmth bleeds through his chest as you kiss back, your hands wrapping around to pull him closer by his back and he pushes you both forward until you are pressed against the door. A grunt pushes through him when his hands travel your body, lifting your skirt to touch the back of your thighs and help you hop up. 

Tearing yourself away to catch your breath gives him a moment to stare at you, the smug feeling returning once again. “Where is your husband?”

“Don’t ask.” You gasp, pulling him back in for another kiss. He stabilizes you both so you can reach and undo your corset, biting his lip harshly and making him groan out. 

“I hate you-” 

“I hate you more.” He enjoyed the way you gasped that out, allowing him to suck at your neck as both of you begin grinding into each other. “Aemond please-”

“Please what?”

I want to hold you close

Skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, and close your eyes girl

So lovely, it feels so right

“Aemond.” You try again, leaning to catch his head in your hands and pull him up to face you. “I’m so-”

“That’s not what I want to hear and you know it.” He seethes, pushing your skirt up higher. “I don’t want to hear your fake fucking apologies.”

And then the dam breaks and you are rushing forward to kiss him again, your teeth clash against each other and you bite down harshly before pulling back, eyes hooded. “Then fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me.”

I want to hold you close

Soft breasts, beating heart

As I whisper in your ear

I want to fucking tear you apart

He doesn’t waste any time, dragging you both to the bed and slamming you across the sheets, laying on top of you with a fire in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. “This is familiar.”

A small laugh tears from your throat when he grips your corset and tears it in half, growling a bit as he moves to your skirt. The sound of cloth ripping fills the room and you sit up quickly, snatching the eye patch off his face before he can fight it. 

A hand wraps around your wrist tightly, dragging the patch back. “No. I want to see you, Aemond.” You argue, keeping your arm tight as he grunts out before finally letting go. 

He can’t argue that,  nor can he argue the proud feeling he gets from those words, instead he crawls up your body until you are nose to nose. You smile at him and for a moment he can imagine himself back to the moments you used to have, before you were married off. 

“Breathe.” He whispers, just like he always had, before he is pushing himself into you. A groan escapes him at the same time you gasp out, hands scratching along his back as he fills you fully and for the first time in a long time he felt at home,

It disgusted him. 

“I hate you.”

“Then show me.” You laugh and he gives in. 

Then he walked up and told her, thinking that he'd passed

And they talked and looked away a lot, doing the dance

Her hand brushed up against his, she left it there

Told him how she felt and then they locked in a stare

The room filled with grunts and the heavy sound of skin slapping, Aemonds hands landing on the bed above both your shoulders to keep you trapped close to him as his hips snapped into you over and over. 

“You’re…..a….fucking whore-” He seethes, grunting louder as you moan out. “A fucking traitor.”

He laughs when you come undone, moving to lean down closer and press his nose to your cheek when you turn away. “I’m not done yet.”

They took a step back, thought about it, what should they do

'Cause there's always repercussions when you're dating in school

But their lips met, and reservations started to pass

Whether this was just an evening or a thing that would last

He takes you over and over, telling himself each time would be the last, but he couldn’t get enough. It was like a beast that had been let out of its cage and was ravaging anything it possibly could. 

By the time he had his fill, 5 rounds later when the sun began coming up, he let you sleep beside him as he kept you close. His hand laid on your thigh as you curled yourself up, breathing evenly as you dreamt. 

Just one more kiss and he would be good. He would be rid of this craving, he swears it. 

But when his lips touched your forehead very softly he closed his eyes and held them there, mentally begging himself to just get up and never touch you again. He hates you. 

“A traitorous whore.” You murmur, eyes still closed, and his eyebrows pop up in surprise. “That’s what you are thinking. I know it.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Either way he wanted her and this was bad

He wanted to do things to her it was making him crazy

Now a little crush turned into a like

And now he wants to grab her by the hair and tell her

You left the next morning in one of his tunics, with a limp in your step that had his heart beating quickly but he ignored it, holding a hand to his chest to try and stop it. 

When the door shuts he turns back to the bed, shoving his nose in the pillow you had slept and and imagined if you could stay, if you had married him instead. 

Pathetic.

I want to hold you close

Skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, and close your eyes girl

So lovely, it feels so right

The halls were filled with people cheering and wearing flower crowns, the courtyard filled with twice as much music. 

Aemond sat under the tree feeling sick and angry. 

They were celebrating you, or rather your child. The news had passed quickly that you had begun your labors in the early hours of the day, with Rhaenyra by your side and your ‘devoted husband’. 

“Brother!” Helaena calls, snapping him out of his moping. “Come!”

Ever the attentive brother he stands, moving to follow her through the halls as she holds her baby in her hands. She talks his ear off as they join their mother, her face pulled into a tight frown. 

The two ladies lead him to Rhaenyras chambers, where you are laid out on the bed with sweat covering your skin and a small bundle in your arms. Rhaenyra is giving you the widest smile he has ever seen his sister give and many people are congratulating Jahaerys. 

“Have you heard the good news?” A Lord asks, leaning in to whisper to Aemond. “Lady Y/n has delivered a Targaryen. White hair and all.”

Memories of your last night flash together, of Jahearys asking you about a plan and you showing up to his rooms. 

A wide smile covers his face when he looks up to find you already staring at him, a knowing and tired look on your own features. Oh, how he hated you. 

#aemond #targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond ta #aemond tar #aemond x y/n #aemond imagine #aemond smut #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond stannies #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Bittersweet Revenge

Alcina Dimitrescu x FEM! Reader

(A/N- I hope you enjoy this! Tell me what you think about this in the comments or reblogs, I would really appreciate it!)

(Warning: Angst, swearing, heavy description of blood and gore)

In all your years of life you’ve never expected to meet a person like Alcina, but damn were you grateful for her. Despite how Alcina treated the other maids, she had a soft spot towards you. Always taking good care of you whenever you were ill, made you feel safe, and much much more.

You were hiding in your bedroom, slightly shaking from fear. You had just encountered Ethan Winters, luckily he didn’t see you. You knew who he was because Cassandra told you about how he entered the castle and got captured. So why was he roaming around? How in the hell did he manage to escape?

You take a deep breath in before breathing out, your anxiety starts to calm down as you think about Alcina. You have faith in her that she can defeat him, she is incredibly strong after all. A mere human cannot be able to kill her.

Some time passes by and you hear a loud menacing roar, you know instantly that it’s Alcina. It concerns you that she had to result to that form, but you still hold a strong sense of faith in your heart.

You waited and waited for what felt like ages until you heard the fighting come to a halt. Surely Alcina would’ve come find you after she transformed back to her usual self, right?

So you waited..and waited..and that’s it you’ve made up your mind. You are going out there to check on your love.

You walked around to where they just battled, stepping over some debris before you saw her. Your one and only love of your pitiful life crystallized on the cold ground.

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach as you felt a overwhelming feeling of sadness and guilt for not protecting her. You should’ve done something, anything to help her win. You walk up to your deceased lover and hug her tightly, warm tears fall on the ice cold crystal.

Soon your tears stopped and you felt the blood in your veins boil with rage. You are gonna kill that ma- no, monster you are gonna kill that fucking monster.

You gave a soft kiss on the crystal head before whispering a quiet “Rest my love” to it. You got up and quickly but quietly went to your bedroom to avoid drawing any unwanted attention to yourself.

When you got to your bedroom, you opened the bedside drawer and pulled out a steel pistol. The look of it saddened you as you faintly remembered Alcina gifting that to you just in case something ever happened and she wasn’t there to protect you anymore.

Loading up the pistol, a sinister smile appears on your face, “Don’t worry my Lady, I’ll be sure to avenge you.” You say with certainly. Opening up the drawer below, you pulled out a belt, sheaths, and a few knives.

The rage continued to boil throughout your blood as you suited up, putting on the belt, attaching the rough leather sheaths to it, and putting the knives inside and the pistol in it’s holster. You had everything set now for your perfect revenge.

You carefully walk outside, the cold breeze hitting you. It was a weird feeling to be in the freezing cold but not feel cold at all, you can thank your anger for that. You were looking around for awhile until you finally saw him. He was trading stuff with the Duke and you carefully walked closer.

The Duke gave a small glance towards you, opening his mouth to speak. You shot a rage filled glare at him and he kept quiet, but still had that smile on his face.

You got closer and closer until you stopped. You were right in front of him. That monster. You swiftly but quietly pulled out your already loaded pistol and fired two shots. One of the shots hit Ethan’s left arm and the other on his right. The bullets went through his bones so he couldn’t move his arms, he turned around and tried to back away. There was nothing he could really do to defend himself without the use of his arms.

You tighten your grip on the pistol before firing two more shots hitting his knees, causing him to fall on the hard ground. You drop the pistol and pulled out your knife, getting on top of him you say,

“I’m gonna make sure this hurts.” You stab him in the shoulder making sure the knife is as deep as it can go and cut all the way to his wrist. A loud pained groan erupted from him, making a smile appear on your face. “Ah that’s music to my ears. Come on, you can be louder, right?!” You yelled over his groans.

He was struggling but you overpowered him using pure rage and the struggling only added fuel to the fire. You pulled the knife out of his wrist and brought it down, stabbing one of his testicles. You laughed and laughed as his pained groans turned into yells and failed attempts to get the Duke to help.

“He ain’t gonna help you so just give it up.” As you said the last word you pulled out the knife and stabbed through his digastric muscle, you also managed to stab his tongue in the process. You grabbed the other knife with your free hand and stabbed his right eye. When you got the knife out, you took the stabbed eye and shoved it in his mouth, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to chew on the organ and turn it into pure mush.

When you forced him to swallow it, you stabbed his throat and he started to suffocate. You took the knife out of his digastric muscle and sliced through both of his cheeks, carving a smile on his face.

“Great I’m glad you’re just as happy as I am!” You say in a psychotic manner, your crazed smile never leaving your face.

You watched as he slowly stopped struggling and the light in his left eye died. You laughed one more time as you thought about his pained face, “Finally the monsters dead.”

You got up off the corpse and gathered all your weapons, and walked to the castle. You didn’t care if you were all bloodied you just wanted to go home..

Home, that single word brings a question to mind. Where was home? Home is supposed to be a place where you feel comfort and peace. Oftentimes it’s a place where you can come back to someone, but where was it? You didn’t have what everyone called a home, instead the only thing you had was..

