#he's a stupid impressive mimic

[incendiorum]

you're doing important things. i'm planning on trying to teach a starling how to say fuck. we are not the same

[retaurd]

please specify in tags whether or not anyone in your family does this, if you do mimicry and/or impersonation, when/why/what kinds of voices and noises you do. and anything else you want to include

[bywandandsword]

I'm listening to the Red Dragon audiobook, and the one thing I take issue with is that the narrator gives every other southerner an accent, but not Will Graham. None of the adaptations give him an accent. The man grew up poor in rural Louisiana and spent the first part of his career in New Orleans! He's gonna have some sort of accent!

He can be brilliant profiler that Hannibal is interested in or in love with and be a southerner with a southern accent, I promise!

[helaintoloki]

Family Dinner

pairing: Five x reader ft the Hargreeves siblings

warnings: the usual Hargreeves siblings chaos

notes: fulfilling a request asking for a shy!reader meeting Five’s siblings for the first time. it was actually very hard squeezing in so many characters into one piece

summary: despite trying his best to avoid it, Five is forced to introduce you to the family

The last thing Five wanted was for you to meet his family. If he could, he’d do everything in his power to keep you away from the chaos and stupidity that was his siblings forever. He didn’t need them overwhelming you with their quarreling or reminding you of how utterly tumultuous his home life was, and he felt an unwavering need to keep you separate from the Umbrella Academy. You were the one thing he didn’t have to share with his siblings, the one thing he had earned on his own without his powers, and the one thing that was normal in his life. He would do anything to keep his life from tainting your innocence by all means.

The discovery of your existence by his family had been completely accidental. When visiting his new apartment for the first time, Allison and Klaus had stumbled upon a framed photograph that Five had forgotten to stow away before their arrival. In the frame was a beautiful girl with kind features and a gentle smile, her arms lovingly draped around Five’s neck as he held her to his side and forced a lopsided grin for the camera. They knew Five had always hated photos, but it seemed here that he was willing to set aside his disdain for being photographed to please this mystery girl.

“What are you two looking at?” Five demanded after stumbling upon them staring down at the frame. Eyes widening when he realizes just exactly what the two are looking at, he quickly snatches the photo from Klaus’s grasp and holds it protectively against his chest. “I can’t believe this, I was gone for two minutes and neither of you could manage to stay out of my things.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a girlfriend?” Klaus asks, voice laced with mock offense as he clutches at his chest to mimic being wounded.

“The details of my personal life are none of your concern,” Five grits through clenched teeth, his tone dripping in annoyance at their snooping and frustration at being caught red handed. How could he have been so sloppy? Five had always been meticulous about every minute detail and keen at covering his tracks when needed, and yet he had failed to protect the most important secret he held.

“She’s gorgeous,” Allison tells him in hopes of assuaging her agitated brother, “and she looks really sweet. Why would you hide something like this?”

“This may come as a shock to you, Allison, but you guys aren’t exactly great at first impressions,” he explains condescendingly with a tight lipped smile, doing his best to hold back the urge to use more colorful language and insults. “The last thing I need is for you guys to start hashing out old childhood issues in front of her and scare her off.”

“Ouch, okay, noted,” she replies with a displeased frown. “But that’s still no excuse to keep your relationship a secret. I know we’re not always the most reliable bunch, but obviously this girl is important to you, Five, and if that’s the case then she’s important to us, too. Just give us a chance to prove ourselves- bring her to my place Friday for dinner so we can all get introduced.”

Five is silent as he mulls over Allison’s offer, doubt clear on his features as he considers all the possible ways a family dinner with you could go. While there are a million ways for it to go wrong, he’s able to acknowledge the plausibility of it being a success. As much as he hated to admit it, his sister did have a point. They weren’t always completely unreliable, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think spending time with his siblings could actually be pleasant at times. And it’s not like you haven’t been questioning him already about his family and the details of his childhood. Perhaps it was time to finally bite the bullet.

“You get one chance,” Five finally relents in a firm tone, pointing his finger at them both in warning. “Do not screw this up.”

“How exciting!” Klaus gasps with an enthusiastic clap of his hands. “Oh, I have the perfect dish for this occasion.”

As Allison and Klaus immediately begin to discuss the details of Friday’s dinner, Five can only force himself to quell his panic as best as possible and hope that you’re able to stand his family.

~~~

You fidget nervously with the pendant of your necklace as Five swiftly parks the car in front of Allison’s home. It’s beautiful, and by the looks of the warm lights that glow through the window it seems the festivities have begun. Despite your boyfriend having already turned off the car, you make no attempt to move, prompting Five to reach over and gently take hold of your hand in his.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you in the softest voice he can manage. “These idiots are more worried about impressing you than you are about impressing them.”

“They’re not idiots, they’re your siblings,” you reprimand him gently before finally mustering up the courage to step foot out of the car. “And despite how much you act like they annoy you I know you really care about them. I just want it to go well is all.”

Five can’t really argue with that- sometimes he hates how easily you’re able to read him. It’s a feat not many can accomplish, and yet you managed to do so in record time. It’s also just another thing he adores about you; you see him like no one has before, and your gentle nature and levelheadedness perfectly balance out his tense and combative personality. You’re good for him, and he hopes his siblings see the good in you too.

The door swings open before you can press the doorbell and immediately you find yourself being pulled into the tightest hug of your life. A gasp of surprise leaves you at the sudden intrusion, and it takes everything in Five to resist the urge to immediately pry his sister off of you. He stares daggers at her innocent smile behind your back, but she merely waves him off before pulling away to look at you.

“It is so good to finally meet you!” She exclaims cheerfully, excitement clear in her tone. “I’m Allison. Come in, come in.”

You aren’t able to get in a word edge-wise as the woman practically drags you into her home and begins to show you around. A pleasant smelling aroma fills the house from the food that cooks in the kitchen, and animated chatter drifts throughout the hallways as the siblings gather and catch up on each other’s lives.

“Please make yourself at home and let me know if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you, a-and thank you for having me,” you offer with a meek smile, your hands nervously wringing together in front of you. “I’ve heard so much about you all and it’s finally nice to put faces to the names. I’m y/n.”

“Well then, welcome to the family y/n,” Allison notes with a wink before disappearing into the kitchen. You almost jump in surprise when you feel Five’s hand rest against your lower back as he leads you into the living room to meet the rest of his siblings.

“Ready to enter the lion’s den?” He whispers under his breath, and for a moment you genuinely can’t decipher whether or not he’s joking.

Three men and a woman sit on the couch animatedly discussing the contents of the television show playing on the screen before turning silent at your arrival. The sudden attention makes you nervous, your throat drying up as you harshly swallow down your anxiety.

“Luther, Diego, Lila, I’d like to introduce you to my… girlfriend,” Five utters after clearing his throat, obviously not familiar with the process of introducing a partner to family. He was still fairly new at this relationship stuff and still struggled at times with opening up. If he didn’t care about you so much he probably wouldn’t even bother, so you appreciate his efforts. “Y/n, these are my brothers and my sister-in-law.”

“Girlfriend, huh? This is certainly an upgrade from the last one,” Diego teases with a wry chuckle.

“Wasn’t the last one a mannequin?” Lila prompts with a raised brow much to Five’s dismay.

“Shut it,” he warns through clenched teeth, heat crawling up his neck at the mention of Delores. Leave it to those two to bring up his past at the worst time.

“A mannequin?” You repeat unsurely, your features contorted in confusion. Five’s eyes widen in panic, but Luther is quick to change the subject on Five’s behalf.

“It’s nice to see Five with someone for a change,” he notes with a nervous chuckle in hopes his comment redirects your attention off of the previous topic. “How did you two meet?”

“I work at a coffee shop in town,” you explain with a sheepish smile, and Five visibly relaxes beside you as you start to recount the beginnings of your relationship. A crisis has been avoided thanks to Luther, and for once Five is grateful for his brother’s conversational skills. “I was the only one who could make his coffee exactly the way he liked it, so he became a regular and would stop by every time I was working. We got to talking, one thing led to another, and, well, here I am.”

“Well, I for one think you are much too good for him,” Lila points out to the boy’s annoyance, “but seeing him less uptight and ornery is a pleasant change.”

“Thank you for that lovely observation, Lila,” Five retorts sarcastically with a roll of his eyes before escorting you out of the living room before the woman can embarrass him any further.

“Did you really date a mannequin?” You whisper curiously only for Five to immediately redden at your question.

“Let’s not hash out my dating history just right this second,” he instructs you before entering the dining room where a man has just finished setting down a heavy centerpiece on the table while another watches.

“Hmm, a little more to the left,” the one with curly hair and heavy eyeliner instructs while scrutinizing its placement. His eyes glance over the table before landing on you and Five in the doorway, and he immediately gasps before rushing over to greet you. “You must be y/n! Oh, it is so lovely to meet you. I’m Klaus, Five’s favorite brother, of course.”

“I don’t ever recall saying that,” Five points out with a raised brow and amused smile. Klaus simply rolls his eyes and waves his brother off with a tsk.

“You don’t have to, I can see it in your face,” he dismisses before returning his attention to you. “And that handsome man over there is our sweet brother Viktor.”

“Hey,” Viktor offers with a timid smile and small wave. “Nice to see you, welcome to family dinner.”

“Thank you,” you reply gratefully, “it’s nice to finally meet you all.”

“Well, not all of us. A certain someone thinks he’s too good for family dinner,” Klaus huffs in annoyance before turning his attention back to the centerpiece. “Does that look centered to you?”

“It looks perfect. I love the arrangement you’ve made,” you compliment much to Klaus’s delight.

“Finally someone with taste!” He gasps before draping an arm around you much to Five’s dismay and guiding you back to the kitchen. “Come, come little one, you can help me pick which napkins to use.”

Watching your figures disappear into the hallway, Viktor glances at Five before stating, “I don’t think you’ll be getting her back for a while.”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” the boy sighs in displeasure before heading towards Allison’s liquor cabinet for a drink.

~~~

Much to Five’s surprise, dinner goes off without a hitch. The food is lovely, the conversation is pleasant, and despite your usually shy demeanor you were able to open up rather quickly to his siblings. It was obvious the family took a great liking to you, and his original worries about them scaring you off had been proven irrational and untrue.

From his seat on the couch Five watches as you animatedly converse with Luther and Klaus about a new bakery that just opened up in town, your smile never once leaving your face and their interest in your words never once dwindling. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you talk this much, and the sight brings a comfortable warmth to his chest at seeing you happy.

“See? This wasn’t so bad, was it?” Allison goads with a pleased smile. “Everyone had a nice time and y/n fits right in.”

“As much as I hate to say it, I’m sorry for doubting you,” Five relents with a soft smile. “This was nice.”

“And we like y/n, so don’t mess this up,” Lila warns him with a facetious shove to his shoulder. Annoyed by her words, Five rolls his eyes and shrugs away from her touch before refocusing his gaze on you. Your eyes meet for a brief second as you glance out into the living room, and you flash him a quick smile before looking back to Klaus who enthusiastically grabs hold of your hands and begins to demand a trip to the bakery with you while Luther attempts to insert himself into the plan. Despite how annoying his family can be at times, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bring a smile to see his face to see them all get along with the girl he loves.

“Trust me,” he utters carefully, his voice so uncharacteristically tender it takes the two women by surprise, “I’ll do anything to keep her around for as long as I live.”

[cherry-leclerc]

the set up ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, humor, parent trip vibes from oscahhh, strangers to lovers (bc of course it is), uni!reader

word count: 2.12k

Caught up in work, you find time to join your friends at the McLaren welcome dinner; meeting a certain British driver along the way. Whom you don't make the best first impression with.

req!...oscar+lily playing matchmakers? cute cute cuteeee. quick one for my lando lovers mwahhh

It takes a lot to convince you; like—a lot. Partial credit is due to your pride, but honestly, it drove your friends mad. 

Let's go out and celebrate! Just a good ‘ol round of drinks. I have to study. Maybe next time.

Oh! I heard of this new place down the street where you custom make your own jewelry. Fun, no? I have enough already, thank you.

Five minutes—let’s just go grab coffee! Too tired. Go on without me.

“It’s my welcome dinner, mate. You can’t do this to me now.” Oscar’s brown eyes flicker between you and his girlfriend, to which she apologetically shrugs. Deep down, it's like she can forehear your excuse. An essay is due, your internship, helping out at your local library. There's been too many times where you’ve flaked, and they were starting to worry. The pile of clothes makes her wince as you greedily type away. 

“I-I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“Reckon you don’t have anything on your agenda that is as important as you make it out to seem,” he hums. Narrowed eyes burn down, flipping your screen towards him.

 Compile a series of current events…BLAH BLAH BLAH. He stops caring, already bored.

“I wish I could—seriously, Oscar—but I’m needed elsewhere.” A beat. “Lily will keep me updated! Go Mango!”

The Australian rolls his eyes, sharp brows expanding with desperation. “Papaya, mate, papaya.” You giggle, mimically apologizing. The clicks continue; round eyes laser focused. He tries getting your attention once more, but you don’t look up at him at all. The driver’s girlfriend purses her pink lips, crossing her legs gingerly against the couch.

“I can help you write your paper. All of it. Just please, come with us.” Blue eyes wink back as you come to a halt, temptation swirling. “We’re your friends and we want you there. Pretty please?”

The McLaren rookie thinks it has to do with his girlfriend's cute pout, but that is so far from it. It was well known that Lily Zneimer had a wicked talent for conducting a killer research essay. From her resources, to her dialogue. It’s astonishing how smoothly it gets done too. With her, it’s a guaranteed pass. Now that was what you needed. 

Berry lips twist back and forth for a second before stretching out. “Touch up on globalization effects in different cultures and we have ourselves a deal.”

-

The paper was coming along so perfectly that you almost wanted to cry. Your eyes buzz with excitement as you jot down a row of bullet points, conversing with Lily before settling on what to write. 

“This is not what I had in mind when you both made this stupid pact,” Oscar groans for the millionth time as he passes by, spotting you and his girlfriend crouched down on a table; computer, notebook, pencils, index cards, books—everything—in hand.  

“Mate, this is worth half of my grade,” you shriek, jotting a few more possible ideas. Finally, your dazy orbs connect back onto him. “As in fifty percent.” You gag. “Do you realize how terrifying that is?”

Lily shoos him. “We’re almost done anyway, darling. Go enjoy the party.” The Australian’s jaw drops and she huffs, raising her neat brows. “Go, go, goooo.”

Despite his girlfriend and his best friend ignoring him, he has a splendid time. He curses beneath his breath when a large hand sprawls against his back. Lando laughs. “Don’t worry, my date ditched me too,” he teases, blue eyes sparkling against the fuzzy lights. The rookie sighs plainly.

“I wasn’t ditched—'' He angles his head to face back to where you and the dirty blond hunch over, whispering, attention drawn onto the bright screen. A few people even go as far as to try and take a peek, probably thinking you were working on anything McLaren. “Yeah, uh, I guess you could say I was ditched.”

His teammate rubs his watch a couple or times, nothing but music lingering between them. No one really speaks up until Lily delicately makes her way. Oscar tilts his head politely. “Done?”

“No quite yet, but she has it all under control.” She faces the British driver with a sheepish line formed between her pink lips. “Hello, you must be Oscar’s new teammate.” A beat. “I’m Lily.”

“Lando,” he can feel himself proclaiming. “I thought she was Lily…” A lousy fingers points over to you. They both let out a weak chuckle. That’s my friend from back home, Oscar confirms. Her and Lily are super close, too. She beams, light blush feathering her full cheeks.

All of a sudden—the Australian sparks up. “Come, let me introduce you two.”

The twenty-four doesn't really have anything better to do; business convos that have him apologizing profusely, cameras being shoved straight into his face, girls who never get the hint. “Sure.” 

First thing he notices is the faded scar that hugs the bridge of your nose. It's almost completely gone—and he really shouldn’t even be able to spot it—but it's there, almost a glassy color that shines back at him. He notices how quick you are at typing, fingers flying at a constant speed. He’s impressed. Or the way you barely spare him a glance. 

“Don’t be rude, he’s talking to you,” Oscar hisses as he and Lily tower over you like a strict parent duo. You can distinguish the panic that laces through her when you didn’t first respond, too worried at making a bad impression, even if it wasn't her leaving it behind. 

“Of course, I…um, I’m sorry—shit!” The laptop blinks back at you as a warning before settling in its death. A groan slips by, hands pressing harshly against the keys, then the screen. Nervously, you look up at Lily, biting your bottom lip. “What do I do? What should I do? What should I do?”

