#I want to be loved like genuinely loved not just when I’m useful or convenient or fun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waitimcomingtoo · 1 month

Text

One For Us

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta gets upset when you suggest getting married to appease the Capitol

Masterlist

“We could get married.”

Everyone stopped debating strategies for getting President Snow to believe your love story and looked up at you upon your suggestion. You felt self conscious with all the eyes on you so you looked to Peeta for help. You thought he’d agree with you but he was just staring at you with an almost hurt expression.

“What?” He asked you in a quiet voice.

“You said we’re gonna be on this train forever anyway, right? We’d have to get married eventually. We might as well do it right now to convince Snow how in love we are. We could make a huge deal of the proposal and the dress and cake. Don’t Capital people love all that kind of stuff?” You asked Haymitch.

“She’s right.” Haymitch agreed. “A wedding between the star crossed winners might be the one thing in more demand than the games. If we spin a story about the wedding being canceled due to the games, maybe the outrage would be enough to get the Capitol to change their minds about sending you two back in there.”

“Yeah. And we could go on Cesar’s show and say that we were so in love that we couldn’t wait any longer and had to get engaged. We can make a whole big thing of it. That should be enough to convince Snow that we’re in love, right?” You asked. Peeta blinked a few times and let out a short dry laugh.

“Fine. I don’t care. Let’s just do it.” Peeta sighed as he got up to leave. You frowned and watched him walk about without giving you so much as a glance in your direction. You looked at Haymitch and Effie and held up your hands with confusion.

“What’s his problem?”

“He’s probably just sore that he wasn’t the one who came up with the brilliant idea.” Haymitch replied and gave you a proud pat on the back.

“Oh my goodness. You fools.” Effie huffed and shook her head. “That’s not why he’s upset.”

“Then why? I’m just trying to help. It’s not like he came up with anything.” You said and folded your arms like a child out of annoyance over Peeta’s disapproval of your idea.

“He’s upset because this is not how he wanted this to happen.” Effie said as she looked at only you.

“So the idea of marrying me is so awful to him that he had to storm out of the room?” You grumbled.

“No, child. He’s not upset that he has to marry you. He’s upset that it’s only counterfeit.” Effie explained with a tight smile. You stopped being angry with Peeta and took a moment to process what she was saying.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” You decided and got up to follow him. You found Peeta in the back of the train, staring out the window with his chin in his hand.

“Hey.” You said quietly as you sat down near him.

“Hi.” Peeta replied without taking his eyes off the window.

“I’m sorry about that back there. I should’ve talked to you before telling Haymitch about getting married. I didn’t think it would upset you.”

“It’s okay.” He said quietly. “It’s a great idea.”

“You hate it.” You laughed nervously and wished he’d look at you. A smile tugged on Peeta’s lips and he nodded his head.

“Yeah.” He admitted. “I do.”

“But why? Why do you not want to get married?” You asked. Peeta stayed silent and turned his head so that you couldn’t see his face. You got up to sit beside him and put your hand in his leg to silently comfort him until he was able to speak. He looked down at your hand before looking up and wiping his face with his sleeve.

“I do want to get married. I always have.” He admitted. “I always wanted to find a girl that I love and could be genuine companions with. And to not just get married because it was convenient or beneficial to us both, but because we were best friends and wanted to be with each other forever. So we’d take vows to promise each other that. And then have a big family and live a quiet but happy life.”

“Oh. I see. Marrying me would prevent you from finding her.” You nodded in understanding. It stung you a little to hear him talk about the life he dreamed of with someone else but you couldn’t place why you felt that way. Peeta finally turned his head to look at you and had a sad smile on his face.

“What?” You wondered.

“You know, when I was little, I always saw myself marrying you.” He admitted.

“You…you did?” You asked with a surprised smile.

“I did.” He nodded. “I liked you from the very first time I saw you. So I went home and told my mom I was gonna marry you. I was only six.”

“What’d she say?”

“She asked if you were the coal miners girl and I said yes. Then she told me she almost married your dad.”

“What? My dad?” You were taken aback and pointed to yourself.

“Yeah. He gave her a ring and everything. But it didn’t work out. I don’t remember why. Then she told me she hopes I don’t have the same fate as she did.” He said with a dry laugh.

“That’s too bad for them. But I think it’s cute you had a schoolboy crush on me.” You told him, making his cheeks adorn with a rosy glow.

“Trust me. It was more than a schoolboy crush. You had a hold on me for years. I had this whole plan to ask you to marry me after high school. I was gonna propose that we start a business together. I could sell my bread and you could sell game. I was going to get us a cow and chickens so we could save money on supplies. And we could build a house near the forest so you don’t have to travel far when you went to hunt. We’d be poor but we’d be happy. I was gonna tell you all of that when I proposed, by the way.”

“That’s a really good plan, Peeta. I had no idea you thought that all through.” You smiled softly as a sadness weighed on your chest. He had all these plans that would never be realized because of the cards he had been dealt. His sweet fantasy of a wholesome future together was going to be replaced with fake weddings and bloodshed.

“Yeah, I did. I really though it would happen too. That’s why I stormed out earlier. You suggested we get married and just sounded so cavalier. Like, it was just one more thing we could do to please Snow. And I guess it made me think of my plans for the future and how I was never going to get any of them. So I got upset. It wasn’t anything against you.” He assured you with a sad smile.

“I understand. I just thought you didn’t want to marry me. I didn’t know you had all those plans. I’m sorry they won’t be happening.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too. You and I got reaped just a few months before I was gonna ask you. And I haven’t recognized my life since then. But before all of this, I really thought it was gonna happen. Given that you said yes, of course. I even told my mother about my plan. She gave me this.” Peeta said and pulled necklace out from underneath his shirt. On a leather cord was a dainty silver diamond ring.

“Oh my gosh, Peeta. t’s beautiful.” You gasped and leaned forward to gently touch it with your fingertips. Peeta gulped at how close you were and felt his face heat up again.

“Your dad gave it to her.” He told you. “He found that diamond himself when he was working.”

“I can’t believe she kept it all these years. She could’ve made a fortune with this.”

“That’s what I said. But she said it was worth more than any amount they could offer her.”

“She sounds like a romantic. I see where you get it from.” You laughed softly and nudged him a little.

“Yeah. I’m a lot like her.”He said with a timid smile as he looked into your eyes. You stared at each other for a moment and you felt an ache in your bones for him. He was still so kind and gentle despite what you’d gone through together and the impending doom that loomed over your heads. He still wore the diamond ring his mom gave him and credited his kindness to her. Your mind began to picture the future Peeta had painted for you and you felt homesick for a place you’d never been to. You wished you could jump from the train and go live the life he described, but that could never happen.

“I wish we didn’t end up here.” You said in a quiet voice. You feared that if you spoke any louder, you’d burst into tears.

“I know. Me too. I wish things were different. I wish that I was asking you to marry me because I decided it was time. And I wish…” He trailed off as he started to get emotional at the thought of the life he would never have.

“You wish what?” You asked calmly and rubbed his arm to comfort him.

“I wish I knew you were saying yes because you meant it.” He admitted. “Not because you have to.”

You were both quiet for a while after that confession. A silence that wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, just very heavy, sat among you as you looked in opposite directions.

“I would’ve said yes.” You said after a beat.

“What?”

“If you had asked me. After high school. And told me about the cows and chickens and business. I would have told you yes.” You explained with a timid smile. Peeta stared at you for a minute to see if you were joking or not.

“No you wouldn’t have. You didn’t even know me back then.” He laughed dismissively.

“Yes I did. I knew you were kind and strong and hardworking. And now that I know you better, I know that you’re funny and resilient and thoughtful and kinda grumpy before you’ve had tea in the morning and not the worst to look at. What more could I ask for?”

“Not the worst to look at?” He cracked a smile.

“Come on. You know you’re handsome. Don’t make me say.” You rolled your eyes and he blushed once again.

“I would not use that word to describe myself. Especially not with Finnick running around.” He mumbled.

“Well I happen to think you’re very handsome. And the wife is always right. You need to know that if we’re going to get married. So shut up.” You said and playfully smacked his leg.

“Don’t tell me to shut up or else you’re not getting a ring.” Peeta played along.

“Oh, I’m getting that ring.” You insisted. “And I get to name all the cows. You can do what you want with the chicken but the cows are mine. And I’m giving them last names too. Fancy ones.”

You and Peeta both laughed at the dumb joke and you felt yourself relax. Even if your lives weren’t going to go the way you’d hoped, at least you could look forward to these moments of sweetness with him.

“Would you really have said yes?” Peeta asked in a small voice once your laughter died down.

“It depends. How would you have asked me?”

“I had a plan for that too, actually. I was going to pick you a bouquet of wild flowers. The ones that grow by the river bank. I know you like those.”

“I do like those. The orange and purple ones.”

“Yeah. Those.” He smiled. “I was gonna bring them to you and then get down on one knee. Like this.”

“That’s very old fashioned of you.” You couldn’t help but blush as Peeta got down on one knee in front of you.

“I know. But that’s all I know how to be. An old fashioned romantic. I even practiced how to get the ring out with one hand.” Peeta said as he struggled to get the ring from around his neck.

“You didn’t practice very hard.” You teased.

“Shh. Yes I did. I’m just nervous.” He laughed and finally got the ring free.

“Don’t be.” You told him. “It’s just you and me.”

“I was gonna explain how I got the ring. But I already told you that so pretend I was proposing then.” He said and waved his hand, making you laugh.

“Okay. I will. Oh, wow. My father’s ring? That he gave to your mother? Meaning we were almost siblings? How romantic.” You dramatically played along to humor him.

“Hush now. I’m trying to remember my plan. Then I was gonna tell you…” He trailed off again and a sheepish smile broke through on his face. You could see him losing his confidence but didn’t want him to stop.

“Tell me what?” You asked quietly and took his hand.

“I was going to say that you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And that I’ve seen a million sunsets since bakers have to get up before dawn but not one of them could compare to you. I would’ve said that you enchanted me from the first day I saw you and every day since. And that to know you is to be in awe of you. I would have told you that you were the strongest person I know and if you’d let me, I’d help you bear some of the weight you have on your shoulders.”

“Keep going.” You whispered and held his hand to your chest.

“Oh, okay, um. I was gonna tell you that I know you don’t love me yet but you could learn to. And that I would make it easy for you. I would promise to be the best partner you could ask for and to love you at every turn, no matter what gets thrown our way. I’d promise to wash your hair in the sink the way your mama does and build you a desk so that you can write letters to your family. And then I’d ask you to make me the happiest man alive and please-“

“Yes.” You cut him off as a single tear slipped down your face.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” You repeated. “I will marry you.”

“You will?” He smiled in disbelief as his eyes searched yours for signs of insincerity.

“I will. I want to. I’d love to. I love…” You trailed off and he sucked in a sharp breath in anticipation of what you were about to say.

“I love you.” You said finally. “And if I’m on this train forever, at least I have you with me. That means it’s going to be okay.”

“I love you too.” Peeta smiled at those long awaited words hitting his ears. You pulled him into a long kiss despite no cameras being around. But you both knew this moment wasn’t for the cameras. It was just for the two of you. When you pulled away, Peeta fumbled around with the ring.

“Sorry. My hands are shaking.” He was embarrassed to admit as he tried to steady them long enough to untie the chord around the ring.

“It’s okay. Take your time.” You assured him and he eventually slipped the leather chord off. He looked you in the eyes for one last confirmation and you nodded enthusiastically. With that, Peeta slid the song onto your finger and then leaned down to kiss your knuckles. You laughed at the gesture before cupping his face and bringing him into a kiss. Peeta got off his knee but never broke the kiss. A sudden knock at the door made you jump apart. Peeta sat on the opposite end of the couch while you smoothed your hair and wiped your face.

“Come in.” You called out and Haymitch walked in.

“Hey. I just wanted to check in on you guys after our conversation back there.” He said.

“We’re fine. We were just talking about the engagement. Peeta said we could go on Cesar’s show and he could propose then.” You lied to Haymitch with a smile.

“All right. Works for me. I’ll let Effie know.” Haymitch gave you a thumbs up and then left the room. When he was gone, Peeta looked at you curiously to see why you lied.

“We still have to fake one for the Capital, but this I’ll remember this as our real engagement.” You explained, making him smile fondly.

“One for us, one for them.” He replied and you nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. One for us, one for them.”

Tag list 🏷️

@ilovetoomanymen @kittimbo @sipsthecoffee @ohmyhuenings @ilykitwalker

@mayemperess @scenesofobx

@basicb1tchboy @planetevermore @bellasfavbisexual @kochothehoe

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark fanfiction #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark #peeta x reader

383 notes · View notes

stiingrayyyy · 3 months

Text

Dating Headcanons F.H

What it’s Like to Date Five Hargreeves

Pairings — Five Hargreeves x Reader (pronouns not specified)

Summary — My headcanons for if you were Five’s lover.

Warnings — opinions, no plot, it’s all over the place, last one is semi-NSFW.

A/N — i try to avoid nsfw with five because yk.. in the show, he’s physically thirteen but this one was too funny not to add. let’s all just pretend there was a happy ending okay 😭😭. i wrote this before season four came out so let’s pretend it ended happily.

— if you want another version where it’s just headcanons of you and five in the apocalypse i’m down for that.

— I see headcanons where Five is straight up mean, manipulative, and where he’s just using you.

— To me, that’s not Five being in love with you. Have you seen how he treats Delores? HE’S SO SWEET TO HER.

— So if you’re his lover, he will give you princess treatment like no other, holy shit.

—He’ll prepare breakfast so it’s ready to be eaten when you wake up.

— He thinks breakfast in bed is a recipe for disaster so he never does that.

— If you take a while to wake up he’ll wake you up.

— “My love, breakfast is ready.” He’ll whisper into your ear before pressing a kiss onto your temple, then one on your forehead, then your nose… then finally a chaste kiss on your lips.

— He’ll tuck you in bed at night and make sure you’re all snug before leaving. If you can’t sleep he’ll read to you.

— With him around, you genuinely never have to open a door. In addition to paying for every meal, he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk. He also pulls the chair out for you when you sit and showers you with praise.

— Sometimes the praise is simple whispers in your ear because he isn’t much into PDA.

— There was never an official wedding, he stole two matching rings and gave one to you.

— He’d like to have an official wedding.

— If he has to worry about the apocalypse he’ll probably neglect you only because he thinks the fate of the world is in his hands.

— He loves going on simple dates, whether it’s at Griddy’s Doughnuts, a simple stroll in the park, or a little painting place.

— He’s fancy but he doesn’t see the point in expensive restaurants. He likes the little things.

— He loves to make and paint pottery with you, it’s his favourite thing to do.

— When he can’t sleep he’ll come over to your place and sit on the roof with you.