You fell hard on your knees, as tears came down your bloodied cheeks and made a pitter-patter noise as they made contact with the ground, you had nothing now.

....

#re8 x reader #re8 lady dimitrescu #re8 alcina #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina x y/n

[skylermadness]

Casting Changes (Lucas Lee to Stephen Stills TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: January 15, 2024)

Apologies for disappearing, I was too lazy to fill up my queue. Woops.

Original Description:

My half of a trade with moltingscales of FurAffinity. Their half can be viewed here. My first TF of the New Year and it's probably something absolutely no one expected! Character to character TF isn't the most common thing in my repertoire, but I also couldn't resist the chance at this when the trade was being conceived! So much so that when writing I went past my set barrier of 2.9k words and wrote out almost 4k words instead. Woops! But that just meant I really enjoyed the idea and wanted to give it justice! Plus well...Stephen is really really hot. Although we did play with some headcanons in regards to his body type, but what's a TF without some creative liberties. So in general this was a very fun trade to work on, and I also heavily suggest checking out what moltingscales made for me! He also went all-out for his half and it was absolutely gorgeous~

   Lucas Lee was not someone to return to a movie set after leaving it, and his blatant carefree attitude made that quite tangible. Hiring him these days had always been a coin-flip on whether or not he would even appear on set. After all; he was already famous, he was already rich, and he was renowned as the best in varying ways.

   Emphasis on was.

   Maybe he still had the fame, or the renown, but his career had evidently tanked fast after the incident with the paparazzi just a few days earlier. Apparently the threats of California kicking him out ended up becoming true, the man having quickly landing himself on the Hollywood Blacklist. So this left him in Toronto, cut off from his riches and effectively jobless… or at least he would be.

   For once in his life Lucas had returned to a movie set after leaving, but it was clear nothing was the same as it was a few days ago. While he wasn't necessarily let go from the production of Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life he still had dropped off the set long enough for someone else to snipe the leading role of Scott Pilgrim from him. The director seemed to take some level of pity on the disgraced actor, however… okay well, not necessarily. Apparently they still didn't have someone to occupy one of the roles in the film and at this point in the production they were desperate for anyone to fill it.

   That's how Lucas landed a dinghy trailer, and in his hand was his new script that had highlights for his new role. That role being… the one of Stephen Stills.

   “Still don't know who that even is…” Lucas grumbled as he eyed the pages. 

   The lack of knowledge on the guy wasn't helped either due to the fact that the role felt so small. Having such a minor role also felt so foreign to a hot shot actor such as him. After all, he was always the starring role in the films he was in. Always the center of attention and always the person the action or romance followed. That was just how it's been since the start of his career! But now… now he's been given this. Sidelined with minimal scenes and very few things going for his character. He may as well have been given a background character at this point. 

   These thoughts alone are enough to cause Lucas to seethe in anger, yet he continues to eye the script. Although the actor would still be left confused as to what exactly he's been given. “How the hell am I meant to do any of this?” 

   Lucas tried but everytime he envisions a scene in his head or reads out a line in his mind all he sees is the pure tameness of the role. It was something he just was not accustomed to as an action star. Just standing around and talking? And all while Scott (the role he originally was meant to play) got the major battles and conflicts. It may have been counterintuitive but despite being an actor he doesn't feel like he could act in a role like this. Doing something that felt like it all amounted to nothing!

   His train of thought then paused for a second. Nothing. Is that what he was now? Downgraded to roles nobody will care about…? 

   “Pfft, no, I…” he stopped staring at the script for a moment, a fake smile on his face. He still had a chance to regain who he was! This was just a setback, his life wasn't over…! Those attempts at comfort made his smile lower though, Lucas not believing any of them. “Whatever,” he tries to shrug it all off. 

   The negative self-conscious feeling remains, lingering and slowly but surely starting to gnaw at Lucas’ confidence. And as his gaze returned to the words of the script that feeling would only continue to strengthen…

   Each word of each line lingers in the mind of the actor and as it does he can't help but dwell on the fact that he just felt like he wasn't given much with this role. There was no standing out to be done, nothing major for the name Lucas Lee to be put onto. His talents just felt incompatible with the role that was Stephen Stills.

   …or perhaps he just wasn't talented enough…

   The thought was foreign at first. One that was abnormal considering how he is. But maybe the prospect of the broken pedestal was just getting to him, a prospect that made the statement echo off his skull to the point he couldn't help but dwell on it. By this point everything was making him start to feel a little anxious. And born from that anxiety Lucas starts to do something he has never found himself doing before. Slowly his hand lifted up to his face, hand growing closer to his opening mouth until the end of his fingers could rest on his lips. His teeth then find purchase on a fingernail and he… bites down on it.

   He doesn't stop either. He was just idly biting his nails now, an action that had in mere moments felt instinctual to him now. As if this was just his go-to way to take out his anxious emotions. It doesn't even seem to click for him that he started to do this either. It just seemed like it was just integrated into his muscle memory.

   That isn't the only thing he wasn't noticing either. While he bit his nails it seemed that some level of wearing was etching into them. What was usually perfectly trimmed and cared for was rapidly deteriorating in appearance, a level of jaggedness being embedded into the keratin. Even stranger was the fact that this wasn't happening to just one hand. The nails on both hands were getting damaged, shown by their tips whitening from it while their roundness got increasingly uneven amongst them all. Almost like years of nail biting was being accumulated in seconds.

   His nails also didn't seem to be alone in the wave of physical changes as the remainder of his hands were seemingly getting altered to some degree alongside them. This was particularly more tangible at their front as the usually soft and pristine appearance of his palms steadily got rougher. A level of hardening creeped into the skin, especially on his fingers, as layers of skin were thickening. Repeated instances of friction just getting placed into his hands in the form of calluses.

   The back of his hands weren't left unscathed either. Lucas' bodily hair had not been the most visible, especially around his arms, but that was quickly changing as darker hairs started to sprout out the back of his limbs. It was small at first with a few stray hairs poking out the skin, but a level of coarseness quickly arose as more and more fuzz made itself known. Even weirder was the coloration seemingly being different from the actor’s usual by being brown instead of black.

   Furthermore the short sleeves of Lucas’ t-shirt made their increasing hairiness tangible as well. It was fairly concurrent with the changes in his hands with coarse brown fuzz making its way up his arm. The once smooth feel of his skin was quickly being replaced by an appearance that could only be described as rugged. And that wasn't the only change happening to his arms either as they were in the process of undergoing a much more drastic change, that being in his very musculature.

   There was a level of loss in Lucas’ muscle mass that was becoming quickly apparent. The pure thickness of his forearms shrinking away little by little with the overall diameter losing centimeters. The same could be said for his upper arms as well as the pure definition of his biceps and triceps were getting lost, atrophying steadily under the effects of this mysterious transformation. Oddly enough though it would seem he wasn't being made skinny. Where his muscles were leaving it would seem a new layer of tissue was growing in tangible to at least attempt to make up in bulk, and that was fat. Quite a bit of it actually with fat quickly growing in prominence within his limbs, wrapping around them and replacing the hard thickness of raw muscle with the bulky softness of chub. Although judging by the lack of tightness in his shirtsleeves it was clear that the thickness his fat was providing didn't make up fully for the muscles he had lost.

   Lucas had been oblivious of his changes, at least at first. There was a point after the first minute where he stopped biting his nails, wiping the hand off his shirt to deal with any saliva (and seemingly leaving a currently unnoticeably patch of blue discoloration on the all black fabric). He would then proceed to give his chin a scratch as he continued to analyze the script, unaware that the act was making his chin stubble seemingly get a little more sparse.

   “Urgh-” he grunted out of partial annoyance, and partial discomfort in his stomach. “N-no matter how I look at this I just can't get into the feel of Stephen! Maybe I'm just not cut out for this…”

   That anxious feeling within him had only grown more and more prevalent. That he just wasn't going to be good enough for this, that he wouldn't be able to pull through in what was expected of him. Lucas’ usually carefree attitude was seemingly fading as all he could think about was the inevitable possibility of failure. He was an action star, not a side character! Although in truth he didn't really feel like either of those…

   The discomfort in his stomach flared up again causing Lucas to lose grip on the script and drop everything. “Agh, damn-” he muttered, starting to hold an arm around his stomach as he could feel it churn and bloat. And the longer he did so the more he started to realize something about his belly felt off. Was it… softer?

   That was the moment he looked down at his body. That was the moment he noticed everything.

   “Wh-what the!?” he exclaimed, raising up his arm in front of him. The muscles were still in the process of shrinking by this time, and fat was gaining prominence, all while both his arms were noticeably getting hairier. “What's going on!? What's happening to my muscles, my-” his panicked statement was cut short by another groan, his stomach still churning. All he could do was take his focus off his arm and direct it onto his stomach.

   His growing stomach. His rounder stomach. “O-oh God…”

   This transformation was evidently a concurrent endeavor that was affecting his entire body in rapid succession. While some parts could lag behind in the end everything was happening at the same time. So even while Lucas hadn't been looking, his torso had been in the process of shifting this entire time, and it had all started at his muscles.

   The epithet of Best Chest on the Business wasn't a lie seeing as Lucas Lee indeed possessed a massive shelf that was his pectoral muscles. That wasn't the case now though as due to the usually tightness of his shirt it was noticeable his chest was shrinking. The usually massive size of his pectorals dwindled in size, and it wasn't long until the indent his cleavage left in the fabric. Just years of working out and enhancing his form being lost. And in its stead, as it did with his arms, fat began to accumulate in order to make up for the loss in size. As his muscle mass dwindled his amount of chest fat increased at the same time, the newly formulating softness pushing forward steadily. The amount of fat he'd get wouldn't be enough to create a sizable shelf equal to that he used to possess but it was still enough to give his form some amount of thickness.

   The real show of changes happened in Lucas’ abdominal region however. His usually thick set of abs had already been quick to shrink away, partially the cause for the churning that was in his gut. And the other cause was the fat that was bubbling up from the region, manifesting within him and amassing a feeling of bloat as his body was initially not acclimated to this. Then his belly proceeded to bulge forward with fat continuing to make it swell out more and more. The hem of his shirt steadily rose over his growing belly, moving up and up to unveil his chunky gut. And by now Lucas had started watching and witnessing his gut push outwards, his belly button becoming visible at this point as a sign of just how much weight he gained. It wouldn't take much longer for his shirt’s hem to just slip upwards and his belly to begin slightly hanging over the top of his pants. 

