#i’m not ruling out the idea she’s a killer

[review-anon]

Hey can we hear your thoughts on Eloise?

//Y-you want to? Erm…okay.

//Thoughts below the cut.

//Eloise was the first Project Eden’s Garden I heard about and we know why, Survivor introduced her as the housekeeper of Nagito’s old mansion and was there to greet Class 77-B when Nagito decided to give his old class that mansion as a apology for blowing up Jabberwock Island. But of course she wasn’t a housekeeper in Project Eden’s Garden, she is the Ultimate Fencer.

//Personality wise she’s timid and very passive which seems shocking seeing she does a combat sport, but fencing is a very distance based sport and as we soon discover, in fencing forfeiting a match counts as a win for you so Eloise climbed the ranks because people were too scared to challenge her which gave her a bit of a self-esteem issue as doesn’t even know if her skills are good enough to be a Ultimate.

//Unsurprisingly she butts heads with Grace who like her is another sports based female but while Eloise got handed a lot of her wins, Grace had to fight tooth and nail to get to where she was, especially as Golf is a very male dominated sport, so naturally the two don’t get on. It’s a very Hiyoko-Mikan relationship they have, and one I hope doesn’t end that way.

//I also see she gets on very well with Desmond as the two spend a LOT of time together, could be since they are both characters used to distance combat, but Desmond is a very down to earth and chill guy so maybe he’s the kind of person Eloise needs in her life. And while Eloise is a very timid person, when a situation gets serious, she can be brave as she was the first to accuse someone of murder in the Chapter 1 Class Trial as she found Grace keeping everyone out of Wolfgang’s dorm to be very sus.

//Now, a lot of people are nervous around Eloise as they see some Kanade-like traits in her, someone very weak and passive normally but does a complete flip in serious situations and becomes competent, and worries she’s gonna be a psycho in Chapter 3. I call BS on that one since firstly, Kanade does a complete 180 in the Class Trials which raises alarm bells, but while Eloise has a bit more of a backbone then you think, she still is a very quiet and meek person. The other reason is while I press X to doubt on this one, the team behind PEG have gone on record to say they are gonna to avert most common Danganronpa tropes.

//The psycho Chapter 3 double killer is one I can think they won’t go down seeing how deeply unpopular it is. Does this mean Eloise isn’t gonna be a killer? Too early to call but if she does kill, it won’t be because she’s coo-coo in the head and wants to bone Desmond or something.

//But I like Eloise, she’s a sweet character and I will not be happy if she really is a Kanade-lite, to the point I have a venting sketch lined up if THAT ever becomes a thing.

[webfactor]

Wikipedia editors push offensive language to delegitimize some Native American Tribes

Article Text As Follows:

Wikipedia editors push offensive language to delegitimize some Native American Tribes

By Sherry Robinson

Special to The Independent

ALBUQUERQUE — When Lily Gladstone won a Golden Globe and Oscar nomination for her role in “Killers of the Flower Moon,” the public recognized a Native American actress. But to Wikipedia readers, she is an American actress whose father was Blackfeet and Nez Perce and whose mother was white.

Three long-time editors at the online encyclopedia argued that even though Gladstone grew up on the Blackfeet reservation, she couldn’t be called Native American unless she was an enrolled member of the tribe. When Gladstone’s uncle weighed in to say she was enrolled, they dismissed his comments. She is still, in Wikipedia’s view, “an American actress.”

In recent years, outside of a national debate in Indian Country over fake tribes, a handful of Wikipedia editors have been deciding who is Native American and who isn’t.

Look behind the curtain of the sprawling site and you will find a network of 265,000 volunteer editors writing and editing within a Wiki universe that has its own rules, language, police and courts but no traditional hierarchy.

Wikipedia’s structure allows likeminded editors to work together, but it also permits editors with a bias to advance their agenda. The site has drawn criticism from media and academics for slanted articles on Blacks and Jews. Wikipedia documents its own systemic bias in an article by that name and attributes the problem to too few minority editors. The typical editor, it says, is a white male.

