#and ghost knife too :33

[keiru-the-worm]

box inanimate insanity? more like....uhhh....uhhhhhh

[whateverloomis]

if u want, u should do a stu x reader where they are bsfs when the murders start and he's all "oh I'll protect u im so buff," but yk the whole time he's the one tormenting and killing people. the freak def loves to scare her by sneaking in and jumping her bones, ghostface costume and all

I focused on the scaring reader and tormenting for this one, plus added Billy into the mix here because I can't resist putting him in the picture, but this is Stu focused as requested. I hope I delivered anon, enjoy! <33

Warnings: Suggestions of sexual activities, chasing, mocking, tension (fear and doubt,) angst-ish, betrayal, threats, unedited

Reader: AFAB reader (She/Her)

You were running up the stairs of your two story house. The masked figure was right on your tail with a knife in hand.

You don't know how the ghost face killer got in your house to scare the hell out of you, but it was happening. You felt like you were at the edge of death in your own home. Again.

You entered your room seeking safety, but he was quicker and pushed you against the wall, knife against your throat. As you took a few deep breaths to calm down, you shook your head and glared at him.

"Stu, this shit isn't funny anymore!" You yelled and took the mask off his face but were met with someone else.

Billy Loomis.

He was smirking at you, seeming satisfied with the change of Stu's usual prank.

You managed to push him away enough to set yourself free from his grasp.

"What the fuck is going on!?" You yelled and suddenly heard laughter coming from your closet. Walking past Billy, you opened the doors to reveal Stu. He stepped out and stuck his tongue out in mock.

"That was so good! You should've seen the look on your face!" - "That's enough! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Both of you!" You screamed and the boys stood silent for a few seconds before Stu broke the tension.

"Hey, I'm just kidding around YN," he said and walked towards you.

You walked past him and sat on the edge of your bed; "I need you to be honest with me, Stu..."

They both looked at you quietly, waiting for your question

"These... "Pranks" are way too realistic... Too accurate to the descriptions of the victims. Stu... You've made me doubt..."

"Hold on, you told me this is the first time you were doing this prank," Billy told Stu, anger evident in his tone of voice.

"I... Well, technically yes, with you!" He explained and Billy pushed him against the wall, knife against his throat.

"You're telling me you've been fucking around, scaring YN and practically exposing us?! You're a fucking idiot, you know that?!" Billy whisper screamed at the tall boy and all he could do was laugh nervously and keep saying that he was only joking, not exposing anything.

You couldn't make out what Billy was saying to Stu, the boy strategically talking loud enough for Stu to hear.

Everything was too suspicious and felt way too real to be a prank at that point.

"You... You're the killer... Killers..." You said, head low and thoughtful.

Billy looked over his shoulder and you could see the rage on his face; "What?" he whispered.

You swallowed thickly and inhaled, nervousness taking over you. Stu wasn't a trustworthy person anymore so you were lost. You didn't know what to do.

Stu pushed past Billy and laughed nervously; "Psh c'mon, no we're not. It's just a prank YN, we're fucked up like that!" he exclaimed and you stood up, walking back towards the bedroom door.

"Don't... I'm calling the police-" - "Mm, that wont be necessary." Billy said, rushing behind you and locking the door. You were scared out of your mind. Were they going to kill you? Stu out of the both of them? Your best friend. The one you thought you could trust with your life.

"Please... Stu. I thought I could trust you," you said, feeling betrayed.

"We were never going to do anything to you babe, but now," he paused and walked towards you enough to sandwich you between him and Billy who instantly held you in place by wrapping one of his strong arms around your torso; "...now that you know, you have to die," your best friend finished his sentence and for some reason you felt defeated.

"Stu please... Don't... I'll do anything," you talked softly, looking up at him. Begging with your stare.

You felt Billy tense at your words and squeeze you slightly. He got excited with your words.

Stu chuckled and smiled manically at you; "That's never the correct answer baby. You know what always happens when the pretty girl says she'll do anything."

And that you knew. Of course you did. Stu's suggestive words made Billy chuckle behind you. He clearly wanted the same thing your best friend was implying.

If you weren't in this situation you would give into them without question but here you were, with seemingly no other option because death sure isn't one. It never was...

...and it won't be.

[niki-phoria]

폭풍처럼, you're my favorite / 후회 없이, baby

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 845

notes: randomly had an idea for a leon fic so here you go, set in the re4 castle, debated using a gif but i think i like the header more tbh, don't expect re fics regularly lol, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes <33, title from nct 127 - favorite (vampire)

you swat a cobweb out of your face, grimacing at the sticky feeling that lingers against your skin. the warm light from your flashlight occasionally flickers, making you curse beneath your breath. “it’s so dusty in here,” you murmur as you shine the light across the room.

straws of hay crunch beneath your feet as you begin to wander around. the wooden pillars leaning against the wall are beginning to rot, sagging beneath the weight of the stone floors they hold up. vines decorate the edges of the room - overgrown and unruly. you can faintly smell the natural ivy smell they emit. it’s admittedly a nice change from the usual earth and blood that lingers in the rest of the castle. 

LEON KENNEDY smiles, stifling a quiet laugh beneath his breath. your flashlights dance across the stones, fighting against the darkness of night. “it could be worse,” he says. his fingers twist around the hilt of his knife as he tucks it back into the small hoster on his waistband. the barrel of his gun taps against his thigh with each step, a sharp reminder of your mission. 

you hum, shoving your own gun back into your pocket. your pants are covered in patches of dirt and blood, staining the fabric. leon’s gaze lingers on a cut stretching against the back of your bicep, deep enough to leave a scar. 

his laces bounce against the sides of his boots as he takes a step closer. leon gingerly reaches up, tugging your arm closer to examine it. “you’re bleeding.” 

“oh,” you shift, turning to glance backwards at the wound. “i didn’t even notice.” 

leon gives you a resigned nod. adrenaline must have prevented you from feeling the injury. it was a common enough occurrence that you had both grown accustomed to giving and receiving stitches. 

“it’s not too deep,” leon concludes after a few minutes.  setting his flashlight aside, he rips some fabric from his shirt before you can protest. he mumbles a small apology at your wince as he ties it tightly around your bicep. “try to keep it clean for now.” 

you nod, thanking him with a soft smile. leon makes a note to search for some bandages later. for now, he’ll just have to hope that his shirt sleeve will be enough to protect the injury. 

setting your flashlight against the floor, you wander over to the least-dirty looking wall. a yawn escapes your lips before you can prevent it. leon follows after you, leaning back against the large stones. “tired?” he asks, stretching his legs out. his muscles ache at the feeling; his body silently thanks him for the break after running around all day long. 