   Lucas placed a shaky hand onto his belly as he exclaimed, “What the fuck is happening to me!?”

   The change in weight wasn't even the end either. Beneath his hand he could feel a few hairs sprout from his skin, a triangle of fuzz rising from the bottom of his belly with its tip touching his belly button. Furthermore, a trail of hair ran up from his belly button and lined his midline before reaching his chest. Brown hairs emerged from his now much more shallow cleavage before spreading across the man’s chest. What was once void of any type of body hair quickly became covered with almost a forest of it, which had only continued to dispel his body’s smoothness. At this point a low pressure began coursing across his body (his bones?) as well, and Lucas noticed that the floor seemed to be getting at least a little bit closer. A loss in height, evidently.

   “O-oh jeez,” was the first thing he could muster, his voice seemingly sounding a little less deep and a whole lot less conveying of any form of confidence. “Why is this happening? What's going on?? Why is my body like- like this!?”

   His brain was just in full panic mode. Any semblance of calmness was thrown out the window as he just stared at his body, just comprehending the difference of it all. And the fact he was transforming at all was enough to make that panic become stronger. All of it has made his prior acting woes get pushed away, but truthfully this just felt so much worse! Especially because he didn't even know who or what he was becoming.

   Then came some feeling of dwindling self-confidence, followed by the man starting to try and push his gut back into his abdomen. “Come on, come on, just get back in there!”

   He tried to disregard how different his voice was sounding, or the weird level of familiarity of it. He just wanted to be Lucas Lee again, the famous actor!

   All while he was panicking the next phases of changes had been underway. His earlier loss in height especially, primarily because of how his legs were decompressing into a shorter length. In general his legs had undergone a process of changes that were quite similar to that of his arms. His pants getting increasingly baggy as his thigh muscles diminished, hamstrings and quadriceps losing prominence as yet again the years of work put into them faded away. The same could be said for his gluteus muscles, although his rear didn't shrink too much as the increase in fat made up for the loss in size quite well in that region. A similar event even happened at the crus of his legs as his calve muscles atrophied and fat billowed out the back of his lower legs to remedy it. All while his legs got increasingly hairy, so much brown fuzz accumulating around them that it was evident that these limbs belong to someone who didn't really shave their legs.

   At the same time as his legs changed his feet had been doing so as well. With his body now shorter it had resulted in a lot of his appendages to shrink down a bit to fit his new proportions, feet included. This resulted in his shoes not being too affected by everything as he feet underwent their transformation, shifting to be a bit thicker and softer with fat while perhaps becoming just a bit wider. Hairs were in the process of poking out the top of his foot while his soles gained very minor degrees of thickness and callusing (and extremely minor in comparison to the calluses on his hand).

   It wouldn't take very long for Lucas to give up on his crusade to push his fat back into his body as the man was now deciding to embarrassingly try and pull his shirt (which by now was getting increasingly bluer) down over his belly. “How is anyone going to believe I'm Lucas now??” he stated, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he fully realized just how different he was becoming. He was going to look nothing like the action star he was, instead looking like some background nobody!

   That statement could very well be the truth as well. Especially because his face wasn't that of Lucas’, no. All during the course of his bodily transformation his face had been slowly but surely shifting into the visage of a different man…

   It started with the scratching of his stubble earlier, that very act stimulating the follicles in a way that altered them drastically. It started with a brown coloration washing over the once black hairs, similar to that of his new body hair. At the same time however there came a shift in how his stubble had appeared. What once was a rugged and almost symmetrical appearance quickly shifted with bits of fuzz retracting and the overall well-groomedness dissipating. A patchiness was quickly manifesting within his beard as a result making it uneven. And while it was still relatively short it still had a level of disheveledness and scruff to it that didn't exist prior.

   All the while more and more changes overtook the man’s facial features. While his more rectangular skull structure remained there was a level of roundness that made its way into his facial shape, his jawline seemingly coming off as less chiseled as some submental fat descended from beneath his chin. Following that came more fat and more of his features filling, softening his once well-sculpted appearance. And while it wasn't on his face, it seemed that the stylized 2 tattoo that was on his neck had rapidly faded into his skin as well.

   It would only become increasingly clear that none of this would come to an end. The straightness of his nasal bridge inwardly curved and the overall size of his nose shrunk a bit, nostrils flaring as it all reshaped into a smaller size with an almost turned-up tip. The regions under his eyes darkened, slight wrinkles forming as he was given some noticeable bagging beneath each eye. And above his eyes the same wave of brown overtook his brows while the finely trimmed appearance of them was done away with. Hairs noticeably sticking out at the top make their appearance looking less pristine and more fuzzy. It resulted in a level of more overt thickness entering his eyebrows that was accentuated further by their almost disheveledly furry appearance.

   To truly solidify the differences in Lucas’ form came was changes in his hair. The same brown creeping up from his patchy beard and etching into his sideburns before running over the remainder of his usually spiky style. That spiked style didn't even last long as each follicle got browned, instead many of them growing a little bit longer and sticking out more. As his hair got longer, volume becoming thicker, the style of it became increasingly less neat and more sloppy. Clumps sticking out in any which way by going left, right, and behind his head. At the back of his head his hair noticeably grew to the nape of his neck before sticking slightly upwards and fraying. A fair amount of his hair even hung over his forehead, seemingly short yet still very messy in appearance. The only way to describe his new style was being practically adjacent to one’s hair when they get out of bed in the morning. Disorganized with ends sticking out all over.

   This all cycles back to the present with Lucas’ form having become, well, not Lucas. Even his mind didn't seem to be running off his usual mindset as the thought of being gone from the public eye made him unhand his shirt’s hem and grab the sides of his head in panic. Grinding his teeth together he just couldn't stop dwelling over every single thing that went wrong in the past few minutes- hours- days! Demotions and failures and inabilities and- and everything- Every part of his body lost the ability to shake all of this off with a simple whatever and let it be! It just didn't feel like he was him anymore and all these thoughts became overwhelming! And inevitably once everything becomes overwhelming, something has to give…

   In this case it was the mental aspect of Lucas that was Lucas. The anxiety was rapidly overriding all sense of self within the man, his own identity being overhauled at a rapid pace. Stray thoughts and memories overran his mind as the very prospect of action star was seemingly thrown out of a mental window. The word fame did stick inside his brain, but the word was seemingly shifted drastically. And while he could just barely grasp onto having been someone else for a few seconds with just the thought of ‘he was still a good actor, right?’ it still wasn't enough to register such a notion in a serious manner. After all, everything in his mind was spiraling into making him think he was just part of a garage band.

   Soon it all flowed into his personality. Even though his personality had been integrating a very anxious and panicky persona within his mind there was so much more to shift. Nigh self-absorbness being replaced with low self-confidence, intense desire for bodybuilding fading away to nothing, and any level of disregard for anything instead becoming a regard for too many things. There were even undefined aspects of his sense of self that had gotten shifted with one of the more prominent ones being his own sexuality. Something about it was being solidified (or perhaps unearthed?) as his changing mentality developed a taste in men. So in the end his perception of reality, his entire bank of memories, his entire life. All of it was being reconstructed under a new name and that name was…

   Stephen Stills.

   And all during the man's panicked breakdown there were two final surges of changes.

   The first of the two came with his clothing. Although the aforementioned shade of blue had spread itself across the fabric it was only now that the true result of that would come to life. It would start with a pair of breast pockets manifesting in the upper torso area of the shirt, one on each side of the front. This was followed up by a split running itself down the shirt’s middle, already fastened buttons seemingly manifesting from that split. As the split lengthened up and down the shirt the hem would drop down and cover his belly, the newly divided panels of the shirt seemingly not tucking themselves in. Furthermore the neck of the shirt extended upwards, making its way up the lower end of his neck before folding downwards and becoming a collar instead. The once short sleeves of the shirt also proceeded to lengthen, quickly running down his arms until they could reach his wrists before promptly rolling themselves into cuffs that were a little ways below his elbows. The last change that came to his shirt was an inverted wave-like seam that etched across the uppermost quarter of each end of the split, a shift that gave his shirt what could only be described as cowboy vibes.

   The rest of his clothing underwent a much less interesting change. The black hue of his pants was lightened to gray as they shrunk a little to fit his slightly smaller size. Meanwhile his shoes shifted to refit his feet as well with the white and black coloration being deepened to a plain brown tone.

   The second surge of changes though, that came in the form of the very reality around him being shifted. The small trailer that was on the set of a movie was warped with everything within it being reshaped. Objects disappear or reshape while the van-like internals expand and ground as it becomes more like an actual room. The set that was outside was also seemingly being morphed as well to fit this new development. It wasn't long until he would find himself in his garage that was surrounded by the neighborhood he resided in. And considering he was just coming to…

   “AHHHH, what's going on!?” he shrieks in panic before opening his eyes and finding… his garage. “Whuh, huh? I thought…”

   He paused. Wait, what was he thinking? He can't really remember. All he knows is he felt a severe level of anxiety that he couldn't quite pinpoint the reason behind. He circled around in place for a moment to find a source, but all he found was his garage with the Sex Bob-Omb band equipment originally behind him. 

   “Maybe I was just stressed about band practice…?” he tried to reason. But something about that statement felt off. Wrong…

   …

   “Ugh, this is too confusing to wrap my head around fully.”

   With a sigh Stephen walks over towards the couch located at the back of the garage and takes a seat. It would be nice to just clear his head and calm down before the others arrive for practice…

#character tf #tf #transformation #human tf #weight gain tf #bara tf #male transformation

[ynisreal]

wires (6) - michael afton x reader

summary: An unfortunate event happens. Michael finally leaves the establishment. You´re getting close to the truth. (5.5k) tw: death scenes, description of a corpse, police? and mentions of trauma.

Chapter Six

You arrive at the establishment at your usual time. Your interaction with Michael yesterday made you a little nervous, the stories he told you and the reaction he got at the end of his shift made you more paranoid than you really should have been. They were rumors, they were just gossip around the neighborhood, at least that's what you believed, but Michael's reaction, the strength with which he held you in the air, despite your protests and kicks to get you down, he didn't flinch. Michael carried you across the auditorium, his arms firmly around you, acting as if you were a threat to yourself. As if what you did or how you behaved would hurt you. It hammered away in your head all night, the confusion keeping you awake for a few hours until your heavy eyes forced you to sleep.