By Wikipedia's definition, the only real tribes are federally recognized; editors of Native American material denigrate state-recognized and unrecognized tribes and seem preoccupied with revealing fake Indians.

The fakes are out there, and they’re a problem. But there’s a big difference between people who invented a Native ancestry and people who have a long, documented heritage.

For this story, aggrieved tribal members didn’t identify themselves because they fear the site’s size and power – it reaches 1.8 billion devices a month – and some editors’ vindictiveness.

Behind the curtain

Wikipedia is transparent about its process. Click on “talk” at the top of each article and you find the (sometimes endless) debates among editors about an article and see the site’s rules in action.

Editors are anonymous because the Wikipedia Foundation has a strong commitment to privacy, says a spokesperson. However, readers don’t know what expertise editors have or whether they’re Native American.

Editors select their subject matter. With experience they can rise in the pecking order until they gain authority to reverse or eliminate the edits of others. They quote the site’s often arcane rules in Wiki-Speak to anyone who disagrees. While Wikipedia espouses objectivity, neutrality and civility, discussions can take the low road.

On Lily Gladstone’s talk page, a newish editor, user name Tsideh (Apache for bird), asked, “What are your sources supporting the idea that Native Americans are only those who are enrolled in a US recognized tribe?”

A Wiki editor, user name ARoseWolf, answered: “A notable subject can make a claim… but you must have that respective tribal nation’s acceptance as verification through enrollment."

Gladstone’s uncle wrote: “I’m a primary source for Ms. Gladstone’s tribal heritage. Her father is my brother. Through our father, we are both enrolled in the Blackfeet Tribe in the USA,” he wrote. “Our mother is enrolled Nez Perce. So Ms. Gladstone is a direct descendant of both Blackfeet and Nez Perce.”

ARoseWolf shot him down. “We can not use primary sources to verify such information and, you, as a claimed family member have a WP:COI which means we need an independent source.”

WP:COI is the Wikipedia rule on confl ict of interest. Wikipedia forbids primary sources, and yet they’re the gold standard for journalists and academics.

Tsideh challenged the position that only enrollment in a recognized tribe “entitles somebody to claim to be a Native American” as an unfounded, minority point of view that Wiki editors didn’t support with a citation or explanation.

ARoseWolf and others chastised Tsideh for violating Wiki rules on bullying, false accusations and arguing Wiki policy. Tsideh countered that Leonardo DiCaprio didn’t have to prove he was an Italian American, but Lily Gladstone had to prove she was a Native American.

As the back and forth continued, ARoseWolf slammed a new editor who "just happened to find this discussion,” a dig that implies one party enlisted another to join the debate. That too is a Wiki violation.

Bohemian Baltimore, another regular, insisted, “If she’s not enrolled, she may be a descendant, but she’s not a Native American.”

Who is Native American?

Terry Campbell, a Navajo born in Tuba City, Arizona, who lives out of state, has been studying Wikipedia for five months, after friends complained about poor treatment in trying to edit Wiki pages.

One friend wanted to add some facts to an article about a tribe. “These changes were rejected by a handful of editors who cited other Wikipedia pages as sources,” he said, “and I thought that was very, very odd.”

A friend citing sources that prove her tribe survived the Indian wars and received state recognition ran up against Wikipedia guidelines on determining Native American identities that were largely crafted by two editors, user names CorbieVreccan and Yuchitown. Wiki editors used the guidelines to reclassify dozens of state-recognized tribes as “heritage organizations” and removed “Native American” from biographies of prominent tribal members or, worse, called them a "self-identified Native American.”

The implication, Campbell explained, is that the tribe no longer exists and that its members are suspect or even “Pretendians.” Wikipedia has a page for that too.

The same group has shaped many articles on Native subjects. Campbell said he combed through references and found they were misrepresented, taken out of context, sourced from far-right academics, or unreliable.