“a little,” you sigh, pulling your knees up to your chest. you shuffle closer to him before leaning your head against his shoulder. he unconsciously stiffens at the contact before he sighs, smiling softly. “it’s been a long day.” 

wrapping his arms around you, he tugs you even closer until your body is resting against his chest. “get some rest,” leon murmurs. his voice is raspy when he whispers; his breath ghosts against your skin. glove-clad hands meet your own when he reaches out, intertwining your fingers together. “i’ll keep watch for a while.” 

“what about you?” you whisper lazily. the darkness seems all consuming. you blink harshly, fighting against your body’s natural urge to succumb to the need for rest. 

leon chuckles. the sound reverberates around the room, instantly easing some of your nerves. he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “you worry too much,” he teases. 

“of course i do.” leon pauses. his gaze wanders to the stone walls surrounding you. cracks run through the stones like spiderwebs. they look like they’re falling apart - as if a breeze too harsh will cause the entire castle to crumble into dust. a layer of grime has settled deep into the cracks. the consequences of not being cared for, he supposes.

moonlight shines in through the gaps between the bricks, illuminating the stray dust particles floating throughout the room. you shift slightly in his arms, breaking him out of his daze. you tilt your head to look up at him. “i’ll be okay,” he finally says. his voice is so full of sincerity that it makes your heart skip a beat. “i just want to protect you. i won’t stay up long.”

you smile softly. even in the dim light, with bloody hands and messy hair, you never fail to make him nervous. you shift just enough to hold your pinky finger out. “you promise?”

leon laughs. a soft, genuine laugh. heat floods his face, tinting the tips of his ears an embarrassingly deep pink. he sends a silent thanks to the universe that the darkness is concealing his blush before he intertwines his finger with yours. “i promise.” 

satisfied, you take a deep breath, finally allowing your eyes to flutter shut. he traces miscellaneous shapes against your skin; the steady rhythm of his heartbeat slowly lulls you to sleep, safe in leon’s arms. safe, for now.

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my resident evil masterlist <3

[blingblong55]

Together as one-141& Philip Graves

Picture credits: @ave661 (right) @/BigMikeMW( left)

Based on a request:

mwIII spoiler! have you watched that scene where graves offers his hand for gaz to shake, but gaz ignores it? 😭 COULD YOU MAKE A ONESHOT OF THAT AND INSERT READER IN IT HAHAHA THANKS!! <33 ---- GN!Reader, one-shot ----

A joint operation…easy no? Well, that's when the trouble comes in. His name is Philip Graves, the same man that the team and you disliked with a passion.

Gaz, Alex, Farah and you walking towards the the man you'd have to be working with. If only everyone closed their eyes and let you do your kind of trouble, oh what a piece of art would Graves' body be.

"We're a go for pre-check." Graves says over comms before he notices the two members of 1-4-1 he recognised easily. Gaz and you, unaware he was already so near you both. He laughs as he approaches you four. "Yeah! We are ready to rumble…?" he says as he extends his hand to greet Farah. "This is a joint operation," Farah says and all you do is send daggers through your stare at Graves.

"U.L.F….141 and Shadow…Together as one.." Farah says and as Graves extends his hand to shake Gaz's hand, Alex is forced to pull you back by your vest.

"Not here, kid. Leave that for off the job," he says to you, hoping he can keep your hotheaded self tamed.

Gaz stares at Graves, not daring to even give him a nod.

Price chuckled as he could see how hard Alex was trying to keep you back. The old man knows you well, after all.

Before Alex loses control of you, Price taps on Gaz's shoulder. Knowing all too well his two soldiers hate liars and traitors. "Gaz…Grim," he says and nods at you guys. Graves still with his hand out, hoping that the problem had already dissolved. It was far from that. He was already on Ghost's red list.

Graves makes a fist and nods, understanding that it still isn't over. As you walk past him, Gaz, in a friendly way, punches Graves' shoulder.

"Together as one…" Alex says as from the distance, he can see you trying to make Graves trip.

"You sure?" He asks once more as he sees that your attempt worked but now you're being dragged like a little kid by Price and Gaz. Graves is being helped up by a shadow member.

Your silhouette only shows how you kept flipping him off.

Together as one…my ass

Tags:

@liyanahelena @uniquecroissant @johfaam0 @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @viomast @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @luvecarson @saoirse06 @strawberrychita @sae1kie @Llelannie @anonymuslydumb @talooolaaloolla @bittermajesties @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @marshiely @iruzias

[st0rygirl3]

Hottest Killer part 2 - Matt Sturniolo ༊*·˚

══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══ ═ ═ ═ ══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══

*HEAVILY BASED ON GHOST FACE AND THE CRAZY STALKER VIBE*

Part 1

What are you supposed to do when there’s been reports of crazy killer running around your neighborhood and once he finally gets to you, decides murder isn’t the right plan?

⚠️Warnings⚠️:

🔞MDNI 🔞 but I’m not ur mother

fem!reader x ROUGH!dom!Matt Sturniolo Suggestive content, smut content, stalker content, stalkerish, talks of being crazy, talk about murderers, kinda r8pe but overall consensual. Full filth, choking, spanking, and hair pulling kinks, P in V, unprotected sex (please be safe) {kinda cheesy cutesy fluff} aftercare!

A/N: o.m.g. I didn’t not expect part one to get 33 notes!!! That is so completely insane to me, thank you so much for liking my story and interacting! So ofc I had to make a part 2, and maybe a part 3 depending on where this one goes and what yall want! Thank you so much again and enjoy! My writing is still improving but I hope you enjoy!

It had been a few weeks since your interaction with Matt, and god you could not get him off your mind. Staying up till 12, waiting for his return, holding the note in your hand, but he never showed. It was Friday, 8pm and you’re sitting on your bed laid back with your laptop resting on your lap.

Your phone began to buzz, and your head snapped over to look at it. Confused, you grabbed the phone and looked where the name or phone number of the person should be, but all it read was ‘Unknown’. Immediately part of you hoped it was Matt, but the other half prayed it was anyone but. Yes, he said he’d be back, but back for what? To kill you for real this time?