Your thoughts haunted you until this morning, following you to the front door of your work, greeting you at the entrance. Michael wasn't at the office waiting for you, unlike yesterday. You had warned him about Noah coming to the establishment today, which meant that Michael couldn't be seen here with you during your working hours, otherwise it would raise questions and problems with the company's head office, which would be a problem the two of you didn't want to deal with.

You go about your usual routine when you arrive at the establishment, checking all the closed doors that Michael locked during his working hours and turning on the lights in the animatronics' rooms. When you arrive at the Funtime auditorium, your eyes immediately meet the mysterious door you opened last night. You remember the events that led to Michael's reaction, and the presence of the forgotten animatronic comes to mind. With all the emotions that arose between you and Michael, you ended up forgetting to mention the hidden animatronic in the room, since the subject would probably aggravate Michael's nerves.

Your steps are directed towards the mysterious room, with the aim of checking whether Michael has locked it. Your fingers touch the cold handle, which is still a little dusty from lack of use. To your immense surprise, the door was still unlocked. Michael must have been so shaken up last night, you thought, that he forgot to lock the door again. And you were right, Michael wouldn't let you out of his arms for a few moments before you insisted that you had to go back to work. The man never went near that door again, and neither did you, feeling his gaze burning into your back every time you entered the auditorium to carry out a task.

You find the animatronic in the same position as before, the eyes that looked like two lanterns reasonably illuminating the dark room. "Damn, I'm sorry I left you here alone again," you criticize yourself for not having done anything about the great forgotten robot, "When Noah comes today, I'll have to ask him to notify headquarters." You take one last look at the robot, feeling a sense of pity for the disused machine.

As this little interaction comes to an end, the interphone sounds throughout the corridors of the establishment, announcing Noah's arrival. You quickly leave the room, leaving the door open as a reminder of the conversation you would have to have with the architect. Your run to the control room leaves the audible traces of your loud, careless footsteps for Michael to hear in the secret room, chuckling softly as he realizes the hurry in your steps. He was deep in thought today, seeing you so close to the scooping room brought such despair to Michael's already dead heart that he had to take several breaks to breathe and calm down during the day. He kept thinking of all the possibilities, the images of you with your stomach open and your guts spilling out onto the floor being imprinted on his mind. Michael doesn't know what he'd do with himself if that happened, well, he'd probably die again. And what's worse, he'd have no one to blame, no one to torture or kill for your death, being, once again in this absurd franchise, a terrible accident.

"Yes, yes, the report should be in the control room," your voice carries through the corridors, silencing Michael's aggressive thoughts, " I'll go get it," you answer Noah.

"Alice is doing some errands I asked her to do," Noah continues, his tone more irritated than usual, perhaps because of his assistant's absence. "You need to pick up the wood from that carpentry shop, there are some flooring options that the team is analyzing," the architect mentions to you, to which you internally roll your eyes. Michael clenches his jaw as he hears what the architect has asked of you, for fuck's sake, why couldn't Noah get it himself? Michael can already visualize the scene of you carrying the heavy wood, letting it fall on your foot or your delicate hand full of wooden splinters.

As frustrated as you were by the inconvinience of having to pick up the materials, you nodded enthusiastically, especially given Noah's mood, thanks to Alice not being here to mediate between you and the architect. However, you couldn't deny it, Noah was a brilliant architect, from the glimpses you had of the contents of the boxes, it was quality work with a well-defined theme, which made you excited to see the results of the work by the duo of architects who always took your peace away.

Noah stares at you, with an irritated look on his face, seemingly waiting for you to react. "Now," he says, frowning in frustration. This makes you widen your eyes in surprise, as you thought you could pick up the wooden items on your way out of work. Noah rolls his eyes at your surprised look, used to Alice's immediate responses.

"I can't leave the establishment before my workday is over," you try to explain, but Noah doesn't wait to hear it, taking the report from your hands. "If you come by tomorrow, I can have the materials here-", you sigh when you realize that he really didn't wait, already starting to walk towards the animatronics rooms, signaling that he doesn't care about your answer.

Michael is going to go crazy when he finds out that I carried pieces of wood into the building, you think, smiling to yourself. It's true, you may not know it, but Michael was able to hear Noah's request, and indeed, he was annoyed with the architect, always making sure that you didn't have to hurt yourself carrying heavy materials. As you remember the man, your frustration subsides a little, and you think about leaving a note for him today when you leave, given how nervous he was yesterday.

You make your way to the elevator, quickly checking that the keys to the doors are in your pocket along with your credential as you go. Michael hears the sound of the doors opening and closing, signifying that you had gone out to get the wooden materials. Now that you were out of the store, Michael was no longer entertained by hearing you work, so he lay back on the mattress, his head hidden in the thin pillow Henry had brought for him. After his death, Michael no longer had the ability to sleep, which was greatly missed in the eternal boredom that awaited him, but he could manage to relax in a state of meditation, his soul quieting down along with his thoughts. It wasn't like sleeping, but for the time being, it would do.

Michael could still hear the sound of boxes being dragged around the premises and Noah's annoying voice that was sometimes present when the architect was thinking aloud. It was the complete opposite of how Michael wanted to spend his afternoon, he wanted to be listening to your voice, your careless footsteps and watching you work while he hid in the shadows of the corridors. The dead man was tired, the image of you near the scooping room having drained his entire soul of any vitality, and going without hearing or seeing you didn't help. Frustrated, he picked up the small cottons next to his pillow and covered his own ears, being careful not to let any more skin fall off, as his skin was extremely weak and had to be stitched up several times a week. It was odd to not hear anything, but strangely liberating, the absence of the drums his heart used to play leaving a quietude inside his dead body.

With these thoughts, Michael kept his eyes open, picking up one of the many medical books Henry had gathered. The field of health had become one of Michael's interests after his death, since he was a failure at the various lessons the books pointed out, but it was interesting to understand the changes his body would witness. He now knew that his hair would take longer than other tissues to decompose, and that, as he had no intestines or stomach because the scooper had removed them, the hungry bacteria wouldn't eat his body from the inside out. This was a small relief in the desperate situation he found himself in, so he began to devour the diverse knowledge presented in the short sentences together with the complex images, forgetting how much he was missing your voice.

Your return to the store is delayed, taking longer than necessary, since you had dropped one of the pieces of wood on your foot as you were leaving the store and the caring owner bandaged your foot for you, afraid that you might have broken something. You don't think you broke it, but the impact of the wood on the bone of your foot had swollen and turned the skin purple. The way back to the establishment was made with you limping and the woods leaving small splinters in your lap during the cab ride. On the way up the elevator, you sigh heavily, pleased with your success, even at the cost of your foot, in bringing the pieces of wood to Noah. You are aware that the architect will not show any gratitude for your hard work, but just being able to tell Michael about your strength and ability brings a smile to your face. You can imagine the duality of pride and anger in the man's face, proud to see you working hard but angry at the architect for sending you to do a job that could have been solved by Noah himself.

"Sir? I've arrived", you announce as you open the noisy doors of the establishment, "I've brought the woods". You don't wait to hear a reply, leaving the pieces of wood on one of the tables in the main hall, walking towards the corridors. Noah wasn't very receptive, so it was no surprise that he was ignoring your presence. "Noah?" you called out as you looked between the open doors of the animatronics' rooms, searching for the architect. He still wasn't answering you or revealing the room he was in, which was making you frustrated. Your foot wasn't in the best condition to be walking around the entire establishment looking for Noah.

You entered the Funtime Auditorium when you saw the lights on, so you assumed that Noah was inside the room and maybe he was ignoring you for some reason that only made sense in his head. And well, you were right, Noah was there, but not ignoring you because he wanted to, but because he couldn't answer you. The architect was dead, but specifically with his face deformed, his chin dislocated to allow his mouth to be open in a non-human capacity, as if someone had tried to enter. His body had several deep cuts, so deep that they painted the floor with blood and allowed organs and muscles to be exposed or fall out around him. His eyes were on the door, they were on you, as if he were crawling around looking for the exit.

You don't scream, you don't really do anything. Your blood pressure drops, leaving your body immobile and your eyes glued to the corpse in front of you. You didn't have the strength to move your head, your body forcing you to face what would be one of the worst traumas of your life. Shit, your mother was more than a bitch to you and to your sister, your father also abandoned you even when your brain couldn't process what abandonment was and the responsibilities that took your freedom so early were traumatic, but they were alive and warm. They weren't full of blood, with exposed muscles and the ground littered with organs around an empty human.

Your survival instincts finally took over your body, the adrenaline making the pain in your foot disappear and your blood pressure rise again, pumping blood throughout your body, silencing your mind, knowing that the anxiety and fear could be felt later. You take off running, your breath caught in your chest, thinking that if you left the oxygen in your lungs it would let you go unnoticed by the possible killer. Your legs think the opposite, sticking to the floor roughly and noisily, not caring about anything other than getting out through those doors.

When you reach the main hall, you bump into tables and chairs, not bothering to change trajectory, just feeling an unimaginable force rise up inside you, pushing all the objects in front of you, allowing them to leave bruises on your legs from the impact. You open the doors and the loud sound doesn't scare you, the scene you've encountered leaving no room for any other fear or surprise to stimulate your brain. The elevator doors are open, and you rush in, clicking the first button you can reach. You collapse onto the floor, crying loudly, begging anyone listening to make this elevator go down faster. You were desperate, your heart burning in your chest, signaling to your brain the state of stress you were in.

The elevator doors open, and you run through the streets, looking for anyone who can help you. You finally find a small family, who flinch in fear at the sight of a woman running through the streets screaming at the top of her lungs - you probably looked like an insane person. When the words "police" and "death" sound coherent between your panting and your screams, the lady holds the hands of the small child next to her, and calmly replies that they will take you to the nearest police unit.

Michael was still reading, the cotton in his ear allowing his concentration to be enhanced, analyzing the various images that represented the division of the leg muscles. The man, in boredom and endless quiet, challenged himself to memorize the differences of each, pointing at his own leg and trying to guess. Even though his muscles were practically atrophied by this point. The sound of the doorknob of the secret room being forced open was so loud that it pierced through the thick cotton fabric, startling the man. He keeps quiet, thinking it was you trying to get in or checking that the doors were locked properly before you left.

"Michael? It's me, open up," Henry's voice makes the younger man sigh in relief, getting up from the mattress to open the door. Henry practically pushes Michael as soon as he gains access to the small room, which makes Michael frown in annoyance. Why was Henry in such a hurry? The older man was gasping for breath and sweat was showing on his blue shirt.