“Charge it when we get back,” Oscar advises, still waiting for you to greet the older McLaren driver. Lando stands back amused. “As I was saying—”

“It’s due at midnight, dimwit!” It’s eleven-fifteen. “I need to find a charger.”

“O-okay, lets just all calm down.” Lily turns to her boyfriend. “You always carry one with you, let her borrow it.” He winces. Only during races, sweetheart, not an important event. She rubs her temples, curly hair running against the wind. “Let’s just calm down!” she screeches.

“Not helping,” you wail. “That’s it—I’m leaving.”

Oscar is quick on his feet, already tugging you to stay firm. “We haven't even gotten to the speech!” A familiar fire rushes through your orbs, burning him along the way. I don’t give a shit about that right now! I need to turn this in. 

“I’m sure Charlotte has one,” a friendly voice slides in, leaving you three to turn and face it. Lando awkwardly shrugs. “She’s really well organized, you know her. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I go with you?”

Blue eyes shift over, surprised to hear you speak. Anxiously, you bounce up and down against your heels. He gulps. “Of course.” He turns back to the Australian, who is busy comforting his girlfriend as if it was her grade on the line. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s a sort of tension that hangs steadily—or maybe he’s the only one who thinks so—but he tries his best to push past it. Of course, he was right, and Charlotte did have an extra charger, so that’s quite nice. As if this were the one and only resource of water in a hot desert night, you immediately take it from him, plugging it fiercely.

“You don’t know how grateful I am. You’re an absolute angel.” You’re quick to pick up where you left off. If you try hard enough, you can remember exactly what you need in order to have it done in a few minutes. 

“Glad I could help.”

He should probably leave, he thinks. He’s done all he could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat across from you, contently closing his eyes as the sound of your keys brings him to a deep sleep. The sound of a computer shutting gently is what nudges him awake. You grimace. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more quiet.”

Lando scrunches his eyes, rubs them for a couple of minutes. “It’s alright. You done?”

“Yes. Just in time—you really saved my ass, thank you again.”

A large hand waves you off, reclining against his comfortable spot. “You’re pretty dedicated to your work,” he mutters.

“I sort of have to be if I want to graduate on time and on top of my game. All those sleepless nights couldn’t have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t really know you that well…but I hope you pass,” he says. “Lando, by the way—you were probably too busy to catch it the first time.” He cocks his head to the side, a cheesy grin playing out. “And the second, as well.”

You giggle, shaking his humid hand. You don’t even seem to mind. “Third times a charm, no?”

“It appears it is.”

-

The objective was quite clear. Get you to leave your rotting bed. It was astounding how long you could go without getting up. You always blame it on the fact that—I’m finally done with my most important courses and I can sleep all I want—and—I never wake you up, now do I?

So, naturally, when they march into your room, flashing a phone—you curl a full brow. “What am I looking at?”

Oscar smiles. “Save his number. Right now.”

Lando Norris—winks back at you, digits causing a migraine to stir. You huff, reaching out for the blankets once again. “And why would I do that?”

Lily hums. “I tried to stop him, I really did.”

Beady eyes peek demandingly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s really just one date—”

“What?”

“And if it doesn’t work out—”

You sit up straight and agitated. “What?”

“—then you won’t ever have to see him again?” The Australian flinches at your cold stare. “He thinks this was your idea…because I told him it was, but…” He winces harder. “Don’t make me look bad and please go!”

Lily squeals when you fling up, hunting him down your flat. “I am going to kill you!”

-

The Brit beams sweetly at you, pinching his hand a couple of times to pump his circulation that was suddenly lacking. “I’m a bit surprised you wanted to see—”

“This was all Oscar’s idea.” He blinks and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I think he does it because the third-wheel act is starting to get to him. Asshole,” you hiss at the thought of the rookie.

Lando coughs, playing with his bracelets. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I want to be here.” Now it’s your turn to stare back at him, caught off guard. He chuckles. “I take it you haven’t gone on a proper date in a while?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” he yawns. “Oscar told me.”

Pounding your fist against the table, you yelp. “That little—he wants to ruin my life, I see.” You force a tight smile. “I’ve been busy with work…and…I’m—” A flash goes off from somewhere far away and you flinch. “A total catch. Like—total.”

Blue eyes flicker to the careful watchers surrounding the restaurant. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Good,” you respond, finally allowing yourself to rest easy. You raise a sharp brow. “Don’t you get tired of this?”

A few murmurs dance across the room, blinding lights continue. He sighs apologetically. “Right now I am. Let’s get out of here?”

You blush. “The bill…”

“My friend owns the place. I’ll pay him later.” He grabs your hand. “Let's go.”

The moment you slip into his car, panic rises fast. “I don’t hook up on first dates,” you spit out. “It’s not in my nature, I-I-I would rather get to know the person—”

“Then let’s get to know one another. I wasn’t looking for anything like…that,” he whispers, timidly. His blue eyes burn against yours. “I only wanted the chance to get to know you now that you don’t have your nose pressed up against a screen.”

A kind smile. “Okay.”

The more you two converse inside his crowded vehicle, the more you find yourself giggling against the rich seat. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Norris.”

“Thank God,” he jokes. “It’s working.”

Another giggle erupts when you nod. You’re sure that you're flustered, burning bright red from all his pick up lines, but you don’t have the strength to look away. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk. For real this time,” you add, sheepishly. 

“So am I.” 

And something inside of him tells him this isn’t the last.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[ieatedyourcrayons]

what about a mcyt x reader headcannon where reader is like a streamer who mostlly plays roblox andlike she cant even kill a zombie in minecraft cause im big on roblox and i js do creative in minecraft!

Thanks for the request! I love doing these!

Various!Myct x Fem!Reader

Quackity, Karl, Sapnap, Caseoh, and tommyinnit

Quackity

-Quackity would definitely play roblox with you

-Quackity likes terrorizing little kids on any roblox game you guys play.

-Definitely hides behind you in horror games and beg you to go first.

-“NO NO I CANT GO!” he would yell with fake sadness and fear as he hides his character behind yours.

-In any combat game or any game where you can kill other players , he stays spawn camping you, he definitely targets you. until you finally kill him and he gets salty about it lmao

-He hates streaming it because fans keep trying to join and lagging whatever game you guys are playing.

Karl jacob’s

-Karl loves roblox, he probably begs you to play with him.

-Karl only likes the obbys though, like the goofy “2000 levels!” or the cart ride games.

-will definitely get sapnap to play with you guys, and it ends up with them jumping you in every game.

-Yall definitely stay up all night playing games and yelling about them over a discord call, The stream is like 6 hours atp

Sapnap

-Sapnap didn’t want to at first. thought he was too good for a “children’s game”

-Once you showed him the home page and all the games you and your fans like he caved.

-He has a love for the shooter and racing games. always making you play at least 3 rounds with him if you guys log onto roblox.

-Hates obbys. absolutely despises them, definitely complaining about every time you or Karl have the audacity to mutter the word “Obby”

-Secretly loves dress to impress, he will never admit it though

CaseOh (why not)

-100% yes. if anything he’s asking you to play roblox with him

-caseoh isn’t the best at minecraft either so you’re not alone

-He makes you play dress to impress for HOURSS

-he’s definitely down for horror games, loves playing the Mimic, even though he rages at it so much.

Tommyinnit

-Definitely takes some convincing

-He’s traumatized from the few times he’s played with Schlatt and jack

-He only plays the stupid games that make zero sense

-probably loves the doom-spire brick battle games

[angrykittybarbarian]

Things that bother me about Dragon Age: The Veilguard part 3 (final thoughts)

I have finally finished the playthrough. I endured because I wanted to give this game a fair chance. I wanted to see it from start to finish in the hopes it would deliver something, anything capable of redeeming it. But it just didn't. Or more precisely, not in a way sufficient to make its flaws easy to overlook. These are my closing impressions on the game. I have already done two posts about this in which I documented my observations and comments as I progressed. I will link the posts here: Part 1, Part 2.

Let's finish this ride for now.

!Spoilers below the cut!

The music

I don't know what the direction of the music was meant to take. When it was announced Hans Zimmer would compose the OST I had high hopes. Hans Zimmer is a houshold name in Hollywood and skilled at what he does. I listened to a number of movie OSTs of his making and they were all excellent. So what happened here?

The music sounds generic most of the time without a clear theme or a unique piece that got me searching for it on youtube.

The main theme has sort of a recognizable composition but isn't anything outstanding. Emmrich's theme sounds like a halloween piece written for Wednesdsy Adams and the rest of the OST seems to mimic Trevor Morris' work for DA:I, namely the Lost Temple and In Hushed Whispers themes, but without the emotional impact the original pieces created.

It's as someone has already pointed out and I agree: Bioware has bought the name Hans Zimmer but not his quality. It sounds like he didn't even seriously create something but half heartedly whipped something out of his sleeve and called it a day.

The facial animations

The main problem with these is they often don't fit the emotions the VAs are communicating.

The VAs actually did a fantastic job. The scene that touched me the most was the one Rook confronts Solas in after they escape the regret prison in the fade. That was the first time Rook felt involved, raw and real.

But what broke the atmosphere in an otherwise flawless scene was how unmoving their facial expression was. There was the VA shouting their lung out and the animation couldn't even give half a fuck about it.

I don't even see an excuse for this lack of facial animation. It was possible to do since DA:O, hell, even since the first Mass Effect back in '07. Why is it not possible in the year of our Lord 2024, when technology is presumably better?

The handholding of the player

The plot is tightly paced. This is not necessarily a bad thing as I didn't really like the Open World approach of DA:I since it stretched the main plot too thinly and the maps created weren't filled with interesting side content but boring and pointless fetch quests.

But Veilguard went into the opposide extreme as it leaves only little room for the player when and how to do things. The quests are activated and must be completed in a specific order. They have also only one outcome without room to make different decisions.

Rook can never be truly ruthless. They can never disagree and butt heads with their companions.

And I hate how on the side of the screen the game exactly tells you what you have done and how it affects your companions' behaviour. It doesn't bake it into the interaction organically. Instead it has yet again, explained to me what I did and why it has this very specific effect without any of the characters discussing it. But the beauty of consequential decisions lies in the very unpredictability of its outcome. That's what creates the emotional impact. It doesn't work if I am being warned and explained to like a small child.

It's this lack of trust the game puts into the intelligence of its players that is so experience breaking, insulting even. It doesn't trust its players to figure stuff out themselves. It assumes we are too stupid to get any of the things it tries to tell us.

The ting is though, dear Bioware writers, if you think you have to overexplain your story because you think your audience won't get it then that's a telltale sign of the story being actually badly written.

Another area where this becomes appearant are the "puzzles". I used the quotation marks because there isn't really anything to solve. The solutions are obvious and at times your companions go out of their way to tell you.

The romances

Romances have always been a nice bonus on top of the otherweise amazing game content. They added some enjoyable extra fluff purely for enjoyment and some cases even deepened the main storyline.

In Veilguard they don't do that. In almost all of them the flirting is so meaningless that your cutscene with them just proceeds as if nothing happened.

There is no shift or change to their tone towards Rook. You don't build up the relationship with them. There is no last goodbye kiss before the last mission or passionate affirmations of love and trust. It just leaves you cold.

The only romance that seems to have that old depth is Emmrich's. The rest however, they don't add anything significant. There virtually is no difference to the game without the romances.

Companion relationships

Let's begin here with the simple fact that all deeper interactions Rook has with the companions are strictly scripted which ties back into the handholding part of this criticism. Rook cannot initiate a conversation and ask them some general questions about their histories and opinions on certain matters.

Rook only gets to interact with them when they happen to want something from them. Otherwise they cannot be bothered to acknowledge Rook with more than a one sided oneliner.

And then there are the relationships between the companions themselves. They either get along swimmingly or the game feels the need to stage some immature conflict between them without any deeper purpose.

Like Harding not understanding why Emmrich brings so many books on the road despite it literally not being any of her damn business bevause it doesn't personally affect her in any way.

Or Taash not understanding his profession as a Mournwatcher as they call him names so Rook has to point out Taash in turn likes dragons which is an interest he doesn't share only to culminate the discussion with a "We need to respect our differences" sort of statement.

These are not conflicts, these are squabbles of children and like children Roik talks to them which is brought ad absurdum with Emmrich because he is literally old enough to be Rook's father.

Why bother at all with writing conflict if it is only to be something as inconsequential as this?

Varric's death

This one is a .... choice.

I won't go into why the decision to let him die or not is good or bad because I feel like this is highly subjective.

However the impact of the reveal of this fact is only partly executed well.

Why?

Because it only hits hard when the player has known and cared about Varric at least since DA:I if not DA 2. The execution of this plotpoint thus relies too heavily on nostalgia instead of building the tension up within its own setting.

When thinking about Bioware also wanting to be newcomer friendly with this game I am left to wonder then why they didn't introduce Varric properly and didn't give the players time to build up the relationship? Why would a new player care about Varric? They don't know him.

Bioware cannot in good conscience claim they designed the game to be new player friendly while simultaniously heavily relying on knowledge from previous games, dlcs, comics, novels and other spin-off media. They cannot claim this and have anything but DATV do the heavy lifting when it comes to executing their plot.

The final mission

For my final point I also want to lose some positive feedback about this game.

The ending was actually well written.

In relation to Solas it comes full circle. You can actually feel what's at stake and the decisions Rook makes actually matter.

The final questline roughly follows a Mass Effect 2 approach where it is classified as nothing short of a suicide mission.

Companion quests essentially function as loyalty missions and Rook gets to assign various posts in battle. Just like in Mass Effect 2 assigning a companion a post completely outside of their expertise may get them killed.

The dialogue is actually written well at this point in the game. There isn't really much to complain about.

But even this part is not entirely without faults.

For one I don't like the non negotiable sacrifice that has either to be made by Harding or Davrin. Rook doesn't even get a chance to save any of them. But again these non negotiable companion deaths where you only make the choice who's it's going to be isn't anything new (i.e. Hawke and whatever Warden you happen to get, Kaidan/Ashley in ME 1). So maybe a bit if a bummer but nothing experience breaking.

A stronger point however is that Rook will always keep the Veil intact in the end.

I suppose this outcome already is part of the game title itself but was it necessary to take it so literally?

With everything the elves have lost and the discrimination they faced it should absolutely have been an option to agree with Solas and tear the Veil down.

But since we don't talk about racism and slavery I guess Rook doesn't reflect on these points either. So I guess keeping the Veil intact is in line with the game's general sanitization of the world.

So in conclusion?

The game is far from great, not gonna lie. It feels like the devs actually wanted a new IP but were too afraid of the risks that come with such an endeavor and thought gutting an existing franchise that already did the heavy lifting of building a fanbase and using it as a package would save their ideas from flopping. Surely no one will notice it is actually something else if we market it as Dragon Age, right?

But we are not that stupid. This behaviour is insulting to put it plain and simple and I am heartbroken, angry and said that this was done to Dragon Age. I wanted to love this game. I was optimistic before the release. Everything looked fine, nothing in particular to worry about.

But I cannot continue to defend this without breaking my basic brain function.

The most frustrating part is that with the ending the devs showed they can write a story and meaningful dialogues. It left me wondering why it couldn't be done like this for the rest of the game and living with the reality that I will never get what this game could have been.

All in all this is not a good Dragon Age game. It is a massive disappointment and does not live up to the promises made by the devs.

I am sorry for everyone who preordered.

I am sorry for everyone who paid the full release price.

Nominating it for Game of the Year is not justified no mattee how you look at it.

If you are genuinely enjoying the game, I hope you continue to do so and all power to you.

For the rest: let's stop excusing Bioware's disrespect towards the fans and enabling them by paying them too much money for it.

Don't buy at release. Don't buy spin off media. Wait for sales. These people only understand the problem when you give them a good run for their money.

[blossomarlia]

heyyyy hope ur having a good day, just requesting a drabble (if ur up to it) w maybe like James and a reader who feels like she has bad fashion taste, kind of niche so don't worry if u don't want to write it!

hii tysm for this request, it was so fun to write! hope your day is wonderful too <3

summary: james finds you stressing over your fashion sense

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: mild sexual implications

“Hey, sweetheart?” James calls as he comes out of the shower. You look up from your spot on the bedroom floor glumly, barely even able to make the most of this opportunity to look at your boyfriend with his shirt off. Perhaps if you ask him later on he’ll take it off again, just to make up for lost time. 

“Hi,” You say, unsuccessfully attempting to insert some cheer into your voice. “Sorry, not dressed yet.”

“We’ve ages before we need to leave- you can go like that, if you want to.” He shrugs, eyebrows knitting together as he takes in your expression. You look down at your outfit; track-pants and a t-shirt out of James’ drawer. Definitely not appropriate attire for meeting friends for dinner and drinks. “Everything alright?”