“The scope of this issue is huge,” Campbell said. “It permeates all the Native articles I checked.”

Campbell recognized talking points from what he called a far-right movement in Indian Country intent on erasing state-recognized and unrecognized tribes. (New Mexico has no state-recognized tribes and six unrecognized groups or tribes.)

Some Native Americans and Anglos, he said, believe that Indigenous people outside the circle of federal recognition should be considered non-Native. They also want to prevent members of the disenfranchised groups from selling their art, receiving ancestral remains, accessing disaster relief or re-establishing their homeland.

Outside Indian Country, it’s not generally known that U.S. Indigenous groups live within a caste system based on government recognition, with 574 federally recognized tribes on top, dozens of state-recognized tribes second, and several hundred unrecognized tribes last.

In 2021, Yuchitown wrote, “The overwhelming majority of ‘List of unrecognized tribes in the United States’ are completely illegitimate.”

There are many reasons why groups aren’t recognized. Some avoided the reservation. Some lost their recognition during the termination era. Some were broken up and scattered during the Indian Wars. Some went underground, practicing their culture secretly while passing as Hispanic. Many simply stayed put.

When Wikipedia editors claim that “Native American” is a political status conferred by the U.S. government, that an individual can only be called a “descendent” until their tribe is recognized, they push this narrative, Campbell said. It’s a contradiction of federal Indian law and the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

According to the U.S. Department of Justice, “As a general principle, an Indian is a person who is of some degree Indian blood and is recognized as an Indian by a Tribe and/or the United States. No single federal or tribal criterion establishes a person’s identity as an Indian. Government agencies use differing criteria to determine eligibility for programs and services. Tribes also have varying eligibility criteria for membership.”

Extreme points of view

Campbell has contributed to a lengthy report, as yet unpublished, that identifies biased editors. They include Yuchitown, CorbieVreccan, ARoseWolf, Indigenous girl and Bohemian Baltimore.

“It was like a tree with many interconnecting branches that had been created over time by the same small group of people pushing extreme points of view,” Campbell said.

Initially the group made changes slowly, he said, “but they started pursuing their agenda aggressively after November, when state-recognized tribes retained their voting rights in the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI). Essentially, after the movement to delegitimize state-recognized tribes failed officially, the key players doubled down on altering and controlling the flow of information about Native Americans through Wikipedia.”

Campbell observed widespread violations of Wikipedia standards: “I found evidence that they blatantly misquoted and misrepresented sources to push extremist political beliefs; teamed up to manipulate the consensus system by voting in blocks; exploited Wikipedia rules, such as conflict of interest, to block outside editors from making changes to Native-related pages; excessively cited opinion pieces from fringe political figures, including those accused of racism and anti-semitism; blocked the use of legitimate primary and secondary sources that contradict their extremists beliefs, which violates Wikipedia’s rule against information suppression; posted originally researched, politically motivated essays instead of well-sourced articles; and harassed and defamed Native American tribes and living Native American people.”

Reacting in February to an early draft of the report posted on Google, the editors were incensed that anybody would voice complaints “off-Wiki.” ARoseWolf wrote that “we have been attacked, threatened with legal action and had misinformation/ false claims spread against us.” She and Yuchitown denied being part of a conspiracy against tribes or organizations and said they were just following Wiki rules. Yuchitown accused critics of being “meat puppets” of a person who objected to some Native content and enlisted others to back them up. In WikiSpeak this is meat puppetry.

“Volunteers on Wikipedia vigilantly defend against information that does not meet the site’s requirements,” the Wikipedia spokeswoman wrote. “These volunteers regularly review a feed of real-time edits to quickly address problematic changes; bots spot and revert many common forms of negative behavior on the site; and volunteer administrators (trusted Wikipedia volunteers with advanced permissions to protect Wikipedia) further investigate and address negative behavior. When a user repeatedly violates Wikipedia policies, Wikipedia administrators can take disciplinary action and block them from further editing.”