"Pack your things," Henry says quickly, pulling the sheets off the mattress on the floor, "Anything you can't carry, hide it, we're getting out of here," the older man continues, hastily gathering the sheets in his arms to pick up other items scattered on the floor of the small room. Michael couldn't ask what was going on, used to the trust he had in Henry, only listening to the man he considered family and starting to hide the books and throw a cloth over the small television in the corner. Michael's items weren't cluttered, taking up a small amount of space in the secret room, given that he always organized it to be more visibly comfortable, leaving his things lined up and clean of dust. Michael picked up the mattress and put it under the metal rack, helping Henry pick up the last of the books and CDs that had been stashed away, finally following the anxious man out of the establishment. He had quickly put on his mask, covering the lower part of his face, letting the hood hide his eyes and skin.

Michael was nervous, of course; he hadn't left the same place for months, staring at the same walls and corridors for what seemed like an eternity. As he reached the elevator, he heard Henry leave the items he was carrying on the floor while he reached into the pocket of his jeans for something. "Put these on," the older man handed Michael a pair of sunglasses, which he quickly put on, knowing that the sunlight would be unbearable for his eyes, which were used to the darkness and yellow bulbs of the establishment.

The pair got out of the elevator and walked straight to the garage, where there were three vehicles: Michael's old, abandoned motocycle, Henry's car and a luxury car that he assumed belonged to Noah. Michael's thoughts were racing and anxious, full of questions and guesses as to what might be going on. However, after so long living with doubts and an eternal state of anxiety, Michael knew better than to question Henry in these moments, knowing that the two of them could trust each other more than anyone else. Henry would never do anything to hurt or harm Michael, he knows that, so even if he was confused by the abrupt way the two were leaving the establishment, he would wait for the right moment to get the answers he wanted.

The two of them practically threw the items they were carrying into the back seat, as Michael began to hear the loud noise of sirens arriving near the establishment. Henry hears it too, quickly starting the vehicle and rushing Michael into the passenger seat. The gray-haired man drives out of the parking lot at a speed so fast that it must be illegal for a street as quiet and abandoned as this one. Through the dark lenses of his glasses, Michael turns back to find the scene of several police cars and an ambulance arriving at the establishment through the rear window of Henry's car. The distance between the vehicles and the pair was enough to calm the nerves of the older man, who let out a loud sigh, letting his grip on the steering wheel relax. Henry had managed to get Michael out of the establishment before the police arrived, leaving without suspicion or trouble.

Michael looked at the man next to him when he heard his sigh, quickly analyzing Henry's body language. He was a little pale, sweat had accumulated on his forehead and shirt, his eyes were wide and his face bore fear. No, not again. Michael immediately thought, knowing what it meant to see Henry afraid. The pair had witnessed the horrors and traumatizing scenes that made any horror film or story seem like a fairy tale. Seeing Henry afraid was alarming, and it could only mean something. Or someone.

"Where's Y/n?" Michael asks, voice hoarse and low, his bandaged hand rubbing lightly against the inside door handle of the car, knowing that, depending on the answer, he was ready to throw himself out of the moving car to get to you. Henry takes a deep breath, and looks at the man he regarded as his son, smiling slightly, "She's fine, don't worry," he replies, quickly returning his gaze to the street.

"What happened?" Michael knows that Henry wouldn't lie in a situation like this, so if he said you were fine, it was the truth. But where were you? Where was Noah? Why were there police cars and an ambulance at the establishment? Michael wanted to know what had happened, why Henry had brought Michael out of hiding and if it somehow involved you.[

"Noah's dead," Henry replied dryly, "He was murdered." Honestly, anyone would have screamed or burst into tears at hearing about someone's violent death, but, sadly, Michael and Henry had heard this same phrase so many times that Michael was expecting to hear news similar to this. It was selfish, but the fact that your name wasn't on the phrase that haunted Michael calmed the man's nerves. "The police called the company, reporting that one of our employees had seen a dead body in this facility," Henry continued, "I came running to get you before the police arrived on the scene."

Michael's eyes widen, and he clenches his fists, "Who found the body?" He already knew the answer, but it was a reality he didn't want to accept. Henry took a deep breath, clenching his hands on the steering wheel again in frustration, not directed at Michael, but frustrated with the eternal heartbreak and disappointments that their life seemed to have become. "Y/n, Mike," the nickname came softly from the older man's lips, knowing it was a difficult reality for Michael to accept. Henry knew that the younger man had found comfort in you, always recounting the little interactions the two of you had or revealing traits of your personality that seemed to charm Michael more and more. It was heartbreaking to see the sparkle return to Michael's dark eyes, eyes that had become dead and black because of the various situations that Henry had no control over. The older man had already lost his only daughter to this nightmare in the form of an entertainment franchise, he had found a family and support in Michael, and he wanted nothing more than to see the son he had raised be happy. But that's what usually happens, that's what Henry knew would happen when he saw the smile on the younger man's face again: you would get involved. You'd be lost and caught in the spider's web that was both of their lives, and it would kill Michael all over again.

"Fuck," is what comes out of Michael's lips when he hears your name, even though he already knew it was the most likely thing to happen. But damn it, he couldn't help getting angry, clenching his fists and closing his eyes. Why did it have to be you? A woman who looked so beautiful with a smile on her face, who matched it so well with a soft, happy complexion that seemed to become even more charming when you laughed. You had finally faced a bit of the hell that Michael lived in and he could only imagine your features full of despair, your delicate figure trembling in fear and agony, your beautiful smile turning into a loud, tormented cry.

"She's fine, the police have taken care of her," Henry tried to comfort the man next to him, seeing Michael's closed fists, recognizing the all-too-familiar anger that had stalked Michael's body language since he was a teenager. "Y/n should be in the ambulance being cared for by the professionals," he continues, knowing that if Michael knew you weren't alone and receiving proper support, it might calm the man's nerves.

But no, Michael wasn't with you. Michael wasn't comforting you, he wasn't holding your trembling figure, holding your head as you cried. Michael wanted to whisper in your ear how protected you would be in his arms, how far he would go to ensure your safety. He knew that you should be receiving professional support and would probably be escorted home, where you would cry in the arms of the sister you love so much. Michael didn't answer Henry, knowing that the thoughts he was having wouldn't be understood by the man. Michael just wanted to see you, he knew what it was like to see a corpse for the first time, having experienced this scene all too soon.

"Look, I'm going to check on her later," Henry says after a moment's silence. Michael looks at him, finally a softer look when he hears that Henry is going to check on you. "I need to talk to her anyway, to understand what happened... I can take a message from you to her."

Michael nods, grateful for Henry's help. He knows it won't be enough, just a note or a caring message, Michael wanted to be by your side, healing all your fears just like you did for him.

"Okay, thanks Henry," Michael says and goes back to staring at the view from the window. He had so many thoughts running through his head that he didn't even stop to realize that he was finally out of the establishment. Michael understands that it won't be forever, and that eventually he'll have to go back into hiding, but just being able to see the sunlight again, feeling the warmth illuminate the purple skin of his fingers and the sound of cars interupting the silence.

The day he was left in an alleyway by Ennard, dumped to decompose, it was night, dimly lit and there was little movement on the streets. The establishment wasn't the best in terms of lighting either, so it was the first time he was seeing, really observing, the state of his body. The purple tone covering his skin was dark, some black spots were forming due to necrosis of the muscles and skin, the bands covering his hand were already old, but he knew that if he took them off now, his fingers would probably fall off. Michael opens his jacket a little to see the scar that expands from the beginning of his chest to the top of his pelvic area, bringing back memories of Henry stitching up his empty torso, his bloody hands pulling out any form of wire he could find inside Michael.

It didn't hurt, at least not at the time, the reality of the situation he was in being too absurd for him to focus on anything other than the fact that he wasn't dead*.*** Now, seeing that scar, it was a bit nostalgic, the changes in his body signifying this new phase of his days, and well, the days he met you.

You were still in shock, your hands hugging your two legs while your head was up, watching the policemen enter and leave the establishment. Your body had used up all the adrenaline, leaving you in this state of waking unconsciousness, just letting the stimulus be noticed but not responded to. You didn't have the strength to answer any more questions or listen to the various words of kindness from the health professionals. From what you had understood, you were not a suspect, but they had to keep you close to answer any more questions, given that you were the only one to interact with Noah on his last day. Alice had already been notified, rushing into the establishment, throwing herself on the concrete and crying loudly to see her insufferable boss at least one last time before his body was taken away. Well, he was unbearable, and probably very lonely, given that no one could bear to live with a man like that, but Alice came and mourned his death, over the fact that he would never disturb the little assistant again.

You couldn't feel sad, just going over the terrible image you'd found today, you'd never seen organs or the deformation of a face. It was so bizarre to see a capable, living human being turned into a transfigured image. You didn't want to go home, afraid of seeing the same image on your sister's face or in the dark corners of your room. You were feeling afraid, and it was a bit selfish, you believe, rather than mourning the death of a work colleague, you were afraid of being next. Certainly, dying like that must have hurt, and it must have been a torturous pain. You don't want to die in pain or screaming for help, but Noah probably didn't want to die like that either.

"Y/n?" a male voice calls out to you, but you don't turn your face to see who it is. Honestly, your eyes couldn't leave the doors of the establishment, ready to see the killer running after you or Noah's ghost waving at you. "Y/n?", the voice calls out again, which irritates you, making your face turn automatically to look for whoever was disturbing your silence.

"Oh, hi," you let out when you see the man who interviewed you in front of you. You had forgotten that a body was found inside the establishment where you were employed, so it was obvious that someone would be sent from the main office to come and talk to you.

"I don't know if you remember me, my name is Henry, I'm the one who interviewed you in the selection process," Henry comments, a soft smile forming on the man's face. He seemed nice, you remember, despite the lie he told in the interview, you seemed to like him. You don't smile back. "Look, I came to talk to you about what happened, but from what I've been told you're here all day, so we can talk another time if you prefer," Henry says, giving you the freedom to impose whatever limits your trauma allows.

You put your hands to your face, tired of having to recount the same sequence of events to every person who came to talk to you. It was only fair that they wanted to know, in fact, they needed to know, but the last thing you wanted was to be constantly reliving the scene where you found a dead body in the Funtime auditorium. "We can talk now, I don't want to keep doing this later," you sigh, letting your hands fall into your lap.