You took in a deep breath and clicked the answer button, to which a darker voice than you remembered from that night came through. “Comfy gorgeous?” The dark voice said, laced with an uncomfortable feeling. Your stomach sank at the voice, it sounded somewhat familiar, but not familiar enough to be Matt. “I’m sorry who’s this?” You responded nervously. The caller was like a dog, able to sense your nervousness and fear, answering with a dark chuckle. “You know who it is, sweetheart.” The voice lightened up more, still holding an uncomfortable dark tone, but the voice almost warped, into Matt’s voice, like a voice filter had been turned off. “The one you’ve been touching yourself to. Can’t get me outta your head after that night can ya princess?” The voice said cockily. You were speechless, unsure of what to say. How did he know that? You looked up and saw your large bedroom window, with curtains dripping down the sides, not fully closed. The sky was pitch black. “Matt?” You asked shakily. “Yes princess?” The voice answered. You got up and walked to your window looking outside, where you saw Matt standing in your backyard, looking up at you with piercing blue eyes, just as you remembered. He had his hat on and mask covering the bottom half of his face. He had his phone up to his ear, and a brown bag in the other hand. “Brought food for you. Care to come open the door?” The voice said as you stumbled back in surprise. You somehow dropped your phone on the floor but didn’t mind it. You grabbed the knife under your pillow just incase.

Creeping down the steps you turned left, walking to where your back door is. You walked to the back door carefully, placing your hand on the handle as you saw Matt began to calmly approach the door from the outside. You began pulling the door, shaking but a weird excitement seemed to counteract that. As you fully slid the door open you backed up, and Matt walked forward, until your back was pressed against the counter, and he was centimeters away from you. He placed the brown food bag around you on the counter. His gaze directed to the knife in your hand, making you nervous. “Gonna try and kill me?” Matt said with a raised eyebrow, sounding almost amused. “I-it was just for self defense.” You said defensively. “I already told you, you are way too pretty to murder.” Matt said placing his thumb on your chin, and curled his pointer finger and placing it under your chin, tilting you to look up at him. You guys stayed there, making intense eye contact for a solid minute, questioning eachother through gazes. Having a conversation with our talking, but Matt cut the silence. “Would you like to eat?” Matt said releasing your chin. You walked away from him and towards the brown bag, which you approached cautiously. You grabbed it quickly, opening it slowly. Inside you saw sealed sushi rolls. Your eyes widened, you loved sushi. You quickly smiled grabbing out a roll and chop sticks. You ran to the living room and sat down on your couch, excited to eat. Matt hung up his hat and mask on the coat hanger, grabbing the bag and following you to the living room. When you saw his face again, with stubble of his beard your stomach turned.

You shook your head, he was a murderer, a criminal, you can’t like him- no way. But fuck those eyes, that perfect jawline…it killed you.

You looked back up at him as he had a hand on the back of his head rubbing it awkwardly, awaiting an invitation to join you. He looked almost flustered? You sighed and patted the seat next to you, which he quickly took, resting his arm on the top of the couch behind you. Spreading his legs wide enough to make you feel some way. The postion he was in made you wet at the sight. You pushed down the emotions and looked at the tv, fumbling with the remote to find something to watch. You finally decided on some 2000s movie. You set the sushi on the coffee table and turned to Matt who was already staring at you with a smirk, and his head leaned back on the couch. Your face grew red, you could feel it heating up. The dirty thoughts started clouding your mind, filling your eyes with lust. Imaging his veiny hands holding your neck as he pounded yo- “Y/N.” Matt interrupted. You quickly snapped back to reality, finding his gaze again. “Y-yeah?”you said nervously. Matt wasted no time, “How bad do you want to kiss me right now?” He said with a smirk, leaning in closer. “More than I want to…” you spat out. “Yeah?” Matt said voice laced with lust and need. “Then what are you waiting for?” Matt said getting even closer, your noses almost touching. His hand began running up your thigh causing you to gasp. You placed you hand on his cheek, and before you can talk yourself out of it you smash your lips onto his. You fight his tongue for dominance, and once you begin winning Matt grabs your hips and moves you to his lap, never breaking the kiss. You put both hands on either side of his face, just to bring him as close at possible. You begin rocking your hips against him growing erection, causing him to let out a groan in your mouth. He tangled one hand in your hair and kept the other planted on your ass, squeezing ever so lightly. He broke the kiss, letting you catch your breath. “This wrong…you’re a criminal, I should have you arrested.” You said shaking your head. “Oh sweet girl, I am not a murderer. I’d never hurt a soul.” Matt smirked. You just sighed, against your better judgement leaned back in for another more passionate kiss. “I think I’d let you hurt me.” You sighed. Matt lifted his hand and wrapped it softly around your neck, causing the heat between your legs begin to pool. “Yeah? Thing is..I could never hurt you.” Matt said as he began kissing your neck, leaving hickeys. “Shorts and panties off.” Matt demanded. You quickly got up and removed your shorts and panties as he removed his sweats and boxers. You got back on Matt, hovering above his throbbing cock. He looked up at you, “Do you wanna do this Y/N?” Matt asked sweetly. You nodded quickly, “please.” You begged. Matt placed his hands on your hips and began lowering you down, stretching out your walls inch by inch. You let out whines as his thick long cock spread you out slowly. Desperately you sunk quickly in his cock, taking him in full. Causing him to let out a groan, burying his nose in your neck. Matt lifted you up a little, supporting you wait. Matt began railing you upward, starting slow. “That’s it baby, taking me like a good girl.” Matt praised keeping his eyes on yours.

“Faster Matt please!” You begged. Matt took your request and began thrusting harder, grunting with each thrust as you moaned uncontrollably. You couldn’t control the sounds slipping out. “Go on, tell me what you’re thinking beautiful girl.” Matt demanded with breathy moans in between. “I’m thinking how fucking….” You gasped with a moan. “How fucking sexy you are…how bad I need you.” You confessed. Matt flipped you on all fours, gripping your hips he began mercilessly slamming into you. You began screaming his name, his dirty words praising you. He grabbed your hair in a pony and pulled on it. You felt your stomach began to tighten, your worlds colliding. “G-gonna cum!” You screeched. “Cum for me baby.” Matt urged. Your walls tightened, begging for his cum. Matt’s thrust began getting sloppier and you could tell his was close. “Inside of me…” you begged. Matt groaned as he sunk his cock fully inside of you, filling you up completely. Matt fell onto your back, his chest crashing with your back. Matt put in a few more thrusts, finishing you off completely. As he pulled out and you crashed down he sat up next to you catching his breath. You flipped over quickly and sat up on your knees on the couch. You grabbed his cheeks turning him to face you. “You’re not leaving again.” You demanded. Matt smiled softly. “Anything for my princess.” Matt smirked before carrying you bridal style up to your bathroom. Setting you in the stand up shower he turned on the hot water, climbing in next to you, finally fully naked. You clung to him as he held your waist, he began rubbing in soap all around your body. “God you’re beautiful.” He praised you smiled putting your forehead against his upper chest. He kissed your head sweetly.