Inaccurate and insulting

In 2006, Wikipedia established the WikiProject Indigenous Peoples of North America to improve its Native-related content of 14,000 articles and more than 37,000 pages.

Recently, a hot topic on the project’s talk page was a proposal to change a category name from “unrecognized tribes” to “organizations that self-identify.”

On April 15 Melissa Harding Ferretti, chairwoman of the Herring Pond Wampanoag Tribe in Massachusetts, wrote, “The proposed renaming of the category on Wikipedia is not only inaccurate… but also insulting.”

Ferretti is one of the few Natives to take on Wiki editors openly.

Herring Pond was originally listed with other Wampanoag tribes. In 2022 Yuchitown stripped “state-recognized” from the page, even though the state Commission of Indian Affairs regularly engages with them. Last year Yuchitown created a separate page for Herring Pond. Wiki editors resisted attempts to make changes or corrections.

After Wikipedia called Herring Pond a “cultural heritage group" and a nonprofi t that "claims" to descend from Wampanoags, Ferretti wrote in a Wiki discussion, “There is no claim, it’s a fact! Might I add, nonprofit status was imposed upon Tribal nations in the ‘90s because we didn’t have our federal recognition yet.”

Her tribe has a well-documented history. “We still have care and custody of our sacred places, burial grounds and our 1838 Meetinghouse, one of three built for the Tribe after the arrival of the colonizers. Our continuous presence and stewardship of these lands are recognized by historical records, deeds and treaties.”

Ferretti wrote that tribes without federal recognition already face significant hurdles to gain recognition, "and being labeled as 'self-identified' can add to these challenges by casting doubt on our legitimacy.” Mislabeling unrecognized tribes “can lead to the spread of hate, misinformation and further marginalization.”

Some Wiki editors agreed. One wrote that “there are strong negative connotations to saying someone who is Native 'self identifies,' because the inference is that they are Native in name only or falsely claiming to be Native. A change like this will impact countless articles…” Bohemian Baltimore, ARoseWolf and Yuchitown insisted there were no negative connotations. They opposed calling an unrecognized group a tribe because it legitimized groups with unverified claims. ARoseWolf said, “If they had proof of their connection to the original people they would have gotten federal recognition.”

This is a frequent refrain among the insiders, who apparently think the application process is a slam dunk instead of the long, difficult, expensive journey it is.

Yuchitown noted that “all of the editors who actively contribute to and improve Native American topics on Wikipedia have voted to support the renaming.” It’s a remarkable declaration that he and his allies act in concert.

The insiders took even stronger action against Lipan Apaches in Texas.

Late in 2022, Yuchitown changed the entry of the Lipan Apache Tribe of Texas to say that NCAI recognizes the tribe as state-recognized but the National Conference of State Legislatures (NCSL) does not. In fact, NCSL took down its web page listing federal and state-recognized tribes because it couldn’t verify the accuracy.

In boilerplate that appears on all the Texas unrecognized tribes’ websites, Yuchitown said Texas has no legal mechanism to recognize tribes, citing an online article that in turn cites the discredited NCSL web page.

In 2022, a tribal member and Yuchitown fought back and forth, reversing each other’s edits. In WikiSpeak, it was edit warring. The tribal member informed Yuchitown that the NCSL page he quoted no longer existed. CorbieVreccan told the member she was up against “two experienced editors,” and Yuchitown accused her of conflict of interest and edit warring. His fellow travelers demanded to know if she had an official position with the tribe. She didn’t.

ARoseWolf wrote, “As Wikipedia is not a state or government-controlled entity it can make up its own rules for what content is allowed on its platform.”

The Wikimedia spokeswoman says that in some extreme cases the foundation relies on a trust and safety team that will investigate and may also take action.

Campbell wrote in the report that many Native American communities and people “have been targeted by the small group of propagandists in this complaint… And the thousands of people who make these communities have been slandered and assaulted on Wikipedia through the actions of these propagandists.”