Henry nods, understanding your reasoning. "Well, before that, one of the workers found me and asked me to give you this," Henry holds out his hand, carrying a neatly folded, wrinkle-free piece of paper, "I had to send him away, but he insisted that I give you this."

You immediately take the note, already guessing who the writer was. You'd been thinking about Michael all day, waiting for the man to arrive for work only to see you in tears and police cars. You waited for him to come running towards your figure, taking you into a strong embrace, and letting your senses flood with the man's presence. You wanted to feel cared for by him, just as he made you feel every day at work. He always carried the heavy items for you, maybe he could carry the weight of your heart now too, letting you only feel lighter things again. But he didn't come, and it was understandable, probably the cops or the ambulance wouldn't have allowed him to go beyond the perimeter or get in touch with the only person who had information about the case, namely you.

Henry's eyes widened at the speed at which you grabbed the small piece of paper out of his hand, as if you were going to heal all your pain with just Michael's poorly written words. Perhaps they were, yours certainly cured some of Michael's pain. He watches you open and read the paper, the first smile in hours appearing on your face. Henry had seen that smile before, Michael having that same look every time he spoke of you. He didn't know what the younger man had written, letting you two have the privacy you deserve, but after seeing your face light up again, well, he was a little curious.

You smile and hold the paper in your hands, bringing it to your chest, as if Michael's words of comfort could be absorbed into your skin and act as a remedy for the emptiness your heart was feeling. As if your memory could be deleted, restarting a new story at the moment you read that note. But well, reality was never as sweet as Michael.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could give you the peace you now offer me every day. Everything must be a mess, but I promise you, my strength may come from my physique, but your strength had always come from your soul. I'll help you carry that weight too.

Love,

Michael"

#fnaf fanfic #fnaf michael afton #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #michael afton #michael afton fanfic #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #scooped michael #five nights at freddys

[thunderousavery]

Make You Mine (Ghost x Soap) Pt. 1

CW: Spoilers of MWIII (Only in A/N, I just want to vent), Blood, Curse words

A/N: I FUCKING HATE MWIII!!! Grrr... So, I'm gonna spoil myself with Ghoap fics from now on. THAT ENDING IS NOT FUCKING CANON IN MY MIND! I'M WEEPING AND GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE! Also, I'mma rewrite my other unfinished story. Just got meself in tons of shit, and now MWIII fucking disappointed me. SOAP BOI WILL LIVE FOREVER IN MY MIND! SCOTLAND FOREVA!

Description: Uh... No description yet, but this is a multichapter fic with angst, mutual pining, and everything in between. HAPPY ENDING GUARANTEED! :)) (11/04/2023) Edited Description (11/05/2023): Simon and Johnny work together once more on an intel-gathering mission. Simon ponders what Johnny really means to him when hell suddenly breaks loose. Main Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter 1 - Well, I will call you darlin’, and everything will be okay.

“Where the hell did ‘Soap’ even come from?”

That question lingered in Simon’s mind like gum stuck on a wall. Honestly, it was a stupid question, and he didn’t even know why he asked that to Johnny after their mission briefing. The first time they met, he was instantly intrigued with the Scotsman in a way that stirred his nerves weirdly.

He didn’t want to acknowledge that feeling, so he deemed it was just irritation for his happy-go-lucky attitude. Simon was never fond of such positivity. Or the Scottish accent, either.

Unlike him, Johnny was easy to like and adored by anyone whom he passed by. He was friendly and compassionate like he had all the sunshine of the fucking sun and rainbows behind his back.

Johnny was definitely unlike him. Johnny was like the light, and Simon was the darkness.

He was a grump, always sought to be alone, and never been one to stand in long conversations. They say there’s a reason why a person acts the way they are, and Simon does have a reason that he’d die with than tell a single soul. He can’t trust anyone; he doesn’t have any friends.

Sure, he knew Price, Gaz, Laswell, and so on. But they’re not his friends; Simon considers them as his allies, commodities to help him with his fights. To him, he doesn’t need friends.

So, how about Johnny, then? Simon didn’t want to ponder about it.

“Ya wanna know why me name’s called ‘Soap,’ L.T.?” Johnny shoots him a cheeky grin while waiting for the intel file to be transferred to the flash drive. And yeah, Simon also hates how he always smiled like that. He looks like a fucking rat with a mohawk, or so how he always thought about it.

It was an intel-gathering mission. They infiltrate the building, download the intel, and get the hell out in one piece. Simple task, really. Too simple for Simon’s taste, but it was a good thing they had to take some guards down to motivate his bones. Nice and silent, kill and go.

And the waiting game begins in the main office. And Johnny starts an old conversation Simon even dared to ponder upon.

“Why are we even having this conversation again, Sergeant?” Simon grunted, brown eyes behind the skull-faced mask piercing at Johnny’s blue ones as he held his rifle loosely against his hands.

“‘Coz I remembered yer curious.” The Scotsman hummed before checking out the computer to check the progress. “Everyone was. But I kept it a secret for a wee while.”

… Now, Simon was starting to be intrigued. He thought the man was outgoing, telling everyone he met about his personal life like his callsign. He probably judged him wrong.

What was it? A crazy backstory involving a bar of soap? Or was it something that he also has: a cruel experience from the trauma factory? It was an enigma to him that he wouldn’t admit he was curious about.

“So, you’re going to tell that secret to me?” Simon didn’t know why he said that; he didn’t even dare to assume he said that.

“Fer a price, of course! Yer gonna owe me a drink.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. Screw his curiosity and pitiful thoughts about him.

“Aw, come on. Was just kiddin’, y’know.” Johnny laughed softly. “Me cousin picked it out fer me. Said I could clean a room efficiently like no other.”

Simon’s eyes blinked. “… So, you’re Soap because you’re a germaphobe?”

“Heck, no. I just like to clean and—”

BOOM!

There was a loud explosion outside, ringing out the alarms of the vehicles.

“Shit, they know something’s up. Grab the intel, and let’s go.” Simon huffed and tightened his grip on his rifle once more, aiming it against the glass door just in case they got spotted. One bloody figure passes his sight, and he ought to shoot.

“Aye, copy that.” Johnny didn’t waste time grabbing the flash drive from the computer after transferring the files. Without a second thought, he shot his weapon at the computer screen and its CPU before he said, “Intel secured. Time to move out.”

Why the fuck did he even— Oh… Simon finally realizes that it was genius of him to destroy the original source. Even he hadn’t thought of that. He had to give Johnny some credit, at least.

Soon enough, they were on their feet towards the exit with haste and hawk eyes surveying the surroundings for any sign of movement. And if they did, Simon wouldn’t catch a breath to open fire.

Passing through doors and down the stairs, the building rang with the screech of the cars from outside. It was loud, and Simon hoped they wouldn’t run into an enemy. Whatever that explosion was, it should have alerted the patrols nearby. This was Russian territory, and they’d be damned to be spotted and add fuel to the flame of an already sparking war.

But…

“L.T., ya feel something odd?” Johnny asked behind him, watching his six as a good teammate that he is, but he wouldn’t admit it.

“… Yeah,” Simon grumbled as they reached the second floor. Only one more floor, but he noticed it too soon. “It’s too fucking quiet here. Not from outside, but inside.”

Something was wrong. Like a lake too calm to know about a deadly croc lurking in the waters. They need to be on their toes and fast.

No, maybe it’s just…

He failed to see the laser sight aimed at him.

“Ghost, on our 9!”

Johnny’s warning was too late. Simon stumbled back and dropped to the floor with a thud. A searing pain shot through his left shoulder near his bicep.

A sniper. They should’ve aimed for the head.

“Shit! I got ya, L.T.!” Johnny immediately crouched, helped move Simon’s body, and took cover behind the pillar walls. He held the Brit securely with an arm clutched on his upper torso before settling him in the corner. “Still solid, L.T.? Fuck, should’ve seen that comin’.”

“I’m… grr… I’m fine…” Simon growled beneath the mask through the pain as Johnny inspected the bleeding wound on his shoulder that tore through his sleeve. “It’s not that bad.”

Defensive. Pain was not new to him, but he hated it as much as being pathetic in front of people. He was strong; he trained hard to be.

And that fucking sniper will be dead by the time he gets his sight on them.

“It’s a bloody .50 caliber. Yer lucky they missed yer head.” Johnny’s voice was laced with concern that Simon couldn’t dare to acknowledge. He needs to stop the bleeding, but the bullet needs to stay for a while. He feels it’s lodged between an artery. Or worse, it ruptured an artery.

“I said I’m—”

“No shit ya are. Gonna fuck that bastard up when I see ‘em.” Johnny scoffed, and before Simon could protest, he took the scarf around his neck and wrapped it around the wounded shoulder, not too tightly but just to stop the bleeding. Blood instantly coated the cloth like a stain, and Johnny hoped it would be enough to stabilize his Lieutenant.

After securing his wound, he checked Simon’s pulse and sighed in relief before slumping beside him, his hand clutched tightly around his own rifle. For a while, Simon thought Johnny would lecture him about caring for himself, that he should accept help gladly as anyone should. And if the Scotsman ever said a word in between the lines of it, he wouldn’t hesitate to bark back and shut him up.

He doesn’t want a medical lesson coming from him. He doesn’t want his sympathy. Just one word and Simon could regret shutting any more lines of concern from that mouth.

… Yet, he didn’t. Johnny only turned his head to meet eyes with his. And there was that smile again. That poorly shaven 5-o’clock shadow smile. It wasn’t any of his usual shit-eating grin.

It was a smile so genuine that Simon couldn’t help but stare at him and be baffled by the fact that his breath was taken away by just that. Time stopped around him just to remember this like a frozen memory.

… Fucking hell.

And the only thing that brought him back to reality was Johnny’s Scottish accent. “Yer gonna be okay, so ye definitely owe me a drink this time, Simon.”

With that, Johnny stood up and held a gloved hand out for him, setting a goal to lead the way out of the building with a second objective of finding that sniper from outside.

“… Brat,” Simon grumbled but took his hand anyway just to stand up and pulled back as soon as he was on his feet again. The wound on his shoulder was still agonizing, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle.

“Aw, come on!” There’s that ratty grin again.

“Will you just…!” He wanted to scream at him. To tell him to leave him alone. To tell him to fuck off. But he just groaned from the pain in his shoulder and didn’t say anything.

