#i think i’m ready to be *redacted*

[dumplingsjinson]

“I’ve missed you,” Character B murmurs, holding Character A closer to them, a soft noise of appreciation slipping from Character A’s mouth as they lean into Character B’s warm embrace.

“I’ve missed you...” Character B groans, hips thrusting into Character A’s as Character A lets out a soft whimper at the sensation of Character B slowly filling them up to the brim. “So fucking much, you don’t even know,” Character B breathes out, dipping their head down a little and resting their forehead against Character A’s.

“Mmm,” Character A murmurs, clenching around Character B on purpose, enjoying the soft gasp slipping out of Character B’s mouth. “I’ve missed you, too,” Character A says softly, hand wrapping around the nape of Character B’s neck. “I’ve missed this, too,” Character A says, pulling them down for a long awaited kiss.

[stockholmgf]

is it too early in the semester for me to be having my abduction fantasies again

[gothgamergaara]

Good shift today I think! After like three weeks I finally got TWO! Spanish speaking patients so I could do some interpreting which went alright AND I got to give an IM injection 😁

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Your lips | Pt. 1

(A/N) I don't think this will be along series, but there will be at least on more part! Also, I'm no doctor, or nurse, that's why I mostly skipped over the exam part!

Pairing: Simon x fem!pregnant!Reader

Warning: mutual pining, medical stuff (nothing graphic), mention of scars, pregancy

Synopsis: Almost done with your day (and your pregnancy), you get a last minute patient. The usual stoic and guarded Ghost is immediately charmed by you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

“There is a lot I can spare you from Simon, but the medical checkups are mandatory. There is nothing I can do about that.”

Price had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrows were pulled together in a slight frown as he regarded his Lieutenant. Simon on the other hand just looked annoyed. There were many reasons as to why he joined the military, but being fussed over by grown people was not one of them. He opened his mouth to, surely, whip out a smart remark, but Price held up his hand before he had the chance.

“You have until tomorrow six p.m. to go to the clinic yourself, or I’ll drag you by your scruff, you hear me?”

With a defeated sigh, he nodded, before he left Price’s office. Might as well get it over with, right?

One look at your computer told you that it was almost time to go home. Your to-do list for the day was all ticked off and your list of patients had no name remaining. With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself out of your chair and onto your feet, your hand instinctively cradling your swollen belly. Your lips pulled into a smile as you felt a kick right against your hand.

With slow, even steps you made your way to the door of your office and leaned outside until you caught the secretary’s eyes. She smiled at you. But not a bright, sunny smile, no, it was a sad, apologetic smile. Your own smile faded, but you nodded before waddling back to your desk. By the time you sat down, a new patient file was displayed on your screen.

His entire name was redacted, only his callsign was displayed. Ghost. You quickly read through his file, noting that he obviously hated all medical personnel, since he barely showed his face here. By the time you were almost done, a sharp knock rang out from your door.

“Enter!”

From the heavy steps, you could discern that it was the soldier who had been added to your day last minute. Still, you kept your eyes on the screen, trying to get all the information into your head.

“Take off your shirt and sit down on the bed. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Your tone might have sounded harsh, but you quickly learned to use an authoritative tone with soldiers. Otherwise, they might not listen. Your eyes were still fixed on the screen as rustling sounded through the room, followed by the creak of the bed. Now that he was done, you slowly rose to your feet again and squeezed some sanitizer into your hand, grabbing your clipboard before waddling over to the man.

“Just a regular checkup, right?”

Your eyes finally landed on the man’s back when he grunted in response. And good lord, he had one hell of a back. Covered in scars and a few tattoos, his shoulders were broad and strong. You felt yourself blush as some not-so-innocent thoughts entered your mind and it took you a second to switch back to work mode and to stop admiring him. You dealt with soldiers all day, every day, and yet none have had that effect on you. Until now.

To distract yourself, you quickly started with the exam. Looking for any injuries, listening to his lungs and heart. Within a few minutes, you were done with his back and slowly moved to his front. You were ready to just continue the exam when your baby landed an especially firm kick against your womb. You came to a quick stop, placing your hand against the place the baby had kicked.

“Woah, you okay there, love?”

Ghost jumped to his feet, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, but you just waved him off, by now being used to it.

“I’m fine…just…pregnant with a very active baby.”

An amused huff left his lips before Ghost sat back down. And even though he looked the same as before, you noticed how his eyes were more focused now, looking for any sign of trouble. He almost seemed…protective.

After a few moments, you recovered and let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and Ghost. But you hesitated for a moment. How would you reach his chest? As if reading your thoughts, Simon spread his legs, allowing you to step between them and reach his chest. A smile tugged on your lips.

“Thanks.”

He nodded in response, keeping still while you continued your exam, only moving when you asked him to. You instinctively reached to your right, ready to take his blood pressure, but your hand came back empty, you had forgotten to bring it with you from the table. A tired sigh escaped your lips and you took a few steps in the direction of the table when Ghost placed a hand on your arm and stopped you.

“I’ll get it.”

Before you could answer, he was on his feet and already at the table, picking up the device. Something that always seemed so large in your hands was easily dwarfed in his and you couldn’t help but admire his hands. Hands which he used to kill people. Hands which surely could do unholy things to your body. Hands which…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the clearing of a throat and you finally noticed that you had been staring at his hands.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

With flaming cheeks, you grabbed the device and swiftly pulled the sleeve up Ghost’s arm. Pressing two buttons, you watched as the sleeve slowly began to fill with air. This part was always kind of awkward since all you could do was wait. You expected it to be the same way with him, but instead, he suddenly spoke up.

“How far along are you?”

You looked up, surprise clear on your face.

“Uh, thirty-three weeks.”

A small smile pulled at your lips as you gazed at your belly, your hands softly gliding over it.

“Hm…husband must be excited.”

You chuckled dryly and shook your head as the device finally displayed the value you had been waiting for.

“No husband. No father at all, to be honest. Left as soon as he found out I was pregnant.”

If you weren’t so focused on filling out the form on your clipboard, you would have noticed Ghost’s entire body tensing up and his eyes darkening. His gaze swept over you, following your curves, as his mouth watered. How could someone abandon someone who looked this delicious?

But before his thoughts could continue, you looked up from your clipboard and smiled at him.

“All that’s left is drawing some blood. But since it’s already late, I assume you’re not sober, so could you come in tomorrow morning before breakfast? That way we can get the most accurate values.”

Ghost found himself nodding, a smile hidden behind his medical mask at the thought of seeing you again tomorrow.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You grinned before waddling back to your desk and sinking down on your chair. As soon as you were out of sight, Ghost quickly pulled his shirt on and got to his feet. He turned to look at you and for a split second, caught you staring before you quickly averted your eyes.

With a grin under his mask, he started to walk to the door, before he got an idea.

“Are you done for the day?”

You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with confusion.

“Yes, why?”

Ghost nodded and walked back into the office.

“I could accompany you to your car if you’d like. Carry your bag, you know.”

Your eyes widened, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’d like that, but I took the bus to get here. I don’t exactly fit behind the steering wheel anymore.”

“Oh, in that case, let me drive you home. You shouldn’t be on your feet that much.”

You shook your head, about to protest, but Ghost insisted and finally, you accepted. He watched you finish up your paperwork and pack up before he grabbed your bag and offered you his arm to hold onto.

With slow steps, he led you through the clinic to the doors and towards one of the base cars. One that could be used by all soldiers. On the way you gave him your address, not noticing the smile once he noted that you lived on base yourself.

After he helped you get settled and made sure you were buckled in, he got in and started the car, carefully taking off in the direction of your house. The car ride was spent in comfortable silence, and with you almost falling asleep in the passenger seat. But all too soon, the car pulled up in front of the army-issued house and Ghost quickly rounded to your side to help you get out.

He insisted on helping you get inside, only being satisfied once you sat on your couch with a glass of cold water in front of you.

“Thank you, Ghost. I really appreciated you bringing me home.”

He nodded, his mask hiding a sheepish smile and red cheeks.

“When do you start tomorrow?”

With a slight frown, you told him that you usually started at seven a.m. and he nodded, before saying goodbye and walking towards the door. But at the last second, he stopped and turned to look at you again.

“It’s Simon��my name.”

A grin spread on your lips as you nodded and slowly repeated the name, almost to yourself. But Simon heard it and he couldn’t deny that he loved how his name sounded coming from your lips.

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

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[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

—

“Promotion” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| Being Black Noir’s new handler and him becoming obsessed with you since Mr. Edgar himself assigned you to him.

| SFW, vought employee!reader, (TW: Noir is kind of stalking the Reader, who’s uncomfortable but adapting mostly)

| 1k+ words

“You want me to…what?”

“Be Noir’s new personal handler.” He fans his hands out on the table with a shrug and gives you a disarming smile. “You’ll be expected to parlay direct mission instructions from me, accompany him to said missions and stay with the deployment team. I expect you to give written reports on his performance at the end of every day, active mission or not…”

Your eyes continue to widen as his barrage keeps going. This job would require you to be present for everything short of Noir wiping his ass and even then you’ll be outside the restroom.

Mr. Edgar finishes, gives you an expectant look, and you clear your throat.

“And, what if I don’t want the new position?”

“I don’t see why not.” He shrugs, “I mean unless you don’t think you’re good enough for the promotion. Then I suppose I’ll just have to tell Ashley her recommendation was for naught.”

You laugh.

“No no, that’s fine. There’s no need to tell her anything…” you gulp, watching the man just look back at you before taking a second more to inhale, “…ex-cept that her recommendation payed off.”

He tilts his head and it feels like his eyes are boring through your own, boiling your brain to mush. Your voice is small as you push the rest of your words out in one exhale.

“And that I’ll be starting my new position tomorrow. Sir.”

You stretch a smile across your face and hiss out a sigh of relief as that finally gets the man to respond.

He instantly reanimates, reaching atop his desk to hand you a secure black portfolio made from hard plastic.

“That’s great. I’m glad you decided to take on this new journey, Ms. L/n. May it serve you well. Have a good day.”

You don’t dare drop your smile as you take the offered portfolio and shove it under your arm.

“Right.” You take a moment to mourn the loss of your old job before nodding, “Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. You have a good day as well.”

The older man nods back at you, attention immediately gone back to his computer monitor afterward. You blow out air from your nose and then turn on your heels.

It’s not until you’ve left the board room that it hits you.

“Shit.”

The man had just played you. Goddamn Edgar and his resoluteness. Once he’d decided to “ask” you about the upgrade in position he never intended for it to be an actual request.

You rub your temple and head to the restroom. At least you had the rest of the hours in the day before tackling your new job.

You hunker down in the stall after peeing to look over the papers Mr. Edgar gave you. As you're skimming through a whole lot of shit marked “classified” or “redacted” you have the stray thought to be glad that Translucent’s creep ass wasn’t here to ogle you and be all in your business anymore.

Thank the higher power for small mercies, you suppose.

All the snippets of information you're gathering are kind of baffling. Legal name: Earving (of all things), biological male, six foot two, African-American (that’s fun; may be the reason he took such a liking to you too, not many black people made it to the top floors of Vought after all). You dog-ear a packet about some sort of imaginary animals he sees in his mind before looking over a page about a severe peanut allergy. Hmm.

By the end of the day you’ve nearly gotten all the way through Noir’s portfolio, and you’ve also worked up an itch to get out of your skin that means you’re not working overtime worth a goddamn.

At six o’clock on the dot all of your crap is already quite thoroughly packed, your former workspace - barren thing that it already was due to regulations - was cleaned out and ready for the next poor soul, and you’re in the elevator heading for the sub-level garage.

Dead stare locked onto the floor numbers you become acutely aware of the bags weighing your eyes down.

“Fuck,” you sigh.

Black Noir's Personal Handler.

Despite Mr. Edgar’s clear efforts it was more than a little known open secret that personal handlers rarely got to retire. Madelyn Stillwell’s death might’ve been something none of you dared discuss for fear of either Edgar or - heaven forbid - Homelander catching wind and putting you back in your place, but it was a pattern of the job that you all were well aware of.

Though you’d take Mr. Edgar’s culling over whatever Homelander could possibly come up with.

Something about his blonde, blue-eyed, ass didn’t sit right with your spirit.

Far as PR and wrangling went though, short of maybe Starlight, any wrinkles Black Noir managed to make would be the easiest to smooth out.

Plus, even with you and Noir having some form of a pre-established relationship it was in no way dependent or built upon you being Noir’s emotional epicenter like Madelyn and Homelander’s weird…dynamic was.

You had seen and heard far too much in your years working for Vought to think for a second that there wasn’t something dark and twisted going on with The Seven, but Noir still seemed mellow in comparison to the rest and their constant ego trips and dick measuring.

You had zero clue how letting the fully covered man teach you a few notes to a song at the Christmas party when everyone was drunk off eggnog and watered down booze and sitting with him when he was crying on the floor once led you to this.

Sure the silent man and you had somewhat hit it off - so far as you were one of the few non-supers he didn’t intimidate or just flat out ignore - but to be made so intimately in charge of him seemed like a bit much.

Noir had seemed endlessly patient with you as he played for you and then eventually decided he’d teach you how to play the piano yourself, the sides of your bodies’ shifting incrementally until you were pressed flush to one another in both of yous concentration, so you could really only hope he kept that same levelness with you as his handler.

You bank the corner, work bag and portfolio on the same arm, and fish out your keys so you can unlock your trunk and shove your shit inside.

Hope truly was the name of the game here unfortunately. You could only hope Noir kept up his “good” streak, and that that streak wasn’t just a farce that you were now in charge of covering up. Hope that he didn’t end up getting angry or reckless and making you one of those *redacted* cases with a ‘cause of death, unknown’ attached to your name, because you could do nothing to stop him if he wanted to kill you.

Shiver racking up your spine and turning your blood to static, you snap your trunk closed, turning to leave when—

“—Fucking Christ!”

Eyes gone wide and spit having nearly choked you from your sharp inhalation before your exclamation, you do your best to appear composed as Black Noir himself steps out from a conclave of shadows to stand in front of you.

The Devil, you find yourself thinking. Had he been following you this whole time?

For his part Noir doesn’t move aside from cocking his head to the side.

Steadily, you force calmness onto yourself. Ignoring that your voice is too high when you call his name.

“Black Noir,” you say, trying to seep the professionalism back into your tone while smoothing down the creases in your pantsuit, “surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?”

The smile you offer him feels wonky even as you command the muscles up, but it’s the best you can do with your heart hammering against your chest as if it wants to run off and leave you behind.

For a couple more beats the man doesn’t do more than size you up presumably before finally - as you were weighing the pros and cons of just getting in your car despite his presence - raising a hand to point at your trunk.

You catch on to his meaning fairly quickly, your smile dropping to something more natural whilst you huff a tiny laugh.

“Oh yeah, guess Mr. Edgar must’ve told you. I’m your new handler - you know, if you had one before that is. I don’t…actually know…” you trail off, shifting on your heels when Noir only continues to keep his stillness.

“Mhm,” you mutter, rocking backwards, just staring until finally Noir shifts and there’s suddenly a pad and pen in his hand.

He flips casually to a clear page before starting to write and you’re fairly sure this is the first time he’s ever actually ‘talked’ to you.

Huh.

Not long after does the pad get flipped over and brandished to you. You click your teeth together.

‘Edgar says you’ll do good,’ he scribbles, writing absolute chicken scratch and letters far too large on the medium sized pages, before flipping the pad back to himself and writing some more.

‘Believe in you!’ and a whole bunch of smiley faces is what meets you once he lets you see.

You blink. Noir puts the pad back wherever he had it initially to give you two thumbs up.

You muster a slightly bigger half smile for his efforts.

“Thanks Noir,” you say, words more sincere than you’d been expecting.

A nod and an eternity more of silence and staring is what he gives you in response.

You’re getting ready to shift, to awkwardly relay that you’d like to be getting home soon, when Noir stiffens suddenly - and isn’t that startling, a man so tall and so strapped with sharp explosive deadly things going so alert like that - head tilting like he’s listening for something.

A few seconds go by like that where he doesn’t do anything else and you fight to keep yourself still, smile gone and part of your lip caught firmly between your teeth.

Then Noir’s giving you a nod and leaving just as silently and unseenly as he had come.

You wait another two-three beats before scrambling into your car. The sound of your lock engaging sounds like salvation and the steering wheel feels like a lifeline as you grip it with stiff nearly foreign fingers.

God.

You force a deep breath into your lungs, make sure it comes out more steadily than it came in.

At least Mr. Edgar didn’t dump you onto Homelander’s lap. Something in you shrivels up and dies at the mere prospect. You nod, your hands flexing on the steering wheel.

This was definitely better.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This is a semi companion story to “Pandora’s Melody” if you’d like to check that one out as well.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[literaila]

How would gojo propose? Would he be serious or would he lock in and ask 👁️👁️

there is not one single proposal. oh no.

it’s starts off fairly simple—

“you have to fold it at an angle so that it doesn’t bunch up when you—“ you glance at satoru out of the side of your eye, sighing. “are you even listening to me, satoru?”

“marry me.”

and you drop the sheet in your hands. you turn to him, eyes as wide as can be. “excuse me?”

“marry me?” he’s smiling at you, leaning down so that you’re eye to eye. “please?”

you blink at him. staring for just a moment. the laugh that falls out of your mouth next is nothing short of bewildered, disbelieving. “i can’t—“ you scoff, returning to your sheet which satoru is supposed to be learning how to fold. “no, thank you.”

he pouts. “no? why not?”

you laugh again, kissing his cheek. “nice try, baby.”

and then he stands there with his arms crossed, just staring at you for almost an hour.

or maybe it’s date night and you’re just walking down the street, and satoru points out a lantern that’s bouncing colors off of the wall, a rainbow of light on both of your faces.

and you’re walking arm in arm, just looking at each other.

“marry me,” satoru whispers, his voice lithe and warm, something tangible.

you’re already smiling at him, so you don’t stop. “are you flirting with me?”

“c’mon, just one little marriage. i’ll even buy you a cake. and a ring.”

“wow. that’s a temping offer.”

“marry me?” he repeats, stopping you so that you’re just looking at him.

looking at the light in his eyes, and the colors on his face, turning his skin all sorts of magic.

“i’m think i’m going to pass.”

he groans, almost falling into you. “why not?”

“that’s just too easy, satoru,” you say, kissing his cheek, and then you drag him along as you resume your walk.

the colors fade, and so does satoru’s dejection. your smile is too contagious for him to keep up the act for long.

but then it molds into something else—far more desperate.

you’ll just be opening the fridge, looking inside.

“did tsumiki already pack her lunch?” you’ll ask him.

and satoru will nod. “yes. marry me.”

you just roll your eyes, shutting the door.

or you’ll be in the shower and satoru knocks on the door, peeking a head in. “what time will you be ready?” he asks.

“half an hour?”

“okay…” there’s a pause.

“satoru?” you ask, when you don’t hear the door shut.

“marry me?”

you scoff. “go check on megumi.”

or you’ll be in the store and satoru will put another carton of ice cream in the cart, which you scold him for.

“put it back.”

“only if you marry me.”

“i want you to redact that sentence in the next three seconds—“

or you’ll be exorcising a curse, just finishing up, still panting when you get a phone call. “satoru?”

“marry me.”

“do you actually need something? i’m kind of busy.”

“yes. marry me.”

“i’m hanging up.”

and this goes on for months. it will spread into a year, and at some point you stop feeling guilty for rejecting him every time, and satoru stops looking sad each time you do.

it’s like a habit, some weird tradition the two of you have. you come to anticipate it. appreciate it for what it is—easy, something ridiculous.

megumi personally hates it. “she already said no,” he’ll grunt at satoru, passing him through the door. “just get over it.”

tsumiki just sits there, waiting expectantly every time like the answer will be different. but it never is.

and then there’s one day. you’re both at jujutsu high, both working, and satoru just happens to be sitting on the steps of the entrance.

it’s been a long day for him. maybe something happened with one of his students, or maybe yaga said something just to get under his skin.

or maybe it’s just one of those days—the ones where memories cling to his skin like dirt.

it’s hard being here, sometimes.

and you’ve been looking for him for twenty minutes (because you always have lunch together) when you finally find him.

“hey,” you say, hand going to his shoulder as you approach. satoru doesn’t flinch because he heard you coming. “not hungry?”

he just shakes his head.

and there’s something about him, sitting there with his legs spread out, chin resting on a hand, staring off into the distance like he’ll never be able to see far enough.

he looks like a boy, for just a moment. a boy you used to know well—a boy you fell in love with, almost a decade ago, now.

and you smile, but only a little. because it’s always been easy to be here with him, even when he’s this quiet, and even when his eyes are this haunted shade.

so you’ll sit there, sipping on some tea you brought out—a soda you brought satoru sitting between the two of you.

your thighs are just barely touching, hands inches away from each other. you could cozy up to him, remind him that everything is okay—somehow. but you won’t.

sometimes you just have to sit with it.

but eventually, you’ll start to get goosebumps for sitting outside for too long, and you can hear satoru sniffing as his nose runs.

so you sigh, looking to him. “satoru,” you whisper, voice lilted like you have a secret to share.

he looks over, face mercifully blank. “hmm?”

“will you marry me?”

and then satoru’s face stills. the air is calm, the wind shifting, and he turns right towards you.

it takes a couple of seconds, but his face is like the flash of a camera, sullen one moment, and lively the next.

his incoming smile is almost intoxicating.

“really?” he asks, almost breathless.

you laugh, moving over to him, finally wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your cold face into his neck. “next time you ask,” you tell him, “you better make it count.”

and satoru only smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

“okay,” he says.

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |10|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Fighting, Attempted Murder, Stabbing, Strangling

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You sat on the back of an ambulance as one of the medics checked you out. You didn’t get hurt in the fight, but you didn’t realize you had ripped open your stitches until a medic was running over to you, asking if you were okay and pointing at the drops of blood. You denied them when they asked if you wanted to go to the hospital, you didn’t have time for all that, so they just stitched you up there and gave you a disapproving look.

“Gone up against Ghostface twice and game come out on top both times,” someone said. You looked up to see Kirby walking over to you. “Not many can say they’ve done that.”

“Seems like plenty have survived Ghostface,” you mumbled. Your eyes moved to focus on the figures behind Kirby. Sam was next to Tara as they were checked out by a medic and gave their statement to an officer. You took notice that the detective who was apparently on the case was the one person yet to be on the scene.

Kirby bobbed her head back and forth. “Not usually on their first encounter, unless they were running away or someone else showed up.”

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Bailey shouted as he stormed up to you and Kirby. “You had a gun?”

“It’s licensed,” you snapped. “And it came in handy, would you like me to not have a weapon when a psycho is attacking us?”

Bailey scoffed and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe you dared argue with him. “Lot of good that did, he got away,” he gestured to the store.

“I got him, it’s not my fault you didn’t arrive in time.”

“Well, you didn’t finish the job,” Bailey snapped, as if it were your fault Ghostface got away. “Thought you were supposed to be special forces,” he scoffed.

You slowly rose from the ambulance until you were standing tall, staring Bailey down. “I’m a soldier, not an executioner,” you kept your voice steady but there was an edge to your tone, one daring Bailey to cross the invisible line.

Bailey let out a chuckle, as if he were truly amused you said that. “Your file isn’t even legible with how much is redacted,” Bailey stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “How many missions have you had involved you getting your hands dirty?” You clenched your jaw, he was trying to compare your missions to Ghostface, they were completely different, as a cop he should know that. “How many people have you executed without them even knowing you were there?”

“It’s different,” you said, your tone quiet as you tried to contain the rage underneath. You were aware of Sam’s eyes on you from where she still stood next to Tara, though she moved forward a few steps, as if she were going to come intervene between you and Bailey.

“Why?” Bailey chuckled. “Because those were your orders?”

You stepped forward, ready to give Bailey a piece of your mind when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked to the side to see Kirby, silently asking you to let it go. “Let’s all just take a breath,” she said, looking between you and Bailey.

“I got civilians dead because-”

“Because we haven’t got this guy,” Kirby snapped. She positioned herself in front of you, so she was now standing between you and Bailey. “So, why don’t we stop placing blame and catch this fucker.”

Bailey gave a little snarl but finally backed away. “I have a crime scene to work,” he mumbled as he turned and walked towards the store.

“When did you get the call?” You asked, your eyes tracking Bailey as he crouched down at the body of the store owner just inside the door.

“A thank you would suffice,” Kirby said when she turned around. The amused smirk on her face told you she wasn’t actually mad at you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely anyway. “When did the call come in?”

“About twenty minutes ago. Someone saw Ghostface chasing after some people down the street,” Kirby looked back at the bodega. “Then several calls about shots fired came in a minute later.”

“Response was quick,” your eyes scanned all the cops working the scene. There was more than what would usually be considered necessary, but most of the officers were being used to hold back random people trying to get a look and the media.

“I was at the station.” Your eyes instantly snapped to Kirby. “I actually thought we might get here in time,” she let out a humorless chuckle. When she looked back at you, she furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Where was Bailey?” If Kirby was at the station, then there was no reason for Bailey to arrive as late as he did. All the other cops and Kirby arrived well before the detective who was supposed to be working the case, who claimed to care so much about the innocent lives being lost.

“I’m not sure,” Kirby shook her head. “Wait, you don’t actually think…” her voice got quieter with each word. “But you hit Ghostface.”

“Only in the chest,” your tone dropped to barely above a whisper. You didn’t know who to trust, you couldn’t risk anyone over hearing you. On top of that, just because you had your suspicions you didn’t have proof, you couldn’t be spreading rumors about Bailey if he wasn’t actually guilty, it could ruin his career. As much as you hated the guy you weren’t about to destroy a man’s career without evidence that he was dirty. “Whoever it was, was wearing Kevlar.”

Kirby followed your gaze and watched Bailey with the same kind of gaze as you. “They could have just seen the movies, learned to always wear a vest.” You nodded, that was likely, based on what little you heard it seemed like these psychos studied each other, trying to learn where the previous incarnation went wrong.

“Everything in me is telling me not to trust him,” you said.

“Better safe than sorry if you trust no one.” You looked at Kirby, watching as her eyes scanned the crowd, memorizing every face, just in case someone stood out or someone popped up again.

“Even you?” You raised an eyebrow.

You liked Kirby a lot more than Bailey. She’d done nothing but treat you with respect so far and you’d return the courtesy. At the end of the day though, you didn’t know her, you didn’t know any of them. Kirby hadn’t given you a reason to be suspicious of her but that didn’t mean she couldn’t possibly be involved. It was hell of a coincidence for Kirby to show up right after Ghostface attacked Sam, but she said she investigated Ghostface attacks, she knew Sam, they had a shared history, it was clear Kirby had a history with at least one of the previous Ghostface’s, like Sam and her friends did.

Kirby turned her head and looked at you, her eyes seemed to analyze you. She gave a little shrug. “Can never be too careful,” she said, nodding her head. “How much do you know about Ghostface, the attacks?”

You shrugged. “Not much,” you said. Of course, you knew the stories, everyone did, but you didn’t know the details. “I know the rumors whispered about Sam,” you looked across the way where Sam still stood with Tara.

“Well, I won’t say anything about Sam, that’s her story to tell.” You gave a ghost of a smile at that, you didn’t believe the rumors, you wanted to hear Sam’s story from herself. “But Ghostface is usually connected to the group of friends he’s going after. The first attacks were done by Billy Loomis and his best friend Stu Macher all to get back at Sidney Prescott, who Billy was dating.” You nodded, you were aware of that much of the story. “Me and my friends were attacked in 2011.” You furrowed your brow, you had been a freshman in high school, you probably heard people talking about the attacks in school but didn’t know any details.

You looked at Kirby when she didn’t immediately continue. She was clearly trying to remain composed but there were tears in her eyes, and rage underneath. “My best friend and the guy I liked were the ones behind the attacks. All because Jill wanted to be famous,” she shook her head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Of my friends, I was the only one to survive.”

You looked at Kirby in a new light, you understood now where all her pain and motivation came from. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Those words wouldn’t do anything, but they were the only thing you could offer. It wasn’t easy being the only survivor, it was lonely, no one could quite understand it, you knew that all too well.

Kirby gave you a thankful smile. “I know why you didn’t finish the job,” she whispered. “But this kind of thing,” she shook her head. “It only ends in two ways, kill or be killed.”

You looked down, taking in Kirby’s words. You had done a lot of terrible things, things you never talked about. You did all of them for the greater good though, at least that’s what you told yourself, you were following orders, trying to stop someone bad from doing something worse. Killing Ghostface in self-defense was one thing but executing him when he was already down was another. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, but those were always terrible people, terrorists, crime lords, people who did unspeakable things. You knew Ghostface wasn’t good but in your head, there was a separation, that being in New York, being home, it made things different, war was one thing, this was another altogether.

“Are you okay?” Kirby asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Sam and Tara had approached.

“Now that we’re done with the endless questioning,” Sam grumbled.

“It’s just protocol,” Kirby gave her an apologetic smile.

“Are we free to go?”

“Of course.” Kirby looked back at you, “I just need your gun.” You let out a displeased sigh. “Protocol.”

“I know,” you said, still clearly displeased. You pulled out your gun, releasing the magazine and making sure there wasn’t one in the chamber before dropping it into the evidence bag Kirby held out.

You fired your gun, it was an active crime scene, and that meant your gun was evidence. Even though you didn’t kill anyone they still needed your gun to at least know which bullets were from you and which ones were from Ghostface, even though your 9mm was completely different than the shotgun Ghostface was using.

“Don’t worry, I will personally make sure the lab gets this,” Kirby said.

You watched her walk off. “Are you okay?” Sam asked, making you look at her. “Things with Bailey seemed tense.”

You rolled your eyes and looked around until you found Bailey across the way talking to one of the other officers. “Apparently he wasn’t satisfied with the way I handled things,” you said, glaring at Bailey.

“You saved our lives,” Sam said softly, you stopped glaring at Bailey to give Sam a grateful smile.

“Did you have a gun this whole time?” Tara asked, speaking for the first time since the attack happened. She was looking at you suspiciously, trying to appear strong with her arms crossed, but you could see the fear behind her eyes.

“Yes,” you answered honestly, you knew it would do no good to lie to Tara.

“Did you know?” she looked at her sister.

“Yes,” Sam said. Tara’s face morphed into one of hurt. “I thought it was better if no one knew, we don’t know who to trust.”

Tara clenched her jaw as she wordlessly nodded. “You could have told me.” Sam guiltily looked down as Tara stormed off.

You gently tapped Sam’s shoulder and offered her a small smile. She returned your smile and the two of you followed after Tara. You understood why Tara was upset, if the roles were reversed, you’d probably feel the same. On the other hand, the only reason you were able to get the upper hand on Ghostface was because no one else knew you had the gun on you.

The three of you walked back to the apartment without another incident. You noticed how Sam shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket as you passed people, keeping her head down, probably hoping none of them recognized her. Three of you trekked up the various sets of stairs until you finally got back to the sister’s apartment.

“Where is everyone?” Sam asked as soon as she stepped through the door.

You came up behind her, peeking around her to see Ethan and Quinn were nowhere in sight. “Quinn is with a gentleman caller,” Mindy said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Ethan left a little bit after you,” Chad said, not even bothering to look up as he mindless flipped through channels on the TV. “Said he had Econ.”

Sam rolled her eyes as she walked towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. Tara flopped down in the chair next to the couch and you made your way to the far end of the couch, taking a seat next to Chad. A moment later Chad furrowed his brow and sat up straighter. You looked up to see he had stopped flipping through the channels and had stopped on the news. You furrowed your brow as well when you saw a picture of Sam pop up on the screen. Mindy plucked the remote out of Chad’s hand and turned up the volume.

“Ghostface is taking on New York,” the report said. “And the prime suspect seems to be Samantha Carpenter, daughter of the original Ghostface killer, Billy Loomis.” You looked to the side to see Sam standing in the doorway, her eyes filled with tears as she stared at the TV, trying to remain strong. “She is rumored to have setup her boyfriend, Richie Kirsch, in the killings last year.” Your ears instantly perked up at the name, it was the same name that popped up on Sam’s phone before the recent attack. “Right before killing him herself. Now-”

“Bullshit!” Chad snapped, aggressively pressing the power button. “They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.” He slammed down the remote on the coffee table.

Chad jumped up from the couch and stormed over to the dining table where Tara was sitting next to Sam, Mindy following close behind. You watched as Sam curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible as Tara tried to comfort her. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, and you didn’t feel right about eavesdropping, they deserved their privacy. You decided to focus on your feet, as Sam’s friends tried to comfort her. You tried not to let what the reporter said invade your mind, you learned a little more about Sam, but you didn’t want to take the media’s word for it. Sam wasn’t a suspect, they already got that wrong, she was the victim.

You heard loud banging coming from Quinn’s room but didn’t think much of it as everyone laughed it off, seeming to go on as if this was regular occurrence. Everyone’s phones, besides yours, went off, shifting the energy in the room. You slid next to Anika, looking over her shoulder as she opened a message on her phone, showing a picture of Quinn being stabbed by Ghostface.

Everyone shot to their feet, the yelling from Quinn’s room got louder then suddenly stopped. Everyone gathered in the middle of the living room as they stared at Quinn’s door, waiting to for what would happen next. Before you knew it the door flung open and Ghostface tossed Quinn’s body out, which landed on Anakin, sending her to the ground.

“Go!” you shouted, pointing at the front door.

Chad grabbed Tara and yanked her out the front door. When Mindy tried to follow Ghostface slashed her across the arm and sent her to the ground.

Anika pushed Quinn’s body off herself and pulled herself to her feet. Ghostface was right there though, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her into the wall. He raised his knife, twirling it back and forth as he got ready to stab Anika. Without thinking you rushed forward and tackled him to the ground before he could stab Anika.

You punched Ghostface in the face, ignoring the pain that radiated through your knuckles with each hit to the mask. You grabbed his hand that was holding the knife and slammed it on the ground until he dropped it. You pushed the knife away before trying to stand up. As soon as you started to get off Ghostface he swung his legs around, tripping you and sending you back to the floor. He scrambled away from you as he grabbed his knife again.

He jumped back to his feet and stood over you, tilting his head as he waved the knife back and forth. You smirked when you saw Sam come up from behind him and hit him on the back of the head with a wood block of some sort. When Ghostface stumbled forward you kicked out your foot, tripping him and sending him tumbling to the floor.

Sam held out a hand to you and as soon as you took it, she yanked you up. While Sam was helping you, Anika helped Mindy up, then Sam ushered the three of you into the bedroom. She ran across the room and into the bathroom to lock a door while you slammed the door closed as soon as you got inside. Everyone rushed around the room, knocking over furniture and using anything to try and barricade the doors.

“Danny?” Sam asked, furrowing her brow as she looked out the window. You followed her gaze to see her neighbor waving his arms out his window as he tried to get someone’s attention.

Sam opened the window. “Are you crazy?” she called out. You made your way next to her to see Danny pushing a ladder out of his window. You helped Sam grab the ladder and stabilize it so everyone could crawl across.

“Go,” you said, nodding at Sam.

Sam looked back at Mindy and Anika as they tried to hold the door closed as Ghostface attempted to shove his way in. “But-” she looked back at you.

“Go,” you ordered, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Sam reluctantly got on the ladder and began making her way across. You ran to Mindy and Anakin, falling into place right beside them as you helped hold the door. “Your turn,” you nodded at Anika.

Anika shook her head, there were tears streaming down her face. You looked at Mindy for a little help and when she looked back at the door you assured her you had it. Mindy grabbed Anika and dragged her over to the window. Anika’s crying only got louder as she convinced Mindy to go first. Once Mindy was out the window and making her way across Anika turned back to you.

“Go!” you ordered again. “Go,” you gestured with your hand. “I’ll be fine.”

With shaky hands Anika lifted herself out of the window and began making her way across the ladder. Almost as soon as you loosened your hold on the door Ghostface plowed through, sending you falling to the ground. You recovered almost instantly and jumped across the bed when you saw he was making his way for the window, to Anika.

You grabbed the curtains and wrapped them around Ghostface’s neck before he could get his hands on the ladder. You pulled the curtain tighter, feeling his body spasm and kicked as he clawed at the fabric, but you were stronger than him. You caught a glance out the window, seeing Anika be pulled to safety. It wasn’t until you had him so close that you were confident this Ghostface was one of the ones from the gym, not the one from the bodega.

Ghostface stopped pulling at the cloth, but a second later you felt a sharp pain in your thigh. You gritted your teeth, suppressing a scream as best as you could. You looked down to see a knife sticking out of your leg before Ghostface ripped it out. You let go of the curtain, releasing Ghostface as you brought a hand to the wound.

You tried to stand up as straight as you could, but blood was gushing between your fingers. Ghostface recovered quicker as he whipped around and swung his knife down. You raised your hand, making sure the knife only sliced your forearm.

Your hand shot out, catching Ghostface’s arm before he could bring the knife down again. You ignored the blood running down your arm, you didn’t have time to worry about stopping the bleeding. While your other hand was still pressing against the wound on your thigh, Ghostface took his free hand and punched you in the side, right where your stitches were.

You let go of his hand as you brought your hand to your side, surely having ripped your stitches again. You ignored the others yelling for you as Ghostface brought down his knife again, this time when you blocked his arm with yours and brought your knee up, nailing him in the stomach. While he was doubled over you brought your good leg up and kicked him square in the chest, sending him tumbling over the side of the bed.

As much as you wanted to finish the fight you knew you were in no condition to do so. You limped over to the window and climbed out onto the ladder. When you looked ahead you could see Sam and Danny gesturing at you to hurry. You crawled as best as you could with one good leg and one good arm, ignoring the way the blood dripped down your hand, making the ladder and your hand slippery with each movement.

“Hurry!” Sam yelled; her voice strained. You looked up to see her eyes wide and not focused on you but something behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Ghostface standing at the window. He impaled the knife in the windowsill before using both hands to grab the end of the ladder.

You gritted your teeth; you were really starting to hate this guy. You continued to crawl, your grip tightening as Ghostface lifted the ladder, jostling it back and forth to try and get you to fall. You nearly lost your grip once, having to wrap your arm under the rungs and keep your body low so you didn’t go over the side.

You looked up, judging the distance from where you were to the window. You let out a shaky breath as you slowly loosened your grip, despite Ghostface still shaking the ladder with all his strength. You got into a crouch position and kicked off, ungracefully launching yourself off the ladder and at the window. You reached out, catching on the windowsill with one hand. You brought up your bloody hand, which instantly found the home of someone else’s. You looked up to see Sam holding onto you as Danny held your other hand and began to pull you up.

You made it through the window, instantly collapsing on the ground next to Danny. You looked back at him as he moved out from underneath you, his hands instantly going to your wounds to try and stop the bleeding. You couldn’t help but groan at the pressure. Sam helped drag you against the wall to prop you up. You let your head flop against the wall, you strained to stay conscious, focusing on Mindy’s voice as she called for an ambulance, and on Sam’s hands as they wrapped a scratchy cloth around your arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls chapter 11 2/2

Masterpost

He leaned back a little.

There was a very strange silence. Jack’s face initially turned to fury, then a shocked contemplation. Jason waited it out and wondered if he was going to get in trouble for shooting a civilian in genuine self defense.

“Son.” Jack’s voice was grave. “You’re not Jeremy Waters, are you?”

It took a moment to parse through the immediate offense that this guy had busted his cover and to actually register the full name.

Oh, fuck. That Jeremy? The cult guy? Jason made a face involuntarily. “I am not,” he admitted. Oof. Fuck. Here it goes. “I lied because I wanted to be sure you would meet with me.”

“...Honey!” Jack shouted. He shot up in an alarmingly fast motion for such a big man. “Uh, change of plans! Why don’t you get what we all drink on movie nights?”

Something broke in the other room. “Oh, dear,” said Dr. Fenton. “Just a moment.” A vacuum started up. What the actual fuck was going on in there?

“You thought I was that creep?” Jason said blankly. “What were you going to do?” What sounded like a high pressure hose started up in the other room. He had to deliberately decide not to hunch his shoulders defensively. Jesus fucking christ. They were definitely mad scientists.

Jack Fenton looked shifty. “...Talk,” he tried.

Jason looked at the older man. He didn’t say anything. Jack gradually began to look sheepish but he didn’t break.

“Don't worry about it, honey,” Madeleine Fenton said. She set down three alarmingly green glasses and gave him a close-lipped smile.

Jason was very much going to worry about it. He looked between the two of them.

“Melon soda!” Jack Fenton cheered, obviously overreacting to get out of the conversation. He put both his hands up in the air and then grabbed at his glass. “Yummy! So good for growing young men, drink up.” He laughed awkwardly and then buried his face in his own drink.

Meanwhile, Dr. Madeline Fenton looked at him with catlike consideration. She clearly wanted to see him drink the soda.

He was pretty sure they'd been planning to get rid of Jeremy Waters, permanently. Mixed feelings on that, since Waters clearly sucked. He’d human trafficked Jason to the afterlife, after all. On the other hand, you can’t assume someone is chill when you know they want to kill someone. “No thank you,” he said to the melon soda, stomach a little queasy. Even if Jack was drinking it. And the glasses were identical.

“That’s fair,” Dr. Fenton said and sank into the couch cushion next to her husband. “So, you were interested in learning about the Ghost Zone and the afterlife?” She exchanged a meaningful look with her husband. “Any… particular reason?”

These people were intense when they goggled at a guy.

“Nothing I’m ready to talk about yet,” he evaded. It had the advantage of being true. He didn’t know how Jack made him yet.

They proceeded to have a somewhat tense conversation where the Fentons happily elaborated on all their current research and repeated, “I’m sorry, but we’ve withdrawn that work and won’t discuss it,” whenever he mentioned a publication from before 5 years ago. They’d even gone and gotten a lot of their stuff redacted. They talked and talked until Jason’s throat was hoarse. The Drs. Fenton were a brick wall on those topics that he couldn’t bust or wheedle past.

‘What does a person who posts about ghosts on their family blog think to redact?’ Jason wondered.

Eventually, Jack held up both hands. “It’s bothering me that you won’t drink anything,” he admitted. “Let’s go the Nasty!”

“Good idea, honey,” Dr. Fenton agreed. She stood and swung keys around her finger. “I’ll drive!”

Jack Fenton let out a dramatic “Awww, honey bunches,” and followed her around wheedling for a chance to get behind the wheel.

“No, we don’t want to scare our guest.” Dr. Fenton was immovable. A bit ominous as well.

Jason thought about pointing out that he hadn’t agreed to come with them, but he stood up anyways. It wasn’t like he could just sit on their couch and watch them leave their own house.

He had his first inkling of how badly he’d initially fucked up on that phone call when they got outside. Jack pulled the canvas off the family van with a flourish to reveal an absolutely horrific mural of Danny the ghost king giving gifts to humanity. There was text explaining his generosity, scrolling across the bottom of the van.

Jason stood stock still in horror.

The van gave off the same general impression as psychedelic howling wolf print art.

Jason put a hand over his mouth and tried to process it.

Danny’s white hair floated nobly across a few more feet than Jason was pretty sure it should. He was also kinda built in this painting compared to reality and he looked more… kingly. Not that Danny wasn’t in shape, but he was built more like Dr. Fenton than Jack Fenton, if that made sense.

Wait. Why’d he made that comparison? That should have been a frame of reference for Danny Fenton, not Danny the ghost king. …Was the ghost king basing his form off the Fenton’s kid?

“Come on, son!” Jack slapped him on the back. The force was enough to jar Jason forward and out of his dissociative state.

He moved numbly. ‘Alright, they like Danny king,’ Jason managed to think through the wound to his artistic soul. ‘I can be honest with them about the problem. They’ll want to help him get a spiritual separation from some sketchy guy who lied to them.’

They took him to a mid-tier burger restaurant with weird pretensions. The burge had both garlic aioli and shitty neon nacho cheese sauce on it. Jason picked at it for a while, disturbed and pleased by the unexpected combination.

They got back into their discussion. The next time a Fenton asked him a question, he cleared his throat and put down what was left of his burger. “I asked about Phantom because I’m in a little bit of trouble with him.”

It was weird to call him Phantom when he’d introduced himself as Danny. On the other hand, the Fentons also had a kid named Danny, so it was probably for the best.

Jack’s smile faltered. “What kind of trouble, sport?”

Jason shifted in his chair. “I uh. I may have gotten in Waters’ way. I didn’t know who he was,” he admitted. “Next thing I knew, I was in this green place?” He made a confused hand gesture. “Few minutes later, Phantom shows up, kinda pissy, asked if I did it on purpose, and then says that Waters basically.” He stopped to clear his throat. “Spiritually married us to each other.” His voice got a bit smaller than he meant it to.

That meant there was no audio competition for the loud crack when Madeline Fenton broke the table.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason said, looking at her with wide eyes. “Is your hand-”

She put her elbows on top of the tabletop that still existed and cupped her chin on her palms. “Tell me more.”

“You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you,” said Jack consideringly. “Maddie, honeybunches, d’you know, I was thinking about tracking down the Wishiewish ghostie again today. D’you think-”

“Oh, he should absolutely come with you,” Dr. Fenton agreed. She was beaming. It… did not feel villainous.

‘Why did telling them that make her less scary all of a sudden?’

“What do you like about Phantom? Do you think he’s cute? Was he nice to you?”

Maybe she was just a romantic.

[mosaickiwi]

Your Actual First Kiss

@taeee0902 first kiss with redacted fdsjklfsdjalk

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Your Actual First Kiss~

Hiding their nerves behind his normal cool demeanor, [REDACTED] let you push them down on the couch and lay atop his chest. You’d been getting bolder in the past few weeks of dating and he was ecstatic about it. Still, he always played a passive role as you got comfortable, intent on having you set the pace for every encounter.

You fiddled with the collar of his shirt for a while, then shyly asked, “So… when can I kiss you?”

“Whenever y’want,” came their instant reply. He’d been patient for the moment you were ready, but felt just as delighted that you asked them.

“Right now?”

[REDACTED] blinked for a second, blood warming his cheeks as he muttered, “‘Course, Angel. It’d actually… be my first.”

“Really?” you asked innocently, smiling and leaning down over him.

They knew you were only teasing. He’d never even think of giving their first anything to anyone other than you. The man could feel the redness crawling further up to his ears as you leaned closer.

You suddenly pulled away and frowned to yourself. “I’m a little disappointed it’s not my first, though.”

His blue eyes widened a fraction, though the information wasn’t a surprise to them. Well aware of your past relationships—and all the ups and downs they entailed—he immediately knew which one you were thinking about. “It’s not?” they gently pried, testing the waters of how much you wanted to open up. 

“Yeah, it was a long time ago. The relationship was kind of… messy?” Your brow wrinkled and your tone turned a touch softer as you dwelt on it. “I wish it never happened, honestly.”

He couldn’t voice his own thoughts just yet. Their heart sank at the idea that they couldn’t go back and fix it—to make sure you’d never have such an ill gotten memory that made you upset, no matter how small. It’d be easier to give you a better experience now.

“Then it didn’t happen,” [REDACTED] decided aloud.

You raised your eyebrow and crossed your arms over his chest. “But it did?”

“If y’don’t like it, ‘didn’t happen,” he repeated. He absently brushed a hand through your hair, lingering at the nape of your neck. “Y’can try again with me, yeah?”

“Oh…” The frown on your face quickly melted away, replaced with the shy, devious smile you wore when you pushed him down earlier. “Yeah.”

Lips parted, breath caught in his throat, your ever-patient hacker waited as you leaned down once more to bring your lips close to theirs. He could hardly form a thought the moment they felt your breath, then your warm skin. 

It was everything he imagined it’d be. From how they felt your heart beating in an uneven rhythm with his, down to the way you tasted was just what he dreamed of each night. One kiss from his angel was worth the seemingly endless years of waiting.

As you pulled away—no doubt stealing what little breath remained in them—he followed after, the desperation he normally kept at bay rising to the surface as he held you close with their hand on your cheek. 

“H-how…” [REDACTED] laughed, caught off guard by the butterflies in his stomach that made them trip over their words. “How’s that? Better?”

You bit your lip and he noticed the sparkle in your eyes as you had to fight off your own butterflies. “Perfect, Ren,” you whispered.

[help-with-elevator-advice]

A letter suddenly appears in front of you! Looks like it’s from Protag… it reads:

Dear Manuel,

Hey. Thank you again for the other day, sorry I left so suddenly.

Are you free today? Do you want to come over? If so, my address is [ REDACTED ]. You can visit whenever, works done for the day. Coworker convinced the boss to let me go home without overtime today.

Love, Protagonist.

> [Manuel reads over the letter before he does a double take to reread it, he was supper excited, he’d just have to get out of the office for once!.. that was easier said than done… well that wouldn’t stop him! Manuel grabs a pen and tries to write in his nicest handwriting, key word was tries. Manuel assumably writes out:

“Dear Protagonist,

I understood why you had to leave so soon, plus I think you look nicer with your face not rearranged and gray.

And I am free today and I’d love to go to your house when I’m done with work for the day (it will be done in an a bit since the boss is kinda strict)! I will get there as fast as I can be (with out leaving work early)

Love, Manuel!” ]

> [Manuel’s handwriting got smaller at the bottom due to the page he was writing on being small and he accidentally got some oil on it from a broken speaker box he had been working on. Manuel sends the letter off to Protag. Manuel was going to get ready since he wasn’t doing much currently.]

[catscidr]

Hallo... can I get some fluff for akademiya dottore where he, fem!reader, and a couple others are on an expedition and eventually dottore finds himself falling for reader cuz they share like all the same interests... 😊 eventually he confesses to reader and reader accepts happily. smiles :)

i. note — if akademiya dottore has ten lovers, i am one of them. if akademiya dottore has one lover, that's me. if akademiya dottore has zero lovers, i am dead. (๑•̀ㅂ•́)ง✧ also i meant to finish this like a week ago but shit happened n then i was bleeding in yamcha pose™ in my bed........ My Apologies ii. includes — akademiya era dottore (zandik), fem!reader and a very special friend :) iii. warnings — nothing but friendly banter and tooth rotting fluff amen. also not proofread we die like [redacted] iv. wc — 3,2k -> also on ao3 if u prefer to read fics there

You wish you had slammed your door shut the second you saw who was on the other side earlier today. Instead of having a relaxing, free day, you were out on a hike with people whom you were acquainted with at best and with one of the biggest enigmas in the Akademiya, Zandik. If it wasn’t for your curiosity and deep yearning for an answer as to why he sought you out specifically to go out on an expedition, you wouldn’t have accepted— but alas. Here you were, sweating your body mass away in the humid, sticky weather of Sumeru. 

The group only got to the other side of the bridge leading out of the city, right after passing through an old tree trunk serving as a makeshift overpass, when you had to take a break. It wasn’t your fault you weren’t used to walking for long periods of time; being a Rtawahist student meant you didn’t need to go outside of the city as much as other darshans. You weren’t the only one that held that sentiment though, so you all (thankfully) took a brief moment of respite before heading on. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t enjoy the scenery at least a little bit. Even though your arm was starting to get sore from shielding your eyes from the bright sun, the flora almost made it worth it. The air felt crisp on your skin and in your lungs, the distant sound of a flowing waterfall was washing away the tension in your shoulders, and you started to think that maybe you should spend more time outside. Watching the water near the mystic domain in the area of Chatrakam Cave, you start to ponder if it would be worth it to go for a dip to cool off while everyone else discusses where to go next... 

“Hey.” 

An impatient voice rips a yelp out of you, pulling you right out of your daydreams. Minty hair obscures the sun, giving your arm a much-appreciated break from shielding your eyes. “We have places to be, you know. Are you ready to go or do I have to leave you out here for eremites to rob you?” 

Blinking away the initial shock, you scoff at your schoolmate’s bluntness and drag yourself up to your feet. “And you wonder why you don’t have any friends,” you huff under your breath, patting away any dirt that had stuck to your uniform. Zandik rolls his eyes and frowns, sharp canines looking more akin to a puppy’s maw than a shark’s. “I don’t wonder why I don’t have any friends, mind you. I already know why I don’t have any,” he retorts, turning away from you to walk away. You grumble ‘sure you do’ quietly under your breath before catching up to him, glancing at the others in your group. “Guys, wait for us!” 

You watch them begin to walk along the left side of the intersection and go to follow them before the aforementioned boy grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re supposed to follow me. Or did you forget who invited you in the first place?” Yeesh, talk about a short fuse. Being (mostly) used to his sharp remarks, you manage to push down the urge to bite the bait he had laid out for you. “I mean, it’s not like you told me where we would be going or why I’m here. Besides, aren’t we supposed to stay grouped up? Professors have always warned us about Rishboland Tigers roaming outside the-” Zandik cut you off by tugging you towards him, away from the group of students. 

“The stuff I need is over this way,” he said quietly. Irritation seeped through his pores, though for what reason you didn’t know. Wriggling your wrist out of his (lax) grip, you pick up your pace just enough to catch up to his long legs. The cliff to your left provided some nice shade, but the more he led the way the more he picked up the pace. You didn’t even have time to ask about your schoolmates— though it seemed like they were fine with you two splitting up from the group, anyways. 

“Stop going so fast! Hey- what's up with you all of the sudden?!” 

You place a hand on his shoulder in a poor attempt to stop his run for answers. Zandik shushes you with a harsh glare and his index to his mouth, earning himself a baffled expression from you. “What is your problem today?” you hiss, voice quieter than before. Too busy glaring holes into the back of his head, you fail to see the focused and starry eyes your friend had as he looked ahead. He stops walking abruptly, making you bump into him with an elegant ow fuck! Your face had met his nape, minty hair tickling your forehead as you step back to rub the ache away from your nose. 

“I don’t feel like playing charades, Zandik. Seriously, what’s up with y-” he hushes you with a hand motion, frustration boiling in your gut. Ready to give him a piece of your mind, you step to the side to stand next to him; what you didn’t expect to see a few feet in front of him were sentient mushrooms— fungi, hopping and playing around a cluster of ores. 

“...they look like matsutake,” you whisper, glancing at Zandik to catch a glimpse of his face. He crouches down and you follow suit, silently observing the fungi alongside him. There were three in total; they all seemed to be standing still, occasionally... wriggling in place, a dim green light emanating from their thick stems. “Are they feeding on the iron?” you murmur, dumbfounded. Since when did mushrooms eat rocks? 

“They’re absorbing nutrients from the ground. It just so happens that there are an abundance of it around ore clusters,” Zandik explained, the lack of condescension in his tone puzzling you. “How do you know that? You’re not an Amurta student.” Though you couldn’t deny that seeing the fungi in their natural habitat was captivating, even if they were still just living mushrooms. 

The boy exhales sharply, “I don’t care for the fungi themselves. It’s because—” leaves rustle, making him pause his sentence to look around, checking if anyone was listening. When the coast is clear he continues, “they’re... related to ley lines.” You peel your gaze away from the sentient vegetables to look at your friend with a look that clearly displayed your confusion. As the cogs turned in your brain though, you start to piece things together and come up to your own hypothesis about his claim. 

“That makes... sense. They’re part of the forest, so it would make sense if they were extensions of ley lines since they’re kind of like roots...” you mutter your train of thoughts out loud, grabbing a stray stick to draw on the ground. Your sketch was... lackluster, but it got the point across. “Trees are rooted to the ground, and mushrooms grow on trees or around them—” you point at the messy “drawing” of a fungi you just made, “but if they gain some elemental energy from nearby ley lines, then they’ll become sentient!” 

As you exclaim your new discovery, your eyes meet Zandik’s carmine ones— and your face flushes once you realize he had been staring at you this whole time. A choked noise of surprise rips itself out of your throat, the noise startling the fungi nearby, making them scurry away further along the dirt path. He smacks your head, “I told you to be quiet!” 

You don’t have time to protest because a horde of fungi run up to you— so many of them that you couldn’t even take the time to count. A string of curses fly out of Zandik’s mouth, and as he scrambles to get up, he grabs your wrist, pulling you up to your feet to run. “They look harmless, but they can seriously injure you if they’re in a group— book it!” he shouts, jumping up on a moss-covered rock, climbing up on the hill going around the path blocked off by the fungi. He helps you up quickly and you both make a dash for it, in the hopes that they’ll stop coming after you. 

You’re grateful that the sun had started to set before you and Zandik got ambushed, at the very least. The sky had turned a beautiful shade of indigo, orange and pink dotting the horizon and the clouds above. Without the sun sapping away at your energy you were able to get away scot-free and enjoy a breathtaking sunset; you hadn’t even noticed that Zandik was leading you somewhere, too engrossed in the familiar sight of the sky you had gazed into so many times. 

“Look over there,” he places a hand on your shoulder to grab your attention and you look as he points to a small group of fungi. Their shape looked more like drills than mushrooms, and they definitely lacked the “natural” camouflage that their other skin had, since they were white and periwinkle, and not dirt brown. A quiet woah leaves you as you look at them, brain working overtime once again. Zandik walks with you, slowly, away from the fungi before you can get attacked again. 

You begin to ramble about your theories to Zandik when you’re both far enough from the living vegetables, making grand, expressive gestures with your hands to emphasize your thoughts. The sound of your shoes crunching the grass beneath your feet, crickets chirping and the gentle evening breeze rustling the verdure around sound distant compared to the sound of your voice enthusiastically talking about the creatures you encountered. He absentmindedly scolds himself, wishing he had dragged you out of your dorm room earlier. 

“Nara Zandik!” a voice says from behind him. 

“Fucking Archons-” his head whips around to gawk at the culprit; a small, cyan colored mushroom creature. Completely oblivious to the newcomer, you halt your steps to look at Zandik’s mortified expression. “Why’d you stop?” 

The boy’s attention is torn between you and Ararycan, head spinning. Based on your reaction (or lack thereof), you couldn’t see it; which brought up the question. Should he tell you the truth— that there’s currently a “friendly” sentient mushroom right beside you, or should he lie through his teeth and say- 

“N-Nothing. Just keep going, I’ll catch up. I have, uh... a stomachache.” 

Zandik has never been a good liar, but deciding to spare him the embarrassment, you nod. “Alright. Shout if you need me!” You walk off, looking over the hill to admire the large trees below, more akin to giant lotus plant leaves than actual trees. Your form retreats far enough that Zandik’s sure you won’t hear him if he whispers. 

He looks down at the aranara, panicked red eyes meeting oblivious, beady black orbs and a smile that never faltered. “Why did you show up now?” Ararycan dismissed the harsh tone in which the boy spoke (or didn’t understand it); it didn’t care either way. The creature brimmed with optimism. “Nara Zandik should say what’s on his mind!” it says, little arms waving up and down. “The forest is happy, iron chunks are asleep, and the sky is bright! Why is Nara Zandik scared?” 

His brows furrow, lips curling into a pout as he murmurs, “I’m not scared.” The aranara blinks at him, still smiling- waiting. “I’m not,” he repeats, “it’s just... argh, what do I do? Why is my head so...” “Fuzzy?” Ararycan finishes, tilting its bulbous head to the side, the leaves on its head flopping over. Zandik grumbles, hands coming up to cover his face 

“Is the strange Nara nice?” it asks curiously, turning to look at your figure sitting on the hill a few meters away. You lean over carefully, observing the signs of life below; lanterns made from sticks and leaves, dirt paths separating in a multitude of directions and a small, round house with large leaves serving as a roof. Why you had never seen anything like this was a mystery to you, but you figured you’d just pester Zandik about it later since he was the one to bring you here. 

Zandik looks back down at his friend, his expression having softened from just a few moments ago. “Yeah. That’s why I’m being... stupid. What do I say?” 

Ararycan uses its tiny legs to turn back to look at the flustered boy, black eyes focused on scanning his face. “Talk to her about the sky!” it finally says enthusiastically, walking away before the boy can get a word in. “Hey-!” Little noises echo in the same rhythm as its footsteps, but right as Zandik turns around to ask something, the creature jumps up and disappears into the ground. A frustrated groan leaves Zandik’s gritted teeth, having resigned himself to the “advice” the aranara gave him. 

You hear light footsteps behind you, drowning out the noise of your thoughts as you look back to see Zandik grimacing at you. Or not— his eyes weren’t focused on you, but you happened to be in his line of sight, which made it look like he was judging you heavily. Giggling at him, you pat the grass next to you and shuffle away to give him some space. 

“Feeling better?” He remembers the excuse he gave you and cringes internally as he sits down, body stiff and awkward. “Yeah. Sure. Listen, uh...” Zandik trails off, losing his words. He sheepishly fiddles with the scarf draped over his shoulders, ears reddening the longer he stalls. You nudge his side with your elbow, “Did your stomachache affect your cognitive functions or something?” 

The comment slides off of him as if it were water and he was made up of extra virgin olive oil. What did Ararycan say? Talk about the sky... 

“Hey, can’t you see the stars clearly from here?” he manages to say, glancing up to look at the streaks of white in the welkin. You follow suit, mouth agape when you realize that you can, and the sky is so clear that you can see smudges of different colors in the sky. The navy backdrop was covered in soft shades of purple and blue, stars glistening so softly it was as if someone had gently and strategically placed them there. 

“Woah...” you whisper, your eyes sparkling just as brightly as the constellations. You point out the ones you recognize, eager to talk about your field of expertise. "This one right there is called Leptailurus Cervarius, it looks like a cat!” He leans over to look at where you pointed at and there it was, a small cluster of six stars. He couldn’t say that he saw the cat you spoke of, but he didn’t want to bum you out either. 

“It looks like it’s jumping,” he mutters. You turn to face him with a smile on your face, one that rivaled the brightness of the stars above your heads. He thought his heart would jump out of his chest and into your lap— but even then, he didn’t particularly mind if it did. “It is!” You nod quickly, pointing out more constellations with names he wasn’t even sure he would remember the next day. But he wanted to know more, to listen to you talk about the galaxy so much that he could be a Rtawahist student, too. 

You soon begin to grow drowsy, having spent most of your energy talking Zandik’s ear off (not to mention the sprint from earlier). As you wobble, struggling to hold yourself up, Zandik gently takes ahold of your head and places it on his shoulder. The fabric of his uniform felt comfortable, earning him a small smile from you. His mind drifts away for a moment— his heart clenched in his chest as he thought back to all the time he spent with you. 

From your roaring arguments about trivial matters to info dumping on each other, Zandik couldn’t help but wish you’d make more memories with him. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t like picturing someone else leaning their shoulder for you to doze off on. If he could be your pillow forever, he would take up the job in a heartbeat. 

...What? 

You jolt awake, surprised by Zandik’s sudden movement. He straightened his back, clearing his throat awkwardly. Thankfully there were any creatures around, or else you two would have gotten mauled already. 

“We should get back.” The suggestion draws a groan out of you as you stretch your arms over your head, flopping back onto the grass. It was slightly cold and soft enough to relax your limbs once again, sleep pawing at you desperately, “It’s nice here though.” 

Zandik pushes away whatever indecent thought had begun to brew in his head from seeing you laid on your back next to him. He carefully grabs the hem of your skirt and brings it down to cover your legs as he speaks, “You’ll catch a cold. Come on, we have to go.” 

You blow a raspberry at him, turning away. “Maybe you will but I won’t. I’m strong, I can easily fight off a measly cold,” and you flex an arm to prove your point. It doesn’t convince him in the slightest, and he pulls you up to your feet with him. You decide not to point out the way he struggled ever so slightly— he definitely wasn’t hiding any beefy muscles under his uniform. 

“Okay fine we’re going,” you huff while dusting off your skirt, “but you owe me!” 

“Owe you what? I’m not the bad guy here.” 

“Uh... a drink. You’re paying for my caffeine next time we go out,” you say, and Zandik rolls his eyes. Very typical of an Akademiya student. 

“Fine. It’s a date.” 

You nod quickly, eager to get a tasty drink and to save a handful of mora the next time you go out. Of course it’s not like drinks were that expensive in Sumeru, but it feels nice to be treated every once in a while- 

“A date?!” 

Some birds fly away in fear from the sheer shock your voice carried out. You gape at Zandik, cheeks flushed brightly and eyes wide like saucers. “Yeah. A date,” he repeats nonchalantly, a stark contrast from the way he was acting just shy of an hour ago. Gone was the nervous wreck that was Zandik. 

“If you don’t want a free drink, you can always refuse,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow in the same way you did with him when you were sitting on the hill overseeing the lotus leaf trees. You scoff, then shake your head, and scoff again in pure disbelief. You were stunned; dumbfounded, even. But the idea of a date didn’t sound as unappealing as you made it out to be. 

You glance away from him and mumble your answer. “What was that? I didn’t hear y-” 

“Fine, it’s a date!” 

He looks at you with a boyish grin, making your heart skip a beat. Was he always this handsome? The moonlight made his hair look ethereal, glowing almost pure white where the light shone directly on it. And his eyes— they looked irresistible. Crimson red orbs appearing to have more of a pink hue to them, though you weren’t sure if that was just your imagination. 

Zandik grabs ahold of your hand and matches his steps with yours as you make your way down the hill, back to where you found the familiar dirt path you had walked on when the sun still shone brightly in the sky. As you get closer to flat ground you notice a small horde of mushroom-shaped... mushrooms, and get hit by a wave of déjà-vu. Although asleep, the fungi were blocking the path back. 

“...How are we supposed to get back?” 

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @heartstringsduet and @corsage! Have a slightly longer snippet than usual to introduce you to a musician AU I am in the very very early stages of working on. ([Band name] redacted only because I haven't settled on one yet 😂 My dumb brain that loves a pun keeps suggesting Strand and Deliver but that's too silly)

-

TK blinks. For a moment, he’s sure he heard wrong. “A tour?”

“Limited American, to start,” Billy says. “And then expanding to Europe if we can, depending on ticket sales.”

With another blink and a dumbfounded shake of his head, TK reiterates, “You want me to go on a world tour? When I literally just got out of rehab?”

Billy frowns. “Oh, is there like … more shit you need to do? With that?”

“I – not, there isn’t …” TK babbles, unable to adequately voice why he’s reacting this way, because really, Billy isn’t wrong. He finished his 30 days. It’s been two weeks on top of that, and he’s stayed away from anything stronger than a regular strength Tylenol for the headache he had last Thursday. He’s not on probation, he’s not being required to do another month in some kind of halfway house. The only thing on his calendar for the foreseeable future is rotting on his couch with a bowl of cereal and binging some sitcom he’s already watched a million times. He doesn’t really have a good reason that he shouldn’t jump right back into work, he just wasn’t expecting it to happen. He hasn’t even reconnected with his band, yet.

“I’m not gonna force you to do anything,” Billy tells him, folding his hands on his desk and looking at TK with a furrowed brow. “If you don’t think you’re ready, we can put all this on hold until you are.”

“But?” TK asks, sensing there’s a big one coming.

Sniffing loudly, Billy’s hands transfer to his keyboard. It clacks noisily in the quiet room as he types, and then he rotates the monitor so TK can see the screen.

The sight that greets him is a Google search of his own name, and as Billy slowly presses the down arrow on his keyboard, TK’s eyes travel over headline after headline – Musician TK Strand seen emerging from upstate drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility, and Lead singer of [band name] checks out of rehab; fans wonder what’s next for the group, and [Band name]’s critically acclaimed album dropped almost eight months ago, here’s why no one’s heard from them since.

He gets stuck for a moment on a particularly cruel one, questioning whether the band will have what it takes to pick up where they left off after a widely publicized relapse derailed what should have been their biggest tour to date.

“The most surefire way to shut all this up, is to get right back on the horse,” Billy says, in a voice that’s serious but not unkind. “You’ve still got an album full of new songs that your fans are dying to hear live, it’s just a few months later than it was supposed to be.”

“They don’t think I’ve got what it takes.” TK nods toward the computer screen.

Billy rotates it back toward himself so TK can’t see it anymore. “They’re wrong.”

“What if they’re not?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I guess,” TK concedes, swallowing over his dry throat.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Okay.”

“The label suggested it, just so’s you know.”

“God, what?” TK groans, expecting the worst.

“If you agree to this tour, they want to pick your opener.”

“Oh.” TK frowns. It’s not nearly as bad as some of the things he was imagining. “That’s all?”

Pursing his lips, Billy asks, “You heard of Carlos Reyes?”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but TK doesn’t recognize it well enough to be positive as he asks, “Carlos … wait, that song that’s been all over TikTok? That people are like hoedown dancing to?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s a country singer,” TK says, stating what surely must be obvious.

“He is,” Billy agrees without further explanation.

“I don’t feel like we’ll have a ton of crossover fans.”

“He is up and coming.”

“Does he even have more than that one shitty song?”

Billy turns to his keyboard again and shows TK the guy’s Wikipedia page. He’s a year younger than TK and handsome in that wholesome, good Southern boy sort of way, complete with a cross necklace glinting against his clearly shaved chest. As Billy scrolls to the bottom, TK’s gaze catches the information that the lead guitarist and bass player for Reyes’s travelling band are a married couple, and TK barely holds in a scoff.

“He has two albums and an EP,” Billy points out. “He just hasn’t really taken off much, until now.”

Annoyed, TK asks, “And the label thinks, what, we can’t put asses in seats anymore without some lame TikTok star? That I can’t?”

“He’s not a TikTok star, he’s a musician with a growing fanbase. And he’s got a reputation that is not, unlike yours at the moment, covered in shit,” Billy explains in a no-nonsense voice.

“Right.” TK huffs and slides back in his chair. “So, that’s what this is. I was high at a Grammy party three months ago and now my name is mud, so the label wants me to bring some Mouseketeer in a cowboy hat along to calm the shareholders down.”

“I doubt they’d put it exactly that way.” Billy exhales and shrugs. “But basically, yeah. That’s the long and short of it. Reyes and his band are good clean fun, whereas people are still circulating pictures of you almost puking on Ariana Grande, so they’re not willing to put up the money for the tour unless you agree to bring him with you.”

“Fabulous,” TK mutters. “What could go wrong.”

“For the sake of your future in this business, you better hope absolutely fucking nothing,” Billy warns, and it still isn’t unkind, but he isn’t joking.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafebonheur-cafe

@reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @lemonlyman-dotcom

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian

@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

@emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @cheekgirl89

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[greensagephase]

this is kinda random but I sketched this of my OC and Miguel a couple days ago and I got thinking of Miguel and Dulzura😩

Like UGH I CANT WAIT FOR THEM TO KISS😫😫 I honestly wonder who would initiate it because I know Dulzura is more ready to give affection but I feel like once Miguel gets more comfortable with touch and hugs (hugs!! They still haven't hugged yet😭) and stuff then maybe he'll be wanting to kiss her🥹 Especially since Dulzura kind of let's him set the pace for physical stuff out of respect for his boundaries.

I can't wait because I know it'll be so satisfying and cute❤️❤️

Hiii, llumetrii!! OMG OMG THIS IS SO CUTE!!! The way Miguel is holding your OC’s face and neck?? I NEED THAT!!! 😭🙏🏼 But AHHH!!!! NOW I’M IMAGINING DULZURA AND MIGUEL KISSING LIKE THIS!!!😩😩

There will definitely be a time when Miguel is ready for more contact (honestly, that man is already in the works of wanting more. He's been thinking about hugging us in previous chapters). Like, at some point I think he’s going to be like, “Boundaries? Forget about the boundaries, Dulzura! I need you to kiss me RIGHT NOW.”

And girl, SAME!! I’m so ready for them to kiss and also for them to have their first hug/big physical contact moment which is - umm, nvm!! I already know how it’s going to go, too (their first kiss). 🥺 At least, I have a plan for now, but as always, I’m not restricting myself to what I’ve already planned because sometimes in the spur of the moment while writing, my creativity pops off and/or the story leads me to changes, and usually they’re so much better than what I originally had planned, so we’ll see, but omg, as of right now… I know who initiates the kiss and -

I wish I could say more like how [redacted] ends up [redacted] on the [redacted] and they’re both [redacted] - ok, I’m going to stop because I’m just teasing at this point, but just think about the fact that neither of them have kissed someone in years, hehe 😌🤭 Whether I end up sticking to what I have planned now or if it ends up changing, I do hope you find it satisfying, though!! Thank you so much for your amazing support, pookie!!❤️❤️

Thank you for the ask and also for sharing your beautiful art with me (I love your OC and Miguel so much🥹), and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!!! 💕💕

Alondra❤️

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP Wednesday

Some John and Virgil pondering…

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“But what has this to do with Scott?”

“One of the tenets of friendship EOS has clung to quite strongly is the desirableness of honesty. She considers Scott to be her friend and it is… bothering her… that she has information she thinks he should be aware of and isn’t providing it to him.”

“What information?”

“What do you think? The circumstances of Estera’s arrival and the aftermath. The fact she still can’t get past some of the redaction on her file.”

“Is she still trying? John! I thought we agreed to stop?”

“I agreed we wouldn’t look for more documents.”

Virgil huffed. “Way to loophole your way out of it, brother.”

John had the good grace to look a little guilty under his glare. Virgil suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired.

“Why?”

“Because… he likes her. You like her. Damnit… I like her and you know I was entirely prepared not to. She seems to be good for him and I do want him to have friends, Virgil. I’m not his floating probation officer trying to control his life from up here!”

“Right. So… WHY, John? Can’t we accept it for a stroke of good luck for once and let it be?”

“Because there’s something odd about it. I need to know why. If it’s going to blow up in his face I need to be ready.”

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[ladybugsimblr]

Rolling Stone - Fall Bailey Kay, One of One

-

Shoutout to @soulsimmin for the other musical artists noted on the cover and general Team BK shenanigans. Somebody cut the check.

Article Below

Category: Baaad Bitch

10.59pm The initials BK pop on the screen indicating Bailey Kay has joined the Soom call. The camera flashes on and my heart skips a beat. I hear her soft but firm voice say “Kiss” and another face appears in the view. Bailey’s husband Quinton leans in for a kiss as requested. The two quickly exchange “Love you’s” and adoring looks and then he’s gone as fast as he appeared. Bailey Kay turns to me and I now have her undivided attention. She flashes that gorgeous smile and my heart skips a beat again.

“Sorry. Hi! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me this late. I hope you’re a night owl too.” Absolutely not. I’m normally in bed by 10pm, but who says no to the Queen B when she agrees at the last possible second to her first interview in ages. I awkwardly reply “I am tonight!” and she laughs, exclaiming “I like you!” Phew! Any remaining tension and nerves are gone. Let’s get into this.

Channeling my glitteriest of kitties I jump right in and ask “Where are the visuals? We the butterflies are begging for the music videos and performances.” Honestly I expected a glare or an eye roll in return, but I get a sly smirk instead. “You are the visual”

I instinctively look at the small image of myself on the screen thinking I did too much with my look for this call. Bailey must have sensed my confusion and continues: “Butterfly is about celebrating life, love, and freedom, overcoming struggles and transforming into your best, highest self. I didn’t want to dictate how anyone experienced those things with the typical visuals. But I did want to get the party started so I gave you the first step- the music.”

“So you dropped the album and bounced to let us party and figure it out for ourselves?”

“You are funny! But yes, kinda. And look what happened! You all started your own challenge and created the visuals, and all I had to do was sit back and watch. Also I really didn’t leave y’all empty handed. I thought we killed it with the pics in the Butterfly Box. But I can’t forget the hive is the hardest to please and I love that. Keeps me on my toes.”

“Ok, I see the vision, but why literally leave the country and go on vacation during an album rollout? That’s unheard of!”

“Ok two reasons. The first is that was what I needed to do. That was my way of celebrating. I told my baby girl that putting out an album was like graduating. I fought hard to overcome my own issues and dark places and now that the project was out to the world, I needed to release and just be with my family, my babies.”

“And the second?”

“Because I can. I’m THAT girl! Deadass!” Again with a smile and a laugh. BK might be the nicest bad bitch I’ve ever met.

“What do you say to the critics who say the album is going to fail? There are rules to the game if you want to succeed.”

“I say check the streaming numbers and sales.” That eye twinkle and smile return one more time. “Rules are meant to be broken. Sometimes. Note to self: Redact that line before my terrors read this. But seriously if we did the same thing, the same way, every time, art, music, life would all be extremely boring. Tackling the unheard of and never been done before is my shit. I live for that. As far as succeeding… I’ve been lucky enough to have more success in my entertainment career than I ever dreamed of. Whatever I do from here on is the extra sauce and will not be measured by industry standards.”

“Speaking of the future, what more can we expect for Butterfly? Please say tour.”

“Ha! Ummm performances are coming. It’s time for me to party with the butterflies.”

“Ok, will they be on multiple stages in cities near all of us?”

“I can't with you! But I can say I’ll perform songs from Butterfly and the rest of the catalogue, on stage, soon. Stay ready.”

And ready we will stay. Ready for the Queen BK. One of One. Number One. The Only One.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Lute: “Wait- your new name Vesper isn’t in DEFIANCE of your Morningstar hell family, but a MIRROR of it???”

Vesper Bill: (cocking the gun full of heavenly bullets that their uncle Pentious made for them)

Vesper Bill: “Always was.”

Vesper Bill: (shoots Lute’s halo off her head instead of killing her) (like mother like child)

XD this is so dumb i love

behold my version of the chaggie spear baby's full character profile!

NAME: (redacted)bil(redacted)s Morningstar -> Vesper Bill, one word, not ‘Vesper’ or ‘Bill, always ‘Vesper Bill’.

NATURE: Weapon-born demonic Exorcist angel. Mortal. Slow aging.

OCCUPATION: Overlord, supplier for Rosie’s Emporium and Carmilla Carmine’s weapons business, Exorcist slayer and rehabilitator, cowboy grim reaper cosplayer, garden weeder.     

TERRITORY: Hell’s first community garden.

THEIR “THING”: Soul savings accounts and debt forgiveness programs. Killing murderous Exorcists.   - Entrust your soul to them so you can’t be tempted / pressured into selling it to anyone else. They’ll give it back if you ask, but you do have to ask first, and they’re usually good at figuring out some other way of getting what you want.  - Checks in with other overlords to see which sinners owe stuff and pays the debt / kills / scares off the overlord if they can. Then gives an accidentally terrifying visit to the former indebted sinner so they can say their favorite line of: “I’m Vesper Bill, and yours is due…. Never. It’s been paid off. Congrats.” (hands over a flyer about their moms' Hazbin Hotel)   - Their less favorite line is when they only say the first part of the above, right before killing an Exorcist. All resulting bodies are sold to Rosie, the weapons to Carmilla, and the funds go towards the community garden.

RELATIONS: Their moms run a struggling hotel business, all the live-guests of which are their uncles/aunts/grandpa.

ENEMIES: Most of heaven and a good part of hell. Their full birth name. Flower pollen. Mint.

STRUGGLES: - “It’s not a phase, moms.” (about their goth cowboy theme) – (tips hat at a lady) (walks into car bc they weren’t watching where they were going) – (coughing and sneezing and voice often sounds rough and terrifying bc they have allergies but won’t stop weeding in the garden) - Having tiny stubby demon horns that won’t grow bigger (covers with hat) (hat was a gift and orinially came from Earth) – keeping their demon tail under control (hides it under their coat).

LOVES: - Their moms, the princess of hell and her former Exorcist angel girlfriend. - The hazbin hotel family crew. - Gardening. - Cowboy stuff. - Being annoying to heaven. - Women who could vaporize them physically or emotionally with a smile or a knife either way.

PROUDEST MOMENT: Successfully infiltrating heaven, tricking Lute with a pretend hatred of their moms, wrecking shit, getting a weapon’s upgrade from their uncle, and leading a handful of now former Exorcists back down to hell with them on the way out.

POWERS: - Angelic resilience. - Demonic strength. - Summoning or banishing anyone who’s soul they have in trust, from or to the place of their choice (within the Pride Ring) (mostly used as taxi service). - Skilled at cutting weeds and brush with a scythe. - Good dancer. - Responsible gun owner and operator. - Kids love them.    

Trivia: Got into their cowboy phase after a brief one-time visit to Earth where they played guardian angel for an actual cowgirl for a day. Thinks about her a lot. Ready to go be a nuisance to Heaven again if she ends up there and wants company- is also trying to grow her favorite flowers down here in Hell, just in case. (also puts on red cheek spots makeup everyday, bc they are Charlie's kid too and PROUD of it)

and that's it, that's my take on the chaggie spear baby idea thing, all grown up!

it's ridiculous. i had so much FUN with it