Link to the original article:

[krirebr]

Welcome to Your Life

Pairing: dark vampire!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.75k

Summary: During a drunken night out on vacation, you're brought to a strange club and presented to a mysterious man. Part of Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Warnings: Horror elements, dark elements, mind control, some blood and gore, feeding on humans, captivity, dub/con, SMUT - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika

We're All Monsters

Masterlist

A/N: And here it is, the first part of Vampire Steve's solo story! If you missed his introduction, it was in I Can't Sleep Cause My Bed's On Fire. You don't need to read that before you read this, but some of the world-building (specifically how his club works) might be helpful. Plus, it's a vampire threesome, so 🥵🥵🥵

This is also the first part of the new, super-expanded supernatural universe that I'm doing with @paperweight91, playing off of what I started with my Psycho Killer AU. Big thanks to Chelsea for all her help on this and for just how much fun it's been to come up with ideas with her for this whole universe.

Now, where it might get slightly confusing, but I really hope it doesn't. This story introduces a new character, Cutter, who will eventually be a reader in one of Chelsea's stories in her werewolf half of this au. She is not physically described at all here, other than being a woman. I hope it gets you excited about what @paperweight91 has in store for her.

As always, any comments, reblogs, or asks are very appreciated. You know how much I love this Steve. Please come screech with me about him!!!

You were shaking. That was the only thing you knew. You didn’t know where you were or what you were doing there. Not even how you’d gotten there, just that you were standing in the back room of some club, surrounded by people—were they people? Of course, they were. What else could they be?!—unable to move, and you couldn’t stop shaking.

You’d been on vacation with some friends in Berlin. You’d all decided to have a wild night out together but were quickly separated. While tipsily searching for them at a club, you’d bumped into a man, an American, who told you his name was Cole. And suddenly, looking for your friends didn’t seem as important. He’d told you he knew a great bar just a few blocks away. You didn’t really remember agreeing to go with him, but now you were here, in a room full of strangers who wouldn’t stop leering at you. No one had done anything or even said anything, but you knew in your bones that you were not safe. And yet, you couldn’t move.

Cole, especially, wouldn’t take his eyes off you, your neck in particular. You desperately wished for something to cover up your club attire. A woman was leaning against the wall in the corner, sharpening her ridiculously long nails with a knife. She looked up occasionally, and this time her gaze landed on Cole, a scowl on her face. “You know he gets first taste,” she said, before looking back down in disinterest.

“I know,” he said, his fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh.

“Everything has to get his approval before it goes on the menu,” she continued, still not looking up as she filed her nails to a terrifying point. 

“Yes,” Cole gritted out, “I know that, Cutter. I’m not fucking new.”

“Then stop acting like you’re jonesing for your next fix. You’re that fucking hungry? Go get yourself something to eat that actually is on the menu.” Nothing they were saying made any sense. 

He scowled at her, but started to leave the room, and then, suddenly, stopped. Everyone stopped. Cutter looked up, listening for something, then pushed herself off the wall and made her way over to you. She brushed one of her exceedingly sharp nails over your bottom lip. Looking you in the eye, she breathed, “Kneel, sweetheart.” And you were on your knees before you had any idea what had happened. She smiled at you and added, “Be quiet,” and you knew, in every cell, that you wouldn’t have been able to make any noise if you’d tried. 

One of the doors opened and a tall, broad, beautiful man came into the room and you felt the energy of everything change. It was like it was all, yourself included, suddenly charged with electricity. You’d never felt anything like it. He zeroed in on you instantly and made his way over. You felt the instinct to cower, but it was far away, almost like it was behind a wall. And you still couldn’t move anyway. All you could do was shiver.