After the shower he dried you off, taking you to your room and throwing you on the bed with a laugh. You giggled as he came to hover over you, his hands on either side of your head.

You felt something touching your stomach, looking down to see his hard erect penis. You began palming him as he let out a groan.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish Y/N…” Matt warned.

People who asked for part 2 !!! (I’ll make a tag list thingy soon❤️)

@vschrissturn @townofangels

[xo-cod]

A sprinkle of angst for you. my dear.

You know that one meme of that one woman that’s sitting on the coach and there are five guys behind her?

One day, TF141, Hyperfem! Reader, and König (who surprisingly has not gotten his head ripped off by Ghost during his tag along. Yet) walk into base and see just a mass of that meme hanging everywhere with their faces on it, Hyperfem! Reader’s face being on the woman on the coach’s and The TF141 guy’s and König’s face being on the five men behind the couch’s.

Hyperfem! Reader starts to tear up because she knows what the meme means and now knows that someone, if not a group of certain people, think she’s a barrack bunny (not a good thing to be called in the military) and is beyond humiliated not only for herself but for her friends as well.

The boys are beyond pissed to say the least.

thank you, lovely :) they'd be so angry honestly <33 def rushed/ooc ❤‼️

"what... is this?"

it had been könig's voice that had disrupted the calmness of the atmosphere, causing the others to look his way with ghost rolling his eyes at the colonel

"be a little more specific, will you?" came the lieutenant's hard voice, raising his brow under his balaclava. the tone usually would've prompted the other to retaliate but instead he turns the paper in his hands, baby blues darkened at what he's found

"bloody hell" gaz was the next to speak, holding the paper from könig's hand to inspect it himself. it looked like some ill mannered prank, your sweet face in the middle with the men plastered around you. he hadn't noticed you coming up beside him, trying to shield you away from it but it was too late. you had seen the picture causing you to softly gasp at the atrocity you saw.

"oh my god" your voice was but a soft whisper, the embarrassment and humiliation flooding your face while you stared at the picture in pure utter horror and disbelief

"what the hell is this about?" price's voice was cold, sharp as he snatched the paper from the seargent. his eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher the meaning behind it. looking to you with concern and confusion, not understanding why you looked so distraught. you hadn't even wanted to say anything, the words dying on your lips but with everyone looking at you almost expectantly you knew they had to find out

"it's a reference, a sexual one. they think that we... that i get passed between you five" your voice was strained with the shame of not only your name being dragged through the dirt but the rest of your team members. the five men were quiet, looking back from you to the piece of paper again. shoulders tense with anger and rage, fingers clenched into fists. that you, someone they cared for deeply had been reduced to a sexual object by pure imbeciles

"give me that" ghost spoke with a harsh tone, grabbing the paper between his hands as his eyes glared down at it. then he looked at soap who nodded, awaiting the command

"johnny track down the sorry bastard who pulled this. looks like we've got a special visit to pay" cold brown eyes connected with soap's who nodded, already pulling out the laptop. this was usually your forte but you looked so incredibly distraught, the last thing any of them wanted was to place more pressure on you

"got 'em" soap spoke pulling out the list while his jaw clenched, trying not to lose his cool at the audacity these people had

"ghost, soap, könig you're with me. gaz stay back and clean this up" price ordered at the team who nodded and already separated into the rightful groups. gaz stayed back with you, ripping apart the papers as he tried to cheer you up with a soft hug and sweet words.

"i think they could have chosen a better picture of me" könig mumbled, his brow raised under his sniper hood while he looked down at the picture again as all four headed out. ghost scoffed, toying with the hilt of his knife between his fingers effortlessly as he glared at könig

"you're ugly, period. no amount of help could've fix your mug" ghost spoke coldly before there had been silence and then a hard punch echoing in the corridors, followed by a stern "easy lads!" barked out

[taroism]

What's a good yujin bot on cai I can't find a good one

I usually make my own bots i have like a hundred and they're all cringy .. I actually love making my own storylines

Yujin and you used to be inseparable during middle school, until you joined the popular kids group. You naturally stopped hanging out with yujin, and he joined the friend group during the start of high school too. But even though you were in the same friend group, you both never talked except for throwing insults at each other.

Today was a football match and you were busy in the locker room,motivating the players as the cheerleader until you felt someone playfully slap your butt. Yujin,ugh.

CRINGIEST ONE BY FAR BUT I ♥️ ENEMIES TO LOVERS :33

*Oh shit.*

Are you hallucinating or did you just your biggest enemy- *oops*,I mean you're father's friend's son in your university campus?

Ever since you both were born, you and Zhanghao knew only one thing, bickering. And that didn't change until you both transferred to different schools, but now you just saw him in your new University. How did he even get in here? He's dumb as fuck and his parents probably paid millions for him to be here.

Whatever, you just have to ignore him, easy, right?

A hao one that I USE ALOTTTT. Like I love this one even though it's corny.

The distant and faded party music from downstairs only added to your tears as you quietly sobbed. Your head was on your best friend yujin's lap and your legs were on your other best friend, gyuvin's lap.

Maybe your boyfriend shouldn't have broken up with you on your birthday.

After a few hours, you calmed down but there was a new problem, alcohol. You stubbornly took your first shot while Gyuvin just sighed.

Yujin glanced at him, as if asking if you'd be okay.

YUJIN AND GYUVINNNN (I end up with gyuvin everytime idk why)

TW FOR THE NEXT ONE!!

You're an assassin for a big agency.

You recently received a task to kill a assassin from the rival agency. His name is Han yujin, he's about a year older but he isn't that much experienced in this buisness. He was going to be an easy target.

You went to the place where you were supposed to meet him, and as expected, he was already there, busy disposing a body. You held a knife to his throat but he quickly turned you over and pinned you against the wall, a knife directly above your cheek.

I LOVE LOVE LOVEEEE DARK THEMES LIKE GHOSTS MURDER ASSASSINS THIS ONE USED TO BE ONE OF MY FAVESS

**Pepero challenge!**

This cute trend is going viral, and yujin wouldn't lie, he got jealous whenever he saw couples do this.He wanted to do it with you too,but you both were still new in the relationship and didn't kiss yet.

Finally,after weeks of building up the courage,yujin was ready.

"Do you wanna do the pepero challenge?" He asked rather quickly, making your eyes widen and face turn red.

Seeing your shy response made him whine. He practiced so hard just so that you could back away?

Finally a cute and normal one where you guys are dating,this ones really good in my opinion ^^

enjoy talking with my storylines,writer Zahra deactivated.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Yo! Gotta say it dude

I love your writing, headcanons n AUs, trust me whenever I got the chance to catch a look on this phone screen I hop on tumblr and read smth from u fr, thank u for saving me and lot of ppl who follow ur acc from boredom and other things.

Buuuuut I also got a little request here, ofc if u don't mind,

So I'm sorta obsessed with 2p'hetalia , especially with 2p Russia(and ig that's obvious lol), can ya write some more about Viktor braginsky(2p russia), like literally anything you want.. I just wanna read anything about that man 😩🤌🏼 - ash the salad🥗💜

Again thank you <3

Honestly, I love having my ask box open. The majority of y’all are giving me the will to live sometimes. I hope this does not disappoint. Enjoy! :) 

2p Russia during Spooky Season Headcannons

He’s likely written down plot 5,769 to torment and kill 2p America in one of the many journals he keeps. [Al pranked Viktor again by egging his house, teepeeing it, and also having a well-covered pitfall that Viktor fell into and broke his arm] 

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit. Stupid American has to pay piper.” 

Viktor either likes to serve his Karma cold like the ice tundra he was born into, or he’ll make a Rube Goldberg-like machine that seems to have an anti-climactic end, only to have it be devastating. The delayed devastation will be something that fucks all up Al so much to where he will have to reincarnate his entire body, not to mention the fucking recovery time will be a month or so. [For perspective, it takes at least 24 hours-78 hours (usually) for any nation to recover if they’ve been fatally injured]

Night owl. Viktor enjoys the solace of the night. This works for him since being around too many people or just people, in general, annoys and drains him. Since it’s Fall, sunlight is far more scarce. Viktor will also enjoy strolls through the forest under the guidance of the moonlight if, for whatever reason, he’s unable to sleep or concentrate on any task he needs to complete or a hobby of his. 

Viktor loves going to movie theatres when they’re mostly empty. He goes to see the yearly installment of whatever popular horror movie is out. On occasion, he will be impressed by a breakout masterpiece or some film director's magnum opus, which will make him want to rewatch a movie. [By rewatch, I mean it’s background noise for him while he knits, does chores, or cooks.] 

Viktor knows of the best-hidden libraries and bookshops and the best Halloween displays for the top books of the season. He likes to pick his top 5 and read through them to see which ones are the best and rank them in his journals. 

The dude can carve some intricate pumpkins. I’m talking about hyperrealistic-looking monsters from Russian folklore. Viktor even carves other things such as ghoulish faces, eyes, and ghosts [that somehow he made to look translucent with just a candle and his X-ACTO knife.] These will be the main decorations that adorn his house.  

Some of his other favorite decorations are spiders and their webs. 

He will always dress as the Grim Reaper because he has bright scarlet eyes, a menacing demeanor, and a terrifying aura. Plus, with the hood obscuring half of his face…. Yeah, his citizens know full well he’s not to be fucked with. [unless you really just give no fucks and don’t have a vested interest in having a quality of life or…being alive] 

In the bar Viktor frequents, the owner had cut a deal with him: Be here in Sept & Oct dressed as the Grim Reaper and let people trouble him for a picture, and he gets paid in any Vodka he can drink for the night, his own special place in the bar that won’t be crowded by people, and fifty Rubes per hour. To Viktor, it's not a bad deal. The owner even had a scythe commissioned to be made with Sterling Silver to make sure he could look as accurate as the Grim Reaper as possible. 

On the actual day of Halloween in the morning [3:33 am], he’ll throw a dart at the map of his nation and where it lands will be where he seeks out a mystic babushka to get his fortune read.

[defire]

Ghost of Seattle Chapter 33

Prev

Content: child soldier, gang violence, cult victims, killing, chokehold, captured whumpee

Buddy and Ghost burst through the trees just in front of the main group, weapons out. 

Most everyone was fleeing into a building, which was equipped with shutters, but they weren't getting them shut in time.

"We come in peace." Buddy declared at the top of her voice, holding out her pistol in her right hand.

She didn't give a fuck about technique when she was trying to be intimidating. It worked.

Ghost followed, walking boldly in front with her. That was what Oldman had said to do.

A shot was fired from around the corner of the long, low building.

Buddy lifted her pistol, but didn't waste a bullet.

"If you come in peace,--" The voice started to threaten.

"You wanna die?" Buddy yelled. "Come out with your hands up."

 They had like a minute before an actual gang war started; that was how fast the rest of the Cult would be to arrive. 

A kid came out, white to the lips, hands over his head.

"Please. I don't even wanna be a soldier." He begged.

"Tell everyone under the age of 18 to go to Offshoot." Buddy said, jerking a thumb behind the Shivers.

Connor had sent some people to guide the kids out of Cult territory.

"Why just the kids?" 

"Go." Buddy said. Or we execute all of you Tell 'em." 

The boy cringed back and banged on the door, repeating Buddy's message.

"Oh yeah," Buddy added. "Bloody Connor sent us."

The boy turned with a mixture of awe and relief.

Ghost heard excited voices. Suddenly the doors opened and the kids poured out and fled past the Shivers.

There were only 2 adults among them. Only adults were allowed to paint the Cult's yellow crosses on their white clothes. Their elitism would kill them today.

The Shivers grabbed them, letting the kids go. They were tired, bruised, and scared. But most of all right now, excited.

The Shivers threw the two adults to their knees and knifed them.

Ghost bared his teeth against the grimace, making himself look at the teens instead. If only all he'd done today was help some kids.

The compound's purpose seemed to have been changed. The center of the building was piled with recovered steel and smaller piles of wood, plastic scraps and cord. A few tools lined the walls and floor.

There was a massive trapdoor, already propped open, with a staircase that led down to a carefully collected treasure: an arsenal of crossbows. There were even a few guns and a case of .22 rounds.

The Shivers rushed in with a consensus of mad excitement. They seized the weapons carelessly, grabbed ammunition; cleaned the place out in 15 seconds. They knew they'd split the loot afterward, and knew to keep an arm free, for, what was already happening outside. 