They continued their attempt to escape, being sneaky this time and wary of the threat from outside. They couldn’t get a good aim on the sniper, but they could tell that the laser sight was on their tails. They used the obstacles and obstructions everywhere; Simon thought they were lucky to have plenty of covers.

As soon as they get out, he vows hell to break loose on that fucking sniper.

A/N: My boi Soap will be done justice! Only happy endings for him!

You're currently in Pt. 1

Pt. 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

#ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #cod #cod fanfic #🧼💀 #💀🧼

[fantomette22]

Hello, I need to know your thoughts about Ludwig (and Laurence if you don't mind?) - headcanon, relationship with others or just something you think about him! >:) (I didn't found them in your blog sry if you answered something like that already xd)

Alright! So for Laurence I already share a few ideas here : X - X - X - X and here.

Now for this dear Ludwig I do have a few ideas! I don't remember If I share things I don't think I share a lot 😐

Last time it was my last design of him eventually this funny idea with his sword. And I did a few other drawing on him they are around my blog somewhere 😅 I share a few here too like you have seen (I forgot some too...)

Now, what could I say before sharing a tons of lil headcanons... Well the first time I beat him it was thanks to Valtr! I found him so hard! Now it's way easier XD just a few tries in NG+ His lore is super interesting and even if he probably made tons of mistakes and bad things (see all the blood he have on his hands + church + that people even treat him like a monster?) I feel pity towards him 😢

Also the music is so good 👌 and he's the only one to maintain a bit of humanity and of himself after he turned into a beast?! JUST WOW And even if his design is sure quite... particular... an equine like beast with eyes? So unique. It could be based on the horse guardian of the underworld in Chinese mythology. (I need to look more on it there might be other influence as well).

And of course he got the holy moonlight sword! It's not anything.

And before doing the dlc I always find really interesting the bit of lore around him! (Gehrman mentioning him, the sword, badge description etc) So finally seeing him for real is impressive! If the dlc didn't existed I would have assume he was the beast possessed soul below the old workshop (yeah I have an headcanon for the poor guy too).

Now for the headcanons I have him less develop than the rest so I will just do some list! And in one of my headcanon timeline I still don't know if he should died years before Laurence or should he be there when the dream was create, kill Laurence when he turned in to a beast and die after etc.

Ok go for a few headcanons!

🗡️ He's from either a small noble family or bourgeois family. (he's ancestor were great warriors after all! That originated from Pthumeru & Cainhurst too). I don't know if he have any sibling 🤔 that would make sense if he was the youngest son or something.

🌖 He have heterochromia! His right eye is green (if not teal) and his left one dark brown. At some point his right eye will become more teal colored (same as holy moonlight sword) then blind from and injury (or the contrary).

🗡️ He's left handed. I mean I think it was already kinda oblivious and really one of the only thing that for me is not an headcanon but well canon.

🌖 He was a student at Byrgenwerth at the same time of Maria, Caryll, Rom, Mico etc whom he became fast friends with as well as Laurence & Gehrman. He studied in hm check notes either theology or something in history or military history perhaps? 😅 I am still unsure and I need it for my next fic chapter help.

🗡️ HE LOVES HORSES!!! He had a lil white shetland pony (place holder name is Leonard...) when he was a kid and he did ride horses some times to times but he didn't have one that belong to him for a lot of years. So yeah he was quite a horsegirl with Maria XD she did have a horse and she bring him at Byrgenwerth on her 2nd year and let Ludwig go on ride with him, take care on and all. As such he ask Byrgenwerth to work as a part job at the stable.

All the horses and equine love him too! Even the scared or agressive ones! He have a gift it seems.

🌖 Later on when he had to go somewhere with a horse that was either one of Maria black horses, a brown mule and his last horse a white horse (with a black mane?)

🗡️ He adopted a baby orphan crow too. I don't have a name yet but it's the research hall crow that give us the guidance rune.

🌖 Yes Laurence convince him to become a cleric how surprising I know. (They guy convert so many help)

🗡️ Before wearing the executioner / beta hunter healing church clothes he wear something similar to the Yharnam set. With a tricorn hat yep. A gift from Gehrman.

🌖 He's the first one to have wear the hunter chief emblem.

🗡️ As he kid he was kind of a Labrador/good boy type of guy that become more ruthless after becoming the leader of the hunter of the church and bad things happening around him. He was really kind, protector and courageous for his friends! even if at times he seems he bit oblivious to what was going on around him XD and shocked lot of the times 🤣 see the encounter with a shadow of Yharnam hvhqf

🌖 I am still hesitating on when/where he got the holy moonlight sword. I guess he got a blood transfusion before hand and either lost himself 2-3 days in Pthumeru, Loran or Isz or another underground labyrinth. The other were really worried and glad he was alive. Even if he was hurt had a weird magic sword and say he heard and saw things now. "Yeah like Caryll! Nothing to be worried of." "But Laurence-"

🗡️ He know how to dance in ballroom properly and could play piano and a horn.

🌖 He was kind toward the new hunters (workshop & church) and help Simon got his bow for example.

🗡️ He was choose as the leader of the church hunters because of many aspect : cleric, better vibe to the public and to talk to LOTS of people than poor Gehrman rip, proximity with Laurence, Holy moonlight sword, guidance rune, hear voices don't let Flora lure you Ludwig!, one of the first tomb prospector for the church etc

🌖 Yeah he was, maybe, really close with Laurence if you see what I mean 😏 he might have mercy kill Laurence too... that's the huge crack on the skull...

🗡️ he had great relationship with Maria, Gehrman, Caryll, the scholars and all when everything went well. Still when everything began to spiral down (after Maria died, before Moon presence) he still went to see Gehrman with Micolash to drink tea really occasionally, without Laurence knowing.

🌖 He got at least a scar on his face because of the fishing hamlet.

🗡️ At the end of his life he went kinda crazy and smash everything while closing his eyes... so yeah many collateral damaged... things become worst and he transformed and many people died.. the hunters who discover what happened to Ludwig where shut in cells (Yamamura, Gratia, + a few other guys)

🌖 And last one, if he have a cute nickname it would be Lulu ^^

I probably forgot a few things but it should be all for now!

#bloodborne #my asks #bloodborne headcanons #ludwig the holy blade #my art #laurence the first vicar #ludwig the accursed #also I just discover a saint was named Ludwig lol

[hanjisick]

warning. yandere themes. murder. kidnapping.

[ready or not] your burner phone was clutched tightly in your hands, shakily typing to your only friend who had stayed with you throughout your relationship with minho.

“leaving.” you wrote, sending the message and shoving it into your pocket before leaving the house.

minho’s words flood your brain as you began to run. were they truly only threats?

if you thought too much about it, you’d turn back for the safety of your friend.

she told you to not think into it much, to trust her.

you planned your escape for months now, and everything was going just to plan.

the bus had arrived not a moment later from what your friend had said, boarding it and trying your best to not stand out.

it had been over a year since you had gone in public without minho, and you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do anymore.

the bus left at 5:40 PM. minho would be walking through the door right now. it will take him a few more minutes to realize you’re gone.

the bus arrived at your friends house in another hour, where you would be staying until you could find somewhere permanent, preferably far away from him.

relief flooded over you as she hugged you, the first hug you had received in forever from someone other than him.

she ushered you inside, her gentle smile making you truly feel like it was okay once again.

her boyfriend greeted you as well, surprising you with another hug.

for once, you had a regular conversation with a normal dinner.

there were no threats. no graphic descriptions of how they had killed others.

just a quiet, peaceful dinner.

your peace had lasted until nightfall, your friend being kind enough to offer you a pillow and blanket as well as her living room couch.

closing your eyes, you truly felt free once again.

the feeling, however, didn’t last long as you jolted awake in a familiar place from a forceful kick to your shin.

“you’re awake,” minho grinned, leaning down to your level and brushing the hair out of your eyes.

you were disoriented. was this all a dream?

he waved your burner phone in front of your face, confirming the reality that you didn’t want to face, “was your game fun, doll?”

you needed to think fast.

“are you mad at me?” you studied his expression, not finding a single hint of anger in his eyes. he seemed more amused than anything.

“i’m not mad at all— i’ve wanted to show you what i can do for a while now. i’m proud of my work.”

“what did you do to my friends?” you shouted in terror, realizing exactly what he had meant.

you didn’t bother to struggle in the familiar ropes, knowing that all it would do is hurt you.

“while you were playing hide and seek, i took the little friends who helped you get away. i found you, and now you can be it, find them! i've hidden them all around the house!”

his knife cut through the ropes bounding your arms and legs together.

the knife was still close. he wouldn’t hesitate to stab you if you made the wrong move “ready or not, here she comes!”

you shook as you turned doorknobs, opened cabinets, checked shelves, minho closely stalking behind you.

“she found you,” he would tell each dismembered limb, a look of pity his face.

“and now that you’ve seeked like me, you’ll never be a hider again, right?”

#skz #skz yandere #yandere stray kids #han jisung #stray kids #stray kids smut #bang chan #yandere skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz au #skz fanfiction #stray kids imagines #skz blurb #skz fanfic #skz masterlist #stray kids rp #skz imagines

[lynderman]

Us Against The World (Robin Arellano x Reader) Pt.1

I got bored and thought what better things do I have to do than make myself cry? So if I have to sob, then anyone who reads this does too. <3

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Pairing: Robin Arellano x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 1,019

Date Published: 8/18/22

Description: Weeks after your boyfriend Robin Arellano went missing, you still refused to stop searching for him. One day, continuing the search for him, you soon find out where he went.

Part 2

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

(This takes Place After Robin was kidnapped, but before Finney is.)

"(Y/n). You need to get some rest. You've been out all night and-" You cut Finney off as you slammed the door to your bedroom. You didn't want to rest. You didn't need to. You couldn't, even if you tried. It had been a week or two since you got a full night's rest anyways. Any and every second you could spare, you spent it looking for Robin. He had gone missing right after you left school. You asked if he wanted you to walk him home, but he declined. You knew he was strong and independent. He never had trouble defending himself. But that didn't stop some psycho from taking him in broad daylight.

It was your fault.

The thought never left your head. If only you had walked him home. If only you took the time to take the longer route home. If only you had been there. Your siblings tried to convince you otherwise any chance they got. The first time being when you donut out he had gone missing. He hadn't called your house the previous night, but you just thought he was busy. That was until your principal called you into her office. Gwen and Finney were already in the room. They stopped talking to the officers when you walked in. The officers began asking you questions about Robin and when the last time you'd seen him was. You answered them, not expecting anything morbidly distressing.