“I don’t have anything to wear,” You sigh, sounding pathetic even to your own ears. The countless skirts, pants and tops strewn across your bedroom floor are evidence to the opposite, and you know you have nice clothing. Supply isn’t the issue, it’s your apparent lack of ability to select the right combination. “I can’t put together a nice outfit.”

“Sure you can,” James says easily, pulling on boxers and a t-shirt before joining you on the floor, his knee pressing against your thigh. “What about that lovely wrap skirt you wore to my parents’ house for lunch?”

“I don’t know what to wear it with.” You stare dejectedly at the offending item of clothing, which you’ve tried on with about six tops- including the one from last weekend- and taken off again. Nothing looks right, nothing feels like something you’d want to show up to dinner in. Shamefully, you’re struck with jealousy towards your other friends; Lily, with her grown-up outfits that might as well live in a fashion catalogue; Marlene always so effortless and cool; Mary in figure-hugging fabrics that make her look like a goddess. You don’t have the same ability, it seems, instead left totally incapable of even pairing jeans with a top that won’t make you feel as if you’re doing an impression of someone with taste vastly different to yours. 

You sigh, growing more frustrated by the second. James, noticing, shuffles closer and wraps a strong arm around you. His wet hair sprinkles you as he turns to press a kind kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t stress over it, honey-girl. What’s got you so upset?”

“I don’t know.” You press your face to your knees where they’re pulled up, feeling stupid. “I don’t feel very… good, at this. Picking outfits. It’s silly.”

“It isn’t,” James is quick to correct. “But it’s not true, either- you have fantastic outfits, sweetheart. Did someone say otherwise?”

The truth is, nobody’s mentioned your fashion taste at all, really. That’s the problem- silly as it seems. In groups of friends, you’re nobody’s first choice for outfit advice, never the receiver of compliments on your clothing choices. You try really hard to wear clothing that’ll suit you, mimic outfits you see online or from the various stylish people in your life, but none of it feels or looks right. You always look so awkward, you think. Never quite correctly proportioned, never cohesively coloured or textured. You don’t know what you’re doing wrong, you only see the result of it in the mirror each morning. 

“No,” You shake your head. “I just… feel as if none of my clothes look right, when I put them together. I haven’t got good style.” 

It feels like such a shameful thing to admit, both for the childishness of the confession and the truth of it. You can hardly look at James- not for lack of trying on his part, as he squeezes you and presses a kiss to your cotton-clothed shoulder.

“That’s not the case at all!” 

“It is a bit. It’s alright, Jamie, I’m being dramatic. It’s only frustrating me right now because I can’t find something good to wear tonight,” You assure him, voice muffled against your legs. You’re not trying to sound quite as sad as you do. “Sorry.”

He cups your cheek in one hand, so gently that you don’t realise he’s bringing your face up to his level until he’s done it. You blink quickly. “No sorries, my darling. C’mere.”

You’ll go crazy before you reject a cuddle from your boyfriend, so it’s with little resistance that you let him pull you halfway onto his lap and wrap you in his fresh shower smell and warmth. You’re almost lying down, head nestled under his chin and arms around his middle as he rubs gentle lines down your back. 

“You,” He says thoughtfully, “Have really lovely taste in clothing. I know it’s true because I think it each time you come home from the shops and show me what you’ve bought, or try on things before we go out. I particularly love your taste in things during the winter time- not just because you use several of my jumpers- really, because you do such a wonderful job of choosing things that are lovely and interesting. I also love it when you mix colours, especially in the summer, because I know that I’ll have a much greater chance of matching flowers to your outfit when I buy them for you.” 

You laugh despite yourself, sitting up a little and accepting the sweet kiss he offers you. James’ thumb draws soft circles on the skin on front of your ear, his fingers comforting in your hair. 

“I’ve been the sillier of the two of us, really,” He goes on. “Not telling you how much I like all the things you wear. I didn’t realise you weren’t feeling pleased about your clothes, baby, I’ll be sure to let you know from now on.”

“It’s not something you’ve done wrong,” You frown, not wanting to fish for compliments. James gives you plenty of them; it’s not his fault if your specific fashion choices haven’t caught his attention, and you don’t want him to feel bad about it.

He considers this. “S’pose not, but it’s hardly going to be an issue for me to externalise a few more of my thoughts. Do it plenty already, don’t I?”

You breathe out another giggle. “Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’, she says,” James teases, digging his fingers into your ribs and laughing when you squirm away. “I mean it, though. I’ll only be being honest, and I hear that’s rather healthy for relationships.”

“Crazy,” You say sarcastically. There’s a brief lull, and you’re perfectly happy to stay in his arms like this as long as he’ll have you. “You really think it’s not so bad? My style?” “Not in the slightest, sweetheart. I love your style, I love all your clothes.” He confirms. You search his handsome face, his dimples, his kind eyes, and find only patient assurance. “Still, it matters quite a lot less what I think; if you’re unhappy, we can go shopping and find some new outfits for you to wear.”

You sigh. “I’m not sure that’ll help. I’m worried that I don’t have the ability to pick the right stuff, I… I don’t even think I really know what my style is.”

“Well, we could ask for help if you’d like it. I’m sure our friends would be happy to lend a hand- or if you’re not keen on it, we could spend a little while trying out different styles to find what suits you the best. Whatever would make you happy, angel.”

You’re a little overwhelmed with how much you like and love your boyfriend, so instead of attempting to express it you press your lips to his, pleased as ever when he moves his hands to your waist and pulls you closer to his chest. You’re sure you could stay like this forever, happy and together on the floor of your bedroom, but your phone’s alarm reminds you that it’s time to get ready. You pull yourself reluctantly off James, who’s looking a little dazed himself, and let out a long breath. 

“You’re very kind, Jamie,” You say. He grins. 

“Could show you how kind, if you-” “Mm-mm.” You shake your head before you can be too tempted by the tickle of his calloused fingertips under the edge of your t-shirt. “We have to leave in half an hour, and I do have to decide on something to wear tonight.”

He groans as if you’re telling him you’ll never kiss him again, sitting up properly and letting you climb off his lap. “You’re far too responsible, sweetheart. It’s your sole flaw.”

You pat his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you later. For now-” You survey the piles of clothing around you- “I suppose I’d better just choose something I’ve worn before.”

James gets to his feet, looking at the sum of your side of the wardrobe and humming contemplatively. “Well, nothing wrong with that.” 

“Mm,” You half-agree.

He bends down and grabs a black longsleeve in one hand, your jeans in the other. “This always looks good, don’t you think? I could lend you one of my jackets to go with it.”

You nod without giving yourself time to stress about all the other times you’ve worn something similar, smiling fondly up at James’ hopeful expression. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.” “It’s no hardship, angel,” He says lightly, handing you the clothes. “Just don’t overthink it, yeah? You’re so pretty.” You look away to hide your blush, still shy when he compliments you so earnestly, and James makes a happy sort of sound. “And cute, I mean-”

“Okay, enough!” You laugh, taking the clothing just to shut him up.

[doodler16]

man... after that episode idk anymore honestly what is going on.

summarized thoghts i guess?

>i feel like viv has just gotten lazy with the remaining sins' designs... like... why is asmodeus so incredibly different from the succubu/incubi but leviathan just looks like an envy citizen? all i thought when i first saw them was "oh thats the karen from the hospital and glitz or glam combined?"

>also mammon is the only fat character here so obviously that means food jokes..

>striker apparently abandoned his enitire character of hating the goetia/rich, which is so disappointing.

>so many confusing cramped designs which completely turns the goetias into a clusterfuck. why. if they did it from the start like this and didn't give everyone the impression that the goetias were entirely birds, it could've maybe worked. idk if they're supposed to mimic the court in heaven in the hh s2 leaks.

> andrealphus literally says everything about the blitz the fandom already does lmfaooo

> ofc stolas sacrificed himself 🙄

poor via, man..

That episode was ass. Nothing and something happened at the same time. 😂

This episode reminded me of final episode of Hazbin Hotel. Like for example, the tonal whiplash: one moment it’s comedic. Then another scene is dramatic, we the audience are supposed to care about what happens to the IMP gang as they cry and worry about each other despite previous episodes saying and showing otherwise.

The fact that Andrealphus similarly to the fandom accused Blitz of rape is insane.

It was so hard to take this court trial seriously because of the switching tones. Why was Vassago hyped to hell and back when he barely contributed anything besides being Stolas’ cheerleader. Why didn’t Moxxie or Millie mention Striker’s involvement in the attempted assassination, like cmon you guys were there when Stolas was the verge of death. Even better, why didn’t Blitz mention that Striker was involved when he finally got the chain off his mouth.

Ozzie didn’t do anything, he easily could’ve said more since Stolas has confided to him about Blitz and the grimoire. They did mammon and striker dirty, Anon. Leviathan’s design is interesting, she looks like glam sisters’ older sister.

Stolas “sacrifice” was so ugh. That “Master mind” song was stupid, it easily could’ve taken 5 minutes or less to explain his side. He unnecessarily insults Blitz multiple times during the song, like just admit you were wrong like a normal person and explain that Stella, Striker and andrealphus is in charge of the assassination attempt. Don’t need to make it all complicated.

Stolas sacrifice wasn’t even out of the kindness of his heart, fixing the damages he done. Dude literally regrets throwing away his freedom and privileges and mentions how he rather be dead than live life without Blitz’s side. So much for loving Blitzy. That scene was so corny “you’re my light 🤣, you’re my heart.”

The fact that Satan wasn’t even going to execute Stolas was the most annoying part, why should I take this trial seriously if you aren’t hold him accountable. If Andrealphus didn’t say anything, what would Stolas punishment be? Satan didn’t even try with Stolas and was like time for lunch.

Only Vivziepop somehow makes Stolas losing his powers and status a bad thing/point it in a sympathetic manner.

[caligulawritesfanfiction]

heart to heart

pairing ; rodrick heffley x f!reader

summary ; there’s a first time for everything — rejection, heartbreak, kissing, humping your friend…you know, the usual.

warnings ; SMUT,, p in v, virginity loss, reader has lady parts, dry humping, swearing, rodrick’s the loser we all know he (not so) secretly is, sorta sub!virgin!rodrick, virgin!reader

a/n ; never posted smut on anything before so…🔥🔥 i like to imagine reader is plus sized and gothic but yk whatever u wanna imagine her as idgaf, anyway hope y’all like (also experimenting in which perspective i like more so this one’s in first person)

first time we fucked, we were both heartbroken— him over heather, and me over some stupid poser punk boy from school. we laid in his bed together, both sulking and talking to each other about how things could’ve went with our crushes.

we take turn taking hits from rodrick’s sloppily rolled joint. we both decide we shouldn’t get too high, just in case susan arrives home early. we’re not crazy high, but high enough to get those risky, crazy ideas and laugh at stupid things we say to each other. eventually, we end up rolled on our sides facing each other. we don’t say anything, just staring with hooded eyes and silly smiles.

“you know…” i begin to say, scanning my eyes over rodrick’s face, taking in every little detail i see, “you’re pretty cute, i guess. i’ve never noticed before until now…” he chuckles, “yeah, i guess you’re pretty cute too, y/n…”

i lick my bottom lip, deep in a certain thought. roderick mimics my action, watching me. i take a deep breath before uttering out, “maybe…”

“maybe, what?” he asks curiously. i hesitate, but continue nonetheless, “maybe, we don’t have to be, um, lonely…in that way…like, i mean…” “what do you mean?” his questioning is innocent, almost like he wouldn’t dare jump to perverted thoughts like he’d usually do because we’re such close friends…

“well, you know…i’m a girl, you’re a boy…” i trail off. my once avoiding eyes are now back on his, staring right into his dark irises. i hear him swallow, he seems to understand what i’m implying this time. he bites him lip, and now i’m the one mimicking him. he nods in slow motion, it seems like. he whispers a borderline silent, “okay.”

i, very, very, slowly push myself up onto my elbow. i gauge his reaction with every small movement.

in all my time of knowing rodrick, he’s never really been with a girl. he’s never kissed a girl, or even held hands with a girl in a romantic fashion. i, on the other hand, has been with two guys. none were very serious, just casual flings— sharing nothing more than a few kisses. he likes to talk big game, especially to greg, and act all confident and flirtatious. in reality, when me and him are alone and hanging out as friends he wasn’t so cocky. he was actually quite ‘dorky’, similar to his brother, and desperate to impress his peers.

now, i’m hovering over him propped up on my elbow as he lays flat on his back. his lips are parted, and his gaze occasionally wanders down to my own lips. i, slowly and gently, lower my face to his. i hesitate for a brief moment before lightly grazing my lips with his, both of our eyes screwed shut. just for a second, our mouths are just barely touching. he closes the gap completely, pressing his lips against mine with no further movement. i let out a breath i didn’t know i was holding in. i part my lips, kissing him properly and bringing my other hand up to rest on his cheek.

he suddenly gains enough confidence to grab my waist, carefully pulling me closer and closer until i’m pressed up again his warm, lanky body. the kiss is sloppy, but slow and gentle. it’s almost as if we’re trying to be careful with each other, both fearing if we make one wrong move, we’ll mess it all up.

i smile into our open mouthed, breathy kisses. i feel his warmth radiating off of him, it’s addictive. with every touch of his calloused hands to my waist, every breath of his i feel on my face, and graze of his pretty lips against mine, the butterflies slam in my stomach. it gets me hot, doing this with roderick.

when i said i’ve shared a few kisses with a couple guys, i meant awkward, tight lipped, quick ‘let’s get this over with’ kisses; nothing like this.

i lap my tongue into his open mouth. he moans oh so quietly at that simple action, but my tummy does flips and my face heats up like it’s been lit on fire. i lose the little self control i tried to keep. my hands move without a second thought, one to tangle in his dark, messy hair and the other to rest along his jawline. my leg whips around to straddle his hips, pressing down on the poor unexpecting boy. he gasps, which fades into a strained groan. the gentle kissing becomes feverish and needy, lapping my tongue against his desperately. he wraps his long arms around me, forcing my back into an arch; rib cage to rib cage, heart to heart. his hands wander would you expect anything else from rodrick from down to rub my hips, to up to grip my shoulders. our tongues wrestle and invade past the others lips. we share whines and little moans, reveling in each others warmth and need for intimacy. we breath heavily between each kiss, taste buds and mouth covered in each others saliva.

finally, i pull away, but not without roderick attempting to chase my lips. i lick my lips clean of our mixed spit. my chest is heaving and my heart is thumping as i speak, “rodrick?” he hums in acknowledgment. his eyes hooded and gazing at me full of lustful infatuation. i feel his heartbeat drum against mine, his chest pushing against mine with every labored inhale. i let my hands wander down to his chest, balancing myself as i lay meeting his stare. “was that okay?” i whisper. he hums first, nodding his head in shallow shakes. “why wouldn’t it be?” his confused tone makes me smile. i laugh, shaking my head, “i- i don’t know…”

he lifts his head to bring his lips back to mine in a sweet kiss. i trail my kisses to his jaw, then down his neck. i suck and bite softly on the column of his throat, bragging my tongue over each tender bite. he moans lowly, his hands caressing my crop top exposed lower back. his touch leaves a fiery path in its wake. i tug at his black loded diper tee. he gets the memo and i sit up a little in my spot on his hips to allow him to tug it off. as soon as the fabric is thrown to the floor, i let my fingertips feel his smooth chest. they run down past his bellybutton to his little happy trail of dark hair. my thighs clench at the feeling, my hips unintentionally wiggling against him. his eyes snap open and he groans, that’s when i notice his dick is firm under me. i snap my head up to look at his face, his eyes are now screwed shut and his lips are slightly parted.

“oh, shit…” he mumbles under his breath. i have to make a decision now. even though our friendship might be ruined after this little make out we just had, am i willing to ruin it for good by fucking him?

yeah, i think i am.

i can’t ignore the pit of fire nestling between my abdomen and the slightly uncomfortable wetness pooling in my panties. caught up in my thoughts, i didn’t notice rodrick had opened his eyes again and he’s staring right down at where our hips are connected. i decide ‘whatever, fuck it’ and lift my shirt above my head to throw it as fast as i can. my lacy bra exposed to his view. his eyebrows are raised, his cheeks dusted with a pretty pink.

“you can touch me, i want you to.” he nods, i gently grab his wrist bringing to my breast. he inhales sharply, softly kneading it. i whine at the feeling. the look on his face could make me cum alone. his hard on pokes at my thigh. i roll my hips down, my core grazing his through my jeans. he chokes on a moan, “y/n!” i smile down at him and giggle, “what?”, i repeat the action.

“that!”

“do you want me to stop?”

“no! it’s just- oh, fuck-“

“just what?”

now, i’m just taunting him. how could i not? he’s cute when he’s flustered. i plant my hands firmly on his chest, and repeatedly grind my core down on his. he grips my hips tightly, moaning at this new feeling. our moans and groans blend together. i speed up, my head hung as my face is contorted in focus and pleasure. he bucks his hips up, and uses his hold on mine to move me back and forth. i feel like we’re two wild animals, humping each other with such desperation and fervor.

“good- feels so good..” he whines out. yeah, this feels good, but i crave more. i abruptly stop, and he groans in frustration. “y/n?-“ “wait.”

i hurry and roll off him to remove my pants, kicking them off my feet. he sees what i’m doing, and is quick to follow. i stand on my knees next to him on the bed, he observes me ready to mimic whatever action i’m to do next. i hold his gaze and slowing pull my matching lace panties down my legs. a thin string of arousal connects my cunt with my panties as they slide down my thighs. he lays watching me, basically drooling as he sees a part of a girl he’s over ever seen in porno magazines. i hear him utter a holy fuck and a i can’t believe this is happening under his breath.

i remove my bra next, the slightly chilly air from his attic bedroom making my nipples harden. too mesmerized by the sight of my completely naked body, he doesn’t notice me reach over to slip my fingertip under the band of his briefs. he feels my warm hands on his skin, and snaps out of his trance. “oh! yeah, yeah, i’ll-“ he pulls down his black underwear and kicks them off his feet, his hard cock springing out. it’s bright pink tip leaks with pre-cum. i practically drool at the sight. i reach out to graze my fingers over his shaft. he softly moans at the small touch. i lean and kiss up his chest while i run my gentle fingertips over him.

i smile down at him, my face heating up at the fact that this is rodrick. that this isn’t a dream and it’s actually happening. the buzz of our shared high has basically worn off, and the reality of it all hits me. it causes a wave of shyness, my cheeks dusted with the same pink roderick has been collecting on his pretty face.

i push my shyness down, forcing myself to not let my nerves ruin this. i pull roderick to move ontop of me as i lay down on my back. “i want you to lead the way, is that okay?” i question, watching him adjust to hover over me. he nods and gives me a toothy grin, “yeah, totally.”

he takes this time to scan over my body sprawled out underneath him, “you’re really cute, y/n, really pretty…” he leans in to kiss me sweetly as i wrap my legs loosely around his waist. he takes that as a sign to look down and grab his cock, taking a deep breath and lining it up with my entrance. a low groan escaped him as he pushes in. i grip his shoulders tightly, feeling a burning pain. “are you okay?” he asks when he sees the grimace on my face.

“yes, i’m okay, i’m okay. please- please, keep going,” i stutter out. he continues to push his length into me, after a moment he bottoms out. “i-,” he chokes on his words, “im all- all the way in.” he moves from his position from hovering over me, holding his weight with his arms, to completely laying over me. his arms snake around to hold me close to him, and i do the same. slowly, he starts shallowing thrusting into my weeping cunt. the pain is quickly swept away with spikes of pleasure shooting up my body.

“rod- roderick!” i gasp out, my nails clawing at his back. he speeds up, starting from shallow thrusts to quick slams on his hips into mine. he mumbles out praises and whimpers of my name into the nape of my neck. he fucks into me with fervor, “you’re so fucking tight, ohh my god…”

unwrapping himself from my body, he raises up to watch his cock slam into my hole. drools falls from his open lips. he grips with my hips tight, digging his nails into the plush skin. pressure builds in my lower belly. “i- i think im close, rodrick, please- more, more!”

i reach my hand down the rub my bundle of nerves between us. but before i could start, he pushes my hand out the way to press his thumb against it, moving in small circles. “right there?”

“yes! oh god-“

his breathing becomes labored and the rhythm he had stutters. the pressure building in me snaps and my back arches off the mattress. my lips form an O, a silent scream rips through me along with my orgasm. with two final thrusts he freezes up, joining me in euphoric relief, and his head hangs low with a low drawn out moan. i feel his hot seed paint my inner walls. his chest is glittering with a layer of sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead. after a second or two, he drags his softening cock out of my clamping walls. he watches his cum drip out of my hole, seeing it clamping around nothing but the white liquid escaping.

his gaze takes in my spent body from bottom to top. my breasts rising and falling from the intensity of my orgasm, struggling to catch my breath.

rodrick swears he can see her glowing, like an angel sent from heaven just for him, surrounded by light. how could he not see it before? he feels stupid, what did he see in heather? him and y/n have almost everything in common; our taste in music, our style, among so many other things he couldn’t even think of in this moment.

he falls down onto the bed, making my body bounce a little of the bed. i giggle, and turn my head to look at him. he was one step ahead of me, already looking right at me. he pulls me closer, hugging me tightly. “y/n, i-“

the front door slams. “kids! i’m home!”

it’s susan.

we’re completely naked, there’s a half smoked joint resting on his nightstand, and we have no idea where we threw our clothes.

“…fuck.”

[axeoverblade]

Ayo can I request a platonic 1610 miles x older fem reader. Like she acts like an older sister to him and she visits him in his dimension. Bonus if his parents love her.

Dynamic Duo

1610 Miles x Platonic fem! reader

Synopsis! Miles never really cared for having another sibling until he met you

MASTERLIST

Genre: fluff, just fluff.

Warnings: mentions of dead sibling, foul language

Word count: .7k

Authors comment: THIS WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER IM CRYING. Two posts about Miles in one cause why not? ENJOY <3

Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade

•when you first met Miles you two clicked immediately

•He reminded you of your late little brother

•even though it made you sad at first to be around Miles cause of the nostalgia of it, you grew extremely fond of him over time and vise versa

• Bad habit of calling him youngin and he gets SO PISSED

• “what’s good youngin” “I’m not even that young shut the hell up”

• would get in trouble often with Miguel because you two “weren’t using your watches properly”

•apparently traveling dimensions to have ice cream together was against the rules

•still did it anyway

• he tells his mom about his friend “who left town” who was like his big sister and indirectly how much he admired you

•he would never ever tell a soul he looked up to you even though it was very obvious

•like bro legit mimics half the things you do unconsciously

•You notice it but don’t say anything

• you are so unconsciously over protective

• like you sometimes forget he’s a spiderman too

• he does the most stupidest things to impress you like a younger sibling does

• “Hey y/n look!” *cue Miles hanging upside down from a bridge doing stupid dangerous poses* “Miles! Get the hell down before you kill yourself” “But ’s cool right?” “…that’s besides the point”

•INSIDE JOKES!!!!

•or just those understanding looks you two give each other when you both see something stupid

• randomly pop up in his dimension to surprise him

• you two swing around the city together for the fun of it

•He rants to you constantly about his home life, finally feels safe enough to speak about everything that’s going on and how he feels to someone

•calls you when he has anxiety attacks. even though he would never outright say he’s having them, you know

• call it big sister senses

• always change the subject to something you know calms him and suddenly he’s laughing telling you about something that happened a couple of days ago when he was on duty

•Makes you happy he has an outlet he feels safe talking to because you know he can't do that with anyone else.

•HE STEALS ALL YOUR THINGS

• “yah so then-is that my jacket?” “…noooo?” “Miles I swear I'll kill you that’s like the fifth one this month”

• Always wants to be around you

•like lil bro is always just around trying to hang out with you or go on your missions when he can cause he thinks it’s cool to see you in action

• he even copies your moves for when he fights villains

• You finally met his parents

• at first they were very skeptical of you but after seeing how you two interact they grow very fond of you

•asks you to visit more often and cook for you whenever you do come

•you three talk about Miles whenever you think he’s not listening (he is) and how proud you are

•both you and his parents get on his ass about random stupid things he does

•legit tag team him all the time and there’s nothing he can do

•you visit so much you have a little bag of things in his room for when you come over

• you have your own personal relationship with his parents. They see you as one of their own and you see them like a second pair of parents

• they have their own nickname for you

• you are so close they add you to the family gc

• you and Miles bicker all the time about the stupidest things

• “shut up that’s why I’m the favorite kid” “you’re not even their kid!” “Your just proving my point further”

•you act like a real siblings. Like you would give your kidney for him but if he asks to borrow your charger? Hell nah

• overall he genuinely loves you and really appreciates you and you can say for the same for him

•will always be there for each other just like real siblings because in a way, you two are and always will be

©axeoverblade

[daryl-dixons-wife2211]

SURVIVING TOGETHER

Daryl Dixon X f!reader

Chapter 1:Invisible strings

When I moved to Georgia, I didn't expect to be living in Hell. I moved under the impression that I could reinvent myself amongst the peach trees and the southern hospitality. Instead I'm cowering in my van with my dogs, listening to the sound of the end of the world- the sound of the walking dead.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

I shouldn't have made so much noise. I thought we were safe out in the woods, but each day that goes by is a harsh reminder that nowhere is safe- nowhere. I'm out of breath from running, but my two dogs and I managed to make it to the van without being eaten alive. The only thing is, now the van is surrounded by the dead. The dogs, a five year old husky and his German shepherd little brother, are perfectly still and I try to mimic their silence. The windows are shrouded by curtains that I'm glad I hung yesterday. Maybe if we're quiet, they'll go away? I'm at least hoping that's the case. I'm still trying to learn the rules for these freaks.

Hours pass as I lie low, but the dead persist, their relentless scratching becoming almost rhythmic. Amidst the chorus of frogs and rustling leaves, their dreadful moans are all I can focus on. After a while, the scratching seems to lessen, but there's still at least 5 of them surrounding the van. I'm too tired to care anymore- I'm not going anywhere soon and neither are they, so I finally close my eyes to attempt at least a nap. The peace is fleeting, lasting all of 3 minutes before I can't take it anymore. I fling my eyes open. I guess we'll be here all night.

I sit for what feels like several more hours, thinking about what to do if these freaks aren't gone by morning. I'm about to start forming Plan F, when I feel the dogs start to perk up. I wouldn't pay much attention, if it weren't for their ears frantically swiveling like little satellites. They hear something, and it's not anything dead.

I sit up as much as I can, and try to peek through the corner of the window. About 30 feet away I see two figures hiding behind a couple trees. I watch as they stealthily bob and weave closer- one with a gun, the other with a crossbow. This could either be really bad, or my saving grace. The dogs get restless as the gun shots start to sound. They're being so good, so quiet, but I can feel the anxiety rising up in them.

More gunshots and a few arrows later, the dead are all...well...dead. I quietly grab a rifle I keep under the passenger seat, anticipating the worst. I can hear them now that the freaks aren't making noise. Those figures turn out to be two men- great. I prop the gun against my shoulder and listen as they start to argue.

"Who the hell cares? Let's move on." the shorter one with the crossbow says. "That damn van has somethin' in it. Why else would they be around it like that?" the second man bites back. I freeze. I did not like his tone- this is not going to be good. "The sons a'bitches are stupid. There's nothin' in there." the first man hurls back. I can't make out what the taller one replies, but whatever it was, it irritates his friend. The shorter one stomps over to the truck and I tense with fear and anticipation. Mumbling curses the whole way, he reaches the van and the dogs get into position, waiting for my command. The man puts his hand on the door handle and I place my finger firmly on the trigger. I take a deep breath in and the man rips the door open.

We both freeze, crossbow and rifle pointed at each other. He looks a little surprised, so I'm not sure he really expected to see anything, or anyone, in here- much less two big dogs. The dogs don't growl, which is unusual for them, but their bodies are still stiff with anticipation in case I give the signal to attack.

The man and I just look at each other. I can't read his expression, but he's not making any other move towards me, so I don't make any towards him. An unexpected stillness settles between us. The longer this goes on, the more I'm able to take him in and, quite frankly, he's gorgeous. Not like, Hemsworth brother gorgeous, but like, random stranger you cross paths with at a gas station gorgeous. Hot enough that it momentarily erases the danger I felt before. His eyes, a piercing blue, betray no malice. Men usually trigger some sort of fight or flight response from me, but not this one. I have no idea what makes me feel this way, but he seems...safe? He keeps staring deep into my eyes and I'm ensnared. Silently, he puts one finger to his lips, signaling for me to stay quiet. His steely blue eyes look me and the dogs up and down and he slowly lowers his crossbow. The way he's looking at me is so soft, so gentle. I can't tell what he's thinking, but against my better judgment, I lower my rifle. He looks so deep into my eyes I forget where I am, until, that is, I hear his friend yell "You find anything? What's in there?". I wait for the man to sell me out, but he doesn't. "Nah. Nothin' in here. Just a few empty beer cans" he calls out in the raspiest voice I've ever heard. I swear I even see him smirk a little as he closes the door and joins his friend. I watch out the window in disbelief as he fades into the night. After they're gone, it takes me until almost daybreak to settle back down. My mind races, and I can't stop thinking about it.

I get the feeling that man saved my life.

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

A few days had passed and, thankfully, I hadn't crossed paths with the men again. That is, until the screaming started. I had been sprawled across the front seats of my van reading a book, my favorite in fact, when the shrill sound echoed amongst the trees. I drop my battered copy of Pride and Prejudice on the floorboard and jolt to a seated position. I was born with a crippling need for peace and justice, so deciding to investigate and potentially solve a problem for someone was a no-brainer. I hop out of the driver's seat and slide the van door open. Gesturing inside, I call for the dogs. Maverick and Kai both leap out of the woods, following my command. They leap in the back of the van and I slide the door shut, then climb back behind the wheel.

With all the echoing, I can't pinpoint the sound of the screams, so I just drive in the general direction. I find a dirt road that seems to be following the path nicely, so I hop onto that. I seem to be getting closer to the cries for help and soon come upon a circular clearing about an acre around. The screams all make sense now, as I gaze upon not just one person, but a whole group of people- the most I've seen since the world was engulfed into madness. Men, women, and even children are huddled back to back in a circle, surrounded by the dead freaks. They're fighting as hard as they can, but they're never going to make it. There's too many of them and they don't have very much to defend themselves with. Desperation is written all over their faces, but for me, this will be cake. I might even have time to read some more before it gets dark.

I drive further into the clearing and stop about 50 yards away. No one even notices me until I get out of the van, which, coincidentally for me right now, is actually a police van that I stole out of the Atlanta P.D. parking garage when everything went down. I've never gotten to use any of the toys inside it, so this will be fun. I slide the back door open and look my sweet boys in the eyes. "If you boys do a good job and help these people I'll give you both some peanut butter." I say, cradling their snouts in my hands. I let them jump down onto the grass and giggle as they wait, tails wagging furiously, for my command. "Alright boys- CAST".

The dogs speed off towards the group in peril as I work on turning the red and blue lights atop the van on. I grab the old iPod I scavenged and plug it up to the van's speaker system. At this point the dogs are running in circles between the scared people and the walkers that surround them. I watch as the people look stunned, but no less scared. I almost giggle to myself, as I think about how shocking the sight must be, but then I notice something. Amongst the group of people is the man with the crossbow. You've got to be kidding me- I haven't run into people in a week, how have I run into this man twice in 4 days?

I guess at this point I owe him one, so I'm filled with an even greater sense of need to help these people. I grab my iPod again and navigate to the first song I see, "American Idiot" by Green Day. I grab the hand held microphone connected to the van's megaphone and call out, "HEY FREAKS! OVER HERE!" I hit play on the song and turn the volume up to the max. It roars across the clearing, causing most of the undead to slowly turn and begin their crawl towards me. "Mav, look back. Kai, come by" I command the dogs, instructing Maverick to catch the stragglers and Kai to keep herding the main group as they limp towards me. I wait until the herd gets about halfway to the van before I turn it around and creep slowly away. The freaks have completely abandoned the frightened group and have eyes only for the flashing lights and music pouring out of the van speakers. Mission accomplished.

"Alright boys. Come here." I use the megaphone to call again. Maverick and Kai race back to the van and leap in through the side door I left open. "Good boys." I praise them. We drive off with the freaks following us, never letting them get too close. I shoot one last look at the group we just successfully saved. Their puzzled expressions amuse me, but I can't help but picture what would have happened if I wasn't there with just the right equipment at just the right time. I used to think the world was scary. Now, it's a living nightmare.

After 30ish minutes of driving the herd away, I decide to lose them and speed up, turning the lights off and the music down. I can't stop thinking about the man with the crossbow. I guess we're even now, but I don't want even. I want to figure him out- I want to be near him. Why do I feel this way? I should just be grateful I've survived another encounter with him and move on, but I have a gut feeling this won't be our last meeting. As I drive I think about his captivating eyes raking my body up and down and how I wish they'd do it again.

Looks like I was right. I do have enough time for another chapter before dark.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

I didn’t sleep well last night. Yesterday’s events have been replaying in my head relentlessly. I moved to Georgia to be alone. I wanted that. After everything I had gone through, I just needed space, but now I can’t help thinking about my family back home. Can’t help but wonder if they’re even alive, or if they faced a scene similar to what nearly happened to that group yesterday. Did they have someone looking out for them, too?

I should’ve been there for them. I shouldn’t have left. I’m trying not to beat myself up about it- after all, how was I supposed to know the world was going to end? The isolation is getting to me though- I just want my family back. I dry the tears that have been slowly running down my face for the past hour and look out amongst the woods from the tree I climbed and settled in earlier. I don’t know where the dogs have wandered off to, but I hope they’ve found themselves a rabbit or something. They wouldn’t eat yesterday, no matter how many times I tried to feed them the cans of spam and vienna sausages I had. It's almost like they know I don’t have much food left. I’m not really sure what my gameplan is out here, but I do know I don’t plan on outliving these dogs for very long. With my family being on the other side of the country, these sweet dogs are all I’ve got keeping me going right now.

My pity party is interrupted when I start hearing footsteps. My eyes scan the woods below until I see a man crouched behind a rock and rub my eyes again. I have to be seeing things, because there’s no way I have run into the crossbow man for a third time. I follow his line of sight and see the object of his fascination. It’s a deer, and a beautiful one at that. I watch as he lifts the scope to his eye and takes aim. He’s never going to make that- there’s too many trees, he doesn’t have a good vantage point, and there’s a slight breeze. He settles in, waits a few seconds, and pulls the trigger. His arrow goes soaring towards the animal, but hits a tree about 3 feet from it. “Dammit.” I hear him mutter to himself.

With little to no thought, I decide to do something crazy and aim my rifle at the deer. He’s going to need this deer for his group and I’ve got a perfect view. I line the shot up, take a breath, and pull the trigger. The deer goes down from an absolutely flawless shot, if I do say so myself. I quietly celebrate my success and look down to find the crossbow’d man is not only very surprised, but he’s not alone. I should’ve thought this through a little more.

I count about four men total. “Guess you guys weren’t holding me up after all. Which one of you just shot that?” my mystery man asks. The other three just stare at him. “We were together the whole time and none of us shot anything.” one man wearing a baseball jersey says, very nervously. “Where’s my brother? Must’ve been him then.” he surmises. The man with his shirt tucked in replied in a thick drawl, “He went to piss. Left his gun with us.” They all look at each other perplexed. Wordlessly, they all take up their respective weapons and start scanning around them. Three of them keep their eyesight level, but Crossbow Man starts scanning in the trees above. He must be a hunter. I quietly sigh- I didn’t really consider what might happen after I shot the deer. I guess I’m going to have to do a big reveal before Crossbow Man sees a dark figure in the tree and shoots me down. If I’m going to get shot I’d at least like credit for the deer first.

I grab my backpack I had lodged in between branches, toss my gun on my back, and make the descent. I’m almost completely down before they even hear my movements. They all whirl around and watch me plop on the ground. Only two of them have guns, but they’re both pointed at me, so I put my hands up in surrender. Crossbow Man, however, is looking at me with a mix of wonder and amusement, crossbow dangling at his side.

“Who the hell are you?” the one with the drawl demands. “Hey! It’s Green Day!” baseball jersey laughs. “What the hell are you talking about Glenn?” the same man questions. “She’s the one who saved us yesterday! The girl with the dogs!” Glenn says, getting more excited with every word.

“Why the random acts of kindness? What do you want? Where are the dogs?” the first man rapid fires questions, gun still drawn and taking a step towards me. All valid questions, but I don’t enjoy his vibe. Something about him seems off, but I can’t quite figure out what it is.

“Nothing- I swear. Look, I just saw your friend miss the shot and I had a clear view so I thought I’d help. I know you guys have kids. It’s not a big deal, really. I’ll leave now. The deer is all yo-” I get cut off by two long, low, disembodied growls. Dang it. The boys are back.

The men all jump and look like they’re about to pee themselves. One man even drops his gun. “Eeeeeasy boys. These guys are our friends.” I say to the dogs, still hidden somewhere waiting for their cue to “handle” the situation. “You guys might want to lower your guns, they make the dogs nervous.” I warn.

“Shane, she was up in that tree and we didn’t even know. She could’ve gunned us all down and she didn’t. She saved us yesterday and she didn’t have to. She doesn’t want anything.” Glenn argues. “Just put your gun down before we get mauled.”

“I’m sorry, they’re just protective. They won’t actually hurt you without me giving the order. Boys, heel.” I call, slapping the outside of my thigh gently. Maverick and Kai reveal themselves and heel to my sides, heckles still slightly raised. “I’m leaving now. Shoot me if you must, I guess.” I say, turning around slowly. I take all of three steps before Glenn yells for me to wait. I turn back around to see him whispering something to Shane. He signals for the other two men to join and I wait while they furiously discuss something, Shane still pointing that stupid gun at my torso. It looks like whatever it is, Glenn is winning. I suddenly remember the Crossbow Man, and glance over at him. He’s watching me very closely. My cheeks heat up, and I tear my gaze back towards Shane and Glenn. Shane finally looks at me again, and slowly lowers his gun.

“Glenn over here seems to think you’d be a good addition to our group.” Shane says, clearly irritated. “How’s about you stick around?”

“For what? To be an extra three mouths to feed? If you haven’t noticed, the dogs are a little attached to me. It’d be a package deal.” I counter. Now they’re the ones making me suspicious.

The last man, the one that dropped his gun, finally pipes up, “With a shot like that, you seem like you’d pull your own weight. I’m Jim by the way. What’s your name?”

“...Y/N”, I confess, looking at the three of them. Glenn certainly seems safe. Jim seems alright. I definitely don’t like Shane, but I’m not sure if he’s necessarily dangerous. I look back at the crossbow’d man, still watching me closely, and ask him, “what do you think?”. I can tell the question throws everyone off a bit. He takes a second, looks at the other men, twitches his jaw, then says, “these are good people.”

Good enough for me. I’m about to say as much, when a fifth man emerges from behind the group and says “Well hello Miss. Officer. Fancy seeing you way out here without any of your asshole bodyguards. You still got those handcuffs? Me and you might need those later this fine evening.”

“...MERLE DIXON? You’ve GOT to be kidding me.” I blurt out loud.

“Wait- you know each other?” Glenn asks?

“Unfortunately,” I reply, my voice dripping with disdain, “I hope that doesn’t change your mind.”

Merle waltzes over to me with a shit eating grin, but before he can get anywhere close, both dogs start barking their heads off. He gets the message and backs away, hands up in surrender.

Glenn just smiles, happy as can be, “Nope! You can still come!”

“Cool- I’ll come,” I say as nonchalantly as possible- don’t want to get too excited and make Shane even more suspicious. “My van isn’t far. If you guys work together we can throw the deer in the back and drive it to wherever you guys are staying.”

“You’re not going to help?” Jim says, looking at me.

Hmm. Maybe Jim needs to be on my watch list too. “I shot it? Do I have to do everything?” I throw back at him.

Crossbow Man laughs. I almost forgot he was there, but looking at him again suddenly has me putting the puzzle pieces together. I look at Merle in shock. “Daryl?” I say pointing at the man with the crossbow. “Yes Ma’am. Told you I was the good lookin’ one.” He says. I cannot believe society has collapsed and animated corpses are roaming around feeding on living flesh, yet I have still managed to run into Merle Dixon in the middle of the woods- and to top it all off, the mystery man I’ve been daydreaming about comes from the same gene pool.

Fantastic.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Seventeen as fake dating scenarios

⟪‘97 + ‘98 + '99 line version⟫

other versions: ⟪‘95 + ‘96⟫

SEOKMIN: dumb and dumber.

He sighed as the two of you walked through the mall, hand-in-hand. You had asked him to go dress-shopping for your friend’s wedding. He was starting to think it was overkill – still, he could never say no to you.

“Okay, what’s bothering you?” you asked him. You were no fool: he’d been sighing every five minutes since you left the car.

He hesitated. “Isn’t this…”

“Isn’t this what?” you urged him, squeezing his hand.

“Isn’t this overkill?” he eventually burst, looking close to tears as he lifted your joined hands. “This. The dress shopping. Who are we trying to impress? Who’s going to care if we’re here together or not?”

You were dumbfounded. “What do you mean? If you didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t have forced you. You can so ‘no’ sometimes, you know.”

“How can I say ‘no’ when you’re just so cute?” he whined. “That’s it. Just actually date me. Stop playing with my heart!”

You could only stare at him, confused, dumb, baffled. “I’m—You—” You tried to find the words to say. Finally, you spoke, “Seokmin, I asked you out like two weeks ago.”

“What are you talking about?” He rolled his eyes. “We started this thing three whole months go. We’ve been fake dating way longer than two weeks.”

“I mean I literally asked you to be my actual, real, very serious boyfriend two weeks ago.”

He froze, eyes wide. “You did?” You nodded. A vague memory flashed through his mind – of you asking him if he wanted to make this real, him agreeing, nearly crying at the question. He screamed. “You did!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I guess I should’ve asked a second time when you were sober, just to clarify.”

MINGYU: fake dating because he’s tired of his popularity

It was hard to have a single logical thought when he was this close to you. It isn’t like you had a crush on the guy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t fatally attractive up close. Especially when he’s pressing you against the lockers in a hallway.

“Are they gone yet?” he whispered in a manner that must have surely looked like he was mumbling sweet nothings into your ear. You were barely paying attention though, struggling to even find your breath. He sighed and repeated himself. “(Y/n), can you even hear me?”

You blinked rapidly, trying to erase any inappropriate thoughts and images flashing through your mind. “Right, right.” You glanced to the side before sighing in defeat and turning back to him, nose to nose with the most attractive and wanted man on campus. “Nope and they’re staring.”

“Let them stare.” He leaned even closer, as if to mimic a kiss for the people watching. “Don’t be so tense. They’re going to get suspicious and then we’ll be back in square one and they’ll be back to stalking me around campus. So relax.”

You almost growled at his words. “You try to relax with a metal locker digging into your back, idiot.”

“I’m just trying to make it convincing,” he pointed out with a tired sigh. “You think I like this any more than you do? This is just as uncomfortable for me as it is for— Oh!”

You were sick and tired of him. So you turned the tables, just about slamming him against the lockers instead, fingers wrapping around the collar of his stupid white form-fitting t-shirt as you did so.

“Now we’re even, pretty boy,” you whispered into his ear and glanced back at the girls who were staring wide-eyed.

MINGHAO: a family gathering

“Can’t you just be honest and tell them you’re single?” you wondered as Minghao ushered you towards the building his family had rented for their holiday. “I mean, seriously, why am I even needed here?”

Minghao sighed. “I already said I’d buy you lunch for a whole month. How much more do you need to stop complaining?”

“A donation from your fancy tea collection would suffice,” you suggested playfully.

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide his amusement. “Know your place, (Y/n).”

“Oh! What can I call you while we’re here?”

“… My name?”

“No, I mean—” You sighed. “For someone who organised this whole fake dating scheme, you sure do not seem to know much about fake dating. Mińghao, we need pet names.”

He seemed a little disturbed by the idea. “Just… call me whatever feels comfortable.”

“Pumpkin?”

“Is that really the first pet name that comes to your mind when you think of me?”

“If so?”

“Stop it. You can just call me— Auntie!” His grimaced turned into a bright smile as if by magic.

You blinked. “Auntie? Oh!” You followed his lead and smiled at the woman who came to greet you with open arms.

“Auntie, meet my darling girlfriend (Y/n),” he introduced you with a gentle hand on your back. “She’s a little nervous about meeting you guys.”

“Oh, no need to be nervous, dear! You’re practically a part of the family now. Look at you two! Such a handsome couple! Your children will be the most gorgeous little things one day.”

Paling, you nudged Minghao’s side and whispered, “I definitely want access to your fancy teas now.”

SEUNGKWAN: trying to impress an ex at a friend’s wedding

“Oh for crying out loud!” Seungkwan fussed about, hands already reaching up to fix your hair as if it was the worst fashion emergency of the 21st century. “Didn’t you brush your hair at all?”

“I brushed it plenty. If anything, a little too much,” you deadpanned and gently slapped his hand away only to take it into yours and pulling him closer. From the corner of your eye, you could see some of the other wedding guests smiling at the two of you, assuming it was a lovers’ quarrel. You took a deep breath before whispering to him, “Listen, I get that you want to make your ex realise what she lost, but you need to calm down a little.”

“I’m perfectly calm.”

He was anything but and even you, having known him a total of five days, could see that.

“Seungkwan,” you tried again and squeezed his hand a little tighter, offering a smile when he looked at you again. He forced himself to mimic your smile. “There we go. Listen, everyone here already thinks we’re as cute as, if not cuter than, the couple of the day. We don’t need to make it any more obvious to them.”

“Do you think she’s seen us yet?” he asked, gnawing on his bottom lip, nervous eyes glancing around the venue. You pulled him closer until he was forced to rest his hands on your waist.

“I’m sure she’s crying into her champagne glass in the bathroom.”

 “Right. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I just want to prove her wrong so badly.”

You lifted a hand to pat his cheek, prompting a weak smile. “How about we dance instead? To show ‘em how it’s done?”

VERNON: showing you how you should be treated

“Okay, so I’ve been doing some research-,” you started and Vernon groaned immediately.

“Please, for the love of god, tell me it wasn’t on TikTok this time.”

You had promised him you’d never lie. So you stayed quiet instead. He sighed loudly and lifted a pillow to his face to groan into it. Once he felt he was ready to face the world again, he dropped the pillow and gestured for you to continue.

You were glad to take the chance. “So I’ve done some research and there’s this thing I want to try.”

“I knew I should’ve listened to my gut when I agreed to help you,” he mumbled before nodding. “Alright, what is it this time?”

“Why are you so grumpy about this?” you laughed. “Vernon, you’re the one that suggested fake dating me to show me–“ you cleared your throat before lowering your voice to imitate him, “–how a real man should treat his girl. You have no leg to stand on here. Now, stand up, I want you to give this your all.”

“Fair enough,” he breathed out and followed your instructions.

As the two of you stood face to face, you told him, “Now, can you please push me against the wall, hold my hand, and kiss me like you mean it?”

He laughed nervously, fighting a grimace. “… I– Yeah, sure.”

Just as you began to think he was chickening out, he followed the instructions. 

Before you could even fully comprehend what had happened, you were pushed against the wall, your left hand tightly in his. You could feel his breath against your lips and, before long, just as you were on the verge of begging, he leaned into you, his lips pressing against you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your free hand reaching up to rest against his neck.

He had ruined other men for you just like that.

CHAN: fake dating for publicity

“The paparazzi are waiting on the corner of the street,” your manager informed you, “and Lee Chan’s car should be waiting outside. You just have to walk outside, to his car, and look pretty but mysterious.”

“Pretty but mysterious?” You wanted to question the way her mind worked, but it was clear there was some genius behind her questionable instructions. So you nodded. “Got it. I’ll do my best.”

“When these news break out, you’ll be the top story of every magazine for at least a week,” she continued with a bright smile, confident in her plan. “I’ve already “leaked” some material about you two. All you guys have to do is act the part. And you’re good at acting, right?”

“Right,” you breathed out.

“Good luck! Don’t screw this up,” she told you and opened the door to the outside.

You could already see a camera reflecting light in the distance. You tried not to care and headed straight to Chan’s Maserati. He pushed the door open a little before you got there, no doubt to give the paparazzi to get a clearer shot of him.

“Hello there,” he spoke when you sat down. “Where to?”

“Anywhere but here,” you grumbled. “This whole thing is driving me insane.”

“Tell me about it,” he sighed. “My manager told me to be careful to not make a mess. I don’t even know how I’d do that in these conditions.”

“Probably by going off the rails and out of the script. By creating a scandal.”

He paused before smiling mischievously. “Do you want to create a scandal?”

You squinted. “What do you have in mind?”

“You and I, an outrageous date. I know place.”

“With a concept that would make our managers cry?”

“Is there any other kind?”

[toournextadventure]

movie nights iv

Summary: You gather the Woodsboro survivors to go over your suspect list. Maybe you're just trying to impress Tara. That's for you to know and no one else to find out.

Word Count: 6.1K Warnings: swearing, Scream levels of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

The door was open. It was wide open, all that rat bastard had to do was walk right through it so you could kill him yourself. No fire escape, no hideaway, only the door. Why hadn't he walked through the goddamn-

"-You're not listening to me."

You blinked once before looking back over to your Aunt Sherry. By some miracle - it was still unclear if it was a good miracle or not - she had been the paramedic on scene. She hadn't truly questioned you yet, but you knew it was bound to happen. Your family was nothing if not nosy.

"What did you say?" You asked, fighting against the natural slip of an accent that would mimic Aunt Sherry's perfectly.

She gave you a pity-filled look. "Did he get ya anywhere else?"

"No," you instantly replied with a shake of your head. "That's it."

"Then you're all set," she said as she went to pat your shoulder. Thankfully she caught herself in time and patted your back instead. "And you don't want to go to Mercy?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled as you hopped out of the back of the ambulance. "And don't tell Ma or Pop!"

"It's already on the news, kiddo," she said with a shrug. "If they know, they know."

"You're good for nothing," you shouted as you backpedaled to where Tara and her bunch were still standing. "See ya at mass."

Aunt Sherry waved at you and shook her head, but otherwise let you go. You looked down at the stitches now keeping your bicep together. Only five; it could've been much worse. If that was the bastard you were up against, he wouldn't be much of a challenge. Couldn't even swing a knife properly. Talk about pathetic.

You mouthed a “hey” at Tara when you finally got closer. It was cold now that the adrenaline was wearing off and you were finally feeling the cold autumn air. Would have been nice to have some sort of jacket. Or your shirt that Tara was still wearing. Well, you supposed everyone could enjoy seeing you half-naked. You would just freeze to death, it was fine.

“You okay?” Tara asked quietly, her eyes darting to the stitched up wound.

“Course I am, sweetheart,” you said with a shrug. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was starting to sting like a sonofabitch.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, and both you and Tara turned to look at her. If you were cold before, you were frozen under her icy stare.

“I mean… I’ve been worse,” you said as you did your best to avoid her gaze.

“Good,” she said. You didn’t have time to brace yourself before she slapped your uninjured arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” You complained. “The hell are you getting mad at me for?”

“I told you to stay away from my sister,” Sam continued. “You could have gotten her killed.”

“You think I called your stupid little serial killer?” You asked; you could feel the accent coming back in full force. All it did was make you more frustrated. “Isn’t he supposed to call me?”

“Guys-”

“-Nothing happened until you got Tara alone,” she interrupted Danny. “And that’s just a coincidence?”

You scrunched your face up and shrugged your shoulders. “Yes?” You said. “Why would I want anything to do with your psycho killer?”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara said, moving to hold Sam’s arm.

It didn’t stop her. “We were doing just fine until you came along.” Sam jabbed her finger into your chest.

“You really think the two ‘a youse were doin’ fine?” You asked. “You’re trust issues and repressed trauma in human form.”

“Hey,” Tara scolded, her eyes now on you.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m right,” you said, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “And you can be suspicious all you want, but why the fuck would I interrupt myself finally gettin’ laid for the first time in months?”

“Oh my god,” Tara whispered to herself as she turned her back to you.

“I have priorities too,” you defended.

“Fine,” Sam said quickly. “If I say I believe you, will you please shut up?”

“Yes,” you said.

You all finally fell silent, Sam still giving you a look that meant she did not believe you, but at least she had stopped arguing. Danny was giving you that stupid “I’m not mad, just disappointed” look, and Tara still wouldn’t face you. What was going on in the world? You were just supposed to get laid, you weren’t supposed to be dealing with… whatever the fuck all of this was.

“So,” you finally said as police continued to mill around you. “What do you guys normally do now?”

“Seriously?” Tara asked, finally turning back to look at you.

“I’m no Ghostface expert,” you said defensively, again. “Do we just… go on as normal?” A chorus of groans followed your question. “Because I still need to go clean up the kitchen.”

“I do too,” Danny said, looking at Sam for a moment before turning back to you.

Unfortunately for him, Tara noticed and she stood up straighter.

“What was my sister doing in your apartment anyway?” She asked him. His mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your hip. “About damn time.”

“I was helping him carry up groceries,” Sam said with a slight shake of her head.

“Oh, so you can go into a stranger’s apartment and I can’t even have someone I know over?” Tara asked.

“Okay, hang on,” you said, somehow turning into the middle man. This whole night was turning into a disaster. You needed a drink. Or five.

“No, she doesn’t get to accuse you when she’s acting suspicious,” Tara said with a shake of her head before looking at Sam and Danny again. “So do you know him or not?”

“Tara-”

“-no, Sam,” she interrupted. “What is he to you?”

You locked eyes with Danny at the same time Tara and Sam locked eyes. Part of you wanted to just break the awkward tension and say Danny was with Sam. It would get Tara off his back and you could all go about the real problem; finally getting you back into a shirt so you wouldn’t freeze your tits off.

Sam sighed. “He and I are… a thing.”

“I knew it,” Tara said softly.

“Tara-”

“-I would’ve been happy for you,” she said. “If you hadn’t accused my partner of being Ghostface.”

“I’m your partner now?” You asked, perking up immediately.

“Shut up,” she said quickly.

“Yes ma’am,” you said, snapping your jaw shut. God you loved when she was mean.

“If I may-”

“-You may not,” Tara said, turning to face Danny. “I don’t want to hear from any of you right now.”

“How about from me?”

All four of you shut your mouths and looked around, finally seeing Detective Bailey walking toward your little group. You sighed and looked around. The last person you wanted to see at the moment was him. Well, okay, the last person you wanted to see was Ghostface, but Detective Bailey was a very close second.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” He asked, clapping you on the shoulder of your hurt arm. Oh fuck it hurt.

“Always a pleasure, Detective,” you said politely through a forced smile.

“You sound just like your old man,” he said.

“Bet I do,” you mumbled as you turned your head away.

“I’m going to need the two of you to come down for a talk,” Bailey said, pointing to you and Tara.

“Not us?” Danny asked.

“I’m coming too,” Sam said without waiting for Bailey to answer.

“You’ll be waiting in a separate room,” Bailey said. You didn’t blame him for not even arguing; if anyone knew Sam, they knew to just roll with the punches. “Come on.”

You followed him, Tara quick behind you. With a glance, you saw Danny and Sam talking for a moment before he backed away toward the apartment. She, on the other hand, caught up in only a few strides and forced herself in between you and Tara. If it hadn’t been for the whole just-nearly-getting-murdered thing, you would’ve teased her about her territorial tendencies.

“Don’t put me back there with her,” you said quietly when Bailey tried to put you in the back of the squad car. Right beside Sam. “She’s not my biggest fan.”

“Neither am I,” he said with a smile before pushing your head down and shoving you into the car. “Get in.”

You practically fell into the car, your knees banging against the front seat. It was still cold as hell and now your arm was strained. A quick glance down showed a few little spots of blood. Great. Now that was split again too. Why couldn’t anyone just let you grab some clothes?

The entire ride to the station you could feel Sam’s gaze on you. No, not a gaze, it was a full-blown glare. If you had died in that apartment, you didn’t think she would’ve been too upset about the fact. And Tara was being diplomatic and keeping her mouth shut, looking out the window as the city passed by. It was smart.

“So,” you started, “did you and Danny have a nice night?”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay,” you said quickly.

Well, at least no one could say you didn’t try.

It was a short drive to the station, and you felt like you were going to combust under Sam’s eyes. The scrutiny didn’t stop when you pulled into the station, and it certainly didn’t stop when you walked in. If looks could kill? Yeah, it was a real thing. It might not kill, but it definitely made you want to die.

“Hey, Y/N,” Linda at reception said when you walked in.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a wink, walking over to lean on the desk. “How’re the little rascals?”

“They’re good,” she said, leaning forward on her arms. “Found you a girl yet?”

“Think so,” you said, fully putting on the charm. “Right over there,” you gestured your head behind you.

“I’m guessin’ it’s not the one givin’ you the “eat shit and die” look?”

You both turned your head to look at Sam, who had now crossed her arms over her chest. Tara wasn’t even trying to stop her; you didn’t blame her. Samantha Carpenter was a force of nature that no one wanted to fight against. Tara had probably learned that after the first Ghostface attack in Woodsboro.

“Good guess,” you mumbled.

“Keep moving,” Bailey said as he walked past you with Tara and Sam hot on his heels.

“We’ll catch up another time,” you said, sending Linda a wink and smile.

“Countin’ on it,” she replied before blowing a kiss in your direction.

Your brother was going to kill you for flirting with his wife.

It was a familiar walk back to Bailey’s interrogation room. While Sam was directed to a separate room, you walked in ahead of Tara and sat down in the seat that you had secretly designated as your own. At the rate you frequented, you might as well just carve your name into the wood. Just so Bailey would always have a reminder of you whether he wanted it or not.

“Here,” he said when he walked in and threw something at you. You flinched, but caught it. “Put that on.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you pulled the NYPD shirt over your head. You sneezed. “Sorry,” you said when you wiped your nose. “I’m allergic to pigs.”

“Stop,” Tara whispered to you.

“What can you tell me about tonight?” He asked, completely ignoring your comment.

“We were just having dinner and watching a movie,” you said with a shrug. “Bada bing, bada boom, little rat bastard interrupts.”

“Did you find him?” Tara asked. Why was everyone ignoring you? You were the one with the injuries, right? Shouldn’t you have more of a say than anyone else? Maybe you had a lot more to learn about this whole Ghostface thing than you had thought.

“We didn’t find anything,” Bailey said with a shrug. “Got anyone who has it out for you?”

They both turned to look at you after the question had been voiced. You looked between the both of them. Oh for fuck’s sake, now it was just getting insulting. There was no winning for you, was there? First you’re interrupted, then you’re attacked, then interrogated by not only Sam but now Bailey too? Well, fuck you, you guessed.

“Why are the two ‘a youse looking at me?” You asked. “I stay out of trouble.”

They both gave you exasperated looks.

“I mostly stay out of trouble,” you corrected.

“Was your sister accounted for?” Bailey asked.

“She was across the alley with a guy,” Tara answered with a shake of her head.

“Danny,” you filled in. “He didn’t do this.”

“And neither did Sam,” she said.

“Did he target one of you more than the other?” He asked.

“He turned to face Tara,” you said as you recalled the event. Most of it was a blur, but you could pick out one or two pieces. “But he didn’t have enough time to really target anyone.”

“Then you need to stay safe,” he said directly to Tara. “I would guess he’s going after your Woodsboro crew.”

“Typical,” Tara huffed, falling back against her chair.

“What do we do?” You asked, doing the opposite of her and leaning forward on the table. “Twiddle our thumbs until you maybe catch the guy?”

“Are you calling us incompetant?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I am.”

“You’re going to go home and let us do our jobs,” he said.

“And if you don’t do your jobs?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“You’re still going to stay out of it.” He wasn’t even looking at Tara anymore. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you answered.

You kept your eyes locked on his. It wasn’t your first stare down with Bailey, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. You knew you were on his permanent shit list, but quite frankly you didn’t care. His group of piss poor detectives had let you all down time and time again, you weren’t going to trust him with your life.

And you certainly weren’t going to trust him with Tara’s.

“You’re both free to go,” he finally said. “We’ll be in touch.”

“I bet you will,” you said, but stood up anyway.

Tara left the room before you, and you sent one more glare at Bailey before following suit. To no one’s surprise, Sam was already waiting. She checked on Tara and gave you a once-over before starting the walk out of the station. You gave Linda a smile and a little wave before walking outside.

Where the news stations were waiting.

It was absolute pandemonium. Too many voices, too many flashing lights, you were amazed the Carpenters weren’t fazed. Well, you were amazed but not surprised. You knew all the shit they had to deal with since Woodsboro. They were probably used to all the commotion that came with being survivors of a brutal series of killings.

“Don’t talk to them,” you said as you quickly got between them and the reporters. “Keep walking, I’ll take care of it.”

You turned around and held your arms behind you to keep a hold of Tara and did what you knew would work. As your godmother had taught you, you started swearing up a storm. Every word you could think of to form the most colourful string of curses you could come up with. The looks of pure agitation and frustration on the reporters’ faces was enough to make you smile.

“That doesn’t work on me, sweetheart.”

Your smile fell when Gale walked into your view.

“Now’s not the time,” you said with a pointed look. “We can talk later.”

“An exclusive?” She asked, following behind you as you pushed Sam and Tara down the sidewalk and away from the station. And the reporters.

“Without your cronie,” you said.

Gale gave you a look of pure exasperation, but only a moment later waved for her cameraman to leave. You waited for him to be out of earshot before you gestured for her to follow you, and she instantly fell into step with you as you both caught up to the Carpenters. They didn’t seem as impressed, but at least they knew her.

“Are you okay?” She asked you. “I heard you got hurt.”

“Just a scratch,” you said with a shrug. “Far less than you lot have gone through.”

“I had wanted to keep you out of all of this,” she said.

“Well,” you sighed. “Seems I’m in it now.”

“What are you doing here, Gale?” Sam asked, turning around quickly and stopping the four of you in your tracks. “I think you know we’re not too happy with you.”

“No one is ever happy with me, sweetheart,” Gale said with her News Smile. “I’m actually here to check up on Y/N.”

“With your cameraman?”

“How do you know Y/N?” Tara and Sam asked at the same time.

Everyone turned to look at you, who was in the process of biting your fingers off. You froze under the scrutiny, your hands slowly falling back down to your side where you shoved them in your pants pockets. It seemed like you were just going to be interrogated for the rest of your life.

“I’m their godmother,” Gale said when it was clear you were a little too frazzled to talk.

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“My Pop went to college with her,” you finally managed to say. “Suppose he liked her enough to make her part of the family.”

“And you just failed to mention that little fact?” Tara asked, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Oops.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” you said with a shrug, “I’m not Woodsboro.”

“Can we focus?” Sam asked. “What do you want, Gale?”

“What happened?” Gale asked. “No recorder, no camera, just tell me.”

The three of you looked at each other and sighed. They might not trust Gale - which was understandable, she had written a book when she said she wouldn’t - but you did. She might not be blood, but she was family. You gave the Carpenters time to stop you before turning to face her and telling her what happened.

You ommitted the little detail that you were mid-lay.

“I’m going to go do some digging,” she said with a dazed nod of her head. “You do the same?”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve got a few things to go over.”

“Good,” she said before looking back at Sam and Tara. “Stay safe.” She looked at you. “All of you.”

All of you nodded and mumbled an agreement before bidding Gale goodbye. You watched and waited for her to be gone before turning back around to face the others. Now that everything had mostly calmed down, you were starting to focus on the real issue at hand again.

“What now?” Tara asked, her eyes flicking between you and Sam.

“We need to meet up with Chad and Mindy,” Sam said. “Fill them in.”

“I’ll head to my apartment,” you said. Tara opened her mouth to protest almost instantly. “I need to go over a few things.”

“We need to stick together,” she said.

“We can all meet up at my apartment tomorrow night,” you said with a gentle voice. “I’ve got some digging of my own to do.”

“No one even knows where you live,” Sam said. She looked at Tara and waited to see if she knew. Thankfully, she didn’t, and Sam let out a barely noticeable sigh of relief.

“I’ll call you from a burner and tell you the address,” you said. Both girls looked at you with raised brows. “Can’t trace a burner, and it guarantees it won’t be mirrored.”

“That’s some sketchy shit,” Tara said. “How do you know this stuff?”

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve,” you shrugged. “Still not Ghostface,” you defended when Sam gave you a judgmental look.

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam said. “Come on.”

She turned around to leave, and you stood there watching her go. Tara hesitated, looking between you and Sam. As much as you wanted her to stick around, you knew she needed to be with her gang. No one could understand them the way they understood each other, and one little half-hearted attack didn’t make you one of them. You knew that.

“Go on,” you said softly with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked at you for a little too long, long enough to have you shifting your weight from foot to foot. You inhaled deeply, trying your best to calm your racing thoughts and pulse. Tara stepped forward slowly and grabbed the front of your shirt, pulling you down just enough to plant a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Stay safe,” she said. “I mean it.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with another smile.

Tara took that as good enough and turned around, jogging to catch up with Sam. You could see the both of them talking, and Sam’s arm wrapped protectively around Tara’s shoulders. It was sweet. You couldn’t even imagine what all they went through on a regular basis. All the chaos was enough to make anyone insane. They were lucky to have each other.

You shook the thought out of your head and started the long walk back to your apartment. If they were all coming over tomorrow night, you would need to have all your ducks in a row. No way were you inviting veterans into your home only to look like a fool.

—---

By the time everyone showed up at your apartment, you were running on 43 hours of being awake, your seventh espresso, and your 13th RedBull. Were you going insane? Yes. Could you smell colours? Absolutely. In fact, red smelled like black pepper. Or maybe that was the disgusting takeout you had been munching on for the past nine hours.

Damn, you needed to clean. Thank god Garret wouldn’t be back from his parent’s house until next weekend.

The knock on your front door pulled you back to the current situation. Right. You were going to show everyone what you had discovered. Which, not to brag, but it was pretty impressive. You managed to sweep the majority of the trash into a trash bag and put it off to the side before tripping over papers on the way to the door.

“Hey,” you said with a frazzled smile when you threw the door open and saw the entire gang standing there.

“When was the last time you slept?” Anika asked.

“Or showered,” Chad chimed in.

“Just get in here,” you said as you stepped aside. “I’m definitely on to something.”

“Good, because I have my own theories,” Mindy said with a smile. She was the first to enter.

You said hi to every one of them as they came in. Anika gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek and Quinn patted your unhurt arm. When Tara finally walked in, at the very end of the line, she gave you a look that you… couldn’t quite describe. She didn’t look sad. You supposed “worried” was a much better descriptor.

“You didn’t even change out of the shirt,” she said, pulling lightly on the NYPD shirt that you were still sporting.

“Shit,” you mumbled, “you’re right.”

“Go change,” she said, and you nodded before shutting and locking the door behind her.

“Get settled,” you told everyone as you walked into your room. You left the door open as you dug for something to wear. “All ‘a youse stayed safe, right?” You called.

“Safe and sound,” Anika called back.

“Good,” you said, tossing the NYPD shirt onto the bed. You were still trying to orient the new shirt as you walked back into the living room. “I’ve got some information you’re all going to love.”

“Who is that guy staring at us from across the alley?” Chad asked.

“What?” You said as you finally pulled the shirt over your head. You walked over to the window to see who he was talking about. “Oh, that’s Tony.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“My older brother,” you said, shooting a wave at him. He waved back and smiled. “After the other night, I asked him to keep watch. His bedroom window watches the fire escape outside my room.”

“How many brothers do you even have?” Quinn asked, mostly to herself.

“Five,” you answered anyway, “and two sisters.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Tara asked incredulously.

“What can I say,” you shrugged. “We’re Catholic.”

“And you trust Tony?” Mindy asked. “Like really trust him?”

“With my life,” you said. “Now, everyone sit down, I’ve got a few things to show you.” You looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Econ,” Chad answered.

You looked around for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “Alright then,” you said. “Mindy, would you like to enthrall us with your theories while I get my stuff situated?”

“I would love to,” she said with a smile as she stood up in front of everyone.

You listened to Mindy’s talk about sequels and remakes and upping the budget and yada yada. It was all very flashy, very out there, but you could respect it. If anyone would know what was going on, it would be Mindy. And she managed to fill more than enough time while you finished pulling everything up on your laptop and hooking it up to the projector on the ceiling.

“Now we shall hear your theories,” Mindy said as she practically handed you the floor.

“Not necessarily theories,” you said, “but I dug up some dirt.”

“And how did you manage to do that?” Chad asked as he leaned back against your couch.

“Well, Chadwick,” you said, ignoring the glare he sent you, “I learned from a very reliable source.”

“Gale is their godmother,” Sam explained.

“And my sister Martha is a tech guru,” you said as you pulled up your powerpoint presentation, “so I learned from the best.”

“Did you turn this into a TED Talk?” Quinn asked with a tilt of her head.

“Why yes I did, Quinn, thank you for asking,” you said as you pulled up the first slide.

“How long is this presentation?” Tara asked.

“Long,” you said with a smile, “so buckle up.”

You went over everything you had managed to dig up for the past 18 hours. From all the Reddit conspiracies, to possible motives. You pointed out how all the theories of Sam being the killer had all managed to come from different sock puppet accounts, which all connected to two different real accounts, which shared IP addresses.

“And you learned how to find that out from your sister?” Anika asked as she leaned forward on her thighs.

“Yes I did,” you said, “and she’s never wrong.”

“Who do the two accounts belong to?” Tara asked.

“Now that I don’t know yet,” you sighed. “But we got our two potential Ghostfaces right there.”

“Two?” Sam asked.

“There’s almost always two,” you said. “Except for, uh, what’s his name,” you shuffled through some of the papers on your table. “Ah, that Roman guy.”

Everyone looked at you with a mix of shock, confusion, and amazement. And maybe a little bit of fear.

“I told you I did my research,” you defended. “Unlike you guys, I didn’t grow up with Ghostface as part of my school curriculum.”

“So you did all this just to tell us you still don’t know who it is?” Chad asked.

“I’m not a detective, I’m doing my best,” you huffed. “It’s more than that pig Bailey ever did.” You instantly looked at Quinn. “No offense, doll.”

“None taken,” she said with a shrug.

“But I do think this means he’s going after you, Sam,” you said. “He painted a bullseye on you with the Reddit bullshit. Must’ve pissed someone off.”

“Seems that’s all I ever do,” she said with a huff.

Everyone got to talking, going over what you had managed to find out. You continued shuffling through your papers, seeing if there was anything else you had left out. All the adrenaline and caffeine was starting to wear off and your eyes were fuzzy, but you could focus long enough to read. Mostly.

Your phone vibrated on the table, and you looked down. From the area code, the call was from the Bronx. If anything, one of your siblings got a new phone and was calling you to let you know. It had happened far too many times anyway, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Quit breakin’ your goddamn phone,” you said immediately after answering.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You froze.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “Cat got your tongue?”

Everyone was still talking amongst themselves. You didn't know if you were supposed to tell them about the call or not. No one was looking at you, so you walked over to the window. When Tino looked over, you signed for him to watch.

"You and your buddy showin' up tonight?" You asked. "Or are you both a couple 'a pussies?"

"You're bold," he said. "Have you learned much from your research?"

"A bit," you said. You were eying the streets below. Surely he was somewhere close.

"Then I'll ask you the single most important question," he said. "What's your favourite scary movie?"

“Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure,” you said. “Large Marge will haunt me till I die.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“My Ma told me I’m a natural comedian.” He wasn’t in the alley. Where was he?

“You ever seen Stab?”

“Not really,” you said. You were vaguely aware of the fact that everyone had fallen silent. “I think they're insensitive."

"Insensitive?" He chuckled. "How chivalrous."

"You gonna play your game or not?" You asked, finally turning back around to see everyone staring at you.

Oh no.

"Did you check Garret’s room when you got home last night?"

Your eyes darted to Garret’s closed bedroom door. No. No you hadn’t checked it last night. The phone fell from your hand as you vaulted over the armchair in your way. Someone was calling to you, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. Without any hesitation or sense of self preservation, you threw the door open.

No one was in there.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Don’t go in there!” Mindy shouted at you from the living room. “Have you never seen a horror movie?”

“Just shut up,” you called back. “Get out,” you said when you grabbed one of the baseball bats you kept in every room of the apartment. “Tony’s apartment number is 413, it’s a four floor walk-up.”

“I’m staying,” Tara said.

“Come on,” Chad said; you hoped he grabbed her and forced her to leave.

This is a stupid idea, you thought as you stalked your way to Garret’s closed closet door. Sure, you had a bat, but you had no idea what you were going to do if that fucker was in there. What, you were going to just bludgeon him to death? Yeah, that would look great on your rap sheet.

“Here goes nothin’,” you mumbled as you turned the doorknob and threw the door open, the bat primed and ready.

No one was in there either.

“What the-”

-screams came from the front door.

Shit. 

You tripped over Garret’s duffel bag that he had left and hit the floor with a hard *thud*. The stitches on your bicep pulled tight. You could hear your pulse racing in your ears as you pushed yourself back up to your feet and ran out of the room.

Just in time to see Ghostface pulling the knife out of Anika’s stomach.

You saw Mindy not too far away holding her bleeding arm, but you couldn’t find anyone else. That was probably a good thing.

Ghostface lifted the knife again.

The wood of the bat rubbed harshly against the skin of your palms as you swung. It hit his head with a hollow *thunk*, and he groaned and fell to the ground. You didn't recall crossing the living room.

“Go,” you shouted as you pushed Anika and Mindy into your room and slammed the door behind the three of you.

Mindy helped Anika onto your bed and pushed against the wound that you could now see went all the way from her sternum to her stomach. Your own stomach twisted at the sight. The muscles in your legs were frozen even as your mind ran rampant.

Something grabbed the doorknob.

You dropped the bat and lunged, slamming into the door right as it opened. Your hands wrapped around the doorknob as it twisted erratically. The metal started to heat up from the friction and you could feel it burning the skin on your palms.

"We're going to die," Anika cried.

"Try to stay positive," Mindy told her even as she was looking around the room for… you didn't know what.

The doorknob twisted again. The door opened slightly, and you slammed your shoulder into it again. Why didn't you fix the fucking lock when you had the chance last week?

"If we get out of this alive, I'm fucking strangling you-"

-The gleam of a knife shut you up and took over everything in your sight.

You followed as it pulled out, leaving a hole in your door right beside your head along with a light smear of blood.

"Get out," you said, your eyes still glued to the blood smear on your door.

"What?" Mindy asked 

"Fire escape leads to Tony's room," you said.

"Tara will kill me if I leave you-"

-the knife drove through the door again. You jumped back but felt a sharp sting in your hip.

The door tried to fly open again. You yelped, but pushed against it harder. Your bare feet dug into the carpet and you could feel the strain in your thighs.

"Give me the chair," you ordered, waving your hand vaguely in the direction of a metal folding chair.

Someone shuffled around the room, and in seconds you felt the chair in your outstretched hand. You placed it underneath the doorknob.

The knife pierced the door again.

And again.

And again.

"Come on," you heard Mindy say to Anika. At least you assumed that was who she was talking to.

Anika groaned, but the sounds meant they were moving. Hopefully to your window. Your pulse was rushing in your ear.

The doorknob jiggled again.

"Grab my hand!" Okay, that was Sam, the window was open.

The knife came into your field of view.

Oh god this was so stupid!

"Y/N, come on!"

Tara?

The doorknob quit moving and the room was enveloped with a deafening silence.

You let go of the doorknob slowly and took a few hesitant steps back. The heel of your foot hit the bat, and you reached down to pick it up without taking your eyes off the door.

"Just get out here!"

The grain of the wood rubbed your palms raw as you tightened your grip on the handle. It hung in the air above your shoulder, ready to swing.

I dare you to try it.

"Tara wait!"

Someone stepped onto the fire escape before climbing into the window. You didn't dare turn from the door. A familiar hand touched your ear. It stung.

"You're bleeding," Tara said softly.

You didn't answer.

There was banging in the living room. You twisted your hands around the bat and planted your feet. So help you god, if Ghostface even so much as sneezed you would-

"-It's Bailey!"

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.

"We have paramedics downstairs," he continued, "open the door."

Your eyes stayed on the door even as you toed the chair, pulling it until it fell to the ground with a *clang*.  Your grip on the bat tightened as you watched the doorknob twist.

Detective Bailey stepped into the room, hands held up in surrender.

You exhaled sharply and felt all the muscles in your body relax.

The bat fell to the ground as your vision went fuzzy. Tara's hand fell and rested on your hip.

You supposed you had just survived attack number two.

[xxchaosjojoxx]

Misunderstanding (Penguin x reader)

A/N: I’m a sucker when it comes to Penguin and enemies to lovers kinda things. I hope you enjoy it like me while writing it. Happy birthday my lovely @penkura / @penkuramain

It was a boring and hot day, especially when you have cleaning duties with your crewmate Shachi. Since you joined, nearly 1 year ago, you never really talked much with Shachi. You were quite friendly with him, chatting casual stuff but nothing more. No personal things. It’s not like you wanted it this way. You were focusing on other things. Being the log keeper for the heart pirates, helping Law and the rest of the crew with everything you can or trying to impress a certain someone. You and Shachi were on deck, scrubbin the last dirt off the ship. You noticed that Shachi was glancing at you from time to time. Sometimes your eyes met and you smiled a little, but no one said a thing.

Shachi cleared his throat. “Hey Y/N, can I ask you something?”

You looked at him, clearly confused as to what he wanted to know.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Ehm...I noticed that you are quite talkative when it comes to Penguin.”

You gripped on the broom in your hands tightly. What is he thinking? “This isn’t a question, you know?”

“Yeah you right ehmm… You know Penguin is my best friend and he is important to me. And you talk a lot with him about different things. I don’t wanna sound rude or something. I uhm…was just wondering..how should I put it?”

You looked at him with an annoyed groan. “I’m running out of patience, Shachi.”

He shrieked a little. “Ok, fine. Do you hate him or something? Penguin, I mean.”

You blinked your eyes a couple times. Did you hear correctly?

A soft smile was gracing your lips. “Not at all. I’m actually quite in love with him, to be honest.”

The red-head shook his head. “Wait, are you for real? But you pick on him and totally show off to piss him off.”

You couldn’t help but scratch your neck, as soon as you noticed the warm feeling in your face. “I’m actually trying to impress him somehow so he would notice me. But I guess this came out totally wrong.” You chuckled and your eyes showed Shachi a hint of sorrow. “No wonder he ignores me all the time when I try to talk to him nowadays. And about the other thing. My brain can’t comprehend when I’m talking to someone I find attractive. That’s why I always say stupid things.”

It was quite for a while and you both stare at each other. “S-Sorry I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine. You were worried about your best friend. I can understand this. Don’t worry, oh and thank you. We make a great team.” You showed him a big grin which he returned.

With fast steps you entered the polar Tang again, as soon as you went through the door you noticed Penguin, standing or more hiding beside it. Even so you couldn’t see his face clearly you could see that his mimic was different than usual. Like he feels uncomfortable. You noticed that he was a little red on his face. Maybe he had a fever. You wanted to ask him, if he felt alright or if you could do something for him but you remembered Shachi’s words and shook this feeling off. So you decided to give him some space for now. With a smile you walked past him. “Hey Penguin. We just finished, Shachi is still outside.” And with that you left both of them.

Shachi was soon beside Penguin. He noticed his friend's behavior and the look on his face. “You overheard our conversation?” Shachi asked while patting the young man’s shoulder.

He gulped while hiding his face more under his signature hat. “Yeah. But is it really the truth? Y/N was pretty unfazed after seeing me.”

Shachi hummed in agreement. “Yeah you’re right. I’m not sure either. It’s hard for me to tell if she is actually telling the truth or not. We’re not close enough for me to figure it out.”

“Go on ahead, Shach. I need some fresh air.” It was time for him to cool down. Penguin wasn’t sure if it would be better if this turns out to be a lie or not. He didn’t wanna overhear it by accident and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

After a few days passed, no one showed any different reaction. The words and your smile after telling Shachi that you are in love with him, made his heart jump. It was an excited feeling and Penguin was still unsure about it. He tried to read you. He wanted to know if you were messing with both of him or not. No one was close enough with you and even so he didn’t wanna ask someone about this kinda thing. It was too personal and without your consent it was a no-go.

After dinner Penguin went out on deck, standing near the railing and enjoying the view and light breeze. A cough was heard and Penguin turned around. There you were, standing in front of him. You waved at him shyly and he waved back automatically.

With a grin you took a step towards him, at this moment he noticed that you were holding a spear in your hand.

“I thought about trying out different weapons. And I think a spear could fit my battle style.” You said and swung the spear, trying to impress him. Penguin couldn’t say anything. He was too stunned about the falling sun behind you, highlighting your body, your face and especially your smile in this radiant light. Your eyes were sparkling like stars.

You were quite happy that he was looking at you, not ignoring you or walking away. Until you slipped away and ended up falling flat on your face. A loud “bang” was heard and you couldn’t even lift your head properly. Your hands were covering your face. “G-Guess spears won’t fit my battle style. Hehe…he..” You groaned and tried to play it cool. But your voice was shivering and you felt like dying from embarrassment. “I’m not hurt by the way. I’m just…dying hopefully. Can I throw myself out in the ocean?” Your voice was getting quieter til it became a whisper.

Penguin had a mind blowing realization at this time. Y/N was right, you did tell the truth. He and Shachi thought that you would mess with him out of fun, but you really did try to impress him. He remembered every single time. The one where you cook their favorite dishes, telling them it was easy to make it. He felt kinda angry at this, but now he knows, you did tell it, to show that you were willing to do it for him and that no one needs to worry, that those dishes take a lot of time and preparation. Or the one time where you suggested doing cleaning duty alone. “I am super fast. I don’t need a helping hand.” You wanted him to have some free time or duty with Shachi, not showing off that you are better without him.

All those little things you did and said, wasn’t for him to feel bad and useless. You tried to reassure him, support him, giving you some gift of appreciation with it. You always had a smile on your face whenever you saw him. A bigger smile when you were talking to him.

You were happy seeing him, talking with him. Not because you made fun of him. As he was looking at you, he felt stupid that he took it the wrong way. Did it take that long for him to notice you? Seeing you? The real you? He remembered your radiant appearance just a few moments ago and couldn’t help but smile softly. Why did he never realize that your smile was so beautiful? He took a few steps towards you, closing the distance and holding a hand towards you for you to grab it.

“I’ll help you.” Penguin said and your hands moved away, you were looking at him with a pout and beautiful big eyes. “Thanks” You said softly and were holding his hand.

As he helped you up off the ground, he pulled you into a short and quick kiss.

After realizing what was happening, you couldn’t comprehend a sentence.

You tried to stutter some words but couldn’t help it. He still held your hand, chuckling. “Maybe we should talk. What do you think?”

He asked and for the first time ever you got a glimpse of his eyes. “Sure.”

[zaebeecee]

Fight and Flight ••

Pre-RadioDust Oneshot •

Read on AO3

•••

Based on this headcanon from @alastorsfluffydeertail. Thank you for letting me use this as a prompt, my dear, and I’m sorry I took it a bit off the rails (as I am wont to do). This is what I get for never planning anything out.

But also if anyone thinks the Hazbin Hotel residents wouldn’t prank each other, they’re wrong.

•••

When Angel Dust had first agreed to move into the Hazbin Hotel (back when it was the Happy Hotel, whose name alone was almost enough to make him refuse no matter how well he was paid for the evening), it was the first time in his entire existence in Hell that he had known exactly what to expect. The princess had a fucking stupid plan about getting sinners into Heaven and her bodyguard/girlfriend/what the fuck ever was apparently determined to help her see it out; Angel knew a hopeless cause when he saw one, and more importantly, he knew how to capitalize on it.

Of course, he had forgotten one very key detail: sinners were human at their core, and when humans spent a lot of time in close proximity, they got to know each other really well. And when people got to know each other really well, that meant bonding was basically unavoidable.

It was easy to forget the ‘human’ factor of sinners at VoxTek, particularly when someone spent too much time around the Vees. Sometimes, Angel thought of them as less ‘humans’ and more ‘evil entities that had learned how to mimic the worst of human behavior with extra capitalism’, and because of that he had kept company with them as little as possible since Valentino had showed his true colors and backhanded Angel for the very first time. But the Hazbin Hotel was not VoxTek, and the other residents of the hotel were not the Vees. They were mostly relatively normal people, when you put aside things like noble station and overlord rank, and that complicated Angel’s initial plan.

Originally, he had agreed simply to take advantage of not having to pay rent and not having to live under Val’s thumb at all times. It was a simple scheme: follow just as many rules as he absolutely had to in order to avoid getting kicked out, keep as much of his drug usage off the property as he could, and bat his eyes and make super sappy apologies about ‘trying his best’ whenever he got caught. It would have gone great if not for one tiny little hiccup.

He liked them.

Damn them to a lower ring of Hell, but Angel liked the fuckers, and it wasn’t long before he realized that they were becoming friends. Of course, they were also a bunch of pricks who’d been punished with eternal damnation for the crime of being assholes in life, so with friendship came the inevitable bullshit of having asshole friends. This, frequently, meant pranks of varying degrees of severity and creativity.

In Angel’s defense, he didn’t start it. The whole thing began when someone (who was never actually identified) convinced all of the Egg Bois that they were named after different members of the Rat Pack (to go with Frank) and that Pentious really loved being serenaded with ‘Ain’t That A Kick In The Head’ at all times. It had started out kind of funny—the Egg Bois couldn’t keep time with each other and it got even worse when they tried to manufacture their own Dean Martin impersonations—but it had quickly grown into the absolute worst thing Angel had ever had the displeasure to suffer. Husk, accurately, determined that it was “proof of Hell’s eternal punishment”. Eventually, Charlie helped Pentious right them, but it was way, way too late.

The war was on, and it quickly spread to everyone in the hotel without mercy. And, unpredictably, it seemed everyone was in on the game in one capacity or another.

Everyone had their own weak points when it came to getting ‘punk’d’, as Vaggie called it with an impressively straight face. Charlie could be convinced of just about anything if you said it with enough conviction, and Husk was alarmingly easy to gaslight if you could rearrange or abscond with his bar equipment when he wasn’t looking. Niffty was, of course, weak to cleaning pranks (but they had quickly determined the Stabbing Threshold, which was the point where it wasn’t funny anymore and she would legitimately gut someone), and you could do a million things to Pentious if you got into his lab, as long as you didn’t break anything. Angel was particularly proud of the time he got Vaggie to fully arm herself and go all the way up onto the roof of the hotel to ‘challenge an intruder’ who ended up being a hellsquirrel, but she had gotten him back by coming into the kitchen while he was cooking, staring him dead in the eye, and breaking all of the spaghetti before he could stop her.

And Alastor? Well, no one could get into his room, or his radio tower, or even find him if he didn’t want to be found, which rendered him immune to most forms of planned tomfoolery. But when he was there? He was easy, because he was a jumpy fucker if you caught him off guard, and a single loud noise close enough behind him would send him shadow teleporting onto some other surface (the mantle of the lobby fireplace on one particularly memorable occasion).

It was fun. Or, at least, it was supposed to be fun. That was why they had a set number of rules: no staining anything Niffty had to clean (and no glitter, which was a personal rule for Angel after that one time), no making Charlie cry, no breaking Pentious’s equipment or Husk’s bottles, no fucking with Vaggie’s weapons and armor, and absolutely nothing involving Fat Nuggets. Other than that, it was open season on everyone.

Charlie was conducting one of her little trust building exercises one evening, the entire hotel (sans Alastor) her captives for the duration of the entire exercise. Cherri had made the mistake of showing up just before it began, and curiosity had roped her in; now, she was sitting next to Angel and watching Charlie coaching Vaggie and Husk through some kind of role playing exercise with an open sort of fascination.

“Is it always like this?” Cherri murmured, leaning on Angel’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Angel whispered back. “I got no fuckin’ idea how this’s supposed to get us redeemed, tho, all it’s ever done is made me hate kids.”

Cherri snorted. “Why isn’t Radio Face here?”

Angel rolled his eyes. “He’s the hotelier,” he said, exaggerating Alastor’s transatlantic delivery and overly precise French pronunciation. “He don’t gotta participate, apparently, because he ain’t up for bein’ made better or whatever. Come to think of it, I ain’t seen him in a few days. Think he’s been out.”

Like Angel had spoken a cue, the radio on the lobby table made gentle static noises, and a couple of the lights flickered, just slightly. Everyone stopped, glancing around, because that meant one thing: Alastor was nearby, and he was either very angry or very tired, and either way it meant he wasn’t checking his power as much as he usually did. It had freaked Angel out the first time, but eventually, he learned to interpret it as a sign that Alastor was returning after a long bout of ‘personal business’ and probably wasn’t going to be bothering any of them.

Cherri grinned. “I’m gonna fuck with him,” she said into the silent room.

Angel let out a single barking laugh as Charlie said, “Oh, no, don’t, he’s probably exhausted.”

“That’s the best time to get him,” Husk said reasonably, immediately discarding the script he’d had thrust on him as soon as he noticed that Charlie wasn’t focusing on him anymore. “He’ll probably be too tired to actually retaliate.”

“Besides,” Pentious said, “he hasn’t exactly held back with anyone else. I’m still positive he started this. I just need to prove it,” he hissed, hunching over his clasped hands and rubbing them together.

Niffty patted the table with her palms a few times, grinning brightly. “I wanna see Cherri scare Alastor~”

“You can’t scare Alastor,” Angel said with a disbelieving snort. “Startle him, sure, but scare? Bullshit.”

Vaggie sighed. “Do I need to prepare damage control?”

“Relax, I’m not gonna cause property damage,” Cherri said. “I just wanna get the bitch back for what he did to my stuff last time I was here. I’m still finding ticker tape everywhere, even in my own goddamn apartment.”

Charlie looked uncomfortable, but of course, she was always the most hesitant when it came to their petty little game. “Okay, I guess that’s fine,” she said reluctantly. “But don’t overdo it, okay?”

Everyone waited with bated breath, Cherri tossing a small bomb over to the corner near the front door. It was only a few seconds before they heard the click and Alastor stepped in, looking as though he had been through the wringer and was doing his damndest to hold it together. He didn’t even notice any of them, shutting the door behind him and immediately beginning a slow beeline for the stairs.

Angel had only half a second to form the thought that it might not be a great idea after all when Cherri clapped her hands sharply and the little bomb behind Alastor went off with a loud crack and a spark of bright pink light. The sound Alastor made wasn’t quite a scream; it was really more of a startled yip, a high and animalistic noise that hurt Angel’s ears with its sharp edge. He bolted instantly, dropping his microphone staff along the way and running blindly straight into a wall. There was a loud impact as he collided with the immovable structure of the hotel, the sound a little weird and followed by a series of loud yelps. Almost immediately, everyone could see exactly what happened: in his alarm, Alastor’s antlers had expanded, and they were now stuck pretty firmly in the wall.

Cherri was the first one who laughed, but she wasn’t the only one. Angel had to admit, it was funny, watching the big bad Radio Demon struggle to unstick himself from a wall, of all things. The laughter was contagious, spreading through the group in a rippling wave. In moments, the only one who wasn’t laughing was Charlie, who dropped her own script pages and ran straight over to try and help Alastor liberate himself.

Angel leaned forward as Cherri slapped his back in her laughter, and he rubbed a tear of mirth out of his eye, looking over to where Charlie was failing to even approach the struggling overlord. Angel watched as he took a swipe at her with a clawed hand, ineffectually scrabbling at the wall with the other and kicking the baseboard in an attempt to extricate himself without retracting his antlers.

The moment Angel heard Alastor’s distressed keening noise, he realized Alastor couldn’t retract his antlers. He wasn’t just exhausted, he was panicking and…

Humiliated.

Angel jumped to his feet, guilt smothering his amusement like a bucket of water on a birthday candle. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled over everyone’s cackling, his unusually sharp tone enough to startle all of them into a silence that highlighted the way Alastor’s breathing had become high and far too fast. Angel didn’t bother with any admonishment, instead running over to where the other sinner had trapped himself and taking Charlie by the shoulders. “Move,” he said, not taking his eyes off Alastor.

She looked up at him. “But— but he’s—!”

“I got it. Move.” As Charlie backed off, Angel approached, trying to put himself in Alastor’s line of sight. His sclera had gone entirely black and his smile was tight and stressed; Angel couldn’t actually see, but he was pretty sure Alastor’s irises had turned into radio dials. “Hey, Alastor,” he said gently, immediately bending backwards as the overlord took a vicious swipe at him, too. “Whoa, whoa, big guy, it’s okay.”

When Alastor put both of his hands on the wall and ineffectually shrugged with a cry that was almost pathetic, Angel took the opportunity to swoop in, hoping Alastor’s physiology was as close to human as it looked and that this didn’t get him gutted. He pushed one hand up into Alastor’s hair from his nape, cradling the back of his head with his palm and gently pressing his fingers into the bases of Alastor’s antlers. A second hand cupped the back of Alastor’s neck, thumb and forefinger immediately seeking out the pressure points at the base of his skull. His third hand went to Alastor’s back, stroking down his spine before lifting and repeating the motion as though he was trying to calm a stressed animal. And his fourth hand just rested on Alastor’s shoulder, primarily so he would feel it if the Radio Demon lashed out and could attempt to evade if necessary.

“Hey, Smiles, it’s okay, it’s just me,” Angel said as soothingly as he could when he felt Alastor’s muscles growing so taut that he feared the other demon would snap into pieces. “Shh, it’s okay, ain’t nobody in here gonna give you any shit, I promise. And if they try, I’ll kill ‘em for you, or at least hold ‘em down while you kill ‘em, okay?”

Angel kept up his gentle touches, leaning close to murmur low enough that only Alastor could hear him, and silently marveled at the fact that he was touching Alastor and Alastor was letting him. His hair was soft, and his coat was clearly made from expensive material, but even through the thick cloth Angel’s fingers could have counted his ribs and each individual vertebrae. And slowly, in response to his touch, Alastor actually began to relax. His breath slowed, his smile grew less tense, and with a crackle of broken plaster, his antlers slowly began to recede.

“You can rip everybody up into tiny pieces, and then I’ll help ya make jambalaya or gumbo or whatever you want outta their bits. Or I can make bolognese outta them. Whatever you’re feelin’.” That was enough to get the smallest noise of amusement from Alastor, more of a huff of breath than anything else, but with that his antlers returned to their usual shape.

As he finally freed himself from the wall, Angel made to release him, but Alastor spun to face him at an alarming speed and seized him by his upper arms. “Alastor—?!” Angel’s voice was a soft exclamation, but he froze, watching Alastor hang his head and regain control of his ragged and pained breathing.

Angel was anticipating having his arms ripped straight from his body—nobody touched Alastor, especially not when he wasn’t expecting it—but Alastor just held onto him like he was genuinely afraid Angel was about to disappear. His grip wasn’t even painful, just tight. Desperate, maybe, though with his panic gone Angel couldn’t begin to understand why. But even as he held onto Angel’s arms, Alastor’s wicked claws didn’t so much as scratch him, and his hands… they were soft.

It felt like an hour passed before Alastor’s breathing evened out, but Angel knew it was only a few seconds. Slowly, Alastor raised his head to look up at Angel, his ears laid flat against his head and his eyes wide, but no longer manic. Before, Angel had always associated Alastor’s eyes with the color of blood, but this close… they were more like deep garnet set into rich ruby. For the eyes of a mass murdering serial killer, they were almost alarmingly warm as they caught Angel’s gaze and held it.

“…thank you, Angel.”

The words were spoken so quietly Angel wouldn’t have heard them if Alastor hadn’t been mere inches from him. Before he could even consider formulating a response, the shadows Alastor so fondly called his friends swirled up from the ground, wrapping around his body and pulling him into blackness. It was his hands that pulled away last, gently releasing Angel’s arms and leaving trails with fingertips that made the spider’s flesh tingle. For the briefest moment, Alastor’s shadow remained, and Angel thought it was watching him with something that felt like wary curiosity before it too vanished.

Angel stared at the broken wall and the plaster that littered the carpet as Charlie stormed back to the group, lighting into them for being mean and immediately beginning to lay new ground rules, but Angel barely heard a word she said. He folded his arms and placed his hands where Alastor’s had been moments before, like he could still feel the other sinner holding onto him like a lifeline, and marveled at his own foolishness.

When, he wondered, had he started caring this much about Alastor’s wellbeing? When had Alastor decided that Angel Dust of all people was worthy of breaking his five foot rule, even in such extraordinary circumstances? When had Angel determined it was worth risking his own health and safety to prevent Alastor from hurting himself?

And, most importantly, what was he doing thinking about Alastor at all?

•

The next evening, Angel was in his bedroom cleaning his toys when a dome of shadow manifested on his floor mere feet away from him. He squealed in alarm, launching himself backwards and tumbling off the other side of his bed to land in a graceless heap on his floor. Swearing he could hear something giggling somewhere around him, he grabbed his comforter and hauled himself up, leaning on the mattress with his arms and peering around suspiciously.

The shadow was gone, and Angel didn’t see any threats or blood or threatening animal corpses. He did, however, see a plate sitting on his floor. That plate held a stack of some kind of pastries and a folded card with his name on it.

“…the fuck…” Angel muttered, clambering over his bed and hopping down to land beside the plate. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the plate was full of freshly-baked beignets, generously covered with powdered sugar and still so warm that the sugar was beginning to melt. He picked up the card and looked at the delicate penmanship spelling out ‘Angel Dust’, then flipped it open, taking in the simple message written so beautifully.

Tell no one. You know what will happen if you do.

Angel felt himself actually smiling in a way that he hadn’t for a very long time, folding the card again and pressing the corner to his lips. He considered for a moment, then glanced at a nearby shadow. “You can tell him I ain’t gonna let anybody know he baked somethin’ for me like a sweetheart.” He didn’t see Alastor’s shadow, but he heard another giggle and he knew it was there.

He picked up the plate and carried it to his bed, opening his bedside table drawer and slipping the note in with a few other belongings that he didn’t want anyone else seeing but liked having on hand. As he laid on his bed, petting Fat Nuggets and nibbling on delicious baked goods and texting with Cherri about how Alastor had apparently gotten into her apartment and hidden all of her explosive components around the city, leaving only a very obtuse list of scavenger hunt-style clues… Angel wondered if he was starting to remember what being happy felt like.

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