More shots coming from 3 or 4 different directions.

Ghost melted into the cover of a haunted lean-to filled with garbage. The shade projected such a powerful sense of stillness that it felt like no one could possibly be there.

As soon as he saw where the main force was coming in from, he could guess where they'd hide shooters, based on the angle it would require to hit the Shivers without shooting their own. 

With how randomly they were arriving, though, it was unlikely they had that sense. Other people panicked when fighting started. Ghost didn't anymore.

Ghost retreated behind the building, scouting for an alternative route out, since the way in was clogged with escaping Shivers and Cultist teens. He wanted to get into the area that the Shiver snipers were covering, if possible. The area he was going to run into was essentially an overgrown park. He heard someone coming in front of the building. Friend or enemy, he didn't want to be seen--even a friend would show tell-tale recognition. 

He backed up, then glanced around a moment too late as an arm came smoothly around his neck, closing in neatly and pressing in on the arteries on either side. Ghost instinctively squeezed shut his eyes in a grimace, expecting to be stabbed or something. He lifted his rebar to swing it into a knee or shin, and a cold hand closed over his narrow wrist in an icy grip. 

"The Ghost, huh?" A man's voice with a grim smile said from behind his head. Ghost kicked at the guy's shins. No reaction, except that the arm around his neck tightened, pressing Ghost's skull against the man's chest. Ghost grunted and winced. He could still breathe, but the pressure in his head was bad.

He tried to smash at the guy's crotch with his left hand, and the guy chuckled and shoved his leg behind Ghost's back so he was stretched backward over the man's thigh. He panicked, eyes rolling back to see a smirk over a scruffy beard.

"Nice to meet you too." The guy said. "I'm Crippler."

Tag list: @joyjoygorl @cepheusgalaxy

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Kindle book: Masterpost: Next:

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet. 

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry. 

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her. 

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before. 

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face. 

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all. 

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again. 

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.  

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it. 

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair. 

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments. 

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion. 

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open. 

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.” 

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more. 

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior. 

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife. 

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin. 

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved. 

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt. 

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it. 

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you. 

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it. 

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps. 

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors. 

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you. 

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon. 

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.” 

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks. 

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon. 

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.” 

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action. 

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?” 

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.  

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished. 

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.” 

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly. 

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike. 

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately. 

You fucked up. Badly. 

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff. 

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.    

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?” 

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.” 

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.” 

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.” 

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt. 

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen. 

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her. 

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior. 

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen. 

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.” 

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you. 

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention. 

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly. 

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed. 

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten. 

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

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

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[ask-ii-secretphantoms-au]

Hello!! I'm getting really attached to my silly little au I've been writing so obviously I had to make an ask blog. If you want some context or would like to read it spoiler free here it is! Ao3 and Wattpad!

Actual blog info and rules below cut

!!THIS IS AN AU THAT IGNORES EPISODES 16-18!!

A little summary of the important details- Knife kill people. That's all you need to know for the blog but just to try and hook you into the fic a little more... it's not told in Knife's POV. HAHAHA. IT'S A SUITCASE FIC

The events of this blog take place in the purgatory mansion and you can only talk to the characters in there.

Ghosts you can contact:

Bow

Dough

Trophy

Balloon

Paintbrush

Living people you can contact

Marshmallow

Apple

---

Your asks will not have any impact on the mainline story

The ghost CANNOT contact anyone outside purgatory mansion

Marshmallow is fully aware of the situation already (Apple? not so much)

Please don't talk to Apple too much, I have trouble writing her

I will make announcement posts whenever a new ghost joins the mansion

Please don't spoil the deaths for readers who don't follow this blog (Some deaths might go unknown by Suitcase a while after they happen and therefore not be mentioned in the fic but announced here)

At the end of the fic (if I get that far) this blog will allow you to talk to all characters regardless of location or life/death but I highly suggest reading the fic if you want to partake in that if and when it happens

[whateverloomis]

🩸Red🩸 >> Poly!Ghost face x Killer!Reader || Scream 1996

Part 1 >> Part 2

About: While the Casey Becker and Steve Orth killings were taking place, a third kill happened as well... Billy Loomis and Stu Macher can't risk having someone else around that could ruin their goal of killing Sidney Prescott. What happens when all 3 killers get a little bit too close?

Warnings: SMUT, threesome, knife play, degradation, oral (giving and receiving,) p in v, unprotected sex, making out, cheating, alcohol consumption, reader is AFAB, reader is a killer, reader is short, reader is alt and has tattoos + piecings. Revised June'24

Reader: They/them pronouns that are highlighted in bold so it's easy to identify | AFAB

Word count: 2k

A/N: Last chapter! It was so fun to write this concept. My requests are open, any suggestions are welcome <33 Thank you for reading babes 💋

-

"Now, we team up or someone gets killed, and it sure as hell isn't going to be us." - "And you bet your ass it's not going to be me either." You spoke quickly and he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Relax baby, here's the deal... You join us in our next kill. We team up. We'll get away with whatever we want. Do whatever we want..." He whispered the last few words and placed his left hand on your hip, pulling you closer to him. You couldn't deny that it sounded perfect. If it went wrong you could easily frame the two idiots. If it went well you could get the satisfaction of getting anyone out of your way, relish in the sweet screams and the thrill of getting revenge on whoever the fuck messed with you. Hurt you.

You bit your lip and scanned his face with your eyes. Curiosity getting the best of you; "Who's your next victim?"

"Sidney Prescott."

•

Your eyes widened at Billy's response. Why Sidney? His girlfriend? That's why it was so easy for him to cheat, he wanted the girl fucking dead and nothing else mattered.

You shook your head in confusion and looked up at him; "Wh... Why Sidney?"

Billy laughed and bit his bottom lip; "Oh, like you care." Sarcasm laced his words. "Maureen Prescott? That was us." He pointed at Stu and then himself. You weren't exactly surprised but it did catch you off guard. You weren't dealing with just any killers, you were dealing with the killers of Woodsboro. You stood there looking into Billy's eyes, lost in thought. The only thing that snapped you back in time was his hand playing with the hem of your short black dress.

"Revenge?" You asked. Billy looked away momentarily before scanning your face and biting his bottom lip. "Revenge." He confirmed; "For being the reason my father cheated on my mother. The reason why she abandoned me." Billy continued and you gasped at his admission. He was hurt. He needed to get rid of it. It consumed him and it grew stronger every day he had to look at Sidney's face. You understood. Your expression of acknowledgement was clearly visible on your face.