— If you fall asleep he’ll Blink into your room and tuck you in, and he’ll even leave a note for you to read when you wake up.

— It usually goes along the lines of..

“You fell asleep, don’t worry I made sure you got back in your room and I picked up all your stuffies from the floor and put them on the bed with you.”

— He struggles with insomnia.

— He’ll write you love letters even though it’s more convenient to send a text. He loves you and he’s willing to put effort in love notes.

— His primary love languages are quality time and acts of service.

— He doesn’t show much affection in public.

— He doesn’t mind holding your hand though.

— Five won’t be afraid to hold your hand, wrap an arm around your shoulders or waist while he’s with his siblings.

— Kisses and hugs are private though.

— Despite being private, he doesn’t hide the fact he’s dating you.

— If anyone tries anything on you, Five will glare daggers. If that’s not enough, he’ll threaten them, and if they keep pushing he’ll make them bleed (but not too severe 🥰)

— He’s hella protective.

— You make midnight munchies together.

— He’ll refuse to dance with you in the kitchen at 2am but he’ll reluctantly say yes and end up actually enjoying it.

— Same goes for dancing in the rain. He pretends to hate it but he loves it and you know he does.

— You always make pasta or noodles for midnight munchies.

— One time you made cookies and accidentally woke up Klaus who ate the cookie dough before you got to put it in the oven.

— When you guys had sex for the first time Klaus congratulated you and Five with a cake that said ‘virgin’ in the middle of a 🚫 and woke you up the next day with confetti.

— sorry, i know i said i’d have a part three to my ben hargreeves fic but i wrote it and didn’t edit it.. and it didn’t seem entertaining enough to post, i’m sorry.

— if you want headcanons with the apocalypse involved, let me know <3

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #tua #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #five x reader #five hargreeves dating headcanons #five hargreeves headcanons #five hargreeves fluff #hargreeves #ben hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves imagine #five x y/n #five #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy fluff #umbrella academy scenarios

498 notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 7 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 22

part 1 | part 21 | ao3

“…Go ahead,” he relents with a heavy sigh.

He turns the radio back on for background noise, and Robin launches herself into a breathless recap of every minute detail she’s ever learned about Eddie Munson. Genuinely impressive how quickly the words come out; Steve thinks that if her dream of becoming a linguistics researcher ever falls through, she’s got a bright future ahead of her as one of those speedreaders who rattle off the fine print at the end of pharmaceutical ads.

Warning: Discussion of Eddie Munson may cause nausea, heartburn, palpitations, sweaty armpits, and an inconveniently timed half-chub any time you use a pocket knife. Talk to your doctor to see if Discussion of Eddie Munson is right for you!

“Which brings us to tonight,” she’s saying when he zones back in. “Let’s examine the facts, shall we?”

“Must we?”

“Yes, we must.”

She makes a loose fist, lifting her pointer finger with an aggressive flourish to kick off her ‘list of reasons Eddie has a big, fat crush on you.’ “Fact number one: he was conveniently wearing a super nice outfit.”

“He said he ran out of laundry.”

“And we’re buying that?” she scoffs. Her middle finger springs up to join the first one. “Two: he was so disgustingly up in your personal space. Like, you really should have seen it; it was—”

Mwah. Mwah mwah mwah. “Yeah, I don’t need another demonstration.”

“Three” —there goes her ring finger— “he came to a movie rental store that you just so happen to work at and then left without renting a movie.”

“Because you did something to spook him!”

“Which brings me to my fourth and final point.” Her pinky lifts up to join the team, fingers spread wide like a paper fan, and she telescopes her arm to shove them back and forth under his nose until he goes a little cross-eyed and bitches about her distracting the driver.

“Cut it out! You want me to drive us into someone’s trash cans?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, well I’m sending you the invoice when it scratches up the paint.”

She retreats to her side of the car, curling her back against the door and repeating, “My fourth and final point: I think he thinks we’re dating.”

“And? Everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“No, everyone wants us to be secretly dating,” she corrects. “But I’m pretty sure Eddie actually thinks I’m your girlfriend. You remember last week when you dropped me off at school?”

He does. Eddie had actually been there early for once; had been sitting on a bench out by the soccer fields, looking surly and half-asleep while he sucked down a cigarette. Hair all messed up by the wind. Looked kind of dangerous. Wild.

“He was, like, fully glaring at me when I walked into school that morning, and then he was super rude to me in band. Which, at the time, I was like, ‘oh, well I guess that’s just Eddie no one can ever tell what his mood’s gonna be like from day to day,’ but noo-o-ow…”

She starts squirming in her seat again, excitement overflowing as she finally cracks the case. “Now it all makes sense! Oh, my god! He totally hates me because he thinks we’re dating, and I’ll bet you anything he either didn’t know we work together or didn’t expect me to be there tonight and he totally, one hundred percent was there to flirt with you because he’s in lo—”

“Okay, Detective,” he cuts her off, because the tips of his ears are burning, and he doesn’t think he can handle her saying the L word out loud right now. “You’ve made your point, thank you.”

“Tell me I’m right.”

“Uh, no.”

“Come on.” She jabs at his side. “Tell me I’m right tell me I’m right tell me I’m—”

“—A fucking menace? Gladly.”

“Translation: I’m right and you’re mad about it,” she smirks, victorious.

Steve knocks his forehead against the wheel as he pulls up to her curb. “Why do I drive you places?”

“Because you love me." She flips her visor down to freshen up her lip balm, mumbling around the chapstick, "I’m adding Surly Best Friendlish to my list of fluencies; I think it'll really make my college applications pop."

"Yuh huh," Steve grumbles. The thought of Robin leaving for college always sits in his gut like raw bread dough — thick and heavy and gross, rising to form a swollen lump in his throat. "Didn't you already submit all of those?"

"Yes, I diiiid," she sings, shimmying her shoulders with pride. "Duke's gonna say yes, I just know it. Picture it with me: Robin L. Buckley," she gestures to an imagined marquee somewhere just beyond the windshield, "class of 1990."

Steve swallows the urge to be a sulky dick about it. "They'd be lucky to have you," he says quietly.

"Nope. No no, none of that. No moping." She tugs at his arm; links their elbows together. "You're not allowed to mope when we have a party to get ready for."

"No, you have a party to get ready for. I'm going home."

"Steeeve-uh!" Holy shit. He just had to be soulmates with the whiniest lesbian in a 500 mile radius, didn't he? "Come to the bonfire party with me!"

"Yeah, that's a no."

“It’ll be fun!"

It most certainly will not be. "You really want me to go freeze my ass off in the woods all night while a bunch of former classmates talk shit about me the second they think I'm out of earshot?" He's been to enough of his parents' 'networking events' over the years to know exactly how that'll go. A full night of subtly closed-off body language, smirking whispers and judgmental glances that dart away as soon as he meets them head on. Fuck that. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

He just wants to go home. Feels momentarily sick with the desire to drive himself to Loch Nora.

"What did I say about moping?" Robin asks. She shoves into his space, hugging his arm tighter and deploying her most lethal sad wet kitten face (and Steve doesn't even like cats; this shouldn't fucking work on him.) "Pleeeease," she begs. "Vickie's going to be there, and I could really use a friend."

"So ask a friend!"

"I am, dipshit!"

Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Goddamn this woman. Steve hangs his chin to his chest in defeat, notices the weird stain he got on his shirt during work. "I have some conditions," he concedes.

She throws her arms out wide. "Condition me, baby!"

"First— ew. Okay, I don't like that; don't call me baby." Yeesh, and furthermore, yuck. "First, I'm borrowing one of your shirts, and you're probably never getting it back."

"Understandable,” she nods as she gets out of the car. Steve follows her out, propping his elbows on the roof.

"Secondly,” he continues, “I'm getting very drunk at this stupid party, and you're figuring out how we get home."

She reaches out over the top of the car; gives his hand a quick squeeze when he puts it in hers. "That's three things," she says fondly, "but I can work with that."

—

part 23

tag list part 1 below the cut; comment if you'd like to be added tomorrow (not tagging ageless or under 21s unless we're mutuals or you let me know your age ✌️)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @questionablequeeries @runninriot @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutabed @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #my writing #my fic

799 notes · View notes

onestepbackwards · 2 months

Text

Love That Bites Pt. 12

Hiii! It’s been a while! Sorry for such a long wait, my life has been chaos non-stop with one bad thing after another, but I was determined to finish this chapter! φ(・ω・｀ ) Forgive me if the pacing and formatting is a little off, but I finally got it done, even if I didn’t get to stuff everything I wanted into this chapter. But that just leaves more for the next one. I do hope you all Enjoy!

Summary: You begin to seriously dwell on your situation, but it seems even as much as you would like to stay, home comes calling. With home on the other line, it seems your fantasy must eventually come to an end. Though it seems Dracula may want a few words…

CW: Anxiety, budding feelings, dark thoughts, brief thoughts of murder, mentions of toxic family

Word Count: 5367 Words!

Like my work? Please consider checking me out and supporting me here: Link

Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Tag List: @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights, @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag (i’m sorry, sometimes the @ doesn’t work?? ;~; )

First: Here

Last: Here

Next: ?

—

If you were being honest, you were beginning to wonder if staying in Dracula’s castle was driving you mad.

It had only been about three days, give or take, and yet…

How else would one rationally explain why you were actually enjoying your stay here at his castle? Or enjoying his visits with how tenderly the Dracula treated you?

Answer was, you didn’t.

At the moment, you were pressing your face into one of the soft pillows on the bed of your room. Outside of the castle, you could faintly hear the sounds of rolling thunder, and raindrops hitting the window.

Somehow, what normally would have been an eerie atmosphere had also become a comfort for you.

You weren’t as tense here. Despite being in Dracula’s castle, and that someone had already tried to kill you, you didn’t feel like you were in survival mode 24/7.

Not like how you were at your old home.

Clutching the pillow closer, you inhaled the pillow’s scent, before letting out a muffled groan.

There was also something you didn’t want to admit. The fact you were beginning to feel really weird about Dracula himself.

And it wasn’t even a bad weird.

It’s something you had been wanting to just shove into the back of your mind and never think of again, but it was beginning to be really hard to do that with how gentle and careful the Vampire Lord was with you.

Especially with the way he oh so gently held parts of your body when overseeing your healing injuries.

Your mind wandered to when he first picked you up, how he held you so effortlessly, holding you against his large frame as he carried you across the castle to this guest room.

Or how his large hands carefully cradled your midsection as he looked over your stitches that you had accidentally messed up. How his cool hands sent electric tingles across your skin-

Heat rushed to your face.

His voice had been so low, and those gorgeous ruby eyes looking at you with genuine concern.

And then his smirk.

How he smirked at you as he teased you, no malice to be seen on his face.

“I’m such a fucking goner, holy shit.” you mumbled into your pillow as heat flushed through your body.

You didn’t dare admit it out loud, but deep down, you knew what this meant.

Heart thudding in your chest, you gripped the pillow tighter.

You had a crush on Dracula.

It wasn’t something you could keep denying, not when your heart fluttered when he gave you such tender looks, or when his lips curled into an amused smirk when he teased you.

The urge to yell was strong.

“I must have really hit my head.”

Of course, that was an excuse you could only use so much until it was just a convenient lie. With the potion Dracula had made for you, the injury to your head had mostly healed.

With the injury to your skull no longer an issue, you knew deep down these feelings you had were unfortunately very natural.

Lifting your head from the pillow, you looked over to the window, idly watching a few flashes of lightning followed by thunder.

Swallowing thickly, you thought back to how he was just so… kind to you.

Even when he was being truthful, it was kind. Dracula didn’t have to tell you that the first batch of potions had been tampered with, but he wanted to be honest with you. It was clear he was putting his cards on the table so you could make your own decisions.

When had someone last been so… open with you? Willingly?

Just the thought had your heart pounding.

Was it really that simple? Someone just had to show you basic kindness for your heart to grow fond of them?

Another flash of lightning struck outside the castle, and you rolled onto your side.

Your mind idly wandered to something Dracula had told you while trying to make conversation. Something about how even the weather was connected to him, to a degree.

Despite the lightning and thunder, it wasn’t angry, like a beast lashing out. Not like it had been earlier.

Another part of you wondered if that heavy storm had been when Dracula found out the potions meant for you had been poisoned.

An even smaller part almost wanted to believe it, imagining how angry he could have possibly been on your behalf. Just like he had been when he broke free, how he wanted to know who had hurt you.

In truth, it was the storm earlier that had caused you to trip and tear some of your stitches.

A loud crack of lightning had shaken the castle earlier, all while you were getting up to use the restroom connected to the room you stayed in. It startled you enough to make you trip over your own feet, and collapse on the floor.

If it had been Dracula’s doing, you didn’t blame him. You doubted he was aware you had been up walking when he had been so angry.

…And because of it, you got to feel his hands on your body, even if it was brief.

A moment passed.

“Am I really that down bad?” you asked yourself, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

You wanted to scream.

This was not fair. Not fair at all.

Why Dracula of all people? The very man you were ‘destined’ to fight?

Deep down, it wasn’t hard to figure out the answer.

You were lonely.

Lonely, and a bit broken.

To have someone, even your biggest ‘enemy’ treat you with respect and kindness… Looking at it from an outside perspective? It wasn’t particularly surprising your heart was trying to latch onto him.

It didn’t make things any easier, though.

Especially when he gave you such fond looks. Looks you could almost imagine a good friend or lover giving you.

“Yup, I’m losing it.” You spoke, your eyes narrowing.

If anything, this made things way more complicated.

What on earth were you going to do now?

You’ve toyed with the idea of maybe politely asking Dracula to, you know, not destroy all of humanity in a attempt of mass genocide.

But would it be that easy?

Just because he seemed to respect you, did not mean he would give the same pardon to the rest of your kind. Especially how he didn’t seem too pleased when you mentioned you got your injuries from personal business.

It wasn’t a lot of info, but you had a feeling Dracula suspected it was humans that had done this to you. No doubt that wouldn’t help you with pleading your case.

Still… You also found your mind wandering over possibly trying to talk Dracula out of killing all humans, despite the odds.

It was something you had wanted the moment you found his statue, though you never really thought you’d get this far.

Could you really do it? Convince the Lord of the Night to leave humanity be?

Perhaps you could make a compromise? You knew he had to drink blood to live, perhaps he’d be interested in the few supernatural blood drives that existed?

…Or even your own blood?

You quickly shook your head, trying to get the image of Dracula intimately biting into your neck out of your mind.

That image pleased you a lot more than you’d like to admit…

With a huff, you brought a hand to your face, and rubbed your eyes.

“What was I thinking about again? Right! Compromise…”

It wasn’t like you could just stop hunting, either. Even if Dracula agreed not to kill humans, that didn’t mean other people who lived independently of him would follow such a lifestyle. If a beast or something of paranormal nature was out causing harm to innocent people, you’d have to put a stop to it.