Until they told you he was missing.

You had to cover your mouth to prevent the oncoming tears from falling. Finney held your hand as Gwen hugged you, trying to tell you it would be ok and you would find him. All you could mutter was that it was your fault. The principal even told you it wasn't, but that really was no help. After she dismissed everyone from her office, you walked right out of School and began looking for him. You checked everywhere you could think of. The Drive in, The abandoned park down the block, Even the grab n' go. But Robin was nowhere to be found.

You eventually showed up to his doorstep, banging on the door. You hoped that he would open the door and let you in like usual. He didn't. It was his mom. Her eyes were red and she looked like shit. She hugged you quicker than ever as you let a few tears fall. Robin's Uncle and her told you everything they knew, And you did the same. You apologized well over 15 times for not walking him home. They just hugged you more and told you it wasn't your fault. This seemed to be your routine for a while.

Wake up late. Go to school. Get the stares and whispers from everyone around you. Have every teacher either pity you, or yell at you for not paying enough attention. Spend Lunch outside on the bench where you and Robin used to. Tell your siblings you would catch them later. Skip the last period and search the same places for your boyfriend. Come home at 2-4 in the morning and sulk in your room. Gwen or Finney would come to check on you. Sleep for 1-2 hours.

Repeat.

You turned over on your bed and grabbed the framed photo of you and Robin off your nightstand. It was the two of you last halloween. You smiled, but also cried. All you wanted was to see him again.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Dad wants you home after school today. He said something about Mrs. Henderson calling again." You shut your locker and looked down at Gwen. She sounded a bit sad for you which was unusual. She felt selfish. For telling you to go home when she knew exactly what would happen. She felt selfish because she didn't want that to happen to her tonight either. All you could do was nod and make your way to class.

You actually attended 8th period today. Maybe because Mrs. Henderson called your dad. Hoping it was ease whatever was coming to you, you apologized to her. It seemed to give her a small sense of gratitude. You just prayed to god that it was ease your father as well. As you made your way around the corner, you decided to take the long way home. You dreaded what your father would do this time. You knew it would be worse if you didn't show up though.

The first red flag of your walk home should've been how quiet it was. This street was normally filled with kids playing. But no one seemed to be out today. The second one should've been when you saw a black Van down a few houses. You'd heard the warnings about it, but you didn't pay it much mind. The third and final red flag should have been when an older man came around the side of the van with a handful of black balloons. He waved to you, but you didn't bother to give him a glance. Instead, you looked down at the ground below you, continuing to walk. Right when you walked behind the van you heard his voice call out to you.

"Don't you think it's a bit rude to ignore your elders?"

Removing your eyes from the ground you looked up at him. He was wearing a top hat and sunglasses with a black cape and matching suit. "Don't you think it's a bit rude to bother someone when they're deep in thought?" You snapped back. Truly, you shouldn't have said that. Maybe. Just maybe. He wouldn't have done this the hard way then.

The man grabbed you with one arm and shoved the balloons in your face. You began kicking and screaming as he gripped your neck with his forearm. Luckily, you were a bit more on the careful side. You took the switchblade you kept in your left pocket and jammed it into his side. He let out a groan of pain before hitting you in the head with a heavy metal object. Everything went dark as you hit the bed of the Van.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

#robin arellano x reader #x reader #reader insert #tbp #finney blake #Gwen blake #the black phone #the grabber #mini series #robin arellano

[thomasisaslut]

Amorentia || Severus Snape x F!Hufflepuff Reader

Throughout your seven years at Hogwarts, you never would have expected falling in love with someone, especially not a teacher.

-Takes place Half-blood Prince (Severus still as potions master.)

-Teacher student relationship (reader is 7th year = 17-19)

-Description of Violence

-Stalking Behavior

Word Count. 915

Chapter One || Potion.

Gathering the ingredients you smile, ready to brew your newest potion. You check over your list again, reading all of the ingredients.

"Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, powdered peppermint, moonstone, pearl dust, and rose petals..." You mumble to yourself and smile as you realize you have all the proper ingredients ready, starting to brew your potion you see the colors shift from clear, to white, red, then pink. Then it finally shifts from dark pink to the perfect shade of pink—from mauve to a beautiful orchid. You smile widely at the bubbling potion then grab your empty vial ready to bottle the brew. You then get your large latel and begin to contain the potion into the vial when suddenly the glass shatters and the boiling potion inside of it falls onto your wrists and forearms, you cry out in pain and Professor Snape rushes over to you.

"What did you do?" He asks sternly. However, his tone is laced with concern.

You move your arms closer to him where he sees your wounds, your forearms are littered with glass shards and burnt to the first degree.

"Merlin, child.." He mutters then grabs your upper arm and drags you over to his desk, when you stand there you see him disappear into a small backroom and then he returns with a glass vial, it's filled with a deep blue liquid, he motions for you to move your arm closer to him. You do as instructed—almost instantly.

"This will hurt, Ms. [Last Name]." He says before pulling a pair of tweezers from his desk. He then lightly grabs your right forearm and begins to pull the shattered glass from your arm. You wince and hold onto his desk tightly as he works on it. Soon enough the glass is removed from your arm and he begins to pour the deep blue potion onto your wounds—during this process, your eyes are stuck on his hands—his veiny and slender fingers work on wrapping your arm with long white bandages when done.

"Now explain to me what happened." He demands when done, his usual demeanor now returning—the concern from his voice shifting back to a silent rage.

"I didn't let it cool long enough, Professor..." You explain to him.

He sighs—clearly frustrated by your pitiful explanation.

"And why didn't you let it cool down before bottling? You know this by now, Ms. [Last Name]."

"I was excited to see my potion, sir, it looked exactly as the manual said." You inform him.

He nods.

"Be more careful, I am very disappointed and will not let this happen again. If it does you will serve detention for a month." He says, his tone is vulgar and brief.

You nod in return, understanding. You then notice his eyebrows furrow, and he speaks again.

"Tell me, child, did the potion seep into your wounds?"

"I didn't feel it if it did, Professor..." You mumble, slightly afraid of what his reply will be if it did.

After a few moments of silence and then he nods and waves his hand dismissively. You do as instructed and return to your seat, your new wounds were now numb from whatever the blue potion was.

Eventually class ends and your forearm starts to throb, once everyone else has left the room you walk toward Professor Snape's desk, he glances up from the paper he was grading and speaks.

"Yes?"

"My arm, it hurts, Professor." You practically whine as you speak—clearly it annoys him but for some reason you can't stop yourself.

He groans and then speaks

"So see the nurse. Now." He snaps.

You shake your head no which causes him to look purely baffled—Shocked you're denying an order from him.

"That wasn't a question. Go if it hurts." His tone now as cutthroat as if it's a newly sharpened blade.

"But... I want you to help."

This causes him to look even more shocked—probably the most emotion you have ever seen on his face.

"No. Go to Madame P." He glares.

"Please, sir." You practically beg. "Besides, you're much closer than the nurse!"

A moment of silence passes before he sighs and nods, he grabs your forearm lightly—almost delicately with how soft and welcoming it is. You feel almost out of place as he does so. He then unwraps the bandages he previously applied and sees that your wounds were opened again. He sighs then opens his desk and grabs the proper equipment for stitches.

"Fine, you damn girl." He mumbles but you hear it, you feel something in the pit of your stomach from those words but shrug it off.

He then mutters some numbing spell and begins the stitch work on your arm, closing the reopened wounds and sealing them shut. He then does the same for your left arm. Once his patchwork is done he grabs a small water-droplet-shaped potion glass and pours it over the now shut wounds, you feel the area return to its senses but the ache is gone.

"Thank you, Professor.." You smile at him, but when he pulls away his hands your smile fades.

He nods.

"Now leave, get to your next class. If this happens again... I will not be friendly. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." You say then turn to leave the room. After you leave the sensation you felt earlier returns, that giddy excitement in your stomach comes back.

However you still can't tell why.

Chapter two:

#severus snape #severus x reader #severus x y/n #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter #eventual romance #cedric diggory #hermione granger

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬

A few things to keep in mind; after the fallout with Tommy instead of heading to Boston Joel heads to the woods to escape it all, and the 20-year time jump doesn't happen. Which means, for now, no Tess, no Ellie. Joel is 32-33 here (since in the prologue he's around that age) and reader is in her mid-twenties

**for full series summary please check masterlist

chapter summary: All roads lead back to Joel.

pairing: joel miller x ofc!june | written in reader format, no body descriptions but does have a personality

word count: 369

genre: dark cottagecore, horror, angst, explicit smut, hybrid au, minors dni

warnings: none

SERIES MLIST || PREV CHAPTER

It’s excruciatingly warm. Your tank top sticks to you like second skin, it’s uncomfortable and all you want to do is go home, grab a spare pair of clothes and take a dip in the river. 

You haven’t seen Joel for a while. But to be fair, you’ve been avoiding him. You know well that if you truly wanted to see him you could, you just didn’t. 

He abandoned you without a word. Your heart threatens to shatter again when you remember the thing you admitted to him; your fear of loneliness, your fear of him leaving you to rot in your self-pity once again. 

And that’s exactly what he did. 

It was painful, too painful. You returned to entertaining yourself with ghosts, despite your best efforts, all of them looked like him. Three months had passed but you still feel his lips burning your skin, his cock dragging orgasm out of orgasm out of you. 

Joel said he wasn't a ghost at the time; he never promised you that he wouldn’t be one in the future.

Life is cruel. You know this better than most. It was stupid of you to think anything could change. But the thing you had forgotten was that life thoroughly enjoyed making a mockery of your life. 

You nearly drop to your knees when you see the state of the cabin you once called home. Infected, a multitude of them, moving around your house, a couple of them inside, lurking about. 

You almost break down. Almost. 

Joel never told you where he lived, but you know. And you have no choice. You need to go. You need a place to say. You need to survive despite the pain, the heartbreak, the loss. 

The reasoning as to why still escapes you, maybe it’s just instinct. 

You also need to warn him. 

When you knock on the door you expect him not to open it. Much to your shock, he does at the first knock. Almost as he was waiting for you—You keep your gaze locked to his face, trying very hard to ignore the fact that he’s shirtless.

“June?” 

“Joel,” you answer, your eyes fixated on his face. “I need a place to stay.” 

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x ofc #joel miller #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters