#and when I put my resting bitch face on I look stone cold

[enashinonononononome]

Recomienden fanfics de wattpad 🤠🤠 (plss)

Fandoms: jjsk,haikyuu,bsd,crk,genshin,hsr,pjsk 🤓

Lo escribo Aqui pq no tengo amigos que me recomienden ninguno asiqueee idk 🫶🫶🫶🫶😼

[blkkizzat]

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟐 (part 1)

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV/SA mentions (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, LOTS of teasing/foreplay, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 9.9 of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: I had no idea so many people would be this hyped for Part 2. No really, I'm shocked! But It gets real here peoples! Lots of smut and dark shit below so please read the content warnings! I don't want no crying in the mentions and DMs cause y'all should know how out of pocket I am by now and I took it there lmfao.

If you riding with me still Thank You for putting up with my OCD bullshit and for all the support, comments and reblogs on Part 1! y'all real asf & ilysm

Enjoy!

Previously:

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.” 

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag. 

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off. 

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

☠

Sigh. 

For the first time ever in your life you are miserable at a party. 

To say you had been excited leading up to today would have been an understatement. The initiation party after rush was one of the biggest events in the greek system and you had led the charge this year in planning the party.

Nevertheless, any cheerful enthusiasm you held had been trampled on by the disaster that had taken place earlier in the day with Choso. 

If getting out of going wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth you would have faked being sick. It’s not like you hadn’t already stressed yourself into a headache.

Yet here you were suffering through, completely sober. Not even being able to bring yourself to drink away your problems.

How could you even pretend to enjoy yourself when your forced smile cracked as soon as the mental image of Choso’s icy expression looped through your mind?

Your chest got a little tighter each time you remembered and it frazzled your nerves.

Just about everyone and everything annoyed you right now.

Even the party: Hunter vs Hunted, one of your favorites, was soured. 

Typically the theme entailed girls dressed up as various exotic animals or woodland creatures and the boys dressed as safari game hunters or woodsmen. But this time around, no thanks to singular frat boy hivemind, they all got the bright idea to collectively cosplay as Ghostface.

Taking a new meaning on Hunter. 

They couldn’t carry knives on campus of course so they all carried around metal bats which they probably stole from the baseball team.

Sure, let’s all dress up as the masked serial killer while he is still on the loose. 

You rolled your eyes. 

The pilfered bats were a hazard waiting to happen too. You could only be thankful that the party was at Dean’s frat and not your own sorority so him and the rest of those idiots could fuck their own shit up once they inevitably got way too hammered and started swinging them around. 

You mostly just wished they hadn’t changed the plan without telling you. 

Then at least you could have dressed up in line with the horror theme and wouldn’t have had to wear this sexy Bambi costume which although skimpy, the fur parts made it way too hot to be wearing in a crowded party indoors. 

On edge and not being able to leave, you did the next best thing and sequestered yourself in the kitchen pantry. 

It was spacious and a lot cooler than the rest of the house.

You made yourself look busy in there by restocking snacks and making sure there was an ample supply of red cups ready to go around for the keg. 

When someone did notice you tucked away, you gave the best fake smile you could muster and made-up an excuse not to join in on whatever drinking game they were playing promising you would ‘catch up in a minute.’ 

Fortunately for you, most of your friends and sorority sisters were a bit too faded by this point to notice you missing and never joining in. 

Maybe a bit longer and you could slip out unnoticed? 

That was your plan at least until you felt Dean throw an arm over you from behind.

“There you are babe!”

Urgh.

The overwhelming ick and nausea you felt from him touching you rivaled your worst hangover. 

You immediately shrug him off.

“Come on babe don’t be like that. Get a freshman to take over.  We're gonna play rage cage.”

You threw Dean a wary look.

You try to tell him you aren’t in the mood but of course your selfish dickhead of a boyfriend ignores you.

Dean then proceeds to pull your arm and lead you out of the pantry through the kitchen. 

On a different day you probably would have just given in, easier to go along with the flow than cause an issue. Today however was different and the last thing in the world you wanted to do was play fucking rage cage with a bunch of horny frat boys who were just trying to get girls drunk enough to fuck.

“Goddamnit, Dean I said no!”

Your tolerance had boiled past its limits.

You forcibly snatch your hand back, knocking some empty bottles over on the counter in the process which come crashing down to the floor shattering into pieces. 

Your words and movements dripped with so much aggression you surprised yourself, Dean and the people around you who had turned to see what the commotion was. 

”No? No? You’re really telling me no Y/N? After you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ bitch all day since I crashed your make out session with that freak.”

Immediately self-conscious, your eyes darted around the crowd of people that had now turned their full attention toward you.

You hated confrontation and never wanted to be that couple fighting at a party.

Ducking down quickly, you begin to pick up the shattered pieces of bottled glass on the floor. 

The pounding of your headache against your temples grew feverishly and the harsh fluorescent kitchen lights started to make you feel faint, you hoped Dean would just let this go if you backed down. 

“Look, we’ll talk about that later, ok? Just please don’t be an asshole Dean, I really don’t feel good right now.” 

You pleaded with him, quietly trying to quell the situation. 

But true to his infamous asshole nature, Dean wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He wanted to humiliate you as he felt you humiliated him in front of his friends earlier with that nobody loser.

”Now, I’m the asshole?” Dean questioned to his frat brothers smugly.

“Hey, maybe I am for having a girlfriend like Y/N, who would slut herself out for a grade in front of the entire quad!” 

Dean had all but yelled that last part out. Your drunken clown of a boyfriend didn’t care if he caused a scene at your expense.  

Now you had the full attention of everyone in the kitchen. 

You took a shaky breath as you stood up and felt the crunch of broken glass beneath your heels.

An unfamiliar sensation of rage rises within you.

It really wasn’t in your nature to be angry even when you were upset, you mostly just cried but now you were pissed to say the least. 

He has some fucking nerve. 

Especially when you knew no one starting on the football team studied at all and were all automatically passed through whatever easy bullshit major they signed up for.

“Dean–”

You start yet pause for a moment, trying to keep your cool.

“–you know how hard I study.”

Twisting the proverbial knife in your back to wind you up further Dean continued.

“Yeah, Y/N That's what’s so pathetic about it. You get Bs. That pussy ain’t even good enough for an A. I would know.”

Collective gasps, snickers and whispers arose from around the kitchen. Word had spread of your fighting as more people gathered in the doorway.

Typically this is where you would have run off crying. However, you were exhausted mentally and emotionally. You had already cried for a good hour today while getting ready. 

The only emotions you had readily available to tap into was the hidden well of resentment and ire you held for Dean.

“And how would you even know what good pussy is Dean? You can’t last longer than two pumps, is it not all the same for you?”

You snapped back. 

Your fists had formed into a tight ball.

You are so enraged you can’t even feel the prick from the broken glass bottle still in your hand puncturing your skin.

How long has it been since you stood up for yourself? 

You can’t remember the last time you even fought with anyone like this but it felt good seeing the smug look on his face fall as his friends around him jeered and laughed.

“I know how to settle this Y/N.”

Dean mused as he yanked one of your sorority sisters nearby toward you.

“How ‘bout we ask Aaliyah then, eh? She got more than 2 pumps last weekend after you left the party to go chase after Ghostface–”

Your head snaps to your AKA sister in question, Aaliyah, who looked like she saw a cursed spirit as all the color drained from her face. Her eyes shamefully hit the floor before they met your gaze. 

She couldn’t even look at you which only further solidified Dean’s accusations. 

So Dean himself confirmed he’d been cheating on you? Cool. 

With your own Sorority sister, who you considered one of your besties since you both rushed together? 

Even better. 

Blood slowly trickled out of your hand to drip on the floor from how rigidly you held onto the glass but the small red puddle went unnoticed as your whole vision was already saturated with the color red when you looked at Dean who hadn’t even finished his disrespectful tirade. 

“–Although on second thought, it was probably an excuse for you to go suck off that loser freak TA of yours right?”

More heckles erupted from the crowd around you and you don’t think you have ever hated someone so much in your life as you hated Dean right at this moment. 

Sure you were upset with Aaliyah but your fury was purely focused on Dean. 

He had some nerve to start so much shit earlier over an almost-kiss when he was fucking your good friend behind your back. 

“And how fucking out of her mind was she then, huh Dean? Would she even remember? You pathetic piece of shit...”

You get directly in his face. 

“...that limp dick of yours fumbles orgasms like you fumble passes. That’s why we lost the big game last week. And guess what? That's also why we’re now OVER!”

Dean’s bulky build towers over you but he might as well have been 3 feet tall to you as the razor edge of your words eviscerate him.

“So who’s the fucking loser now Dean?”

Everyone in the room was stunned into silence by the venom dripping from someone they had never even heard raise their voice before.

You don't notice anyone else's reactions though as suddenly you became hyperaware of the large fractured piece of bottled glass cutting into you. 

Your eyes flickered back to Dean as your hand twitches.

For a fleeting moment you felt an inkling urge to drive the glass in your hand directly into Dean’s smug ass face.

Yet whatever dark fury burned in you was instantly snuffed out as you felt a flood of cold bitter beer splash down on you from Dean’s red solo cup. 

”Why don’t you cool off for a bit dear,” Dean cooed at you, mocking you and your now ruined Bambi costume as he and the frat boys around you started to roar with laughter.

That was it. 

You were done. 

Dean had succeeded in humiliating you. 

Any contention or further will to fight within you had dissipated the moment you were doused in beer. 

The glass in your hand drops onto the ground as a dull ache radiates from your wound that continues to seep blood onto the floor.

“I hope you realize this is the last time an AKA will grace this sorry ass frat for a party. I’ll see to that. Enjoy the rest of your night fellas!”

The icy air of your words contrasted with the perfect pageant smile you gave them and it unsettled those around you especially as they all notice the blood gushing from your hand. 

The crowd immediately parts as you leave. No one dares utter a word to you as you exit the party through the side kitchen door. 

You can feel your phone go off as you get a flurry of group texts and missed facetimes. Most of your sisters weren’t even in the kitchen to witness the scene.

You respond to the group chat to tell them just to stay and enjoy the party and turn your phone on ‘do not disturb.’

You just wanted to be alone. 

You’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

☠

Choso wore a twisted grin hidden under his Ghostface mask.

The hunter vs hunted party meant a perfect time for him to hunt. 

Leaning against a building Choso was shrouded in the dark cover of shadows far removed from campus lights.

Old habits, he mused. There was really no need for him to hide at all tonight. 

He could actually walk around openly as Ghostface now without causing alarm seeing as how most of those fraternity morons were dressed up like him tonight. 

This made things even easier. 

Choso scanned the area for his next prey. 

Someone, anyone alone would do. 

Choso had been itching to spill blood since he had the enticing inclination to slash your boyfriend’s throat earlier.

Currently he wanted nothing more than to see a violent geyser of blood spurt from his next victim. Having it be a shithead frat guy would only sweeten the kill so he had stalked close to frat row for his latest victim.

There.

Seeing movement in the distance, a lone figure, Choso cautiously advances trailing in the shadows towards them until they come into focus under the street lights.  

He nearly does a double take when he recognizes it's you.

Shouldn’t Miss-Perfect-Social-Butterfly be having the time of her life right now with her cretins being crowned queen of the frats or something?

Choso thought bitterly. 

That is, until he got a good look at you. 

You were wet and shivering as you failed to sniff back the tears pouring down your face.

Despite his desire to stay angry with you, his jaw involuntarily clenches as he had never seen you this upset before. 

Something had happened.  

Choso confused look turns deadly as vision travels down to see you nursing the hand you cradled to your chest. He recognizes blood running down your forearm to stain your already soiled costume.

A territorial urge swelled within him, not knowing you had inflicted your own injury. 

You were his prey. 

It was unforgivable for someone else to spill what was his to enjoy.

Choso immediately concluded the cause of it was Dean.

Boyfriend or not he would gladly gut that motherfucker at the drop of a dime. 

He hadn’t forgotten how roughly he had dragged you off earlier. 

And more importantly how you had let that asswipe drag you off. That honestly had fired his temper more than anything. 

A storm of conflicting feelings, Choso yearns to see more of your blood splattered on the ground as much as he secretly covets to have you writhing underneath him.

Should he approach you? 

No. Not yet.

Although, he would never have a more perfect chance than now to kill you if he was ever actually going to go through with it.

Securing his knife on the inside of his robe, Choso silently propels himself after you. 

Never falling too far behind, he vigilantly watches you from a distance as both your protector and predator.

☠

A warm shower was just what you needed but you were pissed you had to wash your hair 3 times to get the smell of Milwaukee's out, which proved insanely hard to do with one functioning hand. 

You could have killed Dean. 

No actually though, as you remembered the dark seething compulsion you felt. 

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you earlier.

Pushing those thoughts to the side though you focused on the gash in your hand, it was pretty gnarly. 

You were just thankful the first aid kit in your sorority house had enough gauze and tape until you could get to the campus nurse tomorrow. 

You probably needed stitches as any sudden movements had the fragile skin of your palm bleeding again.

Returning to your room in a comfy pink cotton bra and thong you throw your towel over a chair.

You start to reach for your fluffy robe when you see Choso’s black track jacket on your desk. It still had the small coffee stains on it from earlier but you opted to slip into it anyway.

Truthfully, you lied to him.

You hadn’t just been carrying it around waiting to give it back to him.

You had worn it more times this past week than you would willingly admit to anyone. 

You even took it on purpose instead of your actual jacket this morning not actually thinking you would run into Choso but when you had seen him, you knew you wanted him to see you in it.

With a sigh of frustration, you dove face first into the pillows of your bed as you curled into his jacket. 

It was your only comfort at the moment. 

Your mind wanders and you can’t help but think of how better a boyfriend Choso would have been to you.

Dean would never let you wear his jackets, no matter how cold you were. He said you were too air-headed and would ruin or lose it. 

Not that he wasn’t right, you definitely were accident prone.

But that's why it had meant so much to you when Choso, not even your boyfriend, had given you his own without a second thought.

You only hoped he didn’t hate you now. 

Not that you could blame him if he did.

Even you hated you a bit for even being with a jerk like Dean in the first place no matter how convenient you thought it had been for you. 

How could you even face Choso in class next week? 

Despite your heart crumpling when you thought of Choso’s cold intimidating gaze being cast upon you again, you admittedly had never seen a look that intense before from anyone. 

It was also impossible to forget the ravenous look in his eyes when he was so close to kissing you. 

He looked as if he would devour you whole. 

God, everything about him was so sexy.

His strong jaw set firm, his eyes dark pools that sucked you in even from memory, his lean muscular body.

You wish you had realized how bad you had been crushing on him sooner. Before everything got so fucked up. 

You fidgeted as an ache developed between your legs.

Turning your head to the side you used your bandaged hand to gently push his jacket collar into your face. 

It still smelled like him despite how many times you’ve worn it this week and despite the faint smell of old coffee from earlier.

Squirming on your bed, you tried in vain to keep your legs from sliding against each other creating more friction as your body became increasingly hotter. 

A shameless whine escaped your lips as you huffed his woody masculine scent in and out. 

Your legs rubbed together more eagerly. 

Shit, you were so horny. 

Still laid flat on your belly you lifted your hips up for access as a manicured finger pressed into your clit toying with yourself from the outside of your pink cotton thong.

Choso was so meticulous, so knowledgeable in everything he did you were sure he knew how to make you cum. 

You were desperate for him as you remembered what it felt like when he caught you from falling last week. 

How good would his sculpted chest feel pressed into you now?

Would he look at you with the same want that flared across his features when he had gotten a glimpse of your panties you had intentionally put on display for him? 

You didn’t miss how it matched the look he gave you when he nearly kissed.

“Choso…”

You moaned out loud. 

You could feel the wet spot your teasing was earning you spread over your thong as your cunt continued to drool over your fantasies of him.

Craving more you lifted your ass up higher while your fingers fumbled to slide under the flimsy fabric.

“A-ahhh s-shit Cho– F-fuck!”

You panted as you sunk two fingers into your cunt. You worked to diligently pump them in and out of you as you pressing your palm down firmly over your swollen clit. 

Your face buried itself deeper in his jacket as you gasped and your warm breath pushed back against you as you imagined it was his own tickling your neck.

All your senses screamed with want to be consumed by him and you pined for the feeling of his cock stretching your wet cunt instead of your slim fingers that weren’t cut out for the job.

“F-fuck C-Choso.. Mmm, let me cum.” 

You practically sobbed when you glided a third finger into your pussy, two wasn’t enough to quell the craze that had overtaken you.

Ironically and unbeknownst to you, Choso (who had hidden himself in your closet during your shower), was mere moments away from losing his own goddamn mind.

Wholly entranced, he listened to you wantonly call for him like a sweet siren song and watched utterly fixated on the way you fiercely finger fucked your pussy like it was his own cock.

All the while in his jacket sniffing the sweaty soiled material like some filthy fucking pervert.

Fuck!

When he had followed you back to the sorority house he had finally resolved to kill you, but now he was at a standstill as there was no plausible way this was actually happening in front of him.

The obscene ASMR of your cunt sloshing rang in his ears and your legs quivered obscenely with you approaching your orgasm. 

Your desperate thrusts caused his oversized jacket to ride up to your hips revealing the way your ass bare ass jiggled when you drove your hips down and pushed your digits up deeper into your core that waited greedily to suck them in.  

You chanted out Choso’s name with urgency straining your voice as you climaxed. The bed creaked from you now humping the mattress while riding out your high.

Shit you were fucking sexy. 

Thought you'd just been toying with him for fun all this time...

Until now.

Choso’s grip on his knife tightened as adrenaline surged through his body. 

He could feel the blood pumping through his dick. 

He wanted to fuck you. 

Badly. 

Give you what you’ve both been needing all this time. 

Choso fully bricked, suppressed a hiss through clenched teeth as he palmed the bulge in his pants but remained otherwise still.

He can’t imagine a positive reaction if he burst out of your closet as Ghostface nor could he just take off his mask and pop out of your closet as your TA like he was some fucking creeper.

This was pure agony. 

You never failed to find some way to unravel him.

Choso was so tense, his body coiled so tightly, he couldn't control his thigh involuntarily twitching and his knee recoiled against your closet door.

He cursed himself for the millionth time at the lack of control he had around you, he had never had to restrain himself so much around anyone else.

Ecstasy was etched on your features as you looked around puzzled from where the noise came from.

However, the even louder boom of the front door slamming shocked you out of your blissful daze and stole your attention away.

You sat up quickly and wondered if your sorority sisters were back already.

You glanced at the clock.

10:32 pm.

It was still much too early for them to leave.  

But who else could it be? 

You groaned and reluctantly hopped off the bed, zipping up Choso’s jacket fully to hide the slick between your legs and went out to greet them so you could avoid them coming into your room and return to your solitude as quickly as possible. 

You were tired, frustrated and still horny as hell. 

You only wanted make yourself cum hard enough you could fall asleep and end this miserable ass day.    

☠                                                   

“Girls~! You really didn’t have to leave so early~!” 

You call out to your sisters.

It was a little late for a show of solidarity if that's what they thought they were doing.

You rolled your eyes. 

But it was eerily quiet as you received no response. 

That’s odd.

Walking down the hall you froze once the view from the top floor opens into the foyer below and you see the front door wide open. 

Not a single soul in sight or to be heard. 

“Girls?”

Fight or flight senses kick into gear alerting you to the possible dangers below. 

You might be a bit of a ditz but you studied enough forensics and had seen enough scary movies to know how this shit usually ended.

You turn back to run to your room to call someone but stopped as you noticed your phone on the entryway table by the door. 

Crap.

Steeling yourself you slowly inched your way towards the staircase, stopping at times to lean over the banister for any signs of someone.

“This isn’t funny girls! You know I’ve already had a really shitty night!”

But only the hollow sound of wind whipping through the door answered you as it swayed on its hinges. 

This was an older house.

Maybe you didn’t close the door all the way in the beginning? 

No one in your sorority house ever locked the doors, which now you considered probably wasn’t the greatest tradition to keep up while you were at home all alone and a serial killer was on the loose.

You crept down the stairs trying to silence any creaks as best you could.

“I swear on a stack of Vogues if this is a prank you all of you whores will all be on campus clean-up community service duty for the rest of the semester!”

Still nothing but silence as you reached the bottom of the staircase.

The lights were on in the entire house. From what you could tell the den and living room areas surrounding the foyer were empty. 

You sighed. Maybe it was just the wind.

You close the door and this time make sure to lock it as you clutch your phone and turn to scamper back upstairs when you feel something grab at you from behind.

“Want to die Y/N?” 

You let out a screech as you whip your around to see a figure you recognize as Ghostface reach for you as you stumble backwards into the den. 

Tripping over your own feet, you fall back landing on your injured hand and knocking your head against the edge of a coffee table.

A roar of laughter erupts as you groan dazed from the floor.

“You really are a clumsy ditz, babe.” 

Puzzled and near concussed, you blink through blurry vision to see Dean pull off the Ghostface mask as he crouches down to your level and leans on his metal bat tauntingly.

Pain blossoms sharply in the back of your head and you can feel the puncture wound on your hand open and saturate your bandage.

“The fuck are you doing here Dean?” 

You glared up at him through your one good hand that covered your face as you struggle to get your bearings back. 

You couldn’t catch a fucking break tonight.

���Still being a huge bitch even though I came all the way over here to say sorry, eh?”

Dean hummed, brow raised as he chuckled.

“I thought a little fright would put you in a good mood, Y/N.”

“Nice way of apologizing Dean. Insult me, scare me half to death and give me a concussion.” 

You knew this man was not sorry at all.

Someone sober enough had probably informed Dean that you did have the power to essentially kill their fraternity’s social life, cucking his entire house for the foreseeable future. They likely sent him to make things right with you ASAP. 

But even with all that on the line your tool of an ex was such a huge dick he couldn’t even do the bare minimum to give you a decent apology like an actual human being (not that you would have accepted it).

“I see I was right about one thing though.” 

Dean got your attention as he pointed down at the moisture running down your legs.

You immediately pull Choso’s jacket down further to cover yourself. 

You couldn’t give a fuck what he thought at this point. You’d confess to fucking the entire Forensics department if got him out of your face.

“Sure Dean, think what you want okay? Just fucking GET. OUT.” 

You felt dizzy from the pressure thrumming in the back of your skull.

“Yeah and if I say no whore? Then what?” 

Dean slid a clammy hand over your knee which sent another wave of nausea through you, your head spinning.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop his hand traveling lower before you suddenly noticed Dean’s body being ripped away from you entirely.

The scene that followed occurred in a whirlwind as your head felt like it would explode trying to focus on anything.

Your eyes strain to keep up with the action only registering fractions of it through your blurred vision. 

You see…blood?

Is it yours?

No. It’s flowing from Dean’s shoulder.

Another person?

No

…Ghostface?

Yes.

Your double vision struggled to pinpoint exactly what was happening as Dean and the masked Ghostface fought for dominance, somehow ending up back in the foyer. 

Dean was barely able to keep the large hunting knife from sinking into his chest.

Was this even real?

Were you really about to witness a Ghostface crime scene in action?

Were you next?

You felt like you were witnessing it all play out through someone else’s body as your mind floated off and you felt more disconnected. 

Your awareness faded in and out.

There was no doubt, you definitely had a small concussion. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up as you finally hear Dean shouting your name although it sounded like you were in a fishbowl.

He had somehow gotten leverage and evened the odds with the killer as they both now had a hold of the blade’s handle.

“Y/N! Pay attention you ditzy ass bimbo! Don’t just sit there looking stupid, get the fucking bat.”

You scanned the floor around you. 

Sure enough, there was the scuffed metal bat shining back at you resting by your knees.

Your injured hand grazes it and you see a red trail of blood smearing across it as the cool smooth metal soothes your ruptured skin.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you daydreaming about?! Get your ass over here!”

You grip the bat’s handle, ignoring the pain to use it and the coffee table as leverage to push you up off the floor.

You sway on your feet as your blood pressure drastically drops from standing too quickly. 

Your head feels light. 

Your body feels light. 

Surprisingly too, even the large heavy metal bat now feels light in your injured palm. 

“Fucking finally, Y/N!”

Dean yelled as he saw you on your feet.

“It’s not like I’m trying to fight off a killer here or anything dumb bitch.” 

Dumb bitch?

Oh yeah, he means you.

God, Dean was fucking annoying you just wished he would shut up sometimes. 

You couldn’t even think straight. 

What were you doing again? 

Right, the bat. He told you to bring it to him.

You wanted to sit down again. You were so tired.

You couldn't rest though as Dean’s voice was ringing in your ears. 

You just wanted him to shut up more than anything so you willed yourself forward. 

“Give Dean the bat, Give Dean the bat.”

You lowly repeated in a mantra like state.

Your vision was spotted with black dots swirling like the pain in your head.

GiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebat

You gripped the handle in both hands.

You were going to give Dean the bat.

“Y/N! Goddamn bitch move your lazy fuckin–”

C-R-A-C-K!

The slick sound ricochets throughout the entryway and reverberates in your ears.

C-R-A-C-K!

You feel warm droplets of moisture spray on you.

C-R-A-C-K!

The bat and Dean’s motionless body both simultaneously hit the floor with a thud. 

You closed your eyes.

You felt… relief? 

Like you could breathe again as the hazy veil that had shrouded your thoughts lifted and the throbbing in your head slowly receded. 

You weren’t sure how to describe what you were feeling but it was some mix between euphoria, exhilaration and… freedom?

Well, you were finally free of Dean for good now.

You couldn’t help but be amused by that thought as you wiggle your toes in the warm red liquid that pooled around them. 

A child-like giggle resounds from you. 

Was this post nut kill clarity?

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror you noticed blood and chunks of brain matter strewn all over Choso’s jacket. 

You wouldn’t be able to go without washing it now.

You frowned at the thought of his scent being washed away as well as you unzipped it, checking to see if the stains seeped through the lining too.

You had made such a mess. 

Quick movements out of the corner of your eyes reminded you of the fact you were not alone.

The actual Ghostface killer stood mere feet away from you, his intentions clear as he visibly heaved and extended his knife out to the side approaching you.

You sighed exhausted. 

“I’m not going to be able to blame this one on you, am I?”

Ghostface shook his head, confirming what you already knew.

☠

Choso felt his own adrenaline reach a frenzied peak.

He approached you with the animalistic stature of a predator who was sizing up another. 

You were a killer now, no longer simply his prey.

Proving as much as eyes showed no remorse for the life you had taken.

Yet given what he had walked in on just minutes ago and how distraught you were leaving the party, there was nothing for to mourn anyway.

The only emotion shown was concern for the on coming threat of him as you backed up to keep from his advances. 

Heh, that could just as easily be him right now bleeding out on the floor.

He mused as he side stepped Dean’s body to stalk closer towards you.

Choso smirked, he was only disappointed he wasn’t the one to kill him.

Although he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked creating your own work of art.

A bit abstract and not as precise as his own methods. 

Nevertheless, Choso continues to be amazed by how his cute and clumsy little undergrad just showed him a darkness he had only previously recognized in himself. 

Choso watches you back away until your ankles hit the bottom of the staircase.

Your feet and hands were slick with blood and you couldn’t find your footing on the steps nor support yourself on the railing so you were forced to scooch up the stairs. 

Yet given your injury even that proved difficult for you.

What would he do with you now?

“W-We’re even right? You saved me, I saved you.” 

You tried to bargain as you saw him crawl up the staircase after you.

Ghostface cocked his head to the side considering your words as he reached you and stopped your escape with a strong gloved hand digging into the flesh of your hip. 

Ghostface suspended himself over you covering your frame entirely and his metallic blade glared in the light as if it would pierce into you at the slightest whim. 

Were you going to die like this? 

Despite the danger you couldn’t help but be a bit turned on.

Especially as Ghostface’s touch reminded you so much of–

“Did you get off on killing your boyfriend, Y/N?” 

Ghosface taunted, speaking for the first time.

“...or were you already this fucking wet from fantasizing about someone else, hm?”

Your eyes widened.

Your mind raced too fast to reach a succinct conclusion. But you were disappointed to hear a voice box distortion instead of the actual person's voice beneath the mask.

Your flurry of jumbled thoughts are paused when you feel the cool caresses of the flat metal side of his blade drag across the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Your chest heaved slowly with steady intensity as your breath shuddered. 

“Are you turned on now Y/N?”

You look away from Ghostface as he taunts as you. You feel more self-conscious considering who you think is under the mask.

Just how fucked up was it you were turned on from murdering your boyfriend in cold blood to save a serial killer who might have been the guy you had just been masturbating to who was also the serial killer Ghostface and very likely about to kill you now? 

Very. 

Very fucked up was the answer.

You would have been ashamed if you could bring yourself to care.

Choso’s jerks your face back to him as the hand with the blade parts your legs. 

The lust in your eyes and your drenched cunt were all the answers he needed.

“AHH!”

You cry out as you feel the smooth metal come down to slap your clothed cunt hard, sliding over your pussy lips. 

You fight the urge to close your legs. You can’t or the sharpened edges of the knife would stab into your thighs.

You bite your bottom lip to the point of drawing blood. 

This does not go unnoticed by Choso as he brings his gloved hand to your lips to soothe the bite. 

His soft leather covered thumb hooks to guide your jaw open, exploring your mouth as you openly moan. 

“Tsk, Tsk, we can't have you breaking skin and wasting more of that pretty blood that belongs to me.”

You shiver at his words dripping in possessiveness and your mouth encloses around his thumb, sucking as your tongue still squirms under its pressure.

A strained hiss comes from Choso and his eyes roam down to admire the slime trail of sticky fluid your clothed cunt dripped his blade.

Before Choso can get a peak at your pussy your hands fly down to cover yourself. 

Amused, Choso gently removes his hand from your mouth to palm your inner thigh as his thumb slick from your spit rubs circles into your flesh.

His coaxing has you spreading your legs wider as he brushes up against the hands covering your cunt.

“Show me Y/N.”

He breathed out.

You pouted and shook your head.

“Is my little slut a liar then? I recall you telling me you didn’t mind if I saw your panties.”

Your suspicions confirmed you gasped in realization but Choso could no longer control himself as his hunting knife returned to your body to trail up your stomach this time the pointy edge hovering over your soft skin.

Your stomach sucks in to create distance between the blade and your skin causing your chest to push up through your arms but it's exactly what Choso had wanted.

Whoosh

With a swift slash through the air his blade slices your bra in two and its straps fall back down your shoulders laying bare your breast and hardened nipples to the cool air.

Exposed, your hands instinctively move from you core to cover your tits.

You see Choso pull back from you to sit up fully.

No longer touching you as he opted to imprint into his memory the imagery of your wet puffed pussy glistening through the soaked and now nearly transparent thong which clung to your lower lips like second skin.

He shifted his mask as the voice box moved from over this mouth.

“Y/N” he sighed.  

Hearing his actual voice had you whining with need again.

Choso couldn’t keep his hands off you for long as he grasped hold of your thong and slipped his fingers between the fabric covering your cunt.

Choso rubbed the sticky moisture on the thin fabric between his thumb and forefingers while his knuckles bullied into your clit, causing your toes to curl.

“Mmm C-Choso.”  

Your hands went from simply covering your tits to messaging them, pulling on your nipples, as you couldn’t hold back the sounds from the pleasure you felt from him touching you.

Shit. He wanted to ruin you.

Choso’s knife returns to your throat applying soft pressure dangerously close to breaking skin.

“So tell me what you want then, Y/N?” 

Choso knew you wanted him but he wanted you to say it. 

He needed you to admit it to him outright before he could really believe it.

His knuckles had stopped teasing your clit and your body trembled as you bucked your hips into his hand and pouted.

“I want you to hurry up and decide if you’re going to fuck me or kill me before my sorority sisters get back Choso!” 

Choso smirked under the mask. 

Becoming a killer turned you into a bit of a brat.

But he knew how to handle you.

Heh, fair enough.

Driving the knife into the staircase behind your head he pulls you up, swapping positions and seating you on his thigh.

He pulls his soiled track jacket off of you and you shiver as the cold air hits your back. 

“Mm, Fuck me Choso”

You sighed longingly, arms encircling his neck.

“Mm, Should I though?”

Choso questions out loud as you melt deeper into him from his hands roaming your body.

One settles on your hip under the band of your thong and the other peels you back by your hair so Choso can see your eyes blown out fully with lust.

“Or should I make you wait like I’ve been waiting ever since you first stumbled into class in that slutty green skirt?”

You cried out and our tongue lolled out of your mouth when he yanked your panties roughly by the front, pulling the material between your pussy lips.  

Your clit was cradled in the steamy fabric and you clutched the front of his robes for stability as your eyes rolled back.

“Do you know how much you made me suffer thinking about that pretty pussy of yours? How many times I fisted my cock? How much blood I spilled to forget the way you looked in those slutty outfits?”

Choso's own desire was apparent in his raspy voice.

You shake your head and tears spill as he pulls the fabric tighter over your clit. 

“I-I w-wanted you too,” you sniffled out.

“Then prove it,” Choso breathed out huskily.

“I want that needy cunt of yours to beg me by fucking herself real nice on my thigh like she did on your mattress earlier.”

You could have combusted as he all but admitted he had in fact been watching you from your closet, still you couldn’t help but obey his orders.

The frantic way your heart pounded in your chest couldn’t trump the unbearable arousal between your legs.

You braced yourself on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips down on him.

“That’s it baby.”

Choso encouraged you as you heard a loud rip and realized he had cut away your thong when you felt him snatch the material right off of you.

Your plump pussy lips parted when pressed onto his thigh and you felt the rough material of his heavy robes directly chafing against your clit. 

Surrendering to pleasure you circled your hips to grind down on him as Choso started bouncing you on his leg.

The impact of your weight forcing your clit down while his thigh pushed up into you shaking.

“S-shiiiit D-daddy!”

You cried out arching back. 

Choso could have busted in his pants completely untouched when he heard you call him daddy. 

You didn’t know how much you had him wrapped around your perfectly manicured fingers. 

He would kill every single one of those bastard frat fucks on campus on a whim if you asked him to.

He would do anything for you.

Choso's muscular thigh flexing underneath your cunt felt amazing but your hole was screaming to be filled as it gaped around the phantom thought of his cock penetrating you.

“N-Need more. S’not enough Daddy”

You beg, whining into the mouth opening of his mask.

Your breath enters through the material as your hot tongue presses against the cloth barrier hungrily. 

His own tongue responds in kind, entangling with yours through his mask and you moan deeper into the opening.

You feel so good yet are still frustrated that you alone are naked while you couldn’t even see a sliver of skin from him still in his full Ghostface attire.

You move to lift up his mask when he stops you, breaking the makeshift kiss.

“Now, now Y/N.”

Choso playfully chides. 

“Can you think of nothing but my dick? You’ve forgotten so quickly this is still a crime scene?”

You panted as you looked over your shoulder and spot the gruesome remains of Dean’s lifeless body and half bashed in face. Blood stained the foyer rug and pieces of tissue splattered on curtains, walls and even the fake plants.  

Right.

You still had no idea what you were going to do about that situation but Dean was already dead. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Honestly you felt as if you might die as well if you couldn’t get Choso’s dick inside of you soon.

Your hips never stopped grinding down on his thigh as you returned your attention to him.

You knew if Choso couldn’t even kiss you, he couldn’t fuck you either as those same rules applied to both potential sources of DNA. 

“S’fine.”

You pout.

“I-I had your jacket, y-your DNA could c-come from that.”

Your injured hand came to cup the slide of his masked face and your other rubbed the outline of cock over his jeans, feeling the precum soil through them despite the thickness of the fabric. 

Blood from your hand smeared onto the pristine white Ghostface mask as you pulled your foreheads to touch.

“I’ll admit Dean was right, w-we w-were sleeping together...”

Choso chuckled.

“...and then get me expelled for sleeping with a student on top of a motive to connect me to your victim?” 

He gave your ass harsh smack. 

Your cheeks clenched and your panting grew more ragged as you chased your high against him. 

“Y/N you gotta think with that sexy little head of yours not that needy little cunt if you really want me to fuck you. I know you’re smart. This should be easy for you.”

You groaned. 

Thinking was virtually impossible right now. 

You wanted to give up and resort to begging again but Choso calling you smart (something your recently deceased ex never did) and now rubbing your thighs encouragingly, had made you so happy you wanted to make him more proud of you. 

You reluctantly stopped your hips, ignoring the fiery ache shooting through in your cunt but you wanted to cum from his cock not his thigh.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

Focus Y/N, you willed yourself.

Focusing became harder to do though when Choso became impatient and had nuzzled his masked face into your chest.

His mouth latched to your nipple through the black cloth, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth against your bud causing it to swell.

“Oh!” you smiled sweetly down at him and his abs tightened as he held you closer to him.

“We get rid of the body! Clean up and make sure there's no crime scene to be found!”

“That’s correct,” Choso praised you as if you answered a question in class correctly.

 “Now, most importantly, how exactly will we get rid of the body, Y/N?”

“We…w-we..”

Your fingertips grazed your lips and you bit a nail as you pensively considered your options. 

You looked like you were thinking so hard on this.

So fucking cute.

“Come on baby, tell me.”

Choso was the one begging you now while he lifted your hips just enough to pull up his robes and position you to straddle his dick straining against his jeans. 

You were so close to the answer. He knew it would come to you and he wanted to be inside of you as soon as you got it.

You clasped your hands together and gave him one of your pageant winning smiles he grew to love. 

“We make a kill room!”

“Smart girl” Choso said as he lifted his mask and his lips came crashing down on yours.

☠

“Shit-Shit-Shit!” 

You cried as you lower yourself onto Choso’s cock. 

You had begged and pleaded him for this but Choso was so much bigger and longer than you expected. 

You never had a problem taking dick before but not only was Choso huge he had 3 rows of frenum ladder ball piercings on his long veiny cock that dragged against your gspot when you tried to force him inside you.

You still had about an inch to go and his fat cockhead was already pressing against your cervix.

“Fuck baby, you really been keeping all this good pussy from me?”

Choso spread your cheeks to assist you down on his enlarged length but your walls vice gripped his cock preventing him from guiding you down further.

Choso grunted, he was going to too cum fast if you didn’t ease up.

Pulling you back, he captured your lips again devouring them as he violently pushed his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, dominating you completely. 

A tremor shot through your cunt as your hips jerked and your legs quivered.

“My slutty girl is so sensitive she came from just kissing?”

Choso teased knowingly pulling back to allow you air and lapping at the drool from the corners of your mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

Without the hindrance of a mask Choso’s kisses felt like he was eating you alive and set your body ablaze.

Your orgasm came with enough intensity to loosen your walls allowing you to finally sink down to the base. However your legs are still vibrating and unable to support you riding him.

You fall forward into the crook of his neck. 

“C-can’t D-daddy” you babbled into his neck drooling.

Choso wanted to tease you more. He wanted to goad and praise you enough so you would ride him in earnest until your pretty face sobbed for him to fuck you but time was of the essence now.

You both probably had a good hour and a half left before the cops broke up the party and members of your sorority started heading back. 

He needed to finish you quickly and he silently promised to take his time with you later.

Rising up, Choso positioned his arms under your thighs to keep you seated on his cock as he walked up the few steps to reach the landing in the middle of the staircase. 

Placing your back carefully against the wall he glides his hands over your sweat and blood laden skin to lift your legs onto his shoulders. His grip settles onto the fat of your ass and he marvels at how his fingers sink into them.

Choso allows you time to get adjusted to the new position as he now held you in a standing mating press.

“Ready?”

You nod and Choso takes that as his greenlight to rigorously fuck you into the wall with such vigor you felt it quaking behind you.

There was no possible way you could have ever been ready for that though and your hands dive into his hair tugging at the roots under his man buns as if you intended to scalp him. 

Your reactions fuel his cruel thrusts as Choso greedily drinks your guttural screams into his mouth. 

They sound more heavenly than any he had heard before even from his own victims.

Slamming you down on his cock, Choso manhandled you like you weighed nothing to him.  

His piercings and engorged veins continue to scrape the walls of your core with every stroke as you gush around him soaking his robes.

Choso wanted more of you.

He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

You felt so fucking good he could fuck you like this for hours and he cursed the dwindling time he had before he needed to remove himself from the warm comfort of your mushy cunt.

The hallway echoed with sounds of his hips sadistically ramming your body further into the wall as well as the sloshy vulgar noises his cock tore from your tight creamy cunt.

“S-so c-lose Cho–” 

Were the only words you could croak out as your cries become lodged in your throat.

The pleasure you received being folded between Choso and the wall had you salivating like crazy. Drool was pooling in your mouth faster than it could dribble out down the sides. 

You locked eyes with him. 

The wild glint in them was so primordially feral you can’t believe you ever mistook the restraint he tried to maintain around you for shyness. 

Frankly, there was nothing timid about him. 

The cold confidence of a true killer radiated off of him and into your core as each of his thrusts felt like they were stabbing into your womb.

Your whines turned into horse croaks as you desperately gasped for air.

Like a killer he showed you no mercy as his long cock shifted your guts up and into your lungs.

Choso was quite literally murdering your cunt.

“Yeah Y/N? Is my girl gonna cum all pretty like on this dick?” 

Too cockdrunk to reply, your pussy readily spoke up for you as your walls clenched and spasmed. White stars flood your vision as your body vibrates against him as you cum hard, gurgling his name.

Choso’s hips stuttered and his moans increased as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own. 

He knew better than to cum inside you, he wasn’t wearing a condom and didn’t even know if you were on birth control. 

But your cunt was like a drug to him so Choso resigned himself to cleaning you up after as he gave one last thrust, injecting you with his hot seed that scorched your insides and sent you spasming all over again.

It took a few minutes for Choso to catch his breath but he gently released your legs down to touch the floor as he pulled out of you.

You groaned immediately at the loss after being so full as you still tried to regain your own steady breaths.

Not missing a beat, Choso moved with reverence as if he was worshiping your form from the kisses he peppered down your chest and belly.

“Eyes on me, baby,”

Choso ordered, glancing up at you. 

You nodded your breath hitching once he reached below your belly button and he threw one of your legs over his shoulder again.

He shamelessly breathed in the scent of sex wafting off your pussy.

The musky mixture of his cum and your juices combined with sweat and blood entered his nostrils and sent his eyes rolling back into his skull.

You shuddered. 

You wanted to feel his mouth on you more than anything but you knew you couldn’t both remain like this in the open hallway for much longer.

Seemingly forgetting all concerns of time, Choso’s thumbs lightly ghost over your battered pussy lips as he slowly peeled back the slippery folds.

His chest swoll with pride seeing how much of his cum you had taken inside of you. 

Choso's tongue salaciously darted out to catch the drippings that seeped out of your messy little cunt.

Despite your concerns, you can’t resist bucking up towards his face as he brought your hips off the wall towards him. 

“Be patient princess, let me enjoy this.”

Choso open handedly spanks your pussy, landing a direct hit on your clit which has you shaking as your squirt spritz onto his face.

His thick tongue rolls out of his mouth like a man starved licking his lips at the feast before him

“Goddamn, I already love her so much”

He cooed into your cunt while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Go out with me, yeah Y/N? I’ll treat her right. Just let me have a taste of her everyday.”

You almost came on his face again from the utter display of depravity he was showing you, not missing the fact he was so pussy drunk he was technically asking your cunt to be his girlfriend instead of you. 

To be fair you were both way past the point where he needed to ask you out anyway as he was an accomplice to your homicide and soon-to-be cover up.

“Okay Choso, I’ll be your girlfriend,”

You grinned at him.

Choso thanked you by gently placing a kiss on your clit before nose-diving into your folds like a mad man between your legs.

Seeing how sensitive you are it wasn't long before he had you thrashing on his lips from the nasty way he heartily ate your cunt out.

The suckling, bubbling and squeaking sounds of him inhaling your pussy nearly had you at your peak again.

Yet you were snapped out of your pleasure when you heard the grandfather clock in the hall ring signaling it was midnight. 

Fuck what if the party got broken up earlier than expected?

“W-we don’t have time for this Choso.” You plead anxiously as you pry his head out of from between your legs.

The sounds of the clock chiming and the sight of Dean’s body still laying in the entryway made you more nervous with every passing minute it remained there.

His eyes narrowed dangerously on you as he nuzzled his nose back into your cunt hooking it under your clitoral hood.

“Oh? My sweet girl gets one kill and thinks she knows better than me what we have time for?”

His expression dares you to pull him away again as he drags the flat of his tongue lazily over your clit.

“Please Choso…”

Choso relents as he feels you tense up more, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself unless you were.

“You trust me right Y/N?” 

“Yes”

You breathe out as his fingers play with your puffed pussy lips.

“Do you have the key to the basement?”  

You nod.

“And you know exactly where the supply closet is, baby?” 

You nod again.

“Perfect. This won't take long at all then.”

Choso assures you as his confident words calm your worries.

“So now just relax princess and let me take care of you. This isn’t my first clean up job babe…”

You weren’t sure if Choso was talking about your cunt or the dead body, but you didn’t doubt he was experienced in both.

“Give me 15 minutes to see how many times I can make you squirt on my tongue. Then we can finally make that dexter kill room you like so much, yeah?” 

You nodded once more and Choso wasted no time drowning his face back into your cunt.

You sighed contently.

He was already the best boyfriend you ever had. 

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: How was that? Did I do our emo kang justice? Lmk! (y'all better lmk cause y'all busted my balls for days over this lmfaoooo)

Also ding dong Dean is DEAD thank fuck. Whew I made that man as horrible as possible so you could kill him. Tbh, I would kill a nigga just for pouring Milwakees in my hair alone, that shit smells and tastes like cat piss lol.

Also here if y'all wanna see a cute lil pixivi I made of me bimbo!reader x Ghostface!Choso.

You know the original idea for this was actually based on a fic I was writing where Choso, Yuji and Sukuna (all brothers) all transfer to your university and bimbo!reader (no bf this time) clearly likes Choso but his oblivious emo ass has no idea and keeps being a dick to you cause he thinks you are just making fun of him. LOL! I may in the future still end up writing a version for that since this ended up going in a completely different direction with Ghostface thrown into the mix.

Y'all this fic was way too fuckin long. I know theres likely errors/redundancies still so I will comb through it later and I may edit/reword somethings too but general content will stay the same. Tbh, what took so long is the last scene cause I decided I cannot write a smut fic with Choso where that man isn't acting completely deranged and unhinged over the taste of pussy. He's munch, he can't help it.

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to be your personal munch, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

Next up on Kizzatober, Werewolf!Toji from Thrilling Ghouls! (PWP)

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13 @strvqtt @wisteriaflowersss @spookyy-gracee @jujutsualy @anakalana @crying-person @missphanosaur18 @jazzmynerule @megatqistina @trobed1312 @mimiemie @insomninaz @bloodysweetcat @cyyberm00n @nikkitc0703 @briefrebelfanalmond (so sorry if I missed anyone but I'm delirious rn forgive me ily)

[letsgetrowdy43]

Short Stack—

Luke Hughes x reader

A quiet groan left her lips as she turned on the light in the kitchen a dim yellow light lit up the whole room, her stomach groaned as she opened the pantry door to see absolutely nothing good on the shelves. Tomorrow was the designated grocery run she thought to herself as she scavenged the rest of the kitchen for anything edible.

She found herself staring up at the box of mac and cheese on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinets, a big downside of living with university-level hockey boys was that nothing was ever conveniently in her reach.

"I hate living with boys" she grumbled under her breath before walking into the dining room to drag one of the kitchen table chairs up to the counter. She cringed at the noise of the chair scraping the floor, carefully picking it up to not wake any of the sleeping boys.

The sophomore house was dead silent, the boys had long gone to bed after a loss to their rival Notre Dame. Meaning that dinner had been skipped and replaced with hushed conversation up in bed with Luke, words of praise lulled him to sleep after a night of letdowns.

A quiet groan left her lips as she climb up onto the granite counters, the cold stone against her skin made her pause for a second to adjust, a hand grabbed her by the thigh making her scream out. "Holy fuck!" "What are you doing?" Luke's voice was hoarse with sleep, his free hand rubbing his eyes as he adjusted to the bright kitchen lights, the other hand kneading the soft flesh of her inner thigh as he examined the position she found herself in. "You scared the shit out of me" she whispered and flicked him on the forehead, "we skipped dinner," she said ushering him to the box of Mac and cheese that was out of reach from her crouching position.

The boy smirked at her and looked at her attire, noticing how big his t-shirt was. Softly smiling at the fact that she was wearing an article of his clothing, giddy at the thought that she had his last name displayed across her back.

Luke grinned once again and looked over at the chair, "very innovative" he watched as she grew embarrassed. "I couldn't reach the box" "Short stack" he jokingly poked her on the apple of her cheek as her smile dropped.

Luke's smirk grew as he raised his hand and grabbed the box from the shelf before she could get her hands on it. “Luke” she groaned as he backed away from her, the box behind his back as she hopped off the counter and tried to take it from his grasp. A sickly-sweet laugh left his lips as he held it above his head, far out of her reach. “You’re a bitch Moosey,” she said tugging on his forearm trying to get him to lower his arm, his laughing stooped at the mention of the childhood nickname.

“I could be persuaded to give it to you” “Choke,” she said before jumping up to grab it from his hand, “I feel like a child when you do this shit” she frowned as he laughed at her bitter tone. “I said I would give it to you if you did something for me” he smirked making her roll her eyes at his suggestion and smacked him in the chest, “you’re a dog” “I meant a kiss sweetheart, get your head out of the gutter”

An unimpressed look appeared on her face as she took his face into her hands and pecked him on the lips. “You’re gonna have to do better than that pretty girl” She sighed before wrapping her hands on the nape of his neck and lowering his face to meet hers, a prominent smile on his face as he kissed her back, his free arm wrapping around her frame to pull her close.

She reached up and grabbed the box from his hand as she pulled away from him an unimpressed look on her face as she watched him pull away with a dazed look on his face, “you’re no fun” he pouted and tried to lean back down to kiss her again before she gently pushed him in the chest to back him up. “Put the chair back at the table” she instructed as she grabbed a pot and filled it with water. “You’re the one who put it there!” “Yeah, and you’re a pain in my ass so do as I say and maybe I’ll let you have some of my food” he closed his mouth, leaving any sort of comeback to die on his tongue and nodded.

She shooed him away and turned the stove on to let the water come to a boil, Lukes's arm wrapped around her torso, his free hand moved the hair from her should so he could place opened moth kisses to the exposed skin of her neck. "being a kiss ass isn't going to make up for it, you gonna have to do a lot more than that" she mused, now having the upper hand on him.

"I'm sorry" he squeezed her torso. "For what?" she pushed, her hand placed over his as she leaned back into his frame. "I'm not sorry, I'm just giving you my condolences because of your height" he grinned into her skin. "I will go crawl in bed with Duker if you keep it up" she jokingly threatened as he gasped.

"Take that back" he mumbled and pulled away from the girl, using his hands placed on her hips to turn her around, a look of fake betrayal on his face as she stares up at him through furrowed brows. "You're gonna have to make it up to me" she raised her brows as he nodded.

Luke thought for a second before taking her face in his hands a placing a gentle kiss on her lips, her arms a wrapped her around his neck and pulled him in closer. Luke urgently picked her up and places her down on the counter, his fingers digging into the skin of her thighs as his lips trailed down her neck. Her fingers pulled gently on his hair as she placed soft kisses where ever she could.

“You're forgiven” she mumbled as he pulled away momentarily to smile at her before capturing her lips again.

-

-

-

[gothsoyl]

┊┊┊⁺ ⁺ DECEMBER CHALLENGE

"Special"

sam carpenter x reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: sam is your new teacher you fell in love with. but you can't confess your feelings, right? so you're starting to send her love letters

warnings: angst

Sam was your literature teacher.

She started working there at the beginning of the year and your class immediately disliked her for being too strict and demanding, in order to get a good grade from her, you had to jump over your head. You constantly heard your friends whispering behind Miss Carpenter's back, calling her a bitch and suggesting to skip her classes.

But you brushed it off, your eyes constantly following Sam as she passed by. She rarely had any semblance of a smile on her face, but still you noticed how, from time to time, her lips trembled in an attempt not to smile at some word of yours.

You felt special and you couldn't contain your delight. You've never been a straight-A student, but in order to please her and to get an approving nod from her, you were ready to stay up all night reading book after book, all the literary critics she mentioned in passing.

Anything to feel at least a drop of her attention.

You exhale softly when you finally finish with another essay she asked for a couple of days ago. Your eyes are red from tiredness, but you just smile weakly. And why are you even trying so hard? For what? Even with all that hard work, you won't have the courage in your life to admit your feelings or take the first step. You're just gonna be her favorite student for the rest of the school.

She's your teacher. And this is Sam Carpenter. She never looked like the kind of person who would respond to her student's feelings.

It was pathetic.

You already want to turn off the lamp above your desk, but you stop. Your hands reach for a stack of blank sheets and you put aside the essay you've been working on for so long.

It's a bad idea and you know it, but your selfish part screams that you have to do something.

You need to vent your accumulated emotions.

***

You start to slip love letters into her bag or on Sam's desk unnoticed, and you feel incredibly ashamed, your cheeks burn every time you do it, but at the same time the excitement begins to grow.

Your fingers tremble nervously and you only dig them deeper into the fabric of your sweater.

If someone did that to you or your friends, you'd call them crazy and go to the police. So what makes you think that it's okay?

But still, a part of you resists, says that you are not a bad person. You're just in love.

You're not bad, are you?

***

“Dear Samantha,

I feel bad when I write this, but I can't resist. I know that maybe you think I'm sick and you feel contempt, but that's not the case. I would like to personally tell you how much I love your hair and how much I want to hug you, it seems to me that even if I lie down on a cold tile, thoughts of you will warm me up...”

“Dear Samantha,

I need you. You're the only thing that keeps me going. I want to look at you forever, I want the image of you to be imprinted on the subcortex of my mind. I want to wake up and see you. I want to fall asleep and see you. I want to live by the image of you...”

“Dear Samantha,

I can't believe you're real. Sometimes it seems to me that I dreamed of you being stoned, so beautiful to the point of indecency. I want to close my eyes and see your image in the pitch darkness...”

“Dear Samantha,

I would like to give you stars, I would bring you lilies of the valley in December – if you would just say the word…”

***

“Stay after class.”

You raise your eyebrows at Sam, then look around the classroom, which is slowly starting to empty.

For some reason, you immediately feel uneasy, but you control yourself. You need to calm down. It's all good. This isn't the first time Sam has asked you to stay after class and you've always looked forward to it – at times like this, she usually relaxed and no longer seemed like the woman the other students hated.

And, of course, you felt special when she allowed herself to smile only at you.

But there was something about her that bothered you. She looked more tense than usual.

“Have you read my essay?” you put the bag with a textbook on the desk and walk closer to her with a slight smile. Her eyebrows furrowed and she shakes her head.

“No,” her voice seems too harsh even for her and you catch your breath for a second, “but I've read your letters.”

A wave of panic immediately rolls over you and you don't know what to say. What to do? You need to deny everything, but you need to do it in such a way that it doesn't arouse suspicion. You can't immediately talk about the letters, as if you know what she's talking about…

You swallow a lump in your throat and already want to say something, but she gets ahead of you.

“Did you think I wouldn't recognize your style?”

Fear starts to bumble with something strange in your chest and you look at her, not able to move. Could it be... excitement? Has your life become such a mess that you feel excited about it?

“You can recognize my style?” Your voice is quiet and in addition to nervousness, there's a flicker of hope in it, but it immediately melts away when you look at Sam.

She looks at you with condemnation, almost with contempt, and you want to disappear and erase all the memories she had of you.

“Is that the only thing you care about?” her question sounds logical, but it makes you feel ashamed and you look down, “how did you even think of that? why?”

You can hear from her voice that she's trying to keep herself under control, but it doesn't go well. You know it's your fault. It was you who acted selfishly and abominably.

And did you expect anything else?

“I like you...” you exhale softly, but still don't dare to look at her. Your cheeks are burning and you're nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your hand. Your voice is getting higher with each word, “I know how terrible it looked, but I really like you! I needed to…”

“Needed what? Do you even know how I felt when I received these letters? And this is far from admiration. It's anxiety and disgust,” her words cut deep, but you don't try to argue with her. You just bite your lower lip, trying to keep yourself in check, even though the shame was eating you alive, “what would happen to me if one of the students or teachers found these letters? what would”ve happened to my job? Obviously you didn't think about it yet you're claiming it love”.

“I'm sorry, Miss Carpenter...” you're trying to justify yourself, to do at least something that could fix the situation, but she won't let you get a word in.

“You’re a good student and I appreciate your knowledge, but that's all. There will be no affairs, declarations of love... none of this will happen,” you slowly look up at her and know perfectly well that she’s serious. The corners of her lips are distorted in a slight grimace and you feel tears in the corners of your eyes, “I am your teacher. And as your teacher, I'm asking you to stop this,” she pauses for a moment, then adds in a lower voice, “or I'll have to leave this school.”

Everything inside freezes immediately and you take a step towards Sam, but stop when you notice how she moves away from you at the same moment. Your heart is racing. You want to do something. But you realize that you've already done enough. You can only look at the consequences of your actions. The way Sam's approving look turned to disgust. the way her praise changed to this.

“That's all. You can go now.”

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

So I’m a HUGE fan of angst. With Joe’s temper and with being unhinged from the war, any kind of physical affection can get a little rough. 😈 I feel like it’s totally his style and everyone needs to know it. Frienemies to lovers with angst and classy smut and a happily ever after is how we all deserve Joe Liebgott. 😘🥰 🪖♠️ 🦅

Oil and water - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, smut (p in v), fingering, angry sex to soft sex, mentions of violence and war/death, cursing, 1st person POV (female), female body part descriptions.

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I had so much fun with this request and wrote this faster than any of my other fics! I hope you like it, @she-wolf09231982lovely, and that I did it justice!! Please let me know what you think and if you want a different one done if I didn't quite hit the points you wanted. As always, feel free to leave comments, likes, and reblogs; they make me happy! :)

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

Another punch echoes in the room, followed by more yelling. The man sitting in the chair can barely open his eyes as blood covers his entire face. I try to find any sense of morality and sympathy but come up with nothing. He's a replacement that got drunk, killed two German's and shot Chuck Grant in the head before stealing a car and trying to hide. He'd yet to show any type of remorse for his actions and the men around me were getting closer and closer to doling out their own personal justice.

Everyone got quiet and backed out of the way when Spiers came in like a dark thundercloud and hit the man across the face. In the blink of an eye, he had a gun pointed right at the man's face and just held it there. My stomach dropped and I glanced over at Liebgott next to me, but his face was dark and unfazed. Spiers would probably kill this man and no one was going to bat an eye. This was wrong. The war is over and we are still losing our friends and companions.

After a long, tense moment Spiers lowers his gun and commands us to take the man to the MP's. As he's walking away I hear him tell Tab that Grant is going to pull through, thanks to a Kraut doctor. For the first time since this night started I feel like I can breathe a little. I follow the rest of my company into the street as we follow Spiers' orders. Suddenly a scuffle erupts and our prisoner has briefly broken free from the group and is trying to run away.

I'm the closest to him and immediately run and tackle him to the ground. As I'm attempting to get him flipped around and restrained, he elbows me hard in the gut knocking the air out of me. As I'm trying to catch my breathe, a pair of arms lifts me up and I'm being pulled away from the group. Someone is steering me to an empty house and all I can hear is more yelling and fighting behind us.

Once we are inside and seating in someone's abandoned house on a couch, I look up to see who I'm with. Liebgott. To say I'm shocked is an understatement. We only look out for each other during battle, because that's our job and we are soldiers. The only times we semi get along is when we are around our friends and can use them as buffers. It's been a running joke through Easy that we are oil and water and should never be left alone together because we'd both end up dead. Now here we are totally alone and emotions are running off the rails.

"You hurt?" His face is stone cold and his voice is almost filled with disgust, like he was forced to look after me and didn't put himself in this situation.

"I'm fine. You can go." I bite out, wincing as I press on the tender spot.

"Stop being such an uptight bitch. Let me look." Liebgott rolls his eyes as he moves my hands away and lifts up my shirt. I glare at him and then glance down. The spot is a deep red and I can see spots where my blood vessels have burst. It's gonna be a hell of a bruise soon.

"Okay, you got to lift my shirt up. Good job. Go away." I shift out of his hold and cover my torso again. His glare hardens on me.

"What's your fucking problem?"

Scoffing, I jump up and pace a little ways away. "We just beat a fellow soldier bloody and Spiers almost shot him right in front of us. He deserves to be punished for what he did, but we can't start taking justice into our own hands. That's now who we are!"

"Spiers should have killed him. Grant is our friend. If anyone should give that punishment, it should have been one of us." His voice is cold and detached. We were never best friends, but it hurts a part of my heart to hear how this war has been changing him.

"Of course you would say that." I laugh humorlessly and spin to face him. He jumps up from the couch and stomps over to get in my face.

"What's that mean?"

"I heard about your little road trip the other day. I know shit's been different since Landsberg, but that's no excuse to go hunting people down and playing judge, jury, and executioner." I straighten my back and stand still as he leans further into my face. He's never focused so much anger towards me before but I'll be damn if I show any type of reaction to it.

"You don't know fucking shit. How can you? It's not your people that's been tortured and killed this whole war. Now why don't you go bat your pretty little eyes at someone who cares what you think and leave me the fuck alone."

Before I know it, I'm pushing him away from me. Hard. He takes half a step back and continues to glare at me. So I do it again, and again, until I'm beating at his chest with my fists. I'm so angry and he's the perfect target to let it out on. In the blink of an eye he has my hands in a death grip in one of his and is pushing me backwards with his other hand on my waist. He holds my hands above my head as my back hits a wall and keeps his hand on my waist.

I'm not sure who moves their head first, all I know is that we meet in the middle and it's not a kind or tender kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and biting. Neither of us want to submit so we keep at it until we are breathless and our lips are bruised. He releases my hands, which immediately fly to his hair to pull hard enough to make him wince, and places his newly open hand around my throat. When he applies pressure, I moan and press myself closer to him. A flash of something other than anger moves across his eyes; lust.

"You going to be a good girl and take what I give you?" His voice is low and rough. I feel myself clench around nothing. Never one to be agreeable with him, I just smirk.

"Fuck you." Joe just smirks back and shoves his hand that was on my waist down my pants and under my underwear.

"Feels like that's what you want." He watches my face as his fingers glide through my soaked folds, parting them to rub directly on my clit. Another moan escapes me but is cut short by his hand squeezing my neck again. "Eyes on me."

I open my mouth to say something flippant back but only a gasp comes out when I feel him shove two fingers inside me and start pumping them in and out. The hand on my neck alternates between squeezes and lightly stroking my skin. I keep my eyes on his face, taking in how clenched his jaw is and the way his pupils are blown wide. Another moan comes out when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

He shifts closer to me, angling his hand so he can keep hitting that spot and rub my clit at the same time. His face stops when our lips are a hairs breathe away.

"That's my good girl. Take it." He places a soft kiss against my lips that's such a sharp contrast to the pressure on my neck and movement of his hand inside me. Joe leans his forehead against mine and keeps repeating his previous words as my orgasm gets closer and breaks through so hard I see stars.

As my vision starts to return I hazily watch him bring his soaked hand up to his mouth. The moan he lets out after tasting me is sinful and has me clenching again. When he's done, I pull his head back to mine, kissing and licking his lips begging for entrance. My own moan comes out when he opens his mouth and I taste myself on his tongue. Suddenly we are a blur of moving limps as we dispose of our clothes, not caring where they land and move back to the couch. We land with him on top of me and I roll my hips up to feel his erection slip through my folds.

Just as his tip slips in, Joe freezes above me and time stops. He's got one hand holding my thigh up around his waist and the other is on the arm of the couch, keeping him hovering over me. He trails his hand from my thigh, up my side, over my breast and up to cup my cheek. Our breathing slows down as we just look at each other, his hand holding my face like I might break if he's not careful. I run my own hand up his back and cup his cheek in the same fashion, gently pulling him towards me.

"Are you sure?" He whispers against my lips, eyes searching mine. They're softer now, the anger having melted away and now there's an open rawness in its place. I nod my head and whisper a soft 'yes' as I pull him into our first slow kiss of the evening.

Carefully, he pushes himself inside me and pauses again when he's bottomed out and our hips are flush against each other. We exchange more slow kisses and when I gently nip his lip, he knows it's okay to start moving. Once he sets the pace, slow, thorough and unrushed, we know this isn't just a simple fuck. Neither of us speak, just let ourselves get lost in the feelings as we moan and gasp against each others lips. As I start to clench around him signaling the approach of my second orgasm, I moan his name. Joe picks up the pace, some of the earlier frenzy returning as he focuses on pushing me over the edge again.

All I can keep saying is his name and after a few more thrusts, I'm seeing stars for the second time that night. I feel his thrusts become uneven as he chases his own release, moans flying out of his mouth. When he cums, he presses himself as far into me as he can and says my name like a prayer against my lips. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.

Once we've stabled our breathing a little, we shift around so we are laying more comfortably on the couch, him still half inside me, completely entangled together. Joe leans up just enough to pull a blank from the back of the couch over us and tucks me back in against him. It's silent as we enjoy the afterglow and feel of each others skin.

"Did I hurt you?" Joe whispers, kissing the top of my head. I smile and kiss his chest.

"No more than I wanted you to." We share a small laugh. "I thought oil and water could never mix."

Joe pulls back enough to look at my face, "I don't think we are oil and water. I think we are something that can't be defined." He drops a kiss on my lips and then lays back down. "Now, get some sleep. We are going for breakfast tomorrow and then wherever you wanna go for the whole day."

I fall asleep with a smile on my face, not knowing he does too.

[thebrilliantretort]

The Devil and the Fool pt.3

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❈ Astarion (sorta ?) x gn!afab!reader ❈

Masterlist -> Part 1 -> Part 2 (tba)

(Technically this is gonna be part 3 in the series but this came out first)

Summary: Astarion charges into Cazador’s lair to save Y/n and finds out something surprising in the process.

Notes: they/them pronouns used, Mommy Karlach™️, !!!SPOILERS!!! for the end of Astarion’s questline.

TW: angst, implied violence on reader, blood, pregnancy, just kinda poopy situation in general, cliffhanger~

WC: 917

Astarion POV

“Who stands before us? Is this truly our prodigal son?”

“Where are they?” I barked at my soon-to-be former Master.

Cazador waved his hand which prompted a thrall toward the center of the ritual platform to unlock his coffin. As it opened, I immediately recognized the blood’s scent that dripped from it. Inside the coffin was my lover, still alive - thank the gods.

They squinted and attempted to cover their eyes to protect them against the dim lights of the chamber. Hells, how long had they been locked inside? The fury inside me grew, if that was even possible. I had never felt such anger before in my 200 years of existence.

My face fell into dread and sorrow as I took in their crumpled form. Nose bloodied, numerous other wounds and bruises, and two puncture marks on their neck - fresh wounds, in the progress of closing.

As the thrall grabbed them and threw them on the ground next to Cazador, they barely reacted. They seemed so weak, our strong leader - my fearless champion. It felt as though everything around me began to crumble. They always protected me, and when they needed me, I fell short.

Calling their name gently, wanting nothing more than to hold them in my arms and take them away.

(first pov below the cut)

First POV

The light that suddenly shone onto me was blinding. How long had i been stuffed inside that coffin? Regardless, the rest i managed to get while locked inside was needed. I felt hands grabbing me but could not make out any face as my eyes were still readjusting to the lights inside the ritual chamber. I was walked forward a few steps and thrown onto the ground. I could hear a familiar voice shouting in front of me. Looking up, everything came into view. Cazador stood a few feet in front of me but was facing forwards. I turned my head in the direction of his gaze to see some of companions; Karlach, Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion. Astarion in the front looking more panicked than I had even seen him before. He was absolutely distraught as he looked into my eyes and called out my name. Quickly, his piercing eyes glared back into Cazador’s.

“What did you do to them, you bastard?” He spit as he started stomping faster and faster towards the platform.

“Astarion…” I tried to choke out, my throat dry and painful from the hours of torment that held place before my being put in the coffin.

Hearing me try to speak and most likely angered by Astarion’s disrespect, Cazador grabbed my hair and yanked me onto my feet.

“Watch yourself, boy. You don’t want anything to happen to your mate, would you? I can smell your scent all over them.” Cazador frowned, voice dripping with a mocking, faux sympathetic tone.

Astarion opened his mouth to retort but before he could get a word out, Cazador interrupts.

“I can also smell your spawn growing inside of them. I suppose you continued doing what only use you have to sire a child in the little time you have been away.” He tutted.

“Astarion, run!” I managed to shout before being thrown back onto the cold stone of the platform.

“… please…” I whispered as I began to try to lift myself up.

“You son of a bitch.” Astarion uttered as he began running towards Cazador, fist raised. Cazador stood, unflinching as he approached, and suddenly thumped his staff against the stone floor. Red pools of magic flowed from the staffs bottom as Astarion’s fist became caught in a circle of the same magic - keeping him frozen.

“You truly forgot my power. You truly thought our bond as creator and creation was all that stopped you from killing me.” Cazador sneered. I could barely comprehend where I was, much less all that was happening around me. Suddenly Astarion was no longer within reach. Though I could no longer see him, I heard him shout from behind me as all hell broke loose. I felt so tired, so weak, all I could do was scream his name and frantically swing my head to search for his form. My vision blurred from my tears, mixing with the blood on my face and splashing pink droplets below me. Bats, werewolves, and red glowing bodies hung suspended surrounded me as I desperately tried to find something, anything I could use to attack.

I again felt myself being pulled up but by a bigger pair of hands this time. With the strength I had left within me I fought against the arms that held me.

“Hey, hey, settle down, soldier. It’s me.” A familiar voice spoke.

Karlach, I could cry from relief if I wasn’t already crying as hard as I could. I held tightly onto her as she sprinted towards the exit. Once through the doors, she quickly handed me a potion of healing.

“Stay here, we got this. Don’t move from this spot, understood?” Karlach commanded. Before I could respond she was already running back into the battle, sword high.

I threw my head onto the wall behind me. It felt almost peaceful, this moment of silence. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting terror that thrashed around in my stomach. The love of life and my best friends fighting for their lives in there while I’m stuck being useless.

I uncapped the potion bottle and chugged its contents. Lowering the vessel from my lips, the exhaustion I felt multiplied. Slowly, my eyelids got so heavy, I hadn’t the strength to keep them open anymore.

[flamingskull28]

So this stood as a wip in my drafts for a long time so I had an idea. I'd finish it on a cliff hanger.

Now I will @ 3 friends to challenge them to finish a bit more. Maybe they will @ more people, who knows?

---

Marie vaguely listened as Callie and Agent 3 chatted. They always had some random topic to chat about, whether it be exercising routines, turf wars or music those two always had something to yap about.

While Marie did enjoy listening to them, with her own occasional chime ins. Her attention was mostly spilt over at Agent 4 who lay on the nearby couch outside the cabin, not really resting but more pretending to. Marie had demand she rest for a while after her 5th time going into the Canyon to train...

"Hey! Earth to Marie! Marieeeeeeeeeeeeee." Callie stretched her words out in the most annoying way possible till Marie finally snapped out from her half there trance.

"huh, who..."

"Me, silly...You okay Marie? You've been more zoned out more than usual." Callie's voice was un-naturally caring.

"I...." Marie sighed and tore her gaze from 4 "It's Agent 4, she's... been different lately, you've noticed right? She's been less chipper and upbeat, she barely talks anymore, her face is almost always stone cold, even when I tell her she can use her dualies in a misson... she doesn't even smile... and she's been spending more and more time in the Canyon. Always saying its for training.... she always comes back exhausted and covered in scars and bruises then at the first chance she gets...goes straight back out..." Maries voice rose and fell as she spoke untill she finally huffed,

Callie paused and looked at the out of breath Marie, considering her words for a moment "I... I have noticed, I just thought it was just a phase but.. you're right.." Callie forced a smile "Maybe 3's just rubbing off on her." She said trying to make light of this, 3 rolled her eyes in response thought the agent seemed nervous about something.

"That- Cod damit..." Marie muttered glancing back at the couch and seeing 4 vanished as if they'd never been there in the first place. Marie tapped her ear piece. "4, are you in the Canyon?" she tried to put disapproval into her voice.

After a few seconds of silence, her ear pieces speaker trickled to life, "Mhm." was all 4 said.

"4 I want you to come back. Now. Thats enough patrolling for today."

"....No...." gunfire was audible in her mic.

"4 you have spent well over 12 hours out there today. Come back to the Cabin, that's an order..." after a minute of no response she added "Please?"

*click*

..."4!" Marie yelled processing that her Agent had hung up on her. She turned to Callie and 3 as if to confirm that wasn't her imagination, but both their jaws were agape. 4 wasn't always the best with orders but she never refused one, let alone hung up on Maire...

Then 3 face planted into her hands and groaned "Cod... this is all my fault.... "

Marie and Callie stared at the girl, silently asking for an explanation.

"I..." 3 audiblely held back tears. Her and 4 has grown very close from what the sisters understood. Callie said they were like beasties but Maire saw... something more building between the two. So if 3 had done something to upset 4, this reaction would be understandable.

3 took a deep breath "Last month, you recall that patrol where me and 4 were gone all day and came back battered?" 3 continued knowing the sisters did remember. "Well as you know.. 4 and I were ambushed, we were overwhelmed by a whole splatoon of troops and barely scraped through...."

3 paused, her face covered in sorrow and regret. "Afterwards we were pissed, 4 and I argued about how that could've happened to us.... I-I was such a bitch to her." 3's voice cracked guiltily, as the regret pooled inside her bubbled over and leaked out in her words "I said 'this would have never happened if 8 was here,but no I was stuck with your incompetent ass and almost died because of it'.... she looked so hurt.....she hasn't talked to me since."

3 stopped and her tears finally broke through. Callie placed a comforting hand on their shoulder. Marie did not, feeling the urg to punch 3 mixed in her pity.

"So.." Marie death gripped her brella "She's been doing this to herself... because you couldn't hold back your temper? Now... she thinks torturing herself is the only was to be worth while..." Marie threw her umbrella aside and kicked open the cabin door. Rummaging through until she found her hero charger.

"Marie... you can't just blame 3." Callie said sternly, to no response. Marie kept walking away. "Where are you going?"

Marie looked back. Visiblely angry. "To find 4, don't follow." She super jumped away.

----

I challenge @geminired @sodapoppss @deemodomino to build on if they wish.

[starshifter]

Notes for chp3 of Face the Blackened Sky

-

My friend who gave me the beautiful sunset descriptor also called me out on always writing about suicidal fuckers in this chap… He’s not wrong. I do tend to find depressed chars the most relatable and interesting… I’m sure this says nothing about me as a person :sweat-smile:

Not me sneaking a little buddhism reference into my hoyoverse fic… (hungry ghosts honestly are a fantastic representation of blade imo)

My summary of the first half of the chapter: Blade, a stubborn idiot: dh said he wanted to help me, but surely this was just him being polite Dan Heng, also a stubborn idiot: I would die for you Blade: yes, he definitely doesn’t really care. Well, fine, I can ignore him too Dan Heng: …

Blade is very dramatic. As you do

Pair of touch-starved idiots, the both of them

I have NO idea if Cloudhymn can be used for anything other than water based “magic,” but I’m kind of using it as a catch-all for Vidyadhara abilities/technology, so I’m saying it could be used to create solid illusions. I am basing this on basically nothing except I honestly can’t explain Dan Heng’s transformation otherwise. How does he just…change outfits like that?? Explain!!!

I still don’t have a good answer to what happened to Dan Heng’s bracer when he changed forms. Did he hide it with cloudhymn?? Because he was worried about the few things he had gained on being exiled becoming lost to him?? Is the one we see on him not the real one? We just don’t know. (this bothers me immensely btw. He clearly still wears it cause Blade can track him so??? Where did it go when he switched forms????) My only conclusion is that he’s wearing it as Imbibitor Lunae, but hiding it from sight with his cloudhymn to protect it because he considers it precious without fully understanding why, kind of like he does with Cloud Piercer. It’s like bracer-ception up in here. He’s wearing it, but hidden in his already hidden form, but has a copy of it visible in his usual form. I’m honestly getting a headache. Let’s just put it down to the weird Vidyadhara magic it clearly is. The delves are their work too, so it’s probably like that on a small scale. Fucking advanced ass dragon tech looking like magic.

Wow. Look at Dan Heng go. He was put in a supportive and positive environment for like two years(what the fuck is his timeline?) and now he’s going to drag his ex-husband up with him. Good for him.

You can pry my found family Stellaron Hunters from my cold, dead hands because there is no other way I will ever relinquish my grip.

Ok I didn’t want to add this to my notes earlier cause I just know it would change people’s reading experience, but I don’t actually think Dan Heng’s eyes are jade at all. They’re way too blue and not nearly green enough. No, I just really wanted it emphasized that Blade sees them as something akin to precious stones, with all the implications that those carry. …at least for broke bitches like myself, who has never held an jade in my life, only seen them on other people. Ymmv and all… Changing it to the sea once they figured things out was to emphasize that he still found them overwhelming, but now they were something he could touch and be encompassed by. The sea is their ultimate home for most life forms, and it’s Imbibitor Lunae’s seat of power, so it felt really fitting to have Blade give life another try there. He still wants to die, he still has chronic pain, but he’s more content to wait and enjoy the little moments he can before he gets to finally rest. (someone let peepaw take a nap-- is shot)

Also my original idea had Blade getting stabbed back when the teams were getting separated, but then I switched it to Firefly. Blade can’t hog all the angsty injuries. Keep some for the people (or weird not!rei clones or whatever) >:/

Honestly, the fragmentum creatures here were difficult. This is absolutely a civilization that has laser guns and shit, hence me giving them those weird ice missile launchers, but if they all had guns then what would these idiots carrying around fucking swords and bats and spears and ZERO armor do in a fight?? So the fragmentum just…doesn’t use guns. It’s anti-NRA. Okay? Okay.

Fuck realistic stellar orbits. The “moons” appear and disappear as I say they should. (to be honest, having days of no “moon” would make sense considering they’re on the dark side of the second to last planet in the system, so there’s only one planet further out than them, and their several day orbits would mean it’s only visible sometimes. Honestly, I probably have it visible too much. RIP realism)

…All my readers are aware that Yingxing contains the character for star and Yinyue-jun uses moon, right? Like, no one is lost on why I keep making Blade look up at the sky? Awesome. And don’t even get me started on all the uses of the “moon” being red (everyone say thank you Trappist system). There are so many fucking layers here. A right old literary onion

Why does this mountain have so many paths along cliff faces? Because I loosely based the native species on mountain goats, next question.

Blade, sweetheart, my favorite idiot, dipshit of the highest degree, this is why he’s falling for you again. Even when you’re mad at him, you’re taking care of him.

Not me throwing an “I do” in as reference to their past marriage

Also, I want to throw in that I think it’s dumb to say that your romantic partner isn’t a friend, but whatever. It’s a common part of language, so I’ll take the moment of angst and run with it

Okay, more thoughts on how Dan Heng’s different forms work: he isn’t going to just lose all his clothes if someone knocks him unconscious. It takes cloudhymn to unmake them as much as it took cloudhymn to make them. They do, however, serve as a sort of “shield,” allowing him to absorb an otherwise deadly injury. (this is what I’m telling myself at least to explain the whole stabbing incident. Like what the fuck was that???)

Dan Heng: kisses blade Blade: blade.exe has stopped working Did you know that they weren’t supposed to kiss until the last chapter (which was originally five before it got way too long…)? These bastards were too impatient for that though. Throwing my plans out the window, rude. Oh well. I also switched something I’d planned to have in this chapter to the last one, so equivalent exchange and what not

I firmly believe that for all that Dan Heng is the “rational” one who thinks things through, he is also stupidly impulsive.

I am fully prepared to get jossed hardcore by canon in a future update. I originally tried to write this fic with Blade just not having the memories, but it didn’t really work and also contradicted canon so… Here we are. Honestly though, we have way too many sus things going on around the Sedition and I think we’ve been straight up lied to in some places. It’s still the info I have to work with and I do like the Bailu=Baiheng theory. So I might as well write it now while I still can lol

Like many, I am assuming Bibi’s little catalyst is the Orb of Abysm mentioned like….once. In a single little note. I could easily be wrong since we know almost nothing about what it is

Honestly, all the Stellaron Hunters are such selfish bitches. Except Firefly, somewhat, but she enjoys arson for fun so…

[zwritestuff]

it's just casual (it's pathetic)

Scarlet and Yvie aren’t a thing, they hook up every now and then, and go for late night fast food at whatever chain is open on the rare occasion they go home at the same time and don’t feel like hooking up, and occasionally go to cheap bars to drink cheap drinks and Yvie will draw circles on the back of Scarlet’s hands while talking about her childhood and teenage years, and Scarlet sometimes will send her TikToks that remind her of her, and Sugar and Spice snicker and scurry away when Yvie comes near her during work hours—but they’re not, like, a thing. It’s just casual. (It’s pathetic). or: Scarlet's actions blow up in her face, Yvie is a stone cold bitch for all she knows, and neither knows what "communication" means. (ao3)

a/n: do people still post fics directly on tumblr? anyway.

Word count: 5513

“What do you think about our new bartender?” Sugar and Spice ask, doing that weird synchronization thing that freaks Scarlet out and makes her nearly jump out of her skin.

Scarlet is currently leaning against the far corner in the main room, where Widow put an inside plant some time ago that hides Scarlet just fine. She looks up from her phone screen and cranes her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the new hire, but that proves difficult since she’s facing the other way talking to the other bartender, Kameron. The only thing Scarlet can make out are the red braids and her white t-shirt.

“Dunno, haven’t met her yet.” She shrugs, going back to reading the PDF of the textbook she put off for the past few weeks.

“She’s, like, hot,” Sugar says, with that ditzy giggle Scarlet still can’t quite figure out if it’s fake or genuine. “I’m positive she was looking at my tits when we went to introduce ourselves.”

“Would it kill you to not fuck any more of the bartenders?” Scarlet replies, finally putting her phone away. “What, do you have, like, a bingo or something, Sugarella?”

The twins cackle, more so Spice, who receives a swat on the arm by Sugar. Their banter is cut short when they receive a glare from Widow who’s passing by, checking everything is running smoothly, and the twins quickly scurry away to the kitchen while Scarlet stays put in her place, pretending to fix her uniform.

Widow fixes her a stare that means get up and do your job and Scarlet immediately emerges from behind the plants she’d been hiding in. 

It’s not a busy day, not at all, but Scarlet has an exam tomorrow and this textbook reads more like anything other than English. It also doesn’t help that she’s not up to date with the texts, but whatever.

She goes around taking and delivering orders, chatting with the twins and the rest of the staff every now and then, and when no one’s listening she recites latin declinations under her breath while the mayhem of the restaurant roars around her.

She’s been working for Widow for a little more than a year now, since these are her final years of uni and her classes are far less now that graduation is on the horizon. Scarlet never thought about working in the service industry before, but she needed a job and this was the only place that called her back.

It’s… Nice. As nice as a restaurant with a blatant clique of co-workers slash friends can be. There’s this old group of waitresses that go all the way back to when Widow owned a restaurant in a different side of the city, it feels High School-y, in a way. They’re so tight knit they don’t really make space for new people, or at least they never made any space for Scarlet. 

Whatever, at least the twins like her.

“Good evening, ladies, I’ll be your server tonight, what can I—”

“Oh my god, bitches, you’re here!” 

When Jackie shoves Scarlet off with all the force her body can manage, it takes all of Scarlet’s willpower to not grab Jackie by her hair and drag her around.

Out of nowhere, all of the old waitresses gather around the table Scarlet was about to serve and their overlapping voices make for a very annoying scenario. Soon Widow is marching up to them, and Scarlet hopes, for a brief second, that they’ll get an earful about proper workplace behavior, but much to her disappointment she joins them in the chaos.

It takes her a couple of seconds to guess the pair of women were part of the original waitressing staff and that the blonde doesn’t just have a few pounds on her, she’s pregnant.

The moment Jackie and the rest start sobbing is the moment Scarlet turns on her heels and gives herself a cigarette break.

“Fucking absurd,” Scarlet mutters, kicking open the back-alley door with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. “If she weren’t Widow’s favorite, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

“Jesus fucking yellow penguins!” Scarlet exclaims, turning around to look at the stranger. When her heart stops pounding against her chest like it wants to come out of it, she recognizes the red braids. Oh, yeah. The new bartender.

“So? What would you do if ‘she’ weren’t the boss’ favorite?” The newbie prompts, a cigarette dangling from her lips, like a damn bad boy from the 60s movies where all the bad boys have leather jackets and pounds of gel on their hair.

“Like I’d tell you,” Scarlet answers, fetching her cigarettes and lighter from the ground. “Who’s to say you’re not a snitch?”

“Do I look like a snitch?”

“You look like a lot of things,” Scarlet retorts, eyeing her up and down.

She’s hot, she has to admit that. She’s taller than her, just a little bit, her arms are leaner, and she’s rather thin. Her arms are covered in tattoos, and if Scarlet forces her eyesight a little bit, she can make out finger tattoos.

“Is it a requirement to get tattoos to be a bartender?” Scarlet blurts out, fixated on making out what her finger tattoos say.

She flexes her fingers, looking intently at Scarlet. “No, but it helps with tips.”

“I suppose so.” Scarlet tries to light up her cigarette, then realizes her lighter ran out. “Got a light?” 

The bartender holds out a vintage lighter, one that makes Scarlet whistle in appreciation, and leans closer with her cigarette trapped between her lips while the hot newbie lights it.

Once she gives it a first drag, she says, “‘M Scarlet, by the way.”

“Yvie,” she merely says.

“Welcome to the family, Yvie,” she says, holding up the cigarette like one holds a champagne flute to make a toast. Yvie chuckles, then imitates her.

“My pleasure, Scarlet.”

***

“Yveeeeees, I need a gin tonic, a virgin daiquiri and a mojito,” Scarlet drawls, handing Yvie the order.

“This is the fifth time you’ve come here during your shift,” Yvie points out. “What, are you pushing cocktails onto your customers so you can come see me?” She flirts like it’s her second nature, and Scarlet rolls her eyes and sighs in an exaggerated way.

“Oh, yeah, like I’d want to come see your annoying face.” Scarlet waves her off, placing her tray under her arm and walking away from the bar, with Yvie’s laugh echoing behind her.

She’s definitely pushing cocktails onto her customers. Instead of suggesting one of the many expensive, fancy wines they have in store, she’s suggesting cocktails under the premise that, Well, it’s Friday! Why not have some fun? It helps that the cocktails are much, much cheaper than the bottles of wine they sell. 

Scarlet knows it’s a little pathetic, high school-y even, the way she wants to find any possible excuse to perch herself against Yvie’s bar, trying to find the perfect angle that makes her hot enough in her hideous waitressing uniform, pulling down her cleavage just a little bit so Yvie has a good look of the beauty mark on her left breast.

It’s not a sin to want to fuck the very hot, very lesbian new bartender that everyone else has their eyes on—not in Scarlet’s mind, at least.

Sugar and Spice caught on to this pretty early, when they saw her one time trying to fix her stupid bun falling apart before approaching the bar. 

“Since when do you care about your looks while you’re on your shift?” Spice pointed out with a giggle.

Scarlet didn’t dignify that with an answer. “Don’t you have tables to attend? Why are you always up my ass?”

The twins held up their hands in mock surrender at the same time, and the following times they interacted with Yvie, Sugar didn’t try to hit on her. Scarlet couldn’t say why she was so relieved that Sugar refrained from going after Yvie, but she thanked her anyway during one of their breaks.

So whatever, now she tries a little extra to look put together on the nights she’s working with Yvie, playing up the annoyance façade, sizing her. Bartenders are flirty by nature, and she’s not planning on making a fool out of herself by making a move based on flimsy evidence.

“Scarlet, Blair called in sick,” Jackie tells her the moment she steps foot into the kitchen. “Do you think you can cover for her tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s her turn to close, no?” She mutters, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Jackie nods. “Well, fine, yeah I’ll do it. Put me down for it. I need the money.”

Jackie smiles, pleased. She’s been an assistant manager for a month and she brings that iPad everywhere she goes, it’s like it’s an extension of herself nowadays; her and that iPad run this place like the navy. Nothing is ever out of place, out of time. Sometimes she wonders if she was always this methodical, if she was more laid back when the restaurant was still a small thing hidden among skyscrapers.

Scarlet goes to ask Dusty for some fries, when Jackie speaks again. “Oh! You’re closing with Yvie tomorrow.”

A cheshire cat-like smile blooms on Scarlet’s face.

***

She looks mad, positively crazy, she’s sure of that: here she is, at 1 A.M on a Sunday, sweeping floors and humming tunes like a Disney princess. The twins weren’t working this shift today, and thank fucking god for that, she doesn’t need them nagging her more than they do.

The majority of the girls working the Saturday night shift, including Blair, are part of the cliqué Scarlet will never be part of, and although they didn’t even attempt to make conversation with her during the beginning hours, Scarlet couldn’t care less.

She’s going to fuck Yvie. She doesn’t care if it’s on one of the tables, on the bar, or in the refrigerator but she’s gonna do it. It’s been five months since Yvie started working here, and now she finally has her golden opportunity. Tonight she’s a woman on a mission, and nothing can deter her.

Once the waitresses start filing out, saying goodbyes in general and never just towards Scarlet in particular, excitement starts to bubble up in her stomach. It’s like she’s back in High School all over again and she plotted to be alone with her crush at one of the many house parties she has no recollection of, the only thing still within her memory reach being hot lips against hers.

She’s just sitting at the hostess chair, swinging her legs back and forth, with child-like excitement. Yvie is finishing at the bar, doing whatever she’s supposed to be doing, and she’s waiting for her. Her plan is simple: unbutton the first button of her blouse, approach Yvie, say something seductive, gauge her reaction and go for the kiss.

It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s worked all the time for her.

“Are you all done here?” Yvie asks, her footsteps being the only noise left—for now.

“Yup,” she replies, “You? All done at the bar?” Scarlet straightens her spine, indubitably making her tits stand out. Yvie’s eyes wander down there for a brief second, but they go back to her face. Step one, done.

“Uhm, oh, yeah, all done. You?” She says dumbly.

“You already asked me that, silly,” she laughs in that sultry southern way that’s known for making women fall to her feet. “What, do I make you nervous, Yves?” Scarlet throws her hair back, uncovering her neck.

Yvie gulps, now unabashedly giving her a once-over. “Not the word I’d use.”

“Oh? What word would you use, then?”

It happens in a flash: Yvie ducks down, captures her lips in a kiss, and it’s not in the sweet, gentle way of the romance movies Scarlet watches until her retinas burn. It’s anything but; it makes her insides churn with lust and that’s way more fun.

They don’t fuck inside the restaurant, but in Yvie’s car. Yvie’s tiny car barely manages to contain both of their tall bodies; maneuvering themselves to be in a position where both are comfortable goes exactly how Scarlet thinks Circus De Soleil rehearses go.

Scarlet’s toes are touching the roof of Yvie’s car and she’s pretty sure she’s going to get a cramp, but Yvie’s tongue is licking at her folds and, really, her brain can’t register much else right now.

“You’re beautiful,” Scarlet says, sincere, looking at her through half-lidded eyes.

Yvie smirks, with her fingers still inside her, and a thought rattles in Scarlet’s mind about liking the way Yvie smiles just for her, but that thought goes out the window the moment her orgasm starts to build up in her stomach.

***

“We should close together more often,” Yvie says, from the driver’s seat, while Scarlet is putting her clothes back on.

“We’re a great closing team,” she replies, putting on her blouse and then realizing—“Shit, I can’t find my bra.”

“Just leave it, I’ll find it and give it back to you.”

“You better! It’s a love & lemons one, those are expensive.”

“Awh, you wore your expensive bra to work? I’m flattered,” Yvie jokes, winking at her through the rear view mirror.

Scarlet doesn’t dignify the implications with an answer.

***

She blurts it out to Sugar that she fucked Yvie the other night, and Sugar tells Spice, who tells Brianna, who tells Crystal, and that is how she gets pulled into the cleaning supplies closet by Heidi during the Wednesday lunch shift.

“Scarlet, didn’t you know?” Heidi starts, as if Scarlet has any clue what this is about.

“Know about what?”

“Yvie is Crystal’s ex,” she says, like it’s common knowledge.

“Okay. And?” It’s not like Crystal is single and pining for her ex; she’s engaged to some blonde seamstress called Gigi who used to work for Widow four years ago, she has her own clothing store now, she reckons. Pretty sweet catch, if Scarlet says so herself.

Heidi seems caught off guard by Scarlet’s indifference.

“Well, friends exes are usually off limits—”

“Crystal is not my friend,” she points out, because she isn’t.

“Yvie’s never serious about anyone,” she says this time. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up. She only sleeps around.”

“God, we fucked once! It’s not like I want to marry her,” Scarlet groans. “None of you ever considered me a friend, why do you suddenly care? I didn’t even know she’s her ex, because, again, she and all of you are not my friends.”

Heidi seems positively mortified, but they both know Scarlet is right. So she simply apologizes—Scarlet isn’t sure if she’s apologizing for casting her aside or whatever this intervention was—and they go on about their lives.

“Hey, hot stuff!” The twins say in sync, when they run into Scarlet just moments later. “We just wanna remind you of our birthday party, it’s three weeks from now down at our parents’ house!”

“Our tiny flat would never be able to hold in so many guests,” Sugar comments, handing her the invitation.

“Yeah, good thing mom and dad are leaving that weekend.” Spice winks, and soon they’re off to do whatever it is they do when they’re not pestering Scarlet.

Scarlet inspects the envelope; for a pair of girls who are obsessed with social media, handing out paper invitations seems like a paradox, and then she remembers they’re also obsessed with Y2K, so, whatever, it figures. 

The sparkly pink envelope with all types of stickers manually placed on it reminds Scarlet of when letters were still a thing and she would spend her lunch money sending letters to her friends who lived just some neighborhoods away, just for the thrill of it. When life was good and easy, and she didn’t have a bartender taller and hotter than her watching her every move from her very empty, very lonely bar.

“Hey, Jackie, this place is dead,” Scarlet comments when she runs into Jackie in the kitchen. “Can I leave early? I don’t think you’ll need me.”

Jackie looks at her, then at her iPad, then she chews on her lower lip and agrees. “Just do your side work before you clock out.”

Scarlet goes to take her things from the little storage room they keep for the staff’s personal belongings, and lingers there for a bit when she hears a pair of footsteps behind her.

“Hey, Starlet! You’re leaving early?” Kameron’s voice asks. Scarlet turns around, an attempt at a relaxed smile on her face and sees Kameron and Yvie on their way outside, they're probably going on a smoke break. Yvie is eye-ing her up and down, with her hands stashed in her pockets.

“Yup. It’s pretty dead here, so Jackie let me go already. I’m clocking out before that changes. See ya!” She makes her exit with her heart beating in her ears, her face getting as red as her hair. The high-pitched tone with which she spoke makes her insides churn with shame. God, Yvie must think I’m pathetic.

She stations herself outside of the restaurant, lightning up a cigarette to calm down her trembling body. It’s summer now, and the humidity makes her feel so gross and sticky she actively hates herself when she lights up the cigarette and makes herself sweat a little more.

I’ll quit it when I want to, she told herself some years ago, but here she is.

She’s about to start walking to her bus stop when she hears the restaurant’s door ring, and a distinct pair of footsteps she’s come to recognize like one recognizes the sound of birds in the morning.

“Hey, ‘Starlet’,” Yvie says, nonchalantly, “need a ride?”

Scarlet turns around, ready to say no because Yvie is giving her that lust-filled look that promises that her ankles will end up on her shoulders, and she really really can’t, because it was a one off time to quench her thirst and now that’s all done.

“Yeah, sure,” she says, however, thinking with her imaginary dick rather than with her brain.

Yvie holds out the car door for her, like a gentleman, and she sits with her legs pressed tightly when she looks through the rear view mirror and sees her lacy pink bra resting on the backseat.

It’s obvious and redundant to say Yvie drives them to her own place instead of dropping Scarlet off, and that she can’t quite stomach it when Yvie calls her gorgeous when she’s between her legs and moments later tells her they should keep this casual.

***

Scarlet feels stupid, completely and irrevocably pathetic.

Here she is, being eaten out on her friends parents’ bed by a pretty woman on a house party, a house party that’s supposed to be kept a secret because the twins didn’t have permission to throw it in the first place, and the secrets of the universe are being revealed to her as said pretty woman keeps looking at her like she’s some sort of prey.

“God, you’re so pretty when you’re needy for me like that,” Yvie says, coming up to kiss her. Scarlet tastes herself on her lips, and gives a low whine.

Part of why she feels so pathetic is down on the first floor of the house, probably sitting all angry in the living room couches, looking like a cheap replica of Scarlet, most likely complaining to her friends about Scarlet, not discarding just yet searching for another body to make her company tonight.

Yvie is a gorgeous woman, Scarlet knows that; she attracts attention wherever she goes, so naturally there was someone else interested in her at the party. Scarlet doesn’t know Irene Dubois personally, she’s a friend of the twins and they’ve gone clubbing as a group once or twice before, but she’s not her friend (Scarlet thinks the way she looks so much like her is a little freaky, so she keeps her distance).

Irene was flirting very openly with Yvie, who, although not as enthusiastic, was flirting back. 

Scarlet and Yvie aren’t a thing, they hook up every now and then, and go for late night fast food at whatever chain is open on the rare occasion they go home at the same time and don’t feel like hooking up, and occasionally go to cheap bars to drink cheap drinks and Yvie will draw circles on the back of Scarlet’s hands while talking about her childhood and teenage years, and Scarlet sometimes will send her TikToks that remind her of her, and Sugar and Spice snicker and scurry away when Yvie comes near her during work hours—but they’re not, like, a thing. It’s just casual.

(It’s pathetic).

So Scarlet couldn’t really go up to Yvie, intimidate Irene and very subtly tell her to fuck off, drag Yvie up towards an empty room and slip out of her dress before Yvie had fully closed the door behind them, because she’s twenty-fucking-five and not a petty high school girl falling in love with the girl she sometimes fucks.

No, she couldn’t. So she didn’t.

Irene finished her drink, Yvie went to get more vodka from the kitchen, and Scarlet just so happened to drop her cup, so she also made a beeline for the kitchen. She batted her eyelashes, said nothing about the other redhead staring at Yvie across the room, and it took Yvie all of five seconds to ask her to “go to the bathroom with her”.

The pathetic satisfaction she felt upon seeing Irene stare daggers at her as Yvie took her hand and led her up the stairs made her feel like she’s sixteen all over again, petty and wild and stupid.

Scarlet redresses herself with Yvie’s help, and when her hands linger on her waist just for a moment longer, she knows this, whatever she has going on with Yvie, is bound to hurt her.

***

“Doesn’t it bother you that your ex works in the same restaurant as you?” Scarlet blurts out, while she’s laying on Yvie’s sheets.

Yvie’s perched by the room’s window, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, smoking. “Who, Crystal? No, she’s chill. We broke up a long time ago.”

“Like how long?”

“Uhm, I was still an art major, so…” She looks up to the ceiling. “Like, six, seven years ago?”

Scarlet sputters, turning to face her instead of looking at the ceiling cracks.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Why?”

Scarlet opens her mouth, then closes it again. Would it bother Yvie if she knew half the restaurant knows about whatever is going on between them? 

“Just curious. Do you think she might have unresolved feelings from that?”

Yvie scoffs. “I would hope not, isn’t she getting married in two months?” Scarlet nods, remembering the way Crystal reluctantly looked at her when handing her the wedding invitation a week ago. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

Scarlet thinks back to the night where Heidi warned her that Yvie just sleeps around, never looking for anything serious, some three months ago in July. Thinks of the burning ache in her heart when Yvie reminds her they’re just hooking up, the self-pity she wallows in every time she watches romcoms on Sundays and yearns to go on stupid museum and park dates with Yvie and getting to call her her girlfriend.

“Curiosity,” she says instead.

Yvie hums, acknowledging her answer and goes back to smoking. In the silence of the night, tangled in Yvie’s sheets, Scarlet wonders if Yvie thinks about them as much as she does. If she also yearns for something they’re not, or if she’s content enough with their arrangement, not sparing another thought towards her as soon as she’s out of the door.

The thought makes her feel like throwing up, so she silently gets up and starts rummaging for her clothes among the pile.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” Yvie asks out of the blue.

“Next Saturday?” Scarlet pretends to think about it, knowing damn well she has a hot date with her couch and a new K-Drama she got hooked on. “Not much, why?”

“My mom invited me for brunch. I love her, but I don’t think I can stand her for hours alone, my sister moved across the country and—”

“What are you asking me, exactly? To go to brunch with you and your mom?”

“Well, yeah.”

Scarlet pauses, at a loss for words. There’s many things she wants to say, like, does she know who I am? Who am I to her? A daughter-in-law, friend of her daughter? What am I to you that you’re asking me this?

But Scarlet’s dignity flew out the window some months ago, so she simply nods and says, “Sure, text me the time and place.”

***

Scarlet thinks, honest to god, that the whole brunch ordeal was a fever dream.

She expected to meet some sort of wasp-y woman, uptight and slightly homophobic by the way Yvie spoke about her mother. She met, instead, a normal, fun, laid back woman in her sixties with nothing out of the usual about her. Yvie’s mom was just a normal suburban housewife who loves her daughter very much and tries to keep an open mind with what she’s doing with her life.

And she loved Scarlet, too. For some reason, Yvie’s mom found her so fascinating, she wouldn’t stop asking her questions about her, her life, what she’s studying in uni and her two moms back home in Kansas. She ordered mimosa after mimosa for the pair of them, at times forgetting her own daughter was sitting just across her.

It was so lovely, and so, so painful.

Scarlet is obviously girlfriend material; they get along well, Yvie’s mother likes her, and the sex is great. There’s no reason for Yvie to cave in and ask her to forget about the “casual” bullshit, because they both know there’s nothing casual about going on late night car rides, with Yvie’s index tracing the letters m-i-n-e on her thigh, talking about their hopes and dreams for the future, letting Scarlet babble excitedly about her independent research projects for school, pretending she doesn’t notice when Yvie sketches her in one of the many sketchbooks she has laying around, in sneaking to the back alley to make out during dead shifts, in spending days off together somewhere far away from the city.

She doesn’t know what else has to happen for Yvie to change her mind and just ask her to be official, be serious about where they’re going together.

So, the next logical reason why Yvie doesn’t want anything serious, is that she doesn’t like her like that, doesn’t want to commit to her and have the quiet, domestic Sundays and brunch with the in-laws with her. It hurts more than it should.

“Take me home,” Scarlet says when they’re in the car, drunk on mimosas and feverish with yearning.

“Wanna make a stop at my place?” Yvie suggests, squeezing her knee.

Scarlet inhales sharply, willing herself to be strong and not let herself falter.

“No, I think I shouldn’t.”

“You sure?” They come to a stop at a red light and they lock eyes. Yvie has her brows slightly furrowed, trying to gauge what’s wrong, and Scarlet feels like a wild thing, trying to decipher how does she do it, how does she keep her cool so well when Scarlet is melting against the carseat, the blood boiling in her veins with longing and fighting every atom in her body to stay strong on her no.

“Hundred percent,” she says through gritted teeth, peeling her gaze away.

“Hm. Whatever you want, princess.”

Scarlet barely keeps it together. It’s so cruel to call her that right now, when she’s trying and failing to make her escape before her longing kills her.

Yvie drops her off at her apartment complex, and once Scarlet slams the car door shut, she decides that fuck it, she's going to use her vacation days for once and go back to Kansas to regain some semblance of control over her life. Her friends can lend her class notes later, when she doesn’t feel like a soulless puppet at Yvie’s beck and call.

She dials Jackie not ten minutes after and books the flight tickets in less than an hour.

***

[yves !!] hey is everything ok? 

[yves !!] can i come over to talk? 

[yves !!] fuck please. talk to me

[yves !!] starlet

***

Scarlet hasn’t talked to Yvie in two days, and she’s never used drugs to know what withdrawals feel like, but she supposes this must be akin to that. She feels every cell in her body yearning to reach out, to go right back to her sheets and learn to be satisfied with it as long as she’s with her. But she has to have some dignity, so she asks her moms to take her phone from her while she’s desperately sobbing to prevent herself from reaching out to Yvie.

She feels like the pinnacle of stupidity, getting herself so hurt over a fling that she sought out, that she plotted to make it happen. Now, she’s truly sixteen all over again, locked up in her childhood room crying over a girl that hurt her precious princess feelings when things blew up in her face.

Her moms don’t tell her to get over it, you’re twenty-five already, but instead offer her many, many chocolate chip cookies and silent cuddling sessions where the only thing she does is cry with her gaze lost in the distance.

By the fourth day she feels good enough to come out of her room and go to the supermarket with her moms, but she has to go back to the car in the middle of it because she saw a pair of women that looked like her and Yvie pushing a baby-stroller in the frozen foods section, then proceeded to bawl her eyes out.

When she inevitably has to go back to New York, her moms promise they’ll come visit her in a few weeks to check on her, and send her on her way with a tupperware full of chocolate cookies and some semblance of autonomy back in her mind.

***

AUGUST.

“You’re so weird,” Scarlet giggles, sitting across Yvie’s lap. “How did you even manage to get that many socks to make a floor length gown?”

Yvie shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Many thrift stores and a stubborn head,” she says, making her laugh again, and she feels a sort of pride wash over her.

It’s been two months since they started sleeping around, and she knows it’s pathetic from her to keep giving in and inviting Scarlet over just because she wants to hang out with her using the excuse of having sex, but she’s too much of a coward to invite Scarlet on a proper date and get told no. It’s easier to pretend there’s no strings attached and this is just casual, lest she’ll scare her off.

Although Scarlet was the one that flirted with her back in June, if the way she acted around her at work afterwards was anything to go by, she didn’t want anything else to do with her, and yet, like a fool, Yvie sought her out again.

Yvie knows, is very aware, that despite being somewhat attractive, the oddness that makes her stand out is also the reason why the women she likes never like her back. And that’s just personality wise; on the odd chance they like her back, her disability is enough of a reason to scare them away. It was easier to just sleep around, dating casually and not giving much of herself away.

Then Scarlet came in, very blatantly interested in her, and once she was a hundred perfect sure she wasn’t just another flirt bored during work hours—thanks to Kameron, who assured her Scarlet had never ever tried to hit on her, at all—she decided that, fuck it, why not?

But then Scarlet became like an intoxicating presence in her life, pulling her in and leaving her wanting more, making her dream of dates that didn’t start with having sex or them being too tired after a shift to do much else than go for take out, and Yvie couldn’t do much else aside from trying to hide how much she wanted—wants—her in more than a sexual way.

Now she’s stuck in this loop where she’s the one that keeps reaching out to her, against her better mind. Why Scarlet came back time and time again, Yvie’s not sure. She supposes the sex is good enough to make her want to keep her around.

Scarlet bids her goodbye after a while, giving her a last kiss before she hops on her Uber, and Yvie is left feeling like a pathetic coward, who dreams of being courageous enough to ask the woman she sleeps with to be her girlfriend.

One day she’ll do it, she just hopes it’s not too late by then and Scarlet has lost interest.

[fandomficsnstuff]

Wolves And Hounds - 25

(Warnings: Some fluff, fluff, a little bit of a reunion and then some angst and more angst<3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sandor watched Karliah as she laid upon his chest, furs covering her lower half from her waist and down to her thigh, barely covering her intimate parts, her leg thrown over his, baring it to the cold air as she rested on his chest, eyes closed, breath steady and hand on his chest. She looked so peaceful… it still shocked him, that someone could lay so close to him, even lay with him to begin with, and then fall asleep as peacefully as a babe, letting the beat of his cold stone heart lull her to sleep as though it was the sweetest of lullabies. She was probably the only thing he’d ever thank that cunt Joffrey for. Her hair was splayed out behind her gracefully, loose from the messy braid it’d been in for so long and he’d missed the way her hair looked when loose, flowy and wavy and pretty, just like her, brown hair, slightly darker eyebrows, pale skin that had a warm glow to it after travelling for so long, though the latest snowstorms they’d been through hadn’t done anything to tan her further, and behind her eyelids, behind those pretty lashes that kissed and rested on her rosy cheeks, were her grey Stark eyes, he was slowly coming to terms with that he could get lost in them, her eyes like a spiralling pool of water, sucking him in, throwing him around yet oh so soft and graceful. The tilting and shifting of the ship they were in had the lamps above swinging lightly, rocking them back and forth and he sighed, reaching up and tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear as she slept on his chest, his thumb stroking her cheek carefully. “What in the Seven Hells have you done to me?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head ever so slightly, groaning quietly at how… soft he was being. He was so gentle and soft and caring… It annoyed him somewhat. All his life he’d been rough, harsh, annoyed and angry at the world, then there she comes along, fiery and feisty, a cold bitch who somehow managed to love him despite all his angry, rough, harsh and ugliness. He might not have known much, but he knew she loved him, deeply and truly. She didn’t fake it, she didn’t try to trick him, she loved him deeply and he was quite sure that nothing could ever change that… the thought that nothing ever would was oddly comforting… He found comfort in the thought that she’d always love him, even if he was old and grey, if he’d ever live that long. He doubted it, but he knew she would still love him, even then.

As he watched her sleep, he began to think about the wight under the deck, locked in a box, secured with chains and ropes… he wondered if it’d be enough… if it’d hold that thing inside it… perhaps he should check, just to be sure… surely no harm would come from just checking…

He hesitantly got up, making sure she was comfortable and still asleep before putting on his clothes, casting a final glance over his shoulder at her before leaving, grabbing a lantern on the way.

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

Karliah walked with him on the other side of the mule, a small smile on her lips and he scoffed “what’re you smiling at?” he asked quietly and she smiled a little brighter, turning to look at him as they walked “my husband is alive, my nephew is alive, my darling nieces are alive and I get to see that cunt of a bitch Cersei again and I get to smile in her face and she will know that she failed in breaking me, breaking any of us” Karliah stated with a shrug, smirking at Sandor who smirked under his beard. This was one of the things he loved the most about her. She was fierce and feisty, as quick as a flying arrow and as sharp as a newly-sharpened sword, and her tongue could cut just as well as that sword on her hip. “So, what are you smiling at, beloved husband?” she fired back and Sandor scoffed before looking ahead “some mouth my wife has” he stated casually but quietly, making her giggle lightly, a sweet, melodious sound that warmed him deeply. As the Lannisters approached, her smile faded, her body tensing up when she saw who was at the head of that small Lannister army. It seemed that Bronn truly was a survivor, keeping himself alive by doing whatever was necessary. If that was serving that evil bitch Queen Cersei, then he’d serve her and serve her well.

“Welcome, My Lords. Your friends arrived before you did” Bronn stated, gestured vaguely behind him and Sandor tensed up with shock, Karliah frowning with slight confusion “Sandor?” she asked in a whisper, Sandor’s jaw clenching “that’s the bitch who pushed me off that damn cliff” he muttered and Karliah’s eyes widened, looking back at the woman in question. She was almost as tall as him, dressed in men’s armour with a lovely sword at her side, and a young man with an air of utter and complete innocence about him, his big brown eyes wide as he looked at Karliah, his cheeks then turning red as he looked away. “I’ve been sent to escort you all to the meeting” Bronn added, stepping aside, as did the soldiers, the woman and the young man at her side, allowing a path to be made and Karliah looked at Sandor “at least we’re not near a cliff” she teased in a whisper, Sandor’s head whipping to the side to look at her with wide eyes and she smirked, giving him a wink before walking ahead with the others.

She vaguely heard Bronn say something to Tyrion and the young man he was talking to before following after the others, soon hearing him catch up to her and she smirked, already knowing whose footsteps it was. “Ser Brynn” she greeted, Bronn scoffing “you wound me, M’Lady, can’t even remember my name, can ya?” he joked, knowing full well that her ‘slip up’ had been fully intentionally and she shrugged “it’s been so dreadfully long, My Lord, I hardly recognised you” she stated with a feigned air of innocence, Bronn chuckling briefly “now that, I doubt” he stated, making her turn to look at him with a brief smile “hello, Bronn” she greeted more sincerely, Bronn smirking at her “M’Lady Karliah” he bowed as he walked next to her, making her chuckle lightly. “You’ve changed. Yer hair’s longer-”

“That’s all you could think of saying? That my hair is longer? You’ve lost your touch, Ser Bronn” she joked with a smirk and he shrugged “fine, you want the old Bronn Charm, eh? How about this; you look more radiant than ever, M’Lady, your skin glows with the beauty of the North, your hair like a river, wavy and elegant and silky, smooth and strong, your eyes the shining light of my life that I see everytime I close my eyes-”

“Gods, you’ve gotten quite sappy, haven’t you?” she teased and Bronn smirked “well, I am a knight, aren’t I? Knights are sappy.”

“My husband isn’t” she reminded him and he smirked, leaning a little closer “you comparin’ me to yer husband? I wouldn’t mind showing you all the ways-”

“Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, you have a foul mouth and an even fouler mind” she stated with hidden amusement, feigning shock and disbelief, making him laugh briefly “you haven’t changed all that much. Yer more beautiful, as if that’d ever be possible, but yer haven’t changed one bit… good” he stated quietly and she chuckled, shaking her head “you’re flirting with me, Bronn” she pointed out and he nodded “I am” he confirmed and she shook her head “don’t. I wouldn’t appreciate getting your severed head offered to me as a name-day gift one day” she warned and he sighed “you have such a way with words, M’Lady” he sighed dreamily and she rolled her eyes “I’m married, Bronn-”

“But if yer weren’t-”

“But I am, am I not? I believe you were at the ceremony even. I love my husband, as difficult as it may be for you to understand-”

“Aye, it is. Does he love you though?” he asked and Karliah looked over her shoulder at Sandor as he talked with the woman who’d beat him in combat, a small smile forming on her lips “in his own way” she replied, looking ahead again “it’s enough for me-”

“Yer deserve more than just what’s enough for yer…”

“And you’re the man to give it to me? With your whores and knighthood?” she asked with amusement, turning to look at him “don’t change, Bronn. Being so… genuinely fond of someone doesn’t suit you… you love your whores and you’ll bed a noblewoman once you’ve married into one with status and a large castle, or even before you’ve bedded her. I have the only knight I’ll ever want or need. My husband loves me in his own way, and I love him in my own… I’d love to see the look on that cunt Joffrey’s face if he could see Sandor and I now, though” she whispered the last part with a smirk, Bronn giving her a sad look “listen, love-”

“Thank you, for your care, Bronn. You’ve been kind to me, cheered me up, helped me, you’ve become someone dear to me, but I am married. Perhaps it’s a fault of mine, but I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to love someone while I’m married…” she admitted with a small frown “I cannot fathom ever wanting someone else…”

“So… all I have ter do is kill yer husband?” Bronn asked after a while of silence, a casual air about him as he shrugged and Karliah laughed out loud with a grin of amusement, shaking her head as she came down from her laughter “good luck with that one” she managed to get out through her laughter before turning to him, smirking as she leaned closer “you get anywhere near my husband, and I’ll cut off your cock and send it to your whores” she stated casually before looking over her shoulder when she felt someone looming, a smile on her face “husband! We were just talking about you, weren’t we, Ser Bronn?” she asked innocently with a smile, Bronn looking up at a seething Sandor, realising that she’d slowed her pace at one point during their conversation, slowing it down enough for Sandor to catch up with the donkey and the wagon it was dragging, Bronn paling a little “aye. If you’ll excuse me” he muttered and left, making Karliah laugh quietly “I think you scared him off, my love” she teased, Sandor merely grunting and she rolled her eyes “relax, my love, we were just talking-”

“Didn’t sound like just talking” he muttered gruffly and she looked up at him, brows furrowed yet she smiled at the realisation “you’re jealous” she realised and he scoffed and looked away “not jealous-”

“Oh, you are very much jealous” she murmured with amusement before sighing, her smile gone as she looked at him “I love you, I want you, I married you, I stayed with you. Not Ser Bronn of the fucking Blackwater. You. It’s true, he may have-... been forward, but the truth is that I’ll never ever want anyone else but you, for as long as I live… you know I’ve never given marriage much thought until you came along and it’s true, it had a-... rocky start… but I had many opportunities to flee from you, and I didn’t. That should count for much. I want this to all be over, I want to-... maybe-... see what happens, you know? See how life goes, if we have children or not!” she tested, looking up at him “I don’t believe you’d be a bad father” she added, Sandor looking at her with shock and she sighed “release the hold your doubts have over you, you’d be a good father, I truly believe that. I know you disagree but just think of this; image me on my birthing bed as I present you with a boy or girl… what feeling does that thought bring you? Forget everyone else, every doubt, every ‘but’, ‘what if’, ‘what about’... how do you imagine holding your son in your arms to feel?” she asked quietly before walking ahead, keeping her head down a little until she reached Jon, walking with him, looking over her shoulder at Sandor with sad eyes before looking ahead again.

“What’s in there?” a Lannister soldier asked, Sandor tearing his gaze away from his wife that he could barely see far ahead to look at the kid “fuck off” he growled, Brienne of Tarth soon falling back in line with him, talking with him, revealing that Arya was alive.

Karliah would weep with joy when she heard that, he just knew it.

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

Karliah watched as Euron began to taunt Tyrion, stating that hey didn’t even let dwarves live in the Iron Islands, they were killed at birth, Karliah’s hand moving to her stomach at those words, clenching the fabric around it and Jon noticed out of the corner of his eye, a frown forming on his brow as he rejected the urge to look up at her, to ask if his suspicions were correct. Karliah felt dread at Euron’s words, even as he was ordered to sit back down, and as he obeyed. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that it was ever the child’s fault the way they were born, nor was it the Gods’ fault or doing. Some things simply are the way they are, some have black hair, some have blonde, some have brown, some have blue eyes, some have green, some have brown, some have hazel, it simply how things were, how they happened. The Gods, if anything, didn’t punish people with dwarf children, it was more a test if it was anything to do with the Gods at all, which she highly doubted. What kind of people wouldn’t even give a babe a chance, no matter their body? No one killed male babes, did they? It’s simply how the body was. Perhaps it was even caused by the mother, something she ate or drank, or it was the father, something in him, something he inherited like dark hair and blue eyes. Perhaps it was nothing at all, perhaps things were much more simple than everyone thought and it was just how things were this time around with that child. But it was never the child’s fault, they couldn’t help how they were born, male or female, dwarf or not, they did not choose how to appear.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she felt a hand subtly nudge her thigh, turning her head to look down at her nephew and he gave her a subtle smile before looking ahead again, making her heart race a little slower, her hand leaving her stomach as she returned to the real world, thrust from the world of her thoughts as she sat next to him with Brienne on her other side.

“This isn’t about living in harmony” Jon interrupted as he stood up, approaching the middle of the small gathering “it’s just about living” he admitted. “The same thing is coming for all of us. A general you can’t negotiate with, an army that doesn’t leave corpses behind on the battlefield. Lord Tyrion tells me a million people live in the city, they’re about to become a million more soldiers in the Army of the Dead” Jon admitted calmly “I imagine for most of them it would be an improvement” Cersei stated calmly and Karliah turned to look at her instead of her nephew, a frown on her brows that barely disguised the disgust on her face at Cersei’s words as Jon approached slowly. “This is serious. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t.”

“I don’t think it’s serious at all, I think it’s another bad joke-”

“A bad joke can easily become quite serious, as your son proved when he forced me to marry Ser Sandor Clegane” Karliah stated casually with a faint smile “so please, listen to my nephew” she encouraged with feigned concern and worry, giving the Queen no reason to find contempt or disrespect behind her words, her hands clutching the armrest of the chair she sat on with anger as she glared at Karliah. “If my brother Jaime informed me correctly, you’re asking for a truce” Cersei spoke to Daenerys, ignoring Karliah and Karliah couldn’t but smirk a little as she looked down. Gods, it felt good to make even the tiniest of jabs at that cunt. “Yes. That’s all” Daenerys confirmed casually at Cersei “that’s all? Pull back my armies and stand down while you go on your monster hunt… Or while you solidify and expand your position. Hard for me to know which it is with my armies pulled back, until you return and march on my capital with four times the men.”

“Your capital will be safe, until the Northern threat is dealt with. You have my word” Daenerys stated firmly yet in a soft voice “the word of a would-be usurper” Cersei spat with veiled contempt, Tyrion sighing as he stepped forward “there is no conversation that will erase the last 50 years… we have something to show you” Tyrion stated and Karliah looked at her nephew who gave a subtle nod, making her stand up and walk towards the ramp in the dragonpit that led further down, disappearing in the darkness before returning as Sandor carried the heavy box on his shoulders, Karliah trying not to show how extremely arousing she found his strength, wetness gathering between her thighs as she walked next to him, her heart racing and it took everything in her to now clench her thighs as Sandor kneeled down and dropped the box, Karliah taking out the key for the chains and he gave her a nod. Karliah used the key to unlock the chains at both sides, Sandor then pulled out the iron rods that kept the chains in place, dropping them and stepping back with Karliah after pushing off the wooden lid on the box, his arm splayed out in front of her to keep her back should the wight jump out and attack. When nothing happened, Karliah approached before Sandor could stop her, pushing against the box, grunting as she tilted it and the wight rolled out, Sandor quickly yanking her behind him again before running around the box, gripping the chain the wight had around it’s neck, keeping it just barely from scratching at Cersei. Karliah’s heart raced as the looked at the wight, she’d never seen it before, her eyes wide and she clutched her stomach in absolute horror, almost yelping when it ran for Sandor and he cut it in half, her eyes wide as she watched it crawl around, both halves somehow still ‘alive’ as it shrieked and screeched terribly, even more so when Sandor cut off one of it’s arms, flinging it across the dragonpit, Cersei’s hand, a man in Maester’s robes, picking it up and examining it as the fingers wiggled still, Karliah feeling her gut turning and twisting, as though that morning sickness had finally come to show itself.

The rest of the time, Karliah was stuck in her own head, that… thing… would be the future… her, Sandor, her niece, her nephew… her child… It’s true that she wasn’t even sure if she wanted the child… she wondered if it was too late to drink moontea, but perhaps this child should have a chance… it felt like she was at a crossroads. Go down one road, and Sandor might not forgive her or love their child, go down the other road, and she’d never give this child a chance at the world… She wondered if he’d even had time to think about what she said, what she told him… maybe he was capable of seeing past his doubts after all… or maybe he never wanted children and the babe in her belly was doomed from the beginning…

She wondered if she could do this alone… if Thoros had even been right, before he died. What if he’d been mistaken? This whole idea of a child in her belly, it’d grown root and stuck in deep, staying in her head… did that mean that she wanted the child, despite her worries? She had already believed it so much, that she was with child, that she wasn’t sure how she’d react if she found out that she wasn’t… would she be happy and relieved? Heartbroken and defeated? Once they returned to Winterfell, she’d have to see a Maester… there was only one way to find out the truth.

[08theverysmallhuman]

Absolutely annoyed whenever ppl ask why Kira got kicked out of blue lock so early when someone like Igaguri didn’t…. Like! The whole point is that yeah, Kira is the better player! But he’s not an egoist and that’s what got him out! Igaguri may not be the best player but he’s an egoist, and embodies those values(frankly as much if not more than anyone there). That’s what’s keeping him in. Blue lock is about skill, yes, but above all its about being a stone cold bitch!

The fact that they don't have any other justification for wanting him back other than Igaguri being "ugly" or "not as talented" is the main reason I don't look at bllktwt outside of spoilers anymore

Because despite Kira being exposed as a two-faced cunt motherfucker whose egoism extends to acting shiny and righteous to preserve the image he uses to put down players he deems lower than him, the face wins overall

Igaguri is not and has never been a player that is going to be showcased as someone to beat, someone who can lead a team, someone you want on your side going up against a tough team but he knows his worth as a great player. Not superhumanly good, not yet on par with the greats of the world that his teammates are slowly surpassing but he Has the talent and the drive to keep going regardless

What ticks me off other than the blatant bias against Igaguri is that they then bring up Isagi's choice to leave him be as a Mistake despite That Singular Choice being a pivotal moment in Isagi's development! It is the first time we see him break away from the pattern hammered into him by his old team and start valuing himself as Someone who could Become the World's Best! It is the Literal Moment that establishes him as the MAIN CHARACTER. AND THEY WANT TO THROW THAT AWAY FOR THE BLONDE PRETTY BOY BECAUSE EW EW WHY THE CHEATING BALD GUY

Not even mentioning Bachira's involvement and consequent development in it! It is the Second we see him really See Isagi as the One he's been waiting all his life to play with It is The Moment That Ties Them Together It is What initially drives him to start having fun playing soccer again It is what SETS ISAGI APART FROM THE REST OF THEM, WHO WOULD'VE LAUNCHED THAT BALL AT THE PLAYER DOWN AND WAITED DOWN THE SECONDS.

I've already written the hypothetical up there but You Know For A Fucking Fact. That even If Isagi HAD taken the easy route.

Bachira would've still taken that ball.

He's still going after the strongest player. He's still going to try and take him out and he'll hit Kira, who at the time was right By Isagi, and there'll be seconds left to score and either he'll blank out in those final seconds again, or he won't, and Isagi would be the one on the floor. And Bachira has no reason to look at him twice.

This isn't even about Igaguri to me anymore it's just blatant disregard for Isagi's choice despite it being a crucial point in the plot that shows off his ego as someone aiming for the Top. They're completely removing the reason he was chosen for blue lock to fit a guy into a team that would absolutely not work with Kira in there.

[spookytimefelix]

People say I try too hard People say I come off really awkward You know I don't mean no harm I'm just trying to be myself but

Sometimes I get confused 'Cause I can't read social cues Threw my inhibitions out the door I don't have an excuse I'm just living in my youth Don't know why people don't like me more

I have no friends but that's okay I don't need them anyway I do my best all on my own And I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone

I have no friends but I'll be fine I don't need them to pass the time And when I put my resting bitch face on I look stone cold I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone I have no friends

I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone

I have no friends but that's okay I don't need them anyway I do my best all on my own And I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone I have no friends

You'll never know what's on my mind (my mind) You'll never know the secrets that I'm keeping I'll scare you off with my crazy eyes (my eyes) 'Cause all I need is me myself and

I don't got no shame 'Cause my life is just a game And I don't care who's been keeping score (oh, no) Everybody thinks I'm strange It's just something in my brain Don't know who they're being normal for

I have no friends but that's okay I don't need them anyway I do my best all on my own And I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone

I have no friends and that's a sign I don't need them to pass the time And when I put my resting bitch face on I look stone cold I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone I have no friends No friends

I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone

I have no friends but that's okay I don't need them anyway I do my best all on my own And I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone I have no friends

I don't need anybody's hand to hold at night As long as I'm with me I know I'll be alright 'Cause I can't love no one else Spent my love on just myself Took this people-pleaser heart And I tore it all apart Now I'm finally set free I'm so proud to be me That's why I don't care I just wanna say I have no La la la la la No friends La la la la la La la la la la

I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone

I have no friends but that's okay I don't need them anyway I do my best all on my own And I'd just rather be alone Rather be alone I have no friends

No friends No friends (I'd rather be alone) No friends All I need is me myself  No friends I have no friends

another song and I still wish I knew who you are

[clover-hoe]

I need to work on any of my other wip's but burnouts a bitch so here is a little au for ya! (long post!)

This is a mainly rex's POV story, starting when they are about 7(rex) and 8(CC's)

7567 looked up in horror as the CC held his hand out. He had heard story's of his fellow CT's, ones that lost these specific sparing match's. His batch was chosen to partake in one, with a CC batch no less. He took the others hand, one who was about half a year older than himself.

"I'm 2224. But my name-" he dropped his voice- "is Cody. You did real good there, vod. You got a number?" 2224/Cody finished in his cheery voice as he ignored 7567's tag for the time. -The blonde- looked up at him with awe as he was pulled up. One of the other CC's -CC-3636, by the identification tag- the one fighting 7562, came over with a sour expression.

"What where you thinking vod? Want to get us all killed?" 3636 said, glaring at 7567.

"No! I think there is something different bout this one. He fights better than the rest. I want to train him- but I don't know is the kaminise will let me." The door slid open as 2224/Cody spoke, and all of the CC's went in line with Cody and his batch went in line with 7560. He, however, was pulled in line with Cody, making him seem like, with just a glance, a CC.

"Batch 7560 to 7569, please follow me." Koi-Ren stated in a slow and cold voice, and his brothers marched out with her. he tried to aslwell, but 2224's grip remained firm.

"Miss Ren, I would like to take-" 2224' looked down at his tag; "CT-7567 in for personal training. He lasted longer than the others, and it would be benifitial for the comander class to have a regular trooper with us, to see how they react to our techniques." The other CC's looked at 2224 in a mix of awe from -Bly- and 1010, horror from 3636 and annoyance from 6454.

Koi-Ren's face fell downwards as she considered it. "Very well." She said after a moment. "But you must come with them, CC-2224. I will need your help training this batch. They are- particularly hard to train." She -seethed- at them, before her face went to stone and she motioned for -Cody-. He secretly patted 7567 on the back, before taking off after the kaminoan.

The next time 7567 saw 2224 was when the gorup of CC's and himself where ushered into a room with eight Kaminoians.

"Test run is about to begin. First run of model sixteen, beginning." A voice on the loudspeaker said, while a cadet-sized table lifted, with 2224 strapped to it. He wasn't moving -was he already dead, did the long necks kill him, CODY- as one of the kaminoians pressed a button, bright bolts of electricity running to the cap 2224 wore.

(Eventually, the kaminoans would have a simpler process- put the closes together in a room, and allow the current to roam in the room.)

2224 jerked for a moment, before another of the kaminoans pulled a lever and the current stopped. Three more went into the room, and another checked a small screen on them. The five clones looked on in terror as the last kaminoian announced-

"His vitals are strong. You did it, Doctor. You have perfected the Recommissioning machine."

"Very well done, Lein- Ki. I am glad we can stop wasting such valuable product on this little project of yours." Lama-Su said, eyes full of joy. Rex looked at the CC's who where all fixated on -Cody-. He was being taken out of the machine, woozy for a moment before falling into perfect attention stance. One of the -long necks- said something, and he marched out of the room.

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Cold as Ice - Chapter 6 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Landon Reilly

Anne and Matthew Hanson were the type of parents I wished I had growing up.

It was clear they loved their son and did what they thought was best for him but they were also the type to own up to their mistakes.

If they had wronged their son, they would apologize to him and make things right.

They were a loving and affectionate couple, not afraid to show their love to each other or to their son.

My parents were never like that, so it took some getting used to when I moved in with the Hanson's.

That was why when I walked into the house after Wren had dropped me off, the hug I got from Anne was shocking but welcomed.

"Landon. I didn't know you were coming home this weekend," Anne said, squeezing her arms around my waist.

"What a pleasant surprise."

"Sorry I didn't call, it was sort of a last minute decision."

Anne pulled away from me and waved me off.

"You don't have to call first, this is your home."

Home, I didn't know if that was something I would ever get used to.

A place like this felt more like a home than mine ever did but it still didn't feel like mine.

I wasn't sure I would ever find a place that truly felt like mine.

"Landon?" Matthew asked, walking toward us with a smile.

The expression on his face instantly made me feel guilty for never calling him like Micah asked me to.

"Hi, um, I meant to call you," I started, awkwardly averting my gaze.

"But I've been... busy."

He waved me off.

"Don't worry about it. I know what college life is like."

I was sure he was imagining my college life a lot different than it actually was but this was better than me admitting I just didn't want to call him because I had no idea what I would say.

I was too used to my father only wanting to talk to me to make sure I was compliant with all his rules.

He never checked up on me out of care, only to make sure he could still control me.

"Yeah, my classes are keeping me busy," I said.

"And hockey's starting soon."

"Don't be afraid to ask for help if all becomes too much," Matthew said, Anne nodding in agreement.

"There are so many resources for class help. Go to tutors, get to know your professors. They'll help."

I nodded, though I knew I probably wouldn't take his advice.

This was a conversation Matthew and I had multiple times before I went off to school.

He had been concerned from the start and I knew his concern was much different than that of my own father.

My father was only concerned with hockey, wanting me to be the best, to beat everyone.

College, to him, was just a stepping stone to getting to the pros.

It was a dream of his that he never actualized, so now it was supposed to be mine.

"Are you hungry?" Anne asked after a moment.

"I'll cook something up."

"No, I'm fine," I said, shaking my head.

"I'm going to go hang out with Livi, so we'll probably eat then."

Anne nodded.

"Do you need some money?"

I shook my head.

"I have some."

I hated taking money from them but they didn't give me much of a choice.

Matthew wired money into my account every so often.

I tried not to spend it because I hated the fact that I had to rely on them financially but it wasn't like I could get a job during hockey season.

I put my things up in my room and then Matthew let me borrow his car so I could drive to the ice rink where Livi currently was for her figure skating practice.

I pulled around to the back of the building and saw her leaning against the back door.

Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her sweatshirt was zipped all the way up.

She was scowling down at the ground and I couldn't tell if she was angry or if that was just how she looked.

The both of us had severe resting bitch face, so it was hard to tell.

She looked up when she saw me stop in front of her and she smiled before getting into the car.

"Hey," she exclaimed, reaching over to wrap her arms around me.

"Hey," I said with a chuckle, patting her on the arm.

I moved the car and parked it out of the way behind the building.

It wasn't likely that our parents would be lurking around here but I didn't want to take any chances.

"How was practice?" I asked her.

Livi rolled her eyes.

"Sucked. Colleen Andrews is getting better than me every day. Dad wants me to go Tonya Harding on her."

"Of course, he does," I scoffed.

"You'd know all about that," she replied with a giggle.

That was the thing with our dad.

He wanted us both to be the best, no matter what it cost.

He'd have us injuring anyone better than us rather than just accepting the fact that they were.

That was what he wanted me to do last year at The Masters Tournament to Elijah Ellis and his team.

They were the better team and we would lose to them, everyone knew it.

Dad thought it would be a good idea for me to injure their best players before we had to play them, Dave was on board with injuring Elijah and Fox and I almost went through with it.

I had seen them at the pool one night and went there with some of my teammates with the intention of hurting them.

I shoved Fox but even as I did that, I knew I wasn't going to finish what I started.

Fox had overpowered me anyway but I knew there would be hell to pay with my father when he found out I didn't do anything, even if we ended up winning the game and even though he was angry with me for starting a fight on the ice, to him, it was better than coming back home a loser.

My father had turned me into an angry, violent person with no dignity or integrity and now he was trying to do the same thing to Olivia.

"I'm not going to do it," Livi added.

"Colleen's better than me, so what?"

That was how I knew my sister was so much better than I was.

"Don't let him force you into something like that," I said.

"He doesn't care about the consequences. He just wants you to win."

"I know, Mom's the same way," she replied with a sigh.

"Only she thinks Colleen's better than me because she follows a stricter diet and is in better shape than me. She tried to feed me plain oatmeal this morning and packed me lettuce and carrots for lunch. Not salad, lettuce."

I scoffed in response.

Our parents were crazy about just about everything, that included our diets.

When I lived at home, Dad watched what I ate like a hawk to make sure I followed the strict diet he laid out for me.

"So I put that lettuce on a nice, juicy burger," Livi told me, grinning as she let out a loud laugh.

I chuckled along with her but I still found it hard to think lightly of this situation.

Our mother basically wanted her daughter to starve.

"Other than that, they haven't been too awful, have they?" I asked, looking away from her.

I could see her stare at me through the corner of my eye.

"Nothing I can't handle," she said after a few moments.

"They're really strict about my phone because they don't want me talking to you and they try to force me to go to the rink every day but they're not nearly as hard on me as they were with you. Especially not Dad. He still thinks I'm his little princess."

"Well, let him think that," I told her, still looking straight ahead.

"You don't need him to start being hard on you."

I had no idea how he would treat Livi if he knew she had been in contact with me.

I would like to think he wouldn't be as harsh with her as he was with me but I wasn't too sure.

Livi pulled one knee up to her chest and tilted her head to look at me.

"You don't need to worry so much, you know," she said.

"He doesn't treat me like he treated you."

'Yet,' I thought but just nodded in response.

"Can we go get ice cream or something?" Livi asked.

"And you can tell me about college, about any cute boys."

She looked at me expectantly, her eyes wide with wonder and he grin taking up her whole face.

My eyes widened and I let out a breathy laugh, putting the car into drive.

"There are no cute boys," I told her.

"There has to be."

"Well, there isn't."

There would never be, I was content with being alone forever.

"You need to put yourself out there," Livi said as we pulled away from the rink.

"You'll find someone."

"I don't want anyone."

She looked at me like she didn't believe me but she dropped the subject.

The two of us went to a diner the next town over to hopefully avoid seeing anyone that knew our parents.

I ordered plain vanilla ice cream while Livi ordered some sugary mess and a plate of fries.

When we got to our table, she put the fries in the middle of the table and instantly dipped one into her ice cream.

My face scrunched in disgust.

"That's gross," I told her.

"You know what's gross?" she asked, popping the ice cream covered fry into her mouth.

"Plain vanilla ice cream. Boring."

She hummed in agreement, dipping another fry in her ice cream.

"You know they made Jimmy Murphy Captain of the hockey team for this season," Livi told me.

I tilted my head in confusion.

"What? Why? He's a junior."

He was only a year ahead of Livi in school and the two of them became friends last year when Livi started high school.

He was an okay kid, nothing special.

"There are rumors his dad is giving money to the school for the hockey team," she continued.

"And that's why they named him Captain before the season even started."

That would be enough to secure him as Captain.

If there was one thing private schools loved, it was getting money.

"Is that Elijah over there?" Livi asked, nodding her head toward a table across the room.

I slowly turned around and saw that it was Elijah and some kids and Fox and Wren.

I made eye contact with Elijah and he looked at me with a surprised expression before waving.

This caused the rest of the table to look over at me and I got looks of hatred from Fox and one of the girls.

Wren's mouth quirked up in a subtle, amused grin.

I tore my eyes away from them and looked back at Livi.

"Hurry up and finish your ice cream. We're leaving," I rushed out.

"Don't rush me."

"I'm serious," I hissed, giving her a stern stare.

"Hurry up or throw the rest away."

Livi rolled her eyes and stood up from the table, going to the counter.

The cashier handed her a box and plastic spoons.

She came back to the table and put the rest of her fries in the box and the two of us scurried out of the diner.

I didn't spare one last look at that table.

[sagau-fruit-bowl]

Hello you poor unfortunate souls. I have decided to write part five of What if SAGAU [Name] was the only 'god' actually cared about Teyvat.

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Masterlist

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

[Name] has kinda gotten sick of starting out chapters with their name, but a lot less sick of that than how sick they currently feel so it's happening anyway.

[Name] wasn't happy. That was a fact.

They wanted a picnic, they wanted rest, they wanted a week long vacation, THEY DID NOT WANT A HEADACHE AND TO BE PUKING THEIR LUNGS OUT ON COLD STONE GROUND!

[Name] didn't even have a chance to orient themselves. That dizzying and nauseating warmth filled their body and caused them to drop faster than Gamestop's market value.

Their vision had gone completely black as their head pounded like a four year old throwing a hissy fit. If this pain didn't stop, [Name] was going to act like a hissy fit throwing four year old.

When their vision slowly returned to them is when they began to throw up.

[Name] shoved the food they hand in hand to the side so it wouldn't be covered the stomach acid that was correctly burning their mouth and covering the stone steps below them.

The backpack on their shoulders shifted up towards their head as they curled up under to steps and as soon as they stopped losing what would have been their lunch, they sat up and winced at the back that slid backwards and slightly knocked them off balance.

They clenched their eyes shut, waiting for the pain to dissipate and once it faded, they opened their eyes to look around.

The first thing they saw was the stone stairs that they had made a mess up and they felt nauseous again at the idea of cleaning it up so they decided to ignore it for the time being. 

The second thing that caught their attention was the wide expanse of greenery in front of them.

Rocks and boulders decorated what seemed like a path but behind it was a field. A handful of trees were scattered around and the grass came to an end at what seemed like small cliffs. 

[Name] struggled to their feet, looking around and smiling slightly upon seeing their food hadn't been ruined. They'd eat today after all.

A brief thought passed through their head at the irony of worrying about food what they should be worried about finding out where they are.

… Right. Finding out where they are. They don't know where they are, [Name] realized with panic finally setting in.

What had happened? Were they kidnapped or something twisted of the like?

[Name] turned around to get a view of what was behind them and fill in the gaps of knowledge regarding their surroundings. 

When they turned and faced what was behind them, they took a moment to attempt to form coherent thought but all that left their mouth was 

"What the actual fuck?!"

Really awful last words if something went wrong if they do say so themselves but Oh well. It was really all they could think before they started rambling to themselves.

"Oh of all the acid trips to have, this is what I get. Teyvat. Staring at a statue of the bard bitch! Of course. Couldn't be Dawn Winery, couldn't be the Knights of Favonius headquarters, couldn't even be inside Mondstadt, no! I come to the middle of a dangerous field! Fuck my life! Fuck my life! The gods have no mercy because they are rat bastards!"

As they fumed in rage, they kicked the base of the statue, resulting in a yelp of pain when their foot hit the rock. 'Of course' they thought to themselves. 'Couldn't even get protagonist powers. Never gonna have a Y/N moment.' [Name] snickered at the fanfiction thought.

"Well, time to get moving." [Name] said to empty air, grabbing their food and being thankful that it was securely packaged so that they could put it into their bag, except for the mug cake, which they grabbed a fork for and took a bite from.

Name tried to decide on the best course of action as they stepped down the stairs, ignoring the mess they left from when they threw up. 'It's nature, I'm sure it'll rain and be gone in no time.'

After thinking it through, traveling to Mondstadt seemed like the best option, provided they weren't attacked on the way there.

Unfortunately, [Name] didn't have the best luck. As evidenced by the situation they're in but only becomes more and more obvious as what was supposed to be a simple walk becomes a lot more.

Let's start with the fact that the ground below them felt like quick sand, their feet sinking into what should be solid stone or well trodden dirt. 

Next, the number of animals that seemed desperate to get on [Name]'s nerves. Squirrels throwing acorns at them was not something [Name] ever thought they'd experience and birds purposely getting under foot wasn't helping them keep their balance.

[Name]'s mind momentarily related the situation of birds spreading out their feathers and squirrels tossing their food as being similar to padding the ground that royalty or holy figures would walk on… at least until their brain simply settled on them simply being an Disney anti-princess, driving the animals insane rather than calming them.

Squirrels chattered, birds squawked and cawed, even the boars grunted and tore up the ground with their tusks but [Name] had no interest in paying those unsettling sounds even an ounce of attention. 

Just get to Mondstadt, they repeated in their mind as their thoughts continued to sour.

Eventually they had enough when they tripped on another nut and nearly broke a bird's wing, scraping up their arms and shattering the mug they had held in their hands.

[Name] clenched their eyes closed at the pain of glass and dirt in their arms and inhaled in an attempt not to throw a fit as the animals began to creep closer.

They had finally had enough at the sound of a loud squawk from a bird and let out a blood curdling scream that was a mix of rage and pain… but the animals didn't flee, quieting down and calmly curling up next to their legs, smaller ones nuzzling their skin and larger ones gently coming in contact with their shoulders and face. 

After a moment, [Name] let out a shaky breath and opened their eyes, they knew they had to get the glass out of the wounds, but [Name] paused once more as they looked down at their arms.

There was no blood, there should have been blood, there was nothing… no, wrong, there was something, a shimmering silver liquid following from their arms and allowing a clear view of the damage.

If asked, [Name] couldn't explain why they pulled such a stupid move, but they reached up a hand to touch the damage. The muscle and flesh underneath was red but all that flowed out was clear, with a metallic sheen.

[Name]'s hand seemed to work against their better judgment, nails carefully grabbing hold of every shard of glass they could see.

They were brought out of this haze by a quiet caw from their left, looking over they spotted a crow, holding what seemed to be a sunsettia in its mouth.

It hopped over to [Name]'s side and dropped it in their lap.

It took everything in them not to try to pet the creature as they took the food and began to eat, eyes widening in shock as when they finished, gren text flashed in their vision.

+300 hp

The skin began to reshape itself, growing to cover the flesh and pull dust and dirt from the wound and leaving on the fully developed out layer of skin.

Oh.. Oh right, game mechanics. Does that make them a playable character? They passively mused before shaking off that thought, that should not be their main concern.

[Name] carefully placed a hand on the top of the nearest squirrel and gave it a soft smile and spoke with a gentle tone. 

"Thank you very much, little ones, but please, give travelers some space."

There was no purpose being cruel when the critters didn't understand their actions.

They would have likely said more if a gasp from their right didn't draw them out of their stupor.

A white and gold scarf was the first thing that caught their attention but the rest of the clothes were soon also noticed and their eyes locked onto honey colored hues that caused them to realize how much of a mess they likely truly looked like, surrounded by animals, likely sweating, probably has some cake stains or crumbs on their shirt, carrying a heavy bag and most definitely red faced from dissipating anger and exhaustion.

Well, [Name] told to themselves, if there was ever a bad time to make a bad impression, it was then and that was the best worst impression they could make, it couldn't get any worse from there on out.

So [Name] gave Aether a smile that looked a bit more like a grimace and focused back in on the animals. They could speak with the Traveler at any time, cuddling with animals was an appreciated rarity, at least until they were yanked away from their newfound fluffy friends and pulled to meet Aether's eyes.

In panic they attempted to pull away but his grip tightened and he spoke quietly "Say something again."

It wasn't a request, it was a demand. One [Name] wasn't stupid enough to disobey and simply let their mind flow.

"Really not worried about your reputation, huh alien boy?"

Okay, so, on second thought, maybe not answering would have been the better idea but hey! They didn't end up skewered on his sword so first impressions could have gone worse.

At least they thought so until he dropped to his knees, Paimon who had merely been floating around following suit, seemingly whispering to the Traveler.

Aether kept his eyes trained on the ground after his body dropped but he spoke just loud enough to be heard.

"Your Grace, our dearest Guide, thank you for allowing me the honor of being the first to meet you in person."

Well, [Name] told themselves, he might be clinically insane but at least that first impression wasn't as bad as they thought.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Part six

Well hey! I actually posted it! Way to go me!

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It's fun to write and seeing feedback makes me really really happy.

Feel free to like, comment, reblog, send in an ask or send in a request, or just DM me if my inbox doesn't work (I'm still figuring out this writing blog thing.)

Tag list! (Please ask if you want to be tagged in future chapters, also if you want to be tagged in headcanons and other The Guide related posts.)

@chihawari

@samuelftm

@mizuistrying

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 1204 (chapter 4)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad under the same name <3  

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

4. Shadows of the Past

A shadow passes somewhere on the roof, unnoticed by the three men.

"Listen, dude, I told you, I'm out of the stock tonight. I'm getting something on Tuesday but Lil Marco is not someone to be trusted on the business." A guy with a brown jacket leans on the doors of the shabby motel and inhales the cigarette smoke.

"Yeah, Marco ain't the man. We gotta replace him." Another man with long, greasy hair nods aggressively, smoking as well.

"No other idiot would want to risk his ass when the cops keep sniffing everything around. Marco will deliver it on Tuesday, my word." The bald guy puts his phone in the pocket of his jeans and drops the cigarette on the ground.

"Ay, listen, man, what happened to you?" The brown jacket guy points to the bald man's cheek.

"Some crazy chick wanted to burn a hole in my face." The latter spits.

"Eh, Jeff, that's shitty man. Did you get back at her?" Greasy hair asks, looking very interested in the sudden change of the topic.

"Yeah," Jeff blows a raspberry, "of course. That bitch will have to wear makeup for the rest of her life."

"Damn, right. Can't let them get on your head. I swear, they keep getting crazier and crazier." Greasy hair laughs, also dropping his cigarette on the ground.

"Alright, gentlemen, see you on Tuesday. If Marco ain't delivering that cocaine, I'm going to hang him on his balls." Brown jacket looks around a couple of times and the gets inside, closing the door quickly.

"Aight man, don't get yourself killed, or burned." Greasy hair taps Jeff's shoulder and disappears behind the garbage cans.

"Fucking idiots." Jeff mutters and gets going, whistling under his breath. Upon reaching a tunnel that takes a sharp turn left, he is met with a fist to the face and, shocked, drops to the ground.

"Hey, Jeff." a gruff voice says out of nowhere, and just a second later, regaining his sight, Jeff notices a man dressed in black.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Jeff backs up into the wall, hands spread out, gripping the cold stone.

"It's not nice, lying, Jeff. It's also not nice harassing women." Matt throws another punch, this time to the stomach, and Jeff drops to his knees, groaning loudly.

"Leave me alone, you freak!" he rasps out, feeling as if the organs inside of him have been rearranged.

"Like you left that girl near the bar alone?" Matt grabs him by the collar of his jacket. "Delivering drugs? I wonder how many years you and your pathetic friends would get behind the bars." Matt punches him again, aiming at his face, which soon becomes all bloody.

"I swear I'm not in this shit, just let me go."

"I think, Jeff, you'd look nice in a hospital bed." Matt punches him again, and again, letting out the rage he kept since the accident in the bar. Jeff barely makes a sentence, spitting blood and a couple of teeth out, desperately gripping Matt's leg. "I ever see you out there doing shit again, I'm not going to be so merciful, you trash." Matt pushes him to the ground with force, hearing how Jeff struggles to breathe in, almost choking on his blood, and a look of disgust paints his face. On his way out of the tunnel, Matt kicks Jeff in the leg, earning another pained groan.

Devil's job was done, but Hell's Kitchen never sleeps.

*** You sleep restlessly, tossing and turning in your bed, feeling as if every piece of material of your mattress is burning your skin.

Weird thoughts reach you in your dream, but you can't make the sense of them. Living in the world of Avengers with alien threats hasn't made your life easier. When you weren't busying yourself with all the paperwork and cases, intrusive thoughts crawled in your head, and you felt like this hour was going to be your last one on Earth, and any minute a huge alien ship was going to land on your firm's roof and destroy the whole Manhattan.

You sit up and look at your hands in the darkness, illuminated by the shy lights of the city that reach your bedroom. For a split second there's something dark on them, a red color, dripping on your white covers and thus, destroying them. You feel the sensation of thickness on your palms and blink a couple of times. Everything returns back to normal again. Sighing loudly, you fall back onto your pillow, and rub your eyes furiously until you begin seeing stars and dots. Drinking nights were not the best, especially when you didn't have where to put the suddenly built-up energy that alcohol gave you a couple of hours after drinking.

You felt like you could run the marathon or punch someone in the throat. Like that guy outside Josie's. Maybe you should really invest into a pepper spray.

You felt the sudden urge to call your parents. Your dad, mostly. He was the one who expressed his feelings through mostly silent nods of approval or disappointed shakes of his head. He was the one who made you the person you are now. Someone who puts feelings in the last place. And you saw nothing wrong with it. If it didn't involve you, it wasn't your problem. Maybe that was one of the factors that played a big role in you getting a job in Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz. The other one was your daddy's money.

Retired at the 'young' age of 50, the former head of police department, and brilliant detective did what every parent would do - anything for his child. You felt like you were in eternal debt to him, but you knew deep inside - he wouldn't hesitate to do the same again. He inspired you to choose lawyer's career, to establish yourself in the field and earn a good name for yourself. Your mother was just proud of her child and was a typical housewife - phenomenal cooking skills and never ending bag of hugs and kisses. And not a very useful advice, pulled straight from the heart.

You never wanted to be like her. You desired to be like your dad. Respected, trusted and Stoic. And that's exactly what you became. Or were trying to become. Although, Matt's words about your lack of compassion really didn't make things better.

Why did you care about what that catholic guy said about you? You never cared about what anyone had to say about you. Well, at first you did, until you... Didn't.

Maybe this was because Matt took a punch to his face? He didn't have to. You were perfectly handling things yourself. Probably.

You toss to the other side of the bed, cursing how big it is. Since your return to Hell's Kitchen, you lived alone, in this huge bed. Maybe you should really adopt a cat. Someone to keep you company in nights like this.

Uneasy feeling fills your chest. Something had happened. Something the news will talk about this week. The beginning of something much, much bigger.

While you finally succumb to sleep, Matt makes his way to the church. Ready to pour out his heart in a confession. Because Father is the only one he trusts with his deepest secrets. For now.