But, perhaps… Perhaps you could convince Dracula at least to leave humanity be, unless someone personally spites him?

In that case, you could hardly feel the desire to stop him. Fuck around and find out and all that.

You would no doubt though have to give something up in return, no?

Not hunting Dracula wouldn’t be enough, you were sure. The King of the Night had sworn to destroy humanity for killing his wife. You doubted he would simply just stop in his crusade because you asked nicely and swore not to kill him for it.

“Perhaps if I added his castle and the covens that follow him…”

So long as his underlings weren’t out hunting innocent people, you generally had no reason to hunt them. The life of someone from the paranormal was tough, that you knew from the few supernatural acquaintances you had.

Not every dark being wanted to kill, they simply had to for survival. More often than not, it was humans that didn’t give them any options, hunting them down for being a dark being, or not helping them control their hunger.

On one hand, you understood the human perspective, to a degree. Why help something that needs to feed on your lifeblood to survive?

But on the other hand… If humanity helped them instead of scorned them, they would have no reason to hunt humans in the first place. Such as the blood banks to help feed vampires, so they were fed and didn’t have to give into their instincts.

Unfortunately, those weren’t incredibly popular as you’d like them to be. At least some of humanity was giving it a shot though…

Blowing a tuft of hair out of your face, you scowled. It really was an unending battle.

Didn’t help humans and many of the supernatural thought themselves above the other. No doubt if Dracula miraculously agreed not to kill humans, others would just find that stupid and do it anyway.

And you also figured others would come to hunt Dracula themselves. Even if the man agreed to leave humans alone, you doubted humans, let alone the church would take kindly to him just existing.

Hell, was his son even still alive? Alucard, you think his name was?

You had read about him from different journals of different Belmonts. It was clear the man was immortal, despite the human blood running through his veins

How the man was Dracula’s son, who had sworn to kill his father any time he should rise.

Swallowing thickly, you suddenly felt a bit sick.

Would you… Would you have to fight Alucard? The same man your ancestors thought so fondly of?

Somehow, that thought made your stomach churn.

You didn’t even know if the man was still alive. Could he be? Could Alucard really have hidden himself, even in modern times?

Or perhaps he had put himself to eternal rest until Dracula had awakened once more? You read something about him doing that in one of Richter’s journals. Something about how Alucard awoke to the call of Castlevania after Richter had risen the castle.

You felt your heart tick up a beat. Did that mean Alucard might come here and fight Dracula himself?

Turning onto your other side, you reached out and gently gripped your whip. Its old presence brought you a small comfort.

Chances were, you don’t think you’d have it in you to fight Alucard yourself.

Just like how you didn’t want to fight Dracula, just a little different in reasoning.

Would Alucard even listen if you tried to tell him Dracula didn’t want to kill humans? That is, if you even got Dracula to agree?

No, you doubted it would be that simple or easy.

Perhaps you could just stay out of it? Or at least try talking to him?

“Hah, am I really debating this?” You whispered to yourself, thumb running over some of the grooves of the whip.

You hadn’t even talked to Dracula yet about him leaving humanity alone, and here you were, thinking ahead as if you already accomplished such a feat.

Heaving a sigh, you slid the pillow out from under your head, and placed it on your face with a groan.

The weight of the world was still very much on your shoulders. Even if you didn’t have to fight Dracula now, you still had a job to do.

Protect humanity.

But…

Was it really that bad you were hoping you didn’t have to fight Dracula to do that?

Not just because of your complicated feelings, but would it not be better just to have him be neutral again?

If you did end up fighting and killing him, he would simply come back within a hundred years! It didn’t matter what you would do, fate would no doubt put your family through the ringer once more to defeat him.

Or at least have someone step up to the challenge if not your own family. Perhaps someone from the Morris clan?

Though, if you could make him no longer a threat because he wants to stay out of it, would that not be better for everyone involved?

Of course, you could only hope it would be that easy. Your life had never been simple, and it loved to screw you over time and time again.

However, you found some of your mother’s words echoing in your head.

‘Expect the worst, but hope for the best.’

Moving the pillow on your face to the side, you sighed.

“I can do that. I guess.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, idly listening to the thunder rolling overhead. You still couldn’t get over how this castle seemed to have a peaceful ambience your own home seemed to lack.

A buzz brought you out of your thoughts, and your eyes narrowed.

Hand flinging to the side of the bed, you patted the sheets until you felt the familiar shape of your phone. Picking it up, you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

‘When are u coming home? Dad’s not happy.’

Your mouth went dry, and you felt your body beginning to shake.

That’s right. You have been gone for several days now. It was only a matter of time before someone at home contacted you, asking where you were.

“Figures I couldn’t even have a week…” you mumbled, staring at your screen with badly veiled disdain.

Putting your phone down, you ignored the urge to puke your guts up. Just thinking of heading back to your family home made you nauseous.

Especially if Jason was growing upset you were gone.

“Upset if I’m there. Pissed if I’m away. Bah.”

It wasn’t incredibly surprising. Anytime you had injuries or were sick, you were always expected to ‘pick up the slack’, as they’d say.

Maybe they’d leave you be for a day or two at best if it was noticeably bad. However, you never got your hopes up, especially when it came to injuries.

In their eyes, if you could walk, you could work. If not doing the dirty jobs, then you could at least clean the house while they did the ‘real’ work.

A flare of irritation and anger rose in you.

Sure, you were always annoyed with them, but especially now after everything you have been through over the past few days.

Nearly dying because of your step family, having a manic episode and accidentally reviving your nemesis, said nemesis then caring for you better than anyone has before since your mother passed…

And… you had admittedly enjoyed the past few days, even if you were in enemy territory.

Dracula kept a slight distance with you, that much was obvious. It was clear, however, he was doing so for your comfort.

Even then, he still regularly checked up on you every few hours. You could technically even leave if you wanted, he said he would not stop you or hurt you for doing so.

Just yesterday, he had offered to bring you some books if you needed them, which you had declined.

It had shocked you more than anything that he was willing to offer entertainment, though you suppose you shouldn’t have been too surprised either. Declining had been a gut reaction from surprise, but you made sure to let him know you appreciated the offer.

You weren’t sure you could really even read anything he gave you, given you didn’t know what books he had. You would have had to see for yourself, and you didn’t want to bother him about it.

Though… It wasn’t like you could have gotten too much reading done with how much you had been sleeping and thinking. The few times you did need a distraction, you still had your phone too, which miraculously still somehow had a data connection.

Given how you were healing though… You wouldn’t mind a book now. A bit too late to ask for it though, you supposed.

Letting out a shaky breath, you looked at your phone once more.

The text almost seemed to taunt you.

They wanted you back, after hurting you, nearly killing you. All over ‘training’. As if nothing had happened.

Granted, you did tell them as you left to pretend it never happened. You think. Your memory of that fight was a bit hazier than you would like to admit.

Probably bloodloss.

Still…

Did they think they could just make demands? Just like that?

A part of you wanted to call Seth, the one who had texted you, and chew him out. Tell him about the hell you endured because of them, and how you almost died because they didn’t give a single shit about you.

How you wanted to rip into them, unload every single thing they have done to piss you off and ruin your life.

How a part of you wanted to go home and cut them to pieces slowly and-

You froze.

The grip on your phone was tight, and you felt your breathing grow heavy.

Carefully, you put your phone down on the bed, and took a deep breath.

You were angry, but you hated when those thoughts began to show. It never led to a good place mentally when you thought about killing them.

It wouldn’t be worth it.

Even if you did feel a sick satisfaction from it, which you know you would have, you would still suffer.

Being a Belmont only protected you from the law so much. The city you lived in didn’t know what went on behind closed doors. To the city, your little step family did everyone a favor by keeping the ‘beasts’ away.

If you killed them, you would be arrested. You would lose everything you worked hard for.

Your home, your heirlooms, your whip.

Sure, you could survive on the run for a while… But it wouldn’t be worth it.

The whole reason you put up with those jackasses was because you wanted to keep your home safe. You couldn’t exactly do that if you couldn’t go home.

Life really sucked right now.

But at least… you found temporary peace.

Idly, you clutched your phone again, wondering if you should answer Seth, or ignore him like you wanted to.

Given just looking at your screen and seeing the message made pricks of anxiety and frustration bloom in your chest, you decided to ignore it for now.

You couldn’t ignore it forever. Things would get worse if you did, and you already dreaded what the house must look like since you’ve been gone.

No doubt Jason’s attitude has been foul, you wouldn’t be surprised if he took it out on your home, just for you to clean up.

Scowling, you let out a small noise of annoyance.

After another moment, you decided to sit up. The soft sheets slid to your hips, and you winced as some weight shifted to a wound.

Hand twitching, you resisted the urge to open your bandages to look at your injuries.

Most were beginning to heal rather nicely since Dracula had brought you a potion. However, you still had a long way to go before you were fully recovered.

At the very least, maybe it wouldn’t be that long if Dracula truly intended to keep having potions made for you.

Yet another concept that floated around in your head that still managed to surprise you.

It’s almost funny. If you had been any other Belmont, you were certain you probably would have been mocked and tortured for having injuries. You doubted he would have extended the same kindness as he had you.

This didn’t help the fuzzy feeling in your chest when you thought about him, in an odd way.

You were special to Dracula, at least right now you were.

He wanted you alive for now. Alive and well.

Wringing your hands close to your chest, you tried not to sigh again.

What were you going to do?

As you tried once again to think over your options, your eyes caught your figure in one of the mirrors in the room. One near a dresser meant to look over outfits, you presumed.

Though you couldn’t help but scrunch up your face when you noticed your reflection.

You looked awful. Felt it too, even if your injuries were doing better.

Despite this, Dracula still treated you so gently, and with respect.

As you were deep in your musings, you ended up jumping a bit when you heard the familiar brisk knock at your door.

You knew right away who it was, having memorized just how particular Dracula had been knocking on your door.

Perhaps it was on purpose? A knock you would grow to recognize in case someone else knocked on your door?

Regardless, you didn’t keep him waiting, telling him to come in.

You would admit though, you never got over the slight surprise you had as he entered your room each time.

His presence alone was intimidating, even as he made a point to try and not be as such. How he seemingly called for attention as he entered a room, even if he didn’t utter a word.

It was both impressive, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

Nervous? Sure. Into it? You had to mentally smack your brain a little to avoid your thoughts going in that direction as he was in the same room as you-

“Good afternoon.” He spoke as he closed the door behind him, his voice deep and quiet. You know for a fact he had a voice that could lead an entire army, or gently put you to sleep.

A dangerous voice, one you liked a bit too much.

-Nodding to him, you gave him a small smile. It was strange, how relaxed you were becoming around him with each visit.

A part of you still yearned for it to never end.

But your phone weighed heavy in your hand, a solid reminder you couldn’t stay. Unspoken consequences idly rolled around in your head, which was beginning to make you grow queasy.

Dracula’s eyes seemed to see through you, and you wondered if he could read your mind with how his gaze seemed to look at your very soul.

You certainly hoped he couldn’t read your mind, otherwise things would be pretty awkward with all the suggestive thoughts you have been mentally fighting off with a bat that floated through your head.

Thankfully, Dracula didn’t say a thing about that, simply sitting down in the chair you decided to keep next to your bed.

“Are you feeling well? Has the potion helped?”

He asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Heart pounding slightly, you smiled a bit wider.

“Yes! It has helped tremendously. My head no longer feels as if someone hit it with a hammer, and I’m mostly just sore at this point.”

Granted, that didn’t mean you were out of the woods yet. Your pain tolerance was higher than most. Just because you felt better, didn’t mean you were greenlit to go do any serious activities or hunting.

Despite your inner musings, Dracula seemed pleased.

“Good, good…”

He then reached into his cloak, and pulled out what you assumed to be another bottle filled with potion.

It had been a little while since he gave you that first dose, so it should be safe to consume more..

Potions could be taken in large quantities, but it wasn’t exactly recommended.

The concoctions filled a person’s stomach, but didn’t offer any nutritional value other than healing wounds. It could even make a person sick if consumed too much without a break or food in between major doses.

Not that it stopped you before. You didn’t exactly have the luxury of being picky at home when constantly fighting illness and injury. Growing sick from too much potion was a risk you often had to take.

You decided to keep that thought to yourself as you took the bottle from Dracula’s hands.

“If your healing continues to progress, you should be completely healed in less than a week. Maybe even sooner once those other potions are finished.” Dracula spoke, drawing your attention back to him.

A week? You didn’t think you had that kind of time. You’d probably need to be home at most, three days from now.

Dracula gave you an odd look.

“Is that not satisfactory?”

You blinked, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh, no! That… that isn’t the issue at all. It’s… It’s just…” you stumbled over your words, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out how to explain without seeming unthankful.

Dracula remained patient, letting you figure out what to say. His gaze was cool, yet curious.

A part of you also swore you saw amusement as you fumbled your sentences together.

Nervously, you began to wring your hands together, and fiddle with your shirt.

“…I just… I’m uh, I’m expected to be home soon…”

Dracula raised a brow at your small explanation.

Immediately, you also felt the temperature of the room drop. Enough to make the hair on your neck stand on end, and send a shudder down your spine.

You hoped you hadn’t pissed him off by saying that…

The gaze on Dracula’s face shifted, going from barely concealed amusement, to something… darker.

Old instincts began to wake, and you seriously hoped this wouldn’t be the end of the small little bit of peace you have had up until now.

The last thing you wanted was a fight.

An intimidating silence took hold of the room, and you forced yourself not to reach for your whip out of nerves. After a few moments, Dracula then broke said silence.

“This home of yours…”

He leaned close to you, his eyes bearing into your own.

“…Is it the same place where you received these injuries?”

For a moment, it felt as if the wind had been taken out of your sails.

“…Huh?”

You were confused. Was he… not upset with you?

Dracula tilted his head, those same ruby eyes flickering over where you were still injured.

“Forgive me for being presumptuous, but is that not where you were attacked? Was it within your own home?”

The question had your eyes wide.

“I uh-“

Dracula leaned back, though the odd feeling in the room didn’t settle.

“Of course, you don’t have to answer. But if I am right, is it that pressing to return before you are fully healed to handle whoever, or whatever dealt such blows?”

His questions had you pausing, and you felt your mouth run dry.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Dracula seemed apprehensive about you returning home where you were hurt.

Almost as if he cared.

The very thought had your mind whirring in overdrive. If someone had told you months ago that Dracula himself seemed to care about you, you would have laughed in their face.

But with everything he has done for you… was it really that far fetched?

If anything, you could at least argue he’d hate to see all the hard work done in healing you go to waste, but you were certain it was more than that.

Again, not good for your conflicted feelings on Mr. Lord of the Night himself.