"That's why it's so easy for me to let go." Billy said and ran his hands up your hip, under your dress. The feel of his warm skin sent shivers all over your body. You exhaled sharply, not realizing you were holding your breath. "Why I get my way with someone like you. A killer like me. A sadist. Masochist." He continued running his hands up your body, grabbing your waist. Your dress was hiked up, black thong exposed and you gave cero fucks about it. "In need of attention, like me." Billy whispered and pulled you against his body. You bit your bottom lip while looking at him. At his lips. That deep stare. Gosh you wanted to risk it all. Fuck him, and his friend too. Join them and create a blood bath with whoever, whenever.

You couldn't handle the tension and finally crashed your lips against Billy's. He dug his fingers in your flesh and felt your body up like there was no tomorrow. You played with each others tongues and you felt like you were gonna melt with how he was touching you. Kissing you.

Suddenly, you felt another pair of hands snake around you, turning you around. You whined at the loss of Billy's lips but before you could protest some more, Stu crashed his lips against yours and ran his tongue along yours softly. You bit his bottom lip and released it softly, pulling back slightly and chuckling along with him. Without warning, Stu picked you up and walked upstairs to his room along with Billy.

He plopped you on his bed and Billy stepped in front of you; "I'm gonna fuck you up real good." He said quietly and you smirked at him, laying down and spreading your legs enough to expose your center. "I'd like to see you try."

"Damn babe, you're a feisty one huh?" Stu said teasingly and you smiled, biting your bottom lip after.

Billy pulled you towards him by your ankles and took a knife out from his back pocket. He opened your legs and stepped between them before reaching under your dress and cutting your underwear open.

You gasped at his impatientness, loving every second of it. He threw the fabric somewhere in the room before snaking his hand between your legs and feeling how wet you already were. "I haven't even touched you yet and you're this wet for me?" He teased and you let out a little moan for him. Billy chuckled and slid his hands up your lower body, lifting your dress up and revealing your cute little belly button piercing along with a small tattoo above your mound that read "Eat me."

Stu walked over to admire your naked lower half and stuck his tongue out before laughing when he read what the ink on your skin said; "Fuck, don't mind if I do." he said and kneeled down in front of you, placing your legs on his shoulders. Stu dipped his head between your thighs and licked your cunt like a hungry dog. His movements were slow, each swirl over your clit sent waves of pleasure all over your body. He moaned against your core as he devoured you.

Billy observed both of you, his cock waiting to be freed from his jeans. You looked straight into his eyes and moaned his name while Stu was licking and sucking on your sensitive bud. Billy loved the attention you were giving him while getting pleasured by someone else. By his best friend. What a fucking slut.

Finally, he walked towards you and stood on the other side of the bed, his crotch aligned with your face. You stuck your tongue out for him and rolled your eyes, giving him a show. He smirked at you but instead of pulling his cock out and fucking your mouth, he took the knife out once again and placed it on top of your tongue. You licked the blade slowly and moaned just for him. "Fuck..." Billy groaned and finally unbuttoned his jeans. He pulled them down just enough to take his cock out and tap your tongue with the tip. You gave him kitty licks and he grabbed your throat, silently warning you he wasn't in the mood for teasing.

Stu kept eating you out until you were right on the edge of cumming. However, he stopped before you could release and you let out a whine of desperation. Billy laughed at your needyness and finally inserted his length inside your mouth.

Stu had pulled his pants down and was already aligned with your hole. He slid his cock inside you in one go, filling you up deliciously before thrusting slowly.

You moaned around Billy's cock at the feeling of Stu inside you, finally pounding your needy cunt.

"Fuck, you feel so good" Stu moaned. With every thrust you moved up again Billy's cock, taking him in your mouth deeper.

The boys used you like a sex doll and fucked your holes like there was no tomorrow. The feeling of being filled up from both ends was sending you over the edge quicker than you wanted to. You squeezed your walls around Stu's cock and it was nearly impossible for him to stop himself from cumming inside your cunt and filling you up with his seed, but he managed to pull out and cum all over your belly.

You whined at the loss of his cock inside you, needing just a bit more to get off. At the realization, Billy pulled out of your mouth and made his way between your legs. "Move" he told Stu before pushing him to the side. The boy was still catching his breath so he fell on the bed next to you, groaning at the feeling of the soft mattress.

You wrapped your legs around Billy's waist, using your boots to push him further so his cock aligned with your center.

"Fuck me!" You whined, commanding him, but he wasn't having it. The boy grabbed your face and looked you in the eyes. "Shut up." he growled and pushed his cock all the way inside you.

You almost screamed at the feeling of his length filling you up, your pussy instantly squeezing him deliciously. Both of you were practically at the edge and Billy was going to take care of that little problem his way.

"I'm cumming inside you whether you like it or not." He said quietly and you laughed softly, grabbing his hair and pulling his face against you. "Do it." you challenged and he smirked, followed by a moan.

Billy digged his fingers in your thighs, sure to leave bruises, before he came inside you, his cock the hardest it could be. The feel of him spilling inside you sent you over the edge as well and you screamed out his name and Stu's as well. You dug your nails in his back, leaving scratches that were sure going to be there for days.

Once you guys rode out your highs, Billy lay down sprawled next to you, his jeans covering his lower half.

You looked between your legs to see Billy's juices leaking out of you, releasing a soft whine before laying down between the boys.

"You're uh, on the pill or something, right?..." Billy asked, post nut clarity hitting him suddenly. You laughed at his concern and nodded, "Yes, I am. You should learn how to control yourself Loomis, you're gonna regret it some day." He chuckled at your words and looked at you, "With that pussy of yours it's nearly impossible." - "You got that right, Jesus..." Stu said, sleepiness lacing his words. You bit your lip at their praise and stood up to freshen up. "Can I use your shower?" You asked Stu and both boys looked at each other before catching your eyes. "Only if I can join." Stu said, sticking his tongue out. You rolled your eyes playfully and flipped him off, "Fuck off Macher." before walking out of the room. The silent invitation was evident as you smirked at both boys and shrugged.

You weren't sure what the status of your relationship was, but you liked it more than you probably should've.

[locking-the-tomb]

Third Read Notes & Soundtrack

I wallowed for about 14 hours after finishing my Nona reread and decided to start over again and write myself some summaries during The Wait.