Rubbing the back of your head with a sigh, you felt yourself droop a little.

“It’s… complicated, but yes. I have to return home soon, or things might get messy.”

The very thought of what might happen if you disappeared too long left a sour feeling in your stomach.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and he held your gaze for a few moments.

“…I assume you can’t put this off then? That it must be urgent?” He asked, his voice low.

Nodding, you tried to keep holding his gaze, not wanting to seem weak about it.

“Unfortunately. I… I risk a lot if I wait too long.”

Dracula’s eyes narrowed on you, before he closed them with a sigh.

“Like I have mentioned before, you are my guest here. You are free to leave at any point you wish, nor are you to be attacked as you do so. However…”

Your head tilted slightly, heart picking up at the end of his sentence. However…?

“Are you… certain this is wise? That there is nothing else that can be done?”

Shaking your head, you finally looked away.

“…Will you be hurt again?”

You stayed silent, telling Dracula all he needed to know, even if you refused to elaborate.

Why bother making an empty promise? Even if you don’t get hurt this time when you head home, what about the next? You knew all too well it was practically a waiting game until you were sick or injured again.

With your silence, the room somehow became increasingly colder.

Daring to look up, you were surprised to see the red of his eyes glowing slightly, much like how he had found you.

He really didn’t seem to like the implications you left him with.

But what could you say?

‘Yeah, my step family might try to beat the shit out of me or leave me the rotten leftovers to eat, or even make me do the yucky missions. No doubt I’ll be injured or sick again by the end of the month!’

Yeah… that probably sounded a bit pathetic. Some Belmont you were, allowing your own ‘family’ to use you as a punching bag.

Dracula eventually let out a sigh, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He looked frustrated. Or worried? You couldn’t be too sure.

A moment passed. Then another. You weren’t entirely sure what to say.

Another sigh left his lips, and when he moved his hand to look at you, his eyes briefly glowed once again, before returning to their same ruby red they were before.

The room remained cold, though the look in his face wasn’t quite as scathing or irritated.

“Very well then. It seems this is personal and important to you. Whenever you wish to leave, I will personally escort you out of the castle.”

A part of you grew warm and fuzzy at that. And they say chivalry is dead.

However, before you could bask in that warm, fuzzy feeling, his voice rang out once more.

“Before you leave however, we have much to discuss.”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

As if a switch had been flipped, his entire posture seemed to shift.

His back was up straighter, and he crossed his legs. He then rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his head on his fist.

His eyes seemed to sharpen as his gaze then zeroed in on you.

Your mouth went dry.

It was as if his entire demeanor changed.

Hair on your neck stood on end, and out of nowhere, it was as if a stone settled uncomfortably in your stomach.

“You had mentioned wishing to talk back when I was… imprisoned. If you are going to leave, I imagine you would wish to discuss this before you do so.”

You felt your blood run cold.

Ah. That.

Now you understood why his demeanor had changed so much in a matter of seconds.

No longer were you just talking to Dracula, your polite host.

You were now discussing terms with Dracula, King of the Night.

#castlevania #vlad dracula tepes #dracula #dracula x reader #castlevania x reader #x reader #reader insert #vlad dracula țepeș #reader x dracula #zed.writes #love that bites #belmont!reader #long post

148 notes · View notes

pinkandpurple360 · 7 months

Text

ITS ME, MAMMON 💚🃏

This man reeks of insecure corporate shame

A psychology theory…

“And I’ll be like a stepdad, who will love you, when it’s convenient!!”

It all really started for him in LooLoo Land, the-legally distinct-knockoff of Lucifers more successful Lulu World that reeks of insecure corporate shame.

When he said

“I raised you like the son I didn’t want!”

He was fucking lying his clowny ass off because he wanted a son even more than Fizz wanted a father of his own and Mam has not shut up about his father-son delusion for almost twenty goddamn years

The second image above, and all of the symbolism around it is the foundation of Mammons character and psychology. No really. This was not the introduction of Fizzarolli, it was the introduction of Mammon wearing Fizzi as his face. Vibe checked by a jaded 17 year old owl goth girl who can see through her own pathetic dads fake bullshit. This scene was the foreshadowing of the Musical Special. Everything from the green spotlight on Fizzi, the nasty personality of the robot which was closer to Mammons than Fizzarolli’s. Lots of symbolism. Especially the ripped off reference to Hazbin Hotels “I have a dream” song lyric. Has possible symbolism. I’m actually deeply disappointed the ep didn’t make a single call back to LooLoo Land at all. And Blitz was right there and wasted potential :(

Shown is a Fizzbot ‘Fizzi’ compared to his ‘dad’ mammon ahh like father like son as they say. Blech. Everybody loves Fizz, does anybody love you, Mammon? (Me, I do❤️)

So I’m going to get it out of the way and say it, Mammon is giving Leviathan a run for his money (haha money, get it?) because his envy and idolisation of his BFF Lucifer is so great that he’s trying to find his “very own pride and joy”, his own theme park, his own grand circus and adoring fans, and his own wholesome musical child knock-off of Lucifers more popular Charlie Morningstar.

He saw this

And he thought….

Aw, he so sad here :c Just do this one thing, for him x he’s just a giant evil baby man with four arms and eight eyes

He doesn’t really want a daughter though, he feels like he’d relate better to a (marketable) son. And I think that’s the real reason he made the comment about women not being considered the same way adults werent considered, only implings who want to grow up to be like him. (creepy..! I think that’s what tipped Blitzo off also poor Wally (another orphan like Fizz?) Wally didn’t make the cut 😢 YEET.

Anyway-His whole dream is being a father and son taking on the world to grow his empire. As long as he steals all the fortune. He must be insecure and full of shame if he wants someone to be his “new face” every year, if you really think about it. If the kid same is the gender as him and therefore a bit more like his own face in that sense, he’s not copying Lucifers daughter cause he has a son. It’s different and not the same at all.

But seriously it really shocked me when he started talking about being like a stepdad, and he was genuinely excited about it too? But this man doesn’t even know he wants to be a father and he’s probably never felt love before in his life. I guarantee this was a first sight “wow this kid kinda looks like me and he has the same innocent look in his eyes as Charlie, he’s mine now”

“I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING”

This for me. Made as big an impact as Oz saying he loves Fizz. It was very shocking. The opposite of greed is giving, and giving something to somebody is probably a massive fucking deal to Mam and I’d bet he doesn’t even know himself why he gave fizz so much attention

He also doesn’t kill Fizz? He SCREAMS at him, uses big intimidation tactics, sure, but didn’t actually lay a hand on him if you really look? He was fine with being uncomfortably physical and even violent before to him but isn’t now? (Fizz is forever so badass for this moment btw) How strange is that. This whole thing reeks of ‘scorned father’

Like he’s happy to keep exploiting Fizz but also just as fine in replacing him, even happy to see him possibly fail. So he really has no reason to be this possessive and attached. But he is. Oz says the song is about him and Fizz literally calls his name out and Mammon still ALLOWS him to finish his song he genuinely really enjoyed the song, he allowed him to make his speech, but only intervenes when he quits.

Why, because he wants the crowd to “love” him it’s very important to him - the money they give him is what he thinks love is. There is so many dads out there who respond to abuse allegations with “but I put a roof over their head and provide security” This is abusive father 101. I guess it could be just because Fizz is beloved by the masses, profitable, sure. But what if it’s because he feels the same way the crowd does about fizz, and doesn’t comprehend why? He clearly loves watching his performances. Even the diss track against him. Priorities.

It is just an extremely interesting concept to me if Mam is trying to copy Lucifers family, but the best thing he can come up with is a Brand Figure to be his “legacy” Capitalists man. He doesn’t understand what love is. But wants it. Wants to buy it. But it’s never enough.

“You are practically in my image”

Is literally another dad thing and to be more dramatic about this it’s the same thing we hear that ‘God made you in his image’ could this be setting up the theme of the show? Honestly my one criticism is that there’s enough sexual relationships in this show there didn’t need to be implications of him sexually interested in the guy he literally sees as his kid. A twisted boss/father story about a deeply lonely orphan clown child and a deeply lonely capitalistic clown spider over-idolising each other and entering an abusive family/work dynamic due to both of their tragic nativité and ignorance about love, is already a very mature story. It’s a 9/10 story but if Fizz and Blitz (an excellent way to incorporate him in the story) talked a bit about Fizz’s orphan status at the circus making him feel like there was always something missing, something Blitz had but he never did, it would have been 10/10.

#helluva boss #mammon #The Mammon Theory part 1 probably #cause this guy has so much going on #Helluva Mammon #Helluva Boss Mammon #Fizzarolli

250 notes · View notes

coraniaid · 24 days

Note

🔥 on fuffy's dynamic? or anything fuffy related

I think most Fuffy shippers – me included for sure – have a habit of making Faith seem a bit too … well, nice.

Don’t get me wrong: I like Faith a lot. Not just as a character – and she is one of my favorite characters on the show, even if she only appears in less than two dozen episodes – but on a personal level too I have a lot of empathy for her. I think she has a pretty rough deal in life. I think she’s very badly let down by a lot of people, both before and after becoming a Slayer. I think the narrative itself is often far less sympathetic to her than it is to other characters. I think she’s pretty miserably unhappy most of the time, and I think her redemption arc is genuinely very good, even with the little we see of her post-Sanctuary.

That said, it feels to me that a lot of Fuffy fanfiction is written by people who have decided, whether consciously or not, that the “real” Faith is the Faith we see awkwardly asking Buffy if she wants to go the dance with her in Homecoming since she already has the tickets, or showing up on Buffy's doorstep in Amends with some crappy Christmas presents, still not quite able to admit there was never any “big party” she could have gone to instead, however obvious it is at this point, and somehow managing to make a million different heartbreaking microexpressions when Buffy says she’s glad to see her.

Yes, I like those moments too – I like them a lot – and I think that they are definitely indicative of a real aspect of Faith, one she tries hard to keep hidden most of the time. But I think it’s an injustice to her character to make that the sum total of her personality. If this were all there was to Faith’s character, she wouldn’t be half as compelling.

What about the Faith who, however troubled she looked at first, manages to shrug off the fact her new boss is planning to have Willow murdered when he tells her he’s also bought her a Playstation? What about the Faith who attacks Joyce, ties her up and threatens to kill her? What about the Faith who fantasies about stabbing Willow and taunts Tara by telling her how much Willow used to love Oz? What about the Faith who, right from her first appearance, is perhaps a little bit too into beating up vampires and killing demons? What about the Faith who threatens to torture Buffy, who tries to kill Angel, who definitely does torture Wesley and who kills Professor Worth while he begs for his life? What about the Faith who probably was going to kill Xander? What about what Faith does to Buffy in Who Are You?

I’m not saying all Fuffy authors should exclusively write angst-ridden enemies-to-lovers in which for the first 100,000 words Faith really does seem to revel in being able to kill things without consequences even as she lets her obsession with Buffy Summers lead her into actively and deliberately trying to hurt her or bring her down to her level. (Though it would perhaps be nice if some of it was like this!) I don’t have any moral objection if people would rather write fluff in which Faith and Buffy have an awkward first kiss at the Homecoming Dance, or AUs in which Faith never sides with the Mayor, or post-canon fic which takes for granted the fact that Faith is now redeemed and happily devoted to Buffy (it would make me a bit of a hypocrite if I did, since I’ve written all of these things).

But the sort of Fuffy writing and meta that I most enjoy, even if it doesn’t dwell on Faith’s worst moments or if it takes place in a continuity where they conveniently haven’t happened, always treats Faith as somebody who could do those things, if the circumstances were just a little bit different. Always recognizes her as somebody who does have a lot of barely-suppressed anger in her, who is more likely to listen to an authority figure who tells her what she wants to hear than one who doesn’t, who is more than a little bit jealous of Buffy’s life, who does think, deep down, that being a Slayer makes her better than other people.

To me, that’s the appeal of Faith as a character and also of her relationship with Buffy. The two things are kind of inseparable. Faith is a reflection of a lot of Buffy’s own worst impulses; she’s somebody that Buffy could have been if things had turned out differently (and if Buffy hadn’t had a certain inner strength and self-belief that Faith, for all her posturing, doesn’t quite ever have herself). She’s the Buffy we’ll see hints of throughout Season 6, the Buffy we saw in Season 2’s When She Was Bad, the Buffy we see in Season 3’s The Wish. And, as a reflection of Buffy, she has some of Buffy’s strengths as well as exaggerated versions of some of Buffy’s flaws. She’s not uncomplicatedly Evil, even at her worst, but she does a lot of things that are very hard to forgive, and she enjoys doing some of them more than some people like to admit.

I think if somebody’s going to try to write Fuffy, and get both Buffy and Faith right, that’s something they need to remember. Let Faith have some jagged edges. Let her be a little bit dangerous. Let her be a little bit cruel. Let her be a little bit self-destructive. Put simply: let her be Faith.

#btvs #asks #thank you for the ask!

54 notes · View notes

ghostlyaerobics1984 · 1 year

Text

Several times You Were Suspected, and the One Time You Weren’t. (SCREAM VI SPOILERS)

Summary: Reader is a newbie in the core-four friend group and according to the rules, they are a suspect. Reader keeps conveniently showing up at the murder scenes, and a seed of doubt becomes implanted in the others’ minds leaving them to believe Reader is Ghostface. Reader is innocent, but they don’t know that.

Word Count: 8,511

Pairings: Gn!Reader x Tara, Male!Reader x Tara

Author’s note: The reader is male since there is a SIGNIFICANT lack of male reader fanfics, but could be read as gender neutral if you try hard enough. Slight proofread because I got lazy.

You rushed over to Sam’s apartment as soon as you could. Slamming the SUV door shut, you jogged over to the ambulance where you were met with the distressed faces of Chad, Mindy, Tara, and Sam.

“What the fuck?” You shoot a glance at Ethan, catching the end of his excuse for an alibi. He appeared to be flustered.

“I saw it on the news.” There was genuine concern in your voice. “I can’t believe this happened.” Your eyes began to water because you had been close with Quinn and it hurt knowing she was gone. Forever.

You didn’t miss the way the four survivors from Woodsboro exchanged skeptical looks with each other and refused to initiate a conversation with you.

You were taken aback. Their suspicion was fair, but it hurt to be looked at that way. Like you were capable of killing them in cold blood. “Y-You don’t think I did this?”

In an attempt to clear your name, you said, “I loved Quinn. She was my best friend. Why the fuck would I kill her? Or kill Anika?”

You stopped yourself, at the risk of sounding hysterical.

“Doesn’t matter if you were best friends.” Mindy replied, very clearly glaring at you. “That still gives you motive. Maybe you were spurred on by jealousy.”

You scoffed and silently pleaded for the others to back you up. No one did.

Ethan shuffled awkwardly. Chad and Tara refused to meet your gaze, and Sam was staring at you in a way you’d never seen before.

“Speaking of motive, where were you last night?” Mindy asked with narrowed eyes.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on you.

You stuttered nervously. “I was in the dorm. You know, where I’m living.”

The last part came out meaner than you initially intended.

“Hmm,” Mindy shook her head, pressing her lips together. Her eyes scanned around the ambulance from where she sat, then they were on you again. “How convenient, y/n. That you were at the college dorm when none of us were there to corroborate your alibi. You just moved at the top of my suspect list.”

You wanted to be angry, but you found yourself understanding why they were reacting this way.

Least you could do was divert some of the attention away from you. “Fair enough, but I don’t think you should rule out Ethan, either.”

Ethan faced you sharply, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Why would you say that?!”

“I mean, a school excuse? Really? It’s almost the same as mine.” You retorted, resisting the urge to snicker at his slowly reddening face.

“I was taking the—!”

“We’re not ruling anyone out.” Sam interjected, her voice determined. “Y/n’s right, I don’t think it’s smart to point the finger at one person. Even if they are highly suspicious.”

You chose to ignore her patronizing tone. “Yeah, I’ll take that.”

“Just stay the fuck away from us.” Chad held his hand up as if signaling for a stop. Then he added, “Both of you.”

“Wait,” You said desperately, taking a small step forward. “Is there a way I can prove myself? Please. I mean, haven’t you been wrong about your theories, Mindy?”

Everyone went silent.

That couldn’t be a good indication for you. You held your breath, expecting to hear a pin drop.

“Yeah.” Mindy whispered under her breath quietly. You almost missed it, too.

“Yes, as in, I can prove myself?” You pressed on, hopeful.

“No.” Your heart sank. “Yes, as in, I was wrong at pointing out the killer before.”

“Well, at least y/n is wanting to clear their name.” Tara finally spoke after letting her friends do the talking without her. “Same can’t be said for the other present suspect.” A jab at Ethan.

Ethan struggled to argue his case, which you couldn’t help but smile at. Maybe you would be able to gain your friends’ trust back after all.

“I think we should give him a chance.” You caught Tara gazing at you. A slight smile teased her lips.

Was she on your side? Or not? You weren’t sure.

Chad gave her a questioning look. They stared at each other for so long, you began to wonder if something was going on between them.

“Alright, fine.” Chad relented. He threw his head back dramatically and sighed.

After witnessing Tara punch the famous, annoying reporter Gale Weathers, you were all led to a creepy area she had found through “Investigative journalism”.

And by all, was you, Ethan, Quinn’s cop dad, Sam, Tara, Kirby, and Gale.

“Jesus.” You managed to speak past your shock while traipsing and observing the displays that contained collectives from every ghostface killing.

Tara was walking ahead of you at a slow pace. She was assigned to watch you, and Chad was in charge of Ethan. So you weren’t allowed to stray away from her or the group.

Fine by you, because you weren’t the killer, or one of the killers. You learned from Mindy that there could be multiple.

You noticed Tara staring at a particular display. Her fingers traced the glass carefully.

You could tell from the way her fingers traced the display for too long that seeing all of this was causing her emotional distress.

You noticed a picture of a girl. Amber, you think. Tara must have suffered through so much because of her.

“Hey…” You said softly, bumping your shoulder against hers in a lighthearted manner and catching her attention.

“So, you and Chad?” You leaned on the display, your stomach pressed against the glass. “Are you guys a thing or…”

You trailed off, hoping she would fill in the blanks for you.

“We aren’t.” She answered a little too fast, but didn’t give anything more than that.

You let out a puff of air, feeling disappointed. You wished her response was convincing enough.

It was obvious that you were bummed and she regarded you with amusement. “Why do you care?”

“Because I like you.” The confession spilled easily from your mouth. “No bullshit. I really like you, Tara.”

You were scared to see her expression because you knew that it could end in rejection. Especially a beautiful girl like Tara, she probably had lots of men and women that were lined up to date her.

You were attracted to her attitude and her pretend carefree behavior, which she used as a coping mechanism due to traumatic events.

The dangers from her past and what was happening in the present didn’t deter you. You wanted her in spite of the fact that she was a victim of murderous attacks.

She deserved to be loved and treated respectfully.

But since you were currently the most suspected out of the group… you didn’t stand a chance.

“For the record,” Tara started off; You prepared for your feelings to be crushed. “I believe you.”

That got you turning your head to face her. Tara wasn’t pitying you, or angry. Her reaction wasn’t at all like you had expected. She was being calm.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You do?”

“About you being in love, not the serial killer part.” She had a halfhearted grin on her face.

Tara was teasing you. Well, you were 90% sure she wasn’t serious about the murderer accusation.

You decided to play along.

You leaned in closer to her, dropping your voice to a low whisper as you spoke in her ear. “Doesn’t that excite you? A potential psychotic killer only having the hots for you?”

You trailed your fingers up her arm for effect. You didn’t miss the shift in her eyes.

How they became half-lidded and how they definitely weren’t directed at your eyes anymore, but at your lips.

The energy surrounding the two of you seemed to change also. It became static and… very warm.

Your cheeks were starting to feel hot.

Tara shuffled closer to you, and you followed. The both of you waited on the other to make a move.

You swallowed nervously; Tara let her eyes fall to watch your throat bob.

When she didn’t change her mind or make the choice to walk away, you swiftly closed the gap and connected your lips with hers.

You anticipated that Tara would eventually push away from you and laugh because this interaction between the two of you was an elaborate prank all along.

She didn’t. You weren’t being duped.

Tara Carpenter was kissing you and her lips were so, so soft.

You had absentmindedly placed your hands on her hips and pressed her front against yours, while simultaneously slipping your tongue in her mouth.

You heard Tara try to stifle her gasp, and fail at doing so.

You had to stop yourself from smiling into the kiss because you didn’t want the moment to end too soon.

You were warm and tingly all over; your heartbeat thrummed against your chest. You were getting wrapped up in the excitement of the moment.

Just as you dreaded, it was cut short. You were startled by a strong arm gripping your shoulder.

Tara looked up, in a daze, when you were suddenly jerked away from her. She wore a confused expression on her face.

“Keep your dirty hands off her, Ghostface.” Chad jabbed a threatening finger in your chest.

He got into your face, and it was very jarring. You were genuinely scared for your well-being, and your life-long streak of no broken bones.

Like a hungry snake preying on an unsuspecting mouse, his hands latched onto your throat. The force of his grip had you raised a few inches from the ground. “What are you planning?”

“Chad, stop.” Tara protested, annoyed.

“Put y/n down.” Mindy groaned. “Seriously, this is not the time for your alpha complex.”

He wasn’t squeezing tight enough to strangle you, but it was still uncomfortable to breathe.

Your eyes were wide in fear. Chad didn’t let you go.

You weren’t earning any sympathy points from him, especially since you most likely took the woman he’s had eyes for.

“Okay, put them down right now. Or I shoot.” Kirby deadpanned. “I’m not kidding.”

This is it. You were going to die at the hands of a condescending jock. Not the ending you thought would ever happen, but what could you do?

You drew in a shallow breath and let your eyes flutter close. Something felt heavy in your pocket. Without alarming Chad, you sneaked your hand inside to figure out what the object was.

Your fingers grazed the hilt of a knife, your chest tightening when you realized what it was. You needed to keep your breathing under control, even while Chad had his hands around your throat, or you would give your predicament away and be in tremendous trouble with the group.

You didn't have a knife on you before you entered the abandoned shrine building, so who pinned it on you? And without anyone catching them?

The longer you stressed about the knife and the longer Chad was proving to be a hostile threat, the more you considered stabbing him.

You gaped in horror as the thought crossed your mind. You were just stressed out, that's all. Not a reason to impulsively lash out.

But he was threatening your life...

You were sure Chad's pissed-off face would be forever implanted in your memory when Kirby called out, "Alright, I'm counting to three!"

Chad dropped you before she could reach number three. You thankfully hit the floor on both feet, but being the asshole, Chad shoved you with brute force and knocked you off balance.

You were sent tumbling backward over a display, letting out a yelp as your head slammed against a wall.

"Oh my fucking god." That was either Mindy or Sam.

You couldn't tell black from blue; Your head swam and you were pretty sure you weren't imagining the warm liquid trickling down the back of your neck.

A dark shadow rose above you. You craned your neck up to see everyone in the group staring down at you with worry. Minus Chad because he obviously wasn't sorry.

"Shit." Tara crouched down in front of you. "Come on. I'll help you walk out of here." She extended her hand.

You blinked blearily and grabbed her hand. You fought back a wave of nausea as you were pulled up to your feet. Tara intertwined her fingers with yours, which put a smile on your face.

The two of you started to walk in sync.

Someone slung an arm around your shoulder. Mindy.

"To show you my condolences for the actions of my idiot brother," Mindy declared aloud so everyone could hear. "You have officially been moved down my suspect list."

"I appreciate it." You offered a weak grin, and she returned it.

"What do we do next?" Tara asked after approaching Kirby with you in tow.

Kirby's eyes seemed to glint with mischievous intent. "I have something in mind."

You needed to get rid of that knife as soon as possible.

"Distracting the killer on a phone call while tracing him from a van?" Mindy sighed in disbelief. "In a public space with a crowd of people?"

No one dared to interrupt her rambling; Kirby was working on a computer, Ethan worked on a bag of chips, and Chad was laying back.

"This is exactly how our uncle Randy died in the sequel!"

"Just relax." Kirby tried to assuage her. "I know what I'm doing."

"The killer is going to conveniently hang up right before you can trace his location," Mindy smirked, dissing Kirby's police skills.

"I can complete a trace in 15 seconds," Kirby replied with as much sass.

Mindy's face turned serious. "Oh, carry on."

Tara and Sam were being used as bait to keep the killer occupied on the phone call.

"Trying to lure me to a public area with a bunch of cops watching?" Ghostface laughed eerily while Sam listened on the other end. Tara stuck by her side. "I've seen this before and I'm one step ahead of you."

"Wait, where is that pinging?" Mindy asked, leaning over Kirby's shoulder to observe the map on the screen. There was a pulsing dot pinpointing Ghostface's current location.

"That's..." She recoiled.

"Gale!"

You took a taxi from the hospital to Gale Weather's apartment. One quick google search, and it was easy to find out where she lived.

Your injury had been stitched up; a white gauge was wrapped around your head. You weren't technically dismissed from the hospital, but you had a terrible feeling in your gut that Gale was in danger.

You assumed everyone else remained in a group since you last saw them, but you didn't know if anyone was looking out for Gale.

You rushed your ass into the elevator of her building and jabbed your thumb into the button to go to the top floor. "Come on, come on."

The elevator seemed to move at an infuriatingly slow pace, which didn't help your nerves. You paced around as the elevator kept rising. "What if I'm too late?" You mumbled to yourself.

You didn't have time to dwell on your anxiety because the elevator doors were opening, and you darted the hell out of there.

"Gale!" You screamed at the top of your lungs while running through the hall. You caught a glimpse of open doors and sounds of struggle followed from inside.

Heart beating heavily in your chest, you turned into the room without slowing down. You soon stopped when you took in the sight of the destroyed room, and the masked figure barreling your way.

A shrill shriek escaped from your lips as you tried to dodge. Ghostface's knife slashed your cheek as you did so. You fell on your side, groaning.

The masked killer fled into the hallway and disappeared; you weren't being targeted. Yet.

You sat up once you heard soft groans that didn't belong to you. Your eyes searched the room frantically until you spotted the person you came to save.

Gale was lying on the floor; blood was slowly seeping from under her body.

"Oh fuck." You crawled to her. Gale's choked gasps were audible now that you were near her.

You observed her stab wounds with watery eyes. "Gale... I'm so sorry.”

It seemed like she was trying to smile, as if she was at peace with dying, and you were worried that she was straining herself.

"You're going to be okay-" You reached to put pressure on a gushing shoulder wound, but someone yelling out Gale's name made you pull back.

Oh no.

You swallowed thickly and stood up just as Sam and Tara ran into the room.

They were shocked to see you. It didn't take long for Sam to grow angry with you. "You stay the fuck away from her."

It was only then that you realized your clothes became stained with Gale's blood. "I didn't do this! I collided with the killer when I ran in to save her."

"How did you know where she lived?" Great, now Tara was suspecting you were the killer. She was purposefully keeping her distance.

"I was in the hospital room when I missed a call from Gale's number. It was weird. Gale Weathers would never call someone like me. I had a feeling something was wrong and looked up her address on google."

Tara gave you a once over. You could see her face relax.

She still trusted you.

Sam was the opposite. “I don’t believe you. Don’t even think about coming near my fucking sister either.”

With that being said, her attention shifted to the woman dying on the floor. Or as Mindy would put it, the “Legacy character.”

“Oh my god, Gale.” Sam knelt down next to her body, on the verge of crying. Tara lingered behind her.

“I called the cops when I got here.” You said, hoping to dig yourself out of the hole you found yourself in.

“If you’re trying to make yourself seem innocent, it’s not working.” Sam replied coldly.

Well, damn.

Tara turned her head to give you a sorrowful glance, mouthing a silent apology.

You gave her a curt nod. The fact that Tara believed you was all the reassurance you needed. “You know what, I’m fucking tired of taking the blame for this fucked up shit.”

You were careful to not say anything that would incriminate you by accident. You were storming out before you could hear Sam’s reply.

There was no point in holding your tongue because you found yourself in the hot seat at the police station anyway.

“Why don’t you give me a rundown of your story again?” Detective Bailey looked tired. “Maybe you missed important details.”

You scoffed; your arms were crossed, and you leaned back in a chair. “You’re hoping that I’ll trip up and change my story.”

He clenched his jaw, held eye contact with you, then sighed in defeat. “You happened to arrive at Gale Weathers’s apartment moments after she was stabbed… I think it’s fair for me to be skeptical about coincidences.”

“I told you already. I missed a call from Gale’s number when I was getting stitches on my head at the hospital.” You pulled out your phone, tapped on it, then showed the screen to him.

In the notifications bar of your phone, there was a missed call alert from a number you didn’t have saved. Under the number was a smaller text that read, “Maybe: Gale Weathers”

Detective Bailey skimmed through the notification multiple times, but it wasn’t photoshopped. You were telling the truth.

“Alright.” He motioned for you to put the phone away, and you did.

You thought the interrogation was going to be over soon, but then Detective Bailey reached around and pulled out an object concealed in a plastic bag.

He dropped it on the table. You saw what it was at first glance and immediately felt like you had seen a ghost.

“Want to explain what you were doing with this weapon?” He was smug now.

You thought you got rid of that knife.

“An eyewitness saw someone, fitting your description, discarding this knife in the hospital trash.”

When you remained silent, he leaned forward and continued to interrogate you, “Who are you working with?”

You shook your head, not removing your gaze from the knife. “Test the blood.”

Detective Bailey seemed taken aback. “What?”

You made eye contact with him. Your face was deadpan. “I never used that knife. The blood is from old victims of past Ghostface killings. I’m telling you, detective, someone is trying to frame me.”

He set his jaw, and you could sense the gears in his brain turning as he mulled over your suggestion.

Without a word, he stood up, snatched the evidence with a force that made you flinch, and left the room.

Just as you said, the blood on that knife didn’t belong to Quinn or Anika.

“What do you mean you’re letting y/n go?”

You could hear Sam and Detective Bailey conversing from the other side of the door.

“I ran the knife through blood testing and there was no match to any of the current victims.” Bailey explained. “He’s clean.”

The door opened. You were able to see that Sam looked grim, and Detective Bailey was disappointed.

He beckoned for you to come out, and you did without hesitation, snubbing Sam on your way out.

“Meeting at the hospital. In lobby.” You reread the text message from Tara as you walked into the hospital building.

You spotted the group in a corner. You braced yourself and strutted over to them.

Their heads snapped up upon your arrival. As expected, you were greeted with a chorus of complaints.

“Why are you here?” Chad took on an intimidating stance, possibly to scare you.

”I invited him.” Tara admitted. Some of their scrutiny was then focused on her.

“Tara—“ Sam scolded.

“What?” Tara cut her off, tone becoming defensive. “Your hot neighbor and Ethan are allowed to hear the discussion, but y/n gets the cold shoulder? How is that fair?”

They didn’t argue with her any further.

You gauged everyone’s grim expressions. “What’s going on?”

“We’re gonna trap Ghostface.” It was Tara who answered you. She had her phone out. “Then kill him.”

You and Tara had to use the bathroom.

But not really.

Needless to say, she was happy you were proven innocent.

Your hands gripped her hips tight enough to leave bruises as she was pushed up the wall.

You feverishly kissed the span of her neck and positioned your knee between her legs to keep her upright.

Tara had her arms wrapped around your neck; her nails leaving scratches. Breathless moans slipped out of her mouth.

“Fuck.” You whispered in the crook of her neck, your arousal growing.

You sensually grinded your front against hers, using the friction to relieve some of the pressure in your pants.

Tara laughed softly. She trailed her hands to your shoulders and lightly pushed back from you so that she could see your face. “Slow your roll, babe. We’ll both be alive to have sex later.”

”You don’t know that.” You whined, going back to kiss at her neck.

“I’m serious, y/n. I don’t want our first time to be in a hospital closet. I don’t care if death is looming over us.” You stopped grinding and looked up to see a frown on her face.

“No, you’re right.” You slumped against her, sighing heavily. “I am afraid. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to be this close to you again.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “I keep telling my stalker sister to let me go. I can fucking handle myself.”

“She cares about you.” You mumbled into her shoulder. “Plus, telling someone to let you go while we’re in a real life scary movie is kind of ominous.”

Your tone was lighthearted, but you meant what you said. You couldn’t help feeling worried about Tara‘s choice of words.

If the time came to it where her sister or you were in danger, would she put herself at risk of being murdered instead of saving herself?

You would rather that not happen.

Sensing your discomfort, Tara’s smile faded as quickly as it came. “You’re coming with us, okay? We won’t be separated.”

The sick feeling in your stomach wasn’t going away, but you relaxed anyway. You wanted to be at the final showdown in case the plan went wrong.

Tara raised a brow, holding back a laugh. “Can you let me go? Sam is probably losing her shit right now.”

“Oh, fuck. Yes, I’m sorry.” You had forgotten why you were here in the first place. You let her down with caution.

Tara poked fun at your freaked out expression while you tried to erase any sign of sexual tension on you.

The two of you hurriedly moved out of the enclosed space as best you could without creating suspicion.

“There’s only one way in through these doors. When we trap him in here,” Kirby shook the gates forming a box in front of the creepy shrine entrance, which required a key card to be unlocked. “Bastard has nowhere to go.”

This place gave you the chills. You couldn’t believe you voluntarily agreed to come back. It was asking to be murdered.

Mindy was too late for the final showdown. She had to take a separate train with Ethan, and Sam hadn’t heard back from them since.

It showed on Sam’s face that she was as skeptical as you about the solidity of the plan, but it wasn’t your trauma that was displayed all over the theatre.

Her fear was more justified.

”Don’t worry, it’s safe here.” Kirby tried to soothe everyone’s anxiety.

But all of you listened to Mindy’s lectures about horror rules enough times to know that the place definitely wasn’t safe if someone had to vouch for it.

”Come on, let’s go.” Tara tugged on your arm, leading you the back room of the theater.

You tore your attention away from the Ghostface mannequins and followed her.

“I’m coming with.” Chad walked behind you to make damn sure you weren’t going to hurt Tara.

You and Tara were conversing by a table set up with cups and old, soft drinks that were left behind long ago.

Chad was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, supervising both of you.

“So…” Tara smiled, her eyes downcast as she fiddled with a cup.

She was being shy.

Your arm rested on the table and you leaned forward in interest, a sly smile on your face.

“I was thinking when we—”

The way she fluttered her eyelashes at you, and smiled so big that her dimples showed, had you thinking about how breathtaking she was.

And how lucky you were to have her attention like this.

You acted impulsively and dived in for a kiss, cutting off whatever she was going to say next.

You could feel her smiling, her lips melded perfectly with yours. You heard Chad yell, “Watch out!”

Just when you thought things were going smoothly, you were startled by Ghostface appearing behind Tara with a knife raised.

You were stuck in slow motion, watching in abject terror as Ghostface stabbed Tara in the back.

Tara nearly keeled over. “Fuck!”

“Guys, go now!” You shoved Tara towards Chad and delivered a punch to the masked killer’s face.

“You‘re getting what’s coming to you, you fucker!”

The murderer stumbled backwards momentarily, but then they stopped and tilted their head in a silent challenge.

Your blood ran cold. You knew what horror scene reenactment was coming up next.

You took off at the same time Ghostface lunged at you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You had never been so fucking scared for your life until now. When a murderer skilled in stealth and agility was chasing after you.

You ran in the direction you hoped Tara and Chad took. But maybe it would’ve been wise to lead the killer away from them.

You weren’t brave enough to do that alone.

The killer’s running footsteps completely deceased when you turned a corner into another room where you were met with the scared faces of Tara and Chad.

“Y/n!” Tara went to hug you, but Chad held her back.

“Wait. How do we know they aren’t one of the killers?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” You threw your hands up in disbelief and clenched your jaw. “I would never agree to hurting, or remotely stabbing any of you!”

Tears were building up in your eyes and Tara observed you with the same glossy look.

“Alright, say I believe you—”

Chad was speaking, but something moving behind him caught your attention.

You didn’t waste any time to warn him, screaming at the top of your lungs. “Chad!”

Tara spun around and upon seeing Ghostface, she made the smart decision to walk backward towards you.

Then, the worst thing imaginable happened. A second Ghostface approached him.

Tara began to cry, panic rose in her voice as she bumped into you. “No, not Chad. No, please.”

You saw someone rush in out of your peripheral vision and jumped apprehensively.

It was Sam. Thank god.

Despite your disagreements, you were glad she was okay.

However, your relief was short lived. You witnessed the two Ghostfaces rip into Chad’s flesh with their knives. They kept gutting him, over and over.

Your mouth dropped at how brutal they were going at him. You could never imagine stabbing your worst enemy like that; it was fucking evil.

Tara was full on sobbing now, and you had to hold her back from doing something reckless.

Chad gurgled on his blood. “Run. Leave me and run.”

You winced at the squelching noise that emitted every time he was stabbed.

“We gotta go.” Sam said sternly.

She grabbed Tara’s hand, who hadn’t stopped begging for them to stop killing Chad, and dragged her the hell out of there. You were right on their tail.

The three of you ended up back in the main room with the creepy shrines.

“Uh, why is it just the three of us?” You surveyed the room nervously. “Where’s Kirby?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I got a phone call from Bailey. Apparently she’s not mentally stable and she’s not officially FBI, either.” Sam answered. She kept a protective arm around her sister.

“What? That’s bullshit.” You exclaimed while frowning. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah.” Tara’s voice was weak. “It doesn’t.”

You stared at Tara empathetically. “You guys are the core four,” You quoted Chad’s name for the OG Woodsboro group. “You’ll survive.”

Tara turned her head to look your way. Softly adding, “You’ll survive too.”

You weren’t too sure about that.

All of you were caught off guard by a loud clanging sound. You turned around to see Detective Bailey making his entrance into the theater with his gun lowered.

“Everyone alright?” The old man asked. “Where’s Kirby?”

“I-I don’t know.” Sam stammered.

“They knocked me out!” You whirled around in surprise as Kirby stumbled into the room.

Judging by the glaring bruise and laceration on her head, she was telling the truth.

But detective Bailey didn’t share the same sentiment. He was alarmed by her presence and raised his gun. “Stand down, Kirby!”

“What? I’m not the killer!” She shouted.

You really felt bad for Kirby; You knew what it has been like to be falsely accused.

You didn’t want to interrupt, lest you get caught up in the middle of a screaming match between two cops.

You witnessed her eyes gradually widen in fear, and she pointed frantically. “Behind you!”

Shots were fired and they hit Kirby. The wrong person. You were frozen to the spot as she dropped to the floor, your body trembled in fear.

You slowly faced Detective Bailey. Betrayal was written all over his smug face. The beaten up Ghostface mask stood next to him.

“No effing way.” You voiced aloud.

You heard boots clicking against tile and immediately tensed at the sight of the other Ghostface flanking the three of you from the side.

And they stopped right in front of you.

“Shit.” You whimpered. Your palms were becoming cold and clammy from nerves.

The killer shifted their feet and retreated away from you, standing menacingly next to old man Bailey.

“Sam Carpenter. I’ve been waiting for this.”

You didn’t know who this Detective was anymore. You were mad at yourself for not considering him as a suspect, but you’ve been too busy fighting to clear your name.

“You’re family.” Sam stated it as a fact.

You became more confused.

“You killed my son.” The detective’s eyes flared with rage. “I brought the family together to make you pay.”

The Ghostface on the right took off their mask to reveal…

Ethan. Of course, it was fucking Ethan.

You snorted. “I fucking called it. Your pathetic virgin act wasn’t fooling me.”

Except you didn’t predict they were all related to Sam’s ex-boyfriend, who was a vicious psychopath.

He glared at you with murderous intent that basically meant your fate was sealed. “It wasn’t an act.”

You pissed him off.

Good.

Anything to stop them from lashing out on Tara and her sister.

“Aw, really?” You pretended to pity him, sarcasm dripped from your tone. “I wonder why no one will fuck you.”

“You couldn’t handle me, asshole.” He pointed his knife at you. A sardonic laugh escaped from his mouth, “I actually wanted to fillet you. Not Chad.”

That made you shut up.

“But fuck, it felt good to kill him!” He confessed gleefully.

“I hate you.” Tara ground out.

You gripped her shoulder in a sense of protection and comfort.

“So, Mindy?” Sam fixed her eyes on the Ghostface that still had their mask on.

This particular reveal had your blood boiling.

It was none other than the Detective’s daughter, Quinn Bailey.

“I took the blame for your murder and you weren’t even fucking dead?”

You couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

Quinn pouted mockingly. “I’m sorry. It was just so easy to pin it on you and we didn’t even have to orchestrate it. Crazy how anyone can’t be alone by themselves anymore without raising red flags.”

“I am so gonna fuck you up!” You threatened.

She gave you a condescending smile. “For an expendable character… you sure are brave.”

“Y/n is our scapegoat.” Her father was starting his monologue. “We needed someone to pin the killings on and what’s more perfect than my daughter’s best friend, who doesn’t even have the full trust of their own friends?”

“A little fake blood goes a long way.” Quinn said.

“All I had to do was be the first on the scene to swap out the body. Lay down a few prosthetics.”

You connected the dots. The air was suckered out of you as you fully realized the extent of their betrayal. “You’re the one who pinned the knife on me.”

There was no warmth in Detective Bailey’s smile. “It was actually Ethan’s idea.”

Ethan mirrored his father’s smile. “Everyone was extra suspicious of you, and neglected to keep an eye on me. It was surprisingly easy to go undetected.”

“I was the one who called you from Gale’s phone.” Quinn confessed. She wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.

“It would’ve worked, too.” Old man Bailey sneered. “We just didn’t account for the younger Carpenter sister having feelings for you.”

Ethan and Quinn began to go separate ways toward the three of you.

Tara was shaking. You squeezed her shoulder tight.

“Lucky me, huh?” You said dryly to the corrupt detective. “I’m capable of love. Which is more than what could be said for you sorry fucks.”

Quinn lurked right of Sam, behind the displays. Ethan stopped behind you.

You could feel the tip of a knife pressing into your back.

You weren’t sure who was shaking more at this point, you or Tara.

Something began to play on the screen behind you. You heard a man’s voice.

“Maybe I overindulged Richie’s love for these movies, but it was how we bonded.” Detective Bailey got a faraway look in his eyes.

“Gore and horror…” He shook his head. “Not my thing.”

“You hide it pretty well.” You pointed out like a smart ass.

You didn’t feel sympathetic for him at all; You only grew more angry. What kind of father discredits the victims of his son’s psychopathic behavior?

And Bailey blaming the Carpenter sisters for killing Richie in self defense because he was going to murder them for a stupid movie, that was twisted.

Dumb motives must run in the family.

You didn’t realize you said that out loud.

Detective Bailey turned his attention from Sam and onto you.

You were fucked. You knew that, but you didn’t see it coming this fast.

Detective Bailey raised his gun and didn’t hesitate to fire off a bullet into your shoulder.

You jerked at the force of the gunshot striking your body and stumbled backward, right where they wanted you.

Ethan’s knife entered into your flesh faster than you could scream.

Tara’s voice rung out, “Y/n!”

But she couldn’t move to reach you. Sam was protecting her and Quinn was in close proximity, taunting them with her knife.

Ethan slung an arm around your chest and pulled you closer to him. The knife wedged itself deeper in your back, and you cried.

“I got you and Chad.” He spoke into your ear as you gasped helplessly. “I win!”

Tara was crying with you. Her mascara running down her face.

There wasn’t much you could do to console her.

You were a wreck. Your face was perspiring and glistening with tears, and you were bleeding out.

You didn’t catch the rest of Bailey’s monologue because you kept zoning out, only hearing bits and pieces. “Until he was killed by you and your bitch of a sister!”

“Fuck you!” Sam yelled at Detective Bailey, and Quinn slashed her on the upper arm.

“Shut up, bitch!”

“Your son was a pencil dick who let his girlfriend do all the work.” Sam spat.

They weren’t listening to her. Detective Bailey glorified his son too much to believe the truth Sam was spewing.

“Tara, you ready?” Sam was now facing you. She must’ve been turned around when you weren’t paying attention.

Her eyes revealed that she had a plan up her sleeve. She was hiding something behind her back.

Tara whined in fear; she didn’t answer.

“I need you to be ready.” Sam emphasized calmly.

A beat of silence, then Tara’s voice came back firm. “I’m ready.”

“Y/n?” Sam was asking you the same question.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you just nodded.

Sam yelled out and hurled an object at Quinn. That was a signal.

You seized the opportunity to elbow Ethan in the ribs with all the strength you still had left, then you reared your head back. A loud cracking sound, and Ethan loosened his grip on you. You had shattered his nose.

With great regret, you reached behind you and pulled the knife out of your back. A pained groan slipped past your lips as you did so.

You just broke his nose and that bastard dared to smile at you.

You raised the knife over your head and charged at him while screaming.

All of the sudden, Quinn jumped out from nowhere and threw herself on you, efficiently throwing you off balance.

Both of you went tumbling into a display; the broken glass rained all around you.

"Fuck." You seethed, standing upright from where you had fallen. Your head was throbbing.

You were definitely bleeding through your bandage.

Quinn recovered as quickly as you did; She was standing across from you with her hair in a tangled mess and knife at her side.

"You were my best friend!" You hollered, gripping your knife tightly.

"Oh, get over it already!" She shouted back, then she rushed at you.

You crouched right when she reached you, grabbed her legs, and lifted her over your shoulder.

She thrashed around like a rabid animal, her feet kicking at nothing.

But the victory wasn't all yours.

Quinn managed to stab your shoulder blade before you body-slammed her onto the floor.

Her cries of agony were music to your ears.

You stood over her, breathing heavily. You contemplated how to make your revenge taste sweeter.

"Come on, Tara!"

Your attention was diverted to the Carpenter sisters trying to climb their way up a ladder.

Your worse nightmare was turning into reality.

You watched in paralyzing fear as the ladder gave out, and Tara didn't fall only because Sam caught her by the hand.

Your girlfriend dangled helplessly from the rafters, and a murderer was circling at her feet like a shark. Ethan was counting on her to fall so he could end her life.

No way in hell you were going to stand and let that happen.

"I'll be able to finally stick something in you, Tara!" Ethan called out.

You thought he was a depraved freak, but that was a creepy ass comment, even for him.

You took off running. All while keeping an eye on Tara and making sure you weren’t going to be too late to save her.

You dove and tackled Ethan away from Tara, moments before she could land in harm's way of his sharp blade.

"She's my girlfriend, asshole!" You delivered a punch to his face.

And man, it did feel good.

This part didn't.

A sick squelching sound came from your body as Ethan stabbed you in the stomach.

Twice.

Three times.

A fourth time.

And again. Over and over.

You stared into Ethan's soulless eyes, your mouth agape.

Blood was building up from your throat and into your mouth. Warmth was slowly abandoning your body, and you were frozen, wondering when it would stop. If he was going to stop.

His maniacal laughter echoed in your ears.

Now you realized exactly how Chad had felt.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the fate of death to finally strike you. This is it. This was the end of the line for you.

At least Tara was safe. That's all you wanted.

But she would be losing you.

"Tara..." You gasped.

Ethan sharply twisted the knife in your stomach when you mentioned her name. You winced, letting out one last mournful cry.

You grasped at his arm, but the blood loss made you exponentially weak and incapable of causing significant damage to your assailant.

Your eyes flew open at the tearing of flesh, and you half expected to see your intestines on the floor.

Instead, Ethan was choking on a knife. Literally. He was stabbed through the roof of his mouth.

You lifted your head to see who saved you. Tara loomed over Ethan, with blood splatters all over her face, looking rightfully pissed off.

And hot.

Your eyes widened in awe at the beautiful woman before you. Something churned in your gut, and it wasn't because of your stab wounds.

You pushed your carnal fascination aside to analyze later. If you survived, that is.

Ethan gurgled, and your attention left Tara for a second so you could relish in his pained expression. It was his turn to plead like a little bitch.

You heard laughter, and it wasn't coming from Ethan. Tara's grin was indecipherable as she chuckled lowly and sheathed the knife further into his jaw.

A tiny voice of concern was in the back of your mind. Maybe, just maybe, she was enjoying this too much.

But you couldn't lie. It affected you: her heavy-lidded eyes, the snarl on her lips, and how she chose the most violent approach to save you.

There was a certain aura of possessiveness masquerading as rage behind her actions.

She let Ethan suffer for a little longer before ripping the knife out of his mouth.

Some of his blood landed on your face, and finally, he crumpled weakly to the floor. Somehow, you kept yourself from falling with him, but he had let go of the knife in your stomach shortly after he was stabbed by Tara.

You let your eyes trail up Tara's body until you reached her face, and your eyes met.

You swallowed nervously.

She gazed at you intensely with a dark look; The knife glistened with blood as it was raised.

Was there something about her past that you didn't know? Something that could snap and make her capable of killing you?

You didn't like having these thoughts about her. This was the girl you loved. And she was a victim, not the mastermind.

However, if her trauma went untreated...

Exhaling, Tara tossed the knife aside, and it clattered on the floor. She outstretched her hand, the softness you recognized returning to her eyes as she regarded you with concern. "Can you stand?"

You pressed your hand tenderly against your stomach to calm the bleeding from your wounds while avoiding the knife Ethan left in you. One slight movement had numerous shocks of pain shooting up your spine.

Biting your lip, your eyes filled with tears as you stared up at her and shook your head.

Realization crossed her features, her expression growing pitiful.

A gunshot ran out from the rafters. Sam's voice was barely audible. Since you didn't have a confrontation with Detective Bailey, you assumed he was the last one standing and that Sam was the one confronting him.

"Come on."

Before you could protest, Tara stepped around Ethan's body, slung your arm over her shoulder, and wrapped her arm around your waist.

"Wait-" You drew in a sharp breath as you were forced upright; your wounds were stretched, making them ache and burn. "Shit."

Tara grunted. She tried her best to carry you while you were propped up against her, but she was having trouble walking.

"You're limping." You stated. You felt guilty for weighing her down like this. "Tara..."

"Don't." She snapped; her breathing was shortened. "If you think I'm dropping you. Think again because I'm not."

You opened your mouth to argue, but Sam screaming made both of you look up.

Your eyes widened in horror at Sam's falling body. She wasn't the only one thrown over the rafters; Detective Bailey was too.

You and Tara flinched as Sam and the detective landed in a memorial of the Ghostface killings and destroyed it.

Glass spilled out onto the floor.

You looked over at Tara. She was flabbergasted and open-mouthed, staring at her sister's unconscious body resting on broken shards of glass and other materials.

She didn't move, but you knew she needed to check on her sister. In the end, the only family they had was each other.

Tara might've had a friend group and you, but Sam didn't let anyone in because of her fucked up father's history and her psycho ex-boyfriend. That's why she was so protective of her younger sister.

Tara was all she had.

It took some time, but after Tara had convinced you that it would be easier for her to help Sam after she knew you were safe, she carried you into one of the backrooms.

Not the room where Chad... neither of you could stomach that.

She helped maneuver you into a sitting position on the floor. You sighed in relief when your back rested on a wall.

She placed her hand on the wall and crouched to your eye level. "I'm going to see if Sam is okay. It shouldn't take long, alright? I've called an ambulance, so they should get here soon. You're going to be fine."

You smiled weakly. She was being sweet and more careful than usual because you were bleeding out and dying, but regardless, she made you forget how much pain you were in.

She gave you a small smile in return and turned to leave.

You reached out and grasped her arm before she could go.

She stopped, looking at you curiously.

"I..." You could barely complete your sentence. "Love you."

She smiled wide this time, and her tired eyes seemed to shine from happiness. "Tell me later."

Then, Tara briskly walked out to save her sister. You were left alone, wondering if she would return to you safely.

“Y/n!”

The paramedics wheeled you on a stretcher out of the creepy Ghostface memorial slash abandoned theatre. It was now a huge murder scene.

You had an oxygen mask over your nose and mouth that helped you breathe.

You were so high on morphine and painkillers, and it was fucking great because you deserved that euphoric feeling after the events you just went through.

Tara jogged up to the stretcher. The paramedics stopped so she could chat with you.

“Hey.” You said tiredly, unable to change your facial expression because you were doped up. It felt awkward to smile.

But you were extremely happy to be alive with Tara.

“Hey stranger,” She was in a good enough mood for jokes, doing the smile that revealed her dimples. “Remember, when you told me you loved me?”

“Hmm?” You answered noncommittally.

“I knew it. You are so high.” Tara laughed.

She understood because she had been through Ghostface attacks before.

And she survived again.

This time, she had you.

“I am so high.” You agreed, smiling slightly behind the oxygen mask.

Tara tentatively lifted the mask off, and you look over at her, puzzled.

You were surprised when she tugged you in for a kiss. It was slow and tender with the perfect amount of desperation.

“We got another one here!”

You broke apart from the kiss at the same time Tara did. Both of you turned your heads and saw Chad being wheeled out the same way you were.

You were matching with him. He looked in pretty bad shape, the same as you.

He was parked beside you, and Tara immediately addressed the elephant in the room, ”How are you alive??”

You had the same reaction.

”Core four!” Chad’s yell was muffled. He pumped his fist in the air like an idiot.

Tara glanced at you with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Core five! For y/n.”

“That doesn’t rhyme, though.” Chad complained halfheartedly.

Sam walked up to the three of you with a smile.

She placed her hands on Tara’s shoulders and spoke directly to you. “Thank you for taking care of my sister and fighting alongside us. It was very brave.”

“Apology accepted for accusing me.” You smiled to show that you were joking.

“If we’re accepting apologies…” Your attention was focused on Mindy shyly walking towards you as if you were going to hurl something at her.

“After being stabbed 10 times, I’m over that. Trust me.” You said truthfully, then added in a more lighthearted tone, “But you’re forgiven.”

Mindy was visibly relieved, then she immediately changed topics. “I can’t believe I missed the monologue again!”

You nodded in agreement.

You would’ve loved to see Detective Bailey quivering in fear as he had his ass handed to him, but you knew Tara would tell you all the details later.

Poor Mindy, though. She missed the entire final act.

The oxygen mask was placed back on your face with care. Tara turned back to look at Sam. “Can we ride with y/n to the hospital?”

She was asking for permission.

Sam was caught off guard and torn between Tara’s hopeful tone. She thought about it for a moment, and conceded.

“If they’ll let us.” She said with a smile.

#scream 6 #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #scream vi #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega scream #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #sam carpenter #ethan landry #anika kayoko

786 notes · View notes

ofallthingsnasty · 4 months

Note

Pretty please could you do F, H, N, or Y for crocodile one day! I’m curious on your thoughts about him and I love when you talk about him 😭 my new obsession is the pug who he hates but tolerates just for you, so sweet 🥺

Yandere Alphabet letters a, i and q for crocodile hdsjahj anon I'm glad you like my rambles because they are so much fun to write 💕💕 regarding the little dog - don't be fooled, it's 50% him wanting to see you happy and 50% having even more leverage over you 🤭 mean man...

tw.yandere, violence, minors dni

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Uh oh, you might want to reconsider doing that. You call it fighting back, he calls it being an ungrateful, whiny little brat and it pisses him off. There are few things that make his blood boil when it comes to you, and being defiant and insulting him is one of them. Does he know that you’re here against your will? Sure. Does he care? No. You see, he views himself as some sort of provider - he’s giving you a life a million times better than your old one. You’re cared for, well-fed, nicely dressed, don’t have to work - really, your only job is to play house when he’s around (which he isn’t all that often, busy as he is). He doesn't even expect you to fuck him for it, he just wants someone to come home to, who will let him rest his head on their lap and caress it. (Of course, he oh-so-graciously ignores the gigantic power imbalance between the two of you when it suits him, especially when it comes to the bedroom. But generally speaking, I think he can be rather mellow compared to others, can even be reasoned with to a certain extent. Just be good for him.)

He thinks he’s being more than generous, more than fair - for the position you're in. A lesser pirate would have killed you by now, he tells you, would have gotten a new toy already. No, no - he is here to stay, he wants to see you thrive, even.And if you throw it all in his face, spit at him, dare to fight him - oh, what he’ll feel will be beyond good and evil. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, darling.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Okay, good news first: When it comes to Crocodile, I’d argue that the worst experience is really limited to just one. I’ve talked about him physically lashing out at you in a moment of rage and in the weeks that have passed that thought kind of stuck with me. At his core, this man doesn't want to hurt you (deeply). Manipulating you with visual threats and possibilities is one thing, but genuinely injuring you to make you bend to his will? Not really his style. Yes, he does corporal punishments - but only because they’re so effective and can be done so quickly. (A classic action - réaction, if you will.) So, what exactly is that nebulous worst experience? It’s him either using his Devil Fruit powers or his hook on you. To even get to that point, he’d have to be beyond angry with you. It’s probably something that happens early on while you’re not yet acquainted with your new role and you dare to insult him, try to escape - maybe you spiral, his temper simply cooks over and- Trust me, he’ll never do it again. It’ll leave permanent physical damage. But it’ll also traumatize you into submission, which is the only good thing to come out of this, at least to him. You’ll both regret it. And you’ll both learn from it.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Spankings. Lots of them. It’s quick, efficient, shows you who is in charge, makes you sit a little straighter, makes you sweeter - he isn’t beyond mind games in general but when it comes to punishments, a quick correction is just more convenient. Manipulation and the likes are the long con, the work he puts in to undermine your self-esteem, to make you doubt your own feelings for your captor. But the spankings are the here and now, the thing that keeps the cat from sharpening its claws on the sofa.

You’ll learn to associate that telltale-look of tired disappointment with a sigh and over my knee, darling. He’ll ask what you’ve done wrong, will make you count, will leave you feeling so small, like an unruly child and not a fully grown adult - it’s a great way to keep you edge, to never let you forget who is in charge here, no matter how much time passes and in how many gifts he showers you.

And if it’s really dire - you get the belt.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

I always waver on this one. We know from the story that he isn’t afraid of planning, slowly building, waiting - Operation Utopia was a goddamn mammoth and he has the patience to wait on you for years and years to make it perfect - but. Doesn’t he deserve something soft? Someone to come home to? And what good is all that plotting and lying in wait and watching if he could have had you by that point already?He definitely won’t go ‘alright, that one’s spouse-shaped, put them in the bag’ when he sees you for the first time but he won’t wait too long for you either. Just long enough to gain sufficient intel, to get to know you a little better, to make your disappearance as smooth and seamless as possible. I’m not trying to sound harsh, but not only does he not want to wait too long - there are also other, more important things to do? He can’t spend months upon months learning about you inch by inch, he has an Ancient Weapon to seize and a country to overthrow. You can’t be mad at him when he pulls the plug at a certain moment and simply takes what he wants. It’s really only logical.