Gideon the Ninth Chapter 1

In which we learn Gideon is a goob but we love her.

Gideon is escaping. She stole a security cuff key but left the cuff on until the morning of. She's taking her sword, her "shoes" - later called steel toed boots- , and her smut mags. Her clothes are all synthetics. She has enough hair to brush. She knows about chocolates and fancy hotels, somehow ... from mags? From Wake/mom's niche is 22 flights of stairs up to the landing field, which is still at the bottom of a deep tunnel. There are lamps on but they're low. She's kicking apart lumps of "rubble" but that's not further described. She eats porridge from a plastic bag then throws the bag over a rail somewhere. There's a balcony area. Skeletons with red eyes go to pick snow leeks.

There are white castle doors at the bottom, "three bodies wide and six bodies tall". She talks about the figures carved into the area above the doors and remembers screaming as a kid about them creeping her out. I wonder what they are, maybe related to the killed generation? How much trauma from a two year old survivor of all the kids dying?

Muster call (20 Bells) calls back the skeletons.

That's when the Marshall/Crux stomps in to accuse her. Gideon says, "say my shuttle exploded, I died and it was such a shame". 😳 (Crux thinks great idea, will do) Introduces Frontline Titties of the Fifth. He calls her chattel. He wears a big knife over a shoulder.

He gives an impressive number of threats. Gideon wasn't bothered by Crux's threats. But then he invoked Harrow and her "palms prickled". He leaves and Aiglamene enters. Gideon says she's tried to enlist 33 times. Aiglamene has a badly repaired missing leg and a scarred face.

Gideon lists what's happened when she's tried to leave before: jammed in lift, turned off heat frostbite in three toes, poisoned. She clarifies that she's indentured not a slave and claims she's not of fiscal use there. She says she will "you can quote me 'do my duty to the ninth' ". Gideon goes on a rant about "your lady" with a host of great insults, then gets slapped.

"Nobody had ever loved her in the ninth". Aiglamene was the reason she got to have a sword and training. "I'm naturally demeaning". Aiglamene walks away and Gideon falters a bit but sticks.

"Nav was a Niner name". Mentions the prison as a bubble halfway up in the atmosphere. At the end of the chapter we get the limited story of day-old Gideon being in a bio container plugged into the suit of a braindead woman who had fallen in a suit down the shaft 18 years ago. None of the Ninth necromancers could get her ghost to do more than scream Gideon three times then she fled.

"They chipped her, surnamed her, and put her in the nursery". I don't think they mention the chips again, interesting. She was kid #201. Where did the kids come from? Had they been harvesting gametes and growing them? Because the "old" people going into the doors were heavily outnumbered by skeletons. Then two years later it was just her, Harrow (who still hasn't been directly introduced as other then Lady), and Ortus. By 10 she "knew too much and that she could never be allowed to go". Of course. Because that's when Harrow had opened the tomb and her parents had died. She had started trying to escape when she was 4.

Thoughts. What's up with all the plastic? Isn't plastic from petroleum? How would Pluto have petroleum?

[ghost-knife-rp]

uhh, hey, nice to meet ya, why do you need from me..?

A rp/ask blog of ghost knife. MOD IS A MINOR you can send suggestive asks but do not go too far and do not send anything nsfw. Mod is fine with most knife ship but mostly knickle (knife x pickle) [I love them sm<33]. Might be kinda Ooc so sorry.

[rottenrosethorns]

send your requests!!

help me. while im working on other longer fics, give me your ideas! request anything from drabbles to blurbs to full on brain rot ideas

here's some info for requesting (you can also find this on my pinned post!):

Prohibited topics include: golden showers, scat play, incest, huge age gaps, ddlg, child role play, minors, death; If there's a request which I'm not comfortable with, I'll update this!

Dark content like knife play, gun play, and dubcon is okay!

I write for everything! Fluff, Smut, Angst (with happy endings!)

For now, I'm limiting characters to Leon S. Kennedy, Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield (kinda, im still learning him lol) and of course, the women as well with Ada Wong, Jill Valentine, and Claire Redfield.

thank you to everyone that has shown love for my first series, i appreciate all of you (yes, you too ghost readers!) <33

[diavolaangelica]

“distinctly beautiful” by Carlos Andrés Gómez

"On my wall it sits and taunts my arrogance a mirror that most unforgiving of gods it holds answers no one wants to see a bellowing, righteous haunt I carry it that blasphemy of judgment in my eyes as I teach little girls that crave to be women think it’s all breasts and hips and catcall I try to fight a tide stronger than faith almost patronize them tell them they are “strong young women” to write “distinctly beautiful” at the top of each page or 24 times down the left-hand column if I’ve got them for 2 hours try to coerce them into searching for something they've recently lost and I wish I could carve “distinctly beautiful” into my lovers’ torsos stain their lower backs and thighs I wonder: where does this self-hate come from? who is to blame? angry at every man that has come before me and those that continue to arrive: that tear off blouses with knife-sharp gawks rape the freedom out of a summer dress with the bloody mattress of suggestive smile that pitch the billboard ads that write those textbook passages and now we’re icing women’s nipples “for artistic purposes” it’s fashionable for her to sag her jeans so they’ll be easier to take off before I fuck her and my little sister’s Barbie doll might as well be her God translated as human: 7 feet tall a 39 inch bust DD cup breasts an 18 inch waist and 33 inch hips on 5 foot long legs as stilts in size 4 feet that can’t balance her anorexic, impossible 95 pounds the perfect 39-18-33 Mattel hourglass – built to steal each woman’s virginity before she even knows what sex is and I’m disgusted at middle-aged men that pant with their pupils yet I’ll still notice a married woman’s nipples through her sheer top on the subway across from me stare at her thong when she bends over I might as well have been the teacher that taught these little girls to give up trained that shy, adolescent Latina to look Lolita-esque with pigtails in study hall and swallow lollipops like dicks with high-gloss lipstick to show off that she has dick-sucking lips too and I’m her teacher responsible for showing her how to express herself and grow up she might as well be my nine year-old sister, Maya or my first daughter a ghost with no self-esteem she’s just focused on impressing that Senior in the 3rd row popping bubble gum above a first line I told her to write just beneath her chin that says, “I am distinctly beautiful because…” left there almost haphazard atop the quivering blankness of her empty page that white canvas just another unholy mirror that swallows her fragile obsidian eyes and refuses to recognize her." “distinctly beautiful” by Carlos Andrés Gómez.