#omg that was waaaaay too much fun. thank you for indulging me!! kiss for you... 💕#tw.yandere #/crocodile #/one piece #yandere one piece #crocodile x reader

90 notes · View notes

blues824 · 1 year

Note

Twisted Wonderland's Housewardens with a GN!Saiki!s/o; reacting to the news that they're a psychic.

Riddle Rosehearts

Even though he would prefer to be isolated from others, he is sad that you don’t accept anyone as your friend, much less your significant other. This is when you use your telepathy to tell him that you can read minds. He is very embarrassed, so please let him know that you return his feelings.

He understands your sweet tooth, as he has one himself. He will try and get Trey to teach him how to make coffee jelly so that you don’t have to keep buying it from Sam’s shop. The effort was heartwarming, and really piqued your interest.

You both can talk to the hedgehogs and flamingos in different ways; he knows their language and you can speak with them telepathically. The flamboyance and the array all love you (much to your slight annoyance), and you have to admit that they are adorable. Whenever Riddle sees you interact with the animals, he just gets a warm feeling in his chest.

Leona Kingscholar

Sarcasm at its finest. You both like to be alone, so you tend to be alone together. Whenever he’s asleep, you can see his dreams, and a lot of them are about you. This fact does make you blush just a tiny bit, but you never tell him that you can until much later in your relationship.

He does not understand your sweet tooth, but he will have Reggie supply you with some coffee jelly. Leona prefers more savory foods like meat, so he will find it annoying whenever you do anything for your beloved treat. He swears you love it more than him, and it’s probably true.

You have the ability to talk to him telepathically, so you both don’t even have to be near each other. You can hear his thoughts, and you can speak to him through his mind. It’s actually very convenient for the two of you, as you don't have to look for each other or make the effort of texting each other.

Azul Ashengrotto

Oh, please don’t tell him that you can read his mind. Other than being concerned with matters consisting of his multitude of contracts, the tweels, and the Mostro Lounge, 95% of his thoughts are about you. Mans would grow more red than Riddle’s hair if you informed him that you were psychic.

His favorite dish is fried chicken (can’t blame him), so he has a preference towards savory foods. However, sometimes he wants something sweet. That’s where you come in and convince him to add coffee jelly to the Lounge’s menu so that you can enjoy it freshly made.

You have the ability to talk to the fish in the tank, as does Azul. It’s very intriguing for you to hear them speak, since you made it so that the cecaelia could actually hear the marine life saying words. A few of them were angry that other fishes did something, so there were a lot of curses.

Kalim Al-Asim

I feel like he would be the kind to have his head empty, which makes you panic because you can’t read his mind. However, you can tell that he’s very genuine in his joy (alliteration goes crazy sometimes). If you told him that you were psychic, he probably didn’t understand what that was.

He likes coconut, right? He likes sweeter things, if I’m correct. That being said, he can’t blame you when you get a sweet tooth. He is probably your main source of coffee jelly, since he would order some just for you. He tried it once and didn’t really like it, but you love it and he loves you.

If you talk to Jamil, you’re already talking to a snake (/j, but not really). Anyways, you can talk to any of the animals that Kalim gets on a whim, and they’re all annoyed that the young Asim doesn’t know when not to spend money on impulse. Honestly, all of those animals are just a mood.

Vil Schoenheit

His mind never turns off. He’s always thinking about something, and it honestly gives you a headache. As the two of you often sit with each other to squeeze in time to be a semi-normal couple. You can tell that sometimes he’s not present because he’s planning his day through. You often have to tell him to slow his mind.

If I remember correctly, he likes smoothies. You like coffee jelly. Vil knows that it’s not the healthiest, so he tries to offer you a deal: you both can enjoy it once a month so that you can think of it as more of a reward than a treat. He is aware that you can off him with a single thought, but he doesn’t care.

You like to brighten up his day by talking to him telepathically whenever he’s too busy. It’s a bit out of character for you, but you know that it makes him feel a bit better. Knowing that you support him even from far away is comforting for him.

Idia Shroud

Please don’t tell him you can read his mind, Part 2. Mans would panic. Like Azul, his mind is constantly thinking about you, and maybe a new anime he watched or a new video game he played. His hair along with his face grows bright red when you tell him that you are psychic.

Idia likes candy, so he completely understands your little (huge) sweet tooth. Whenever you tell him telepathically that you are coming over, he makes sure that he has coffee jelly on hand so that you continue to like him (he’s insecure, so he uses your love of food to his advantage).

You often like to spook him by just using your telepathy to tell him something, especially when he’s out for a club meeting. The cecaelia he likes to play board games with is often confused when he sees the eldest Shroud brother jump because you scared him.

Malleus Draconia

He thinks your powers are amazing. What’s amusing to him is how you constantly fight with Sebek because you were a very sarcastic (borderline rude) person. Malleus often had to calm his knight down after every single fight you both had, but the prince couldn’t help a small smile that appeared on his face.

Malleus enjoys ice cream, but he wouldn’t mind trying his beloved’s favorite dessert. He doesn’t dislike it, but he prefers to stick to his favorite. However, don’t be surprised if you see an elegantly wrapped package of coffee jelly at the front door of your dormitory, signed M.D.

Whenever you decide to use your telepathy, it’s usually when he gives you a sign that he can’t get away from his retainers. You both have full-blown conversations with each other and neither Lilia, Silver, nor Sebek notice because his face would be great in poker.

562 notes · View notes

larrylimericks · 1 year

Text

23Mar23

We’re feeling some internal friction At silver screen Louis’ depiction; All the world is a stage But it’s hard to engage When plot lines combine fact and fiction.

I get really rambly below the fold. Proceed with caution if you’re over the discourse already.

I debated seeing All of Those Voices in theaters. I didn’t see either of Harry’s films in theaters — Harries are too much of a wildcard, and I refused to sit through hours of squeals and gasps and reactions, not to the movie but to “omg! Harry’s going down on someone! omg, Harry’s bum!” So I was already tentative about seeing Louis’ film in a shared space, outside the protective silos of tumblr. But I bought a ticket, because I want to support him and because I was genuinely curious what story would be told. Then we got the trailer and I hesitated again, not wanting to watch a propaganda film. But, I’ve lived through all the other Bullshit moments, so I figured I could live through Bullshit on the big screen.

My theater crowd was great — pretty neutral aside from an amusing row of politely excitable Larries I was in secret solidarity with. And I pretty much loved the film. Well, 92% of it. I look forward to watching it again when it streams. I mean, it was an hour and a half of content featuring this fascinating creature we’re all obsessed with. I didn’t want to blink. I hung on his every word (when I could understand them). How cool to get, essentially, a long-form interview, where he’s not promoting an album and we’re not getting the same sound bytes. Louis is wonderfully open and vulnerable, and the story of his life (heh) is inherently compelling. The cinematography is beautiful. The behind-the-scenes are delightful and delicious. I can’t wait for the AOTV gif sets once we have it in high-def.

But it has some plot holes as wide and deep as the ones in Don’t Worry Darling.

First, there’s the confusing (to the uninformed) absence of a love interest. Louis is asexual, as far as the film goes. There’s not even a ghost of Eleanor, with whom he’s cumulatively spent a decade and who is supposed to have inspired so many great love songs and with whom he is supposed to have survived a pandemic. Props to E for living her best life now: going to see Scream on AOTV opening day, enjoying full custody of the pups, publicly supporting her assumed partner — sorry you got Kiki Layned from the film, but I’m guessing you weren’t even written into the script. (It’s not like the film was conveniently re-edited in the months since their break-up. Her stunt tapering was intentional.)

Then there’s the glaring absence of a baby mama (thank god; that family would have been even more insufferable). We’re cruising along for 45 minutes or so and then, wham, Dad!Louis enters the chat with a fully formed 6-year-old child. The kid just magically appears with no backstory — just like in real life ... twice (the first time with the pregnancy announcement and the second time with the revival of Dad!Louis after several years of dormancy, right in time for documentary filming. Just like Harry stunted with his co-star during filming and production, Louis stunted with his.)

The kid is cute, and faultless in this. The scenes are objectively sweet (as they were designed to be). But Louis, who normally keeps things very close to the vest, is all of a sudden an emotional spigot you can’t turn off when it comes to these scenes. It seems quite out of character. Which brings back to mind that this Louis *is* a character. The Freddie scenes just didn’t seem to have a point in the plot other than: Louis is a dad. And that role isn’t integral to the film’s story.

He’s incredibly emotional with Freddie, but the movie doesn’t tell us why. The storytelling gets lazy here. The lad/dad plot seems wedged in. The movie would be perfectly complete without it. I felt like it could have been integrated a few different ways: Louis experienced tragedy after tragedy after tragedy — loses 1D, loses his mum, loses his sister ... and then impending fatherhood either becomes another trial he must reluctantly face (in the surprise pregnancy narrative) or it helps him navigate the grief of losing his sole parent, his closest confidante. OR, Louis, not wanting to be like the absentee father he had, shows up for his own oopsie baby despite the unexpected circumstances. But there’s no exposition or rising action. No footage or photos from the first few years of the kid’s life that we haven’t already seen. Just an immaculate conception.

I think the most compelling narratives of the film are these:

Louis’ overcoming adversity after adversity after adversity. Holy hell. I lived through 1D ending, through the devastating news about Jay (god, I remember the shock and sadness of that day — it was incomprehensible), through the heartbreaking news about Fizzy, and then when you think Louis is gonna get his moment of victory with his first solo world tour, coronavirus pulls the rug out. (That sequence was well done: where we keep seeing the dates get closer and closer to March 2020, and we all know the villain that’s coming, but it’s still such a blow.) I lived through all that in real time, but seeing it in such a concentrated sequence really highlights the shit he’s been dealt, and hearing him open up about so much of it ... that’s the character development relevant to the film’s denouement. And getting to see Louis get what he deserves, finally, and hearing him acknowledge that he deserves it, was a lovely ending.

Louis’ journey to find his footing and his confidence as a solo artist after unfathomable success as part of a group. But, in a sort of plot twist, he’s not really solo, is he? The film gives a lovely introduction to his band now — and in their own words, reveals that they’re not just a backing band, they’re a *band* band. Louis has let them in. He’s forged a new brotherhood. *That*, for me, was the heartwarming story. I loved those scenes, loved seeing Louis in his element, which is in a collective, where he is both king and jester at the same time. (Or perhaps Oli’s the jester. Thank fuck for him, man. Oli is the standout. The breakthrough performance. The comic relief. I want a spinoff series.) It’s easy to miss 1D and glorify those short years and think nothing will ever top it, but Charlie’s storytelling of the LT Band is remarkable. We’re left looking forward, not back.

I know Louis’ dedication to his fans and his fans’ dedication to him is a huge focus, but I don’t really enjoy watching commentaries on fandoms I’m a part of. I’m living it. I don’t need outsider context. And in a fandom as fractured as Louis’ (and 1D’s) there’s not a universal experience. The film depicts dedication as sleeping on streets for rail, hopping from country to country and draining bank accounts — because that’s the kind of “superfandom” that gets easily turned into a marketable freak show. Show me the documentary on the fans who organize the light projects, who run the fashion accounts, who curate livestream sources on show nights, who have turned giffing into an art and science, who help promote Louis in the absence of a competent marketing team, etc., etc. I also thought the interview with the American(?) girls talking about LATAM shows was shortsighted. And showing the rainbow factions but not addressing them? What a missed opportunity to talk about songs like Only the Brave becoming a queer anthem. Straight artists can have gay fans, you know.

But the film doesn’t make the kid relevant to any of those storylines. He could have been worked into the first, but wasn’t. It was like a standalone narrative, with footage from a narrow set of days. I was at both those L.A. shows. The energy was so different from night 1 to 2. And in retrospect it’s clear Louis was performing the first night so Charlie could get the right shots. More like a choreographed play than a rock concert. It makes sense now why the Clarks weren’t in the VIP box with Freddie — couldn’t have them cluttering the frame or distracting the actors. Just, everything about the Freddie scenes is heavy-handed. Make a sign for your dad! Draw his logo in the sand! Fly a kite at sunset! He’s the spitting image of Louis! (Len does all the heavy lifting.) And all the maneuvering it had to take to get all those shots from the L.A. show?! In the VIP box from behind (and from the front, and when he just happens to be mouthing along to Two Of Us), side stage watching Louis end the show, on-stage watching Louis approach Freddie after the show, on-stage catching the moment Louis gives the lad a shout-out ... Charlie had a shot list. But sure, nothing was set up, it was totally organic.

I’m still unsettled by how heavily Charlie laid it on at the first premiere press conference — *he* was the one to bring up the kid, and was weirdly emphatic that nothing was staged, nothing was forced. It had the same energy of the “It’s. Not. Real” thrown baby doll moment, only it’s Charlie insisting that It. Is. Real. Thou dost protest too much, me thinks.

And of course, the lack of interaction between Louis and Harry remains, as ever, the biggest tell. We get poignant post-1D Nouis and Lilo moments in the film, but no Larry. We’re spoon-fed these Very Emotional Moments between father and son (“love you,” “Darling,” mouth kisses), when the real story, the real emotion, the real connection is in just a few seconds of furtive glances between Harry and Louis in the backstage footage of the last 1D performance. Christ, the way Harry’s eyes bore into Louis — chin tilted down, eyes glancing up from beneath a furrowed brow, lips tight, disguising his attentiveness with a hair flip ... they mastered so many forms of silent communication. The quiet call and response, the depths of love and care and concern and protection contained in micro-expressions. Fuck, give me 90 minutes of that. Just a silent film of Louis and Harry looking at each other.

Anyway. Sorry this sounds so grumpy. I did really love most of the movie. But I haven’t made sense of why this film was made. I don’t know its purpose. Maybe the introspection forced by the pandemic lockdown is to credit for this glut of music docs (“docs”) lately. Maybe nine minutes frees him up for nine more months or nine more years. I dunno. He obviously wanted this story told in this way.

Seeing a movie requires the willing suspension of disbelief. You have to ignore critical thinking in order to enjoy the story you’re being told. You tune out your knowledge that everything is fake for the sake of being entertained. We know that Superman can’t actually fly, but we still buy tickets to the cinema. But, a documentary shouldn’t require us to employ this semi-conscious perceiving mode. Yet here we are. I’m just not sure how much more or how much longer we can suspend our disbelief to enjoy fandom.

#larry #louis #louis tomlinson #all of those voices #aotv #stunts #babygate #bbg #spoilers #aotv spoilers #limerick-lt #march 22 #2023

550 notes · View notes