The man looked at you carefully. “Pretty,” he said, absently. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip just like Cutter had. Then he gripped your chin and angled it up so you were forced to make eye contact. “Give me your wrist,” he said and you couldn’t explain the feeling that moved through your body, only that you reached your wrist up to him, you had to, and waited for him to take it. He took it in his firm grip and placed his thumb right over your pulse point. He pressed down hard and smiled when you still didn’t move, didn’t react. It was like you didn’t know how. And then, something happened, so quickly you couldn’t process it. Fangs descended into his mouth and he lowered his head to your wrist and bit down hard. It was some of the worst pain you’d ever felt, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t make a sound. It wasn’t until you felt the wetness on your cheeks that you even realized you were crying. It was like all the different parts of you were separated. 

He pulled his teeth from your wrist and then licked the wound clean. He grinned at you and said, “You have excellent taste in cocktails, honey.” Then he looked over at Cutter and his smile dropped. “She’s still drunk. You should have known better.”

Her mouth fell open, and then she flung her hand out at Cole who stood sheepishly on the other side of the room. “Cole’s the one who brought her in!”

He was in front of her in a blink, the arm that was still in the air now in his firm grasp. She grimaced. “And you know exactly how good his judgment is,” he growled.

“Steve,” she whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear her.

The man (could you even call him that? Deep down you knew what he was), Steve, brought his face as close to hers as possible. “When I put you in charge,” he said, so lowly, “I expect you to be in charge.”

She just stared at him for a moment meeting his gaze, then dropped her own and nodded. He smiled fondly, you were surprised to see, and kissed her on the cheek. “You know he needs supervision.”

He made his way back to where you were still kneeling, now cradling your arm. He bent down to you slightly and stroked a hand down your neck. “There’s something there, though,” he said, although you weren’t sure who he was talking to. Certainly not to you. “Underneath everything else. I’ll try her again tomorrow and see how she is when the blood’s pure.”

You gazed up at him, confused, and he gripped your chin in his hand. “You may speak,” he said.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” was all you could manage.

“Oh honey, of course, you don’t,” he said with a grin that frightened you. “The good news is that you’ll never need to understand anything ever again.” He looked back up at the room at large. “Set her up in a room upstairs.” He released your chin and made his way to the exit, pausing as he was almost out the door to call “Cole!” over his shoulder. The other man quickly followed him out of the room.

Cutter came to stand in front of you. She looked you in the eye and said, “Up,” and without thinking, you were on your feet. “Such a good girl,” she cooed. “Follow me,” and suddenly that was all you wanted to do.

The room she took you to was better described as a cell. There was a cot, a toilet, and a sink. No windows. Painted grey. It was tiny. Cutter left as soon as you were inside and you heard the door lock behind her. 

You sat down on the bed and closed your eyes. You felt the urge to panic but it was like your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your heart rate stayed steady, your breaths even. You were calm, even if that was the last thing you wanted to be. 

These people must have done something to you. People, right. You knew what they were. Every single one of them had stared at your neck. Steve had fangs and he’d literally drank your blood. You knew, even if an hour ago you would’ve sworn that was just fantasy. Vampires. You were being held captive by vampires. What the hell?

There was nothing to occupy your time in here except for your thoughts, so you curled up on the cot and tried to convince yourself that it was all a bizarre dream. Eventually, your exhaustion overtook you and you fell asleep. 

You weren’t sure when exactly you woke up. You hadn’t seen a single window since Cole had brought you into the building last night. Because sunlight kills vampires, you thought to yourself, somewhat hysterically. Your memories of the night before were… weird. And not just because you swear someone drank your blood. They were patchy. And yes, you’d been drunk, but not that drunk. Not so drunk that you blacked out small portions of the night. And certainly not so drunk that you hallucinated vampires. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There was no way out of the cell. Nothing in it that would help you. All you could do was wait for whatever it was that was coming for you.

Sometime later, hours probably, a slit in the door you hadn’t noticed before was opened, and a tray was slid through. Food. You gathered it quickly and sat on the bed. There was a carton of water and a plate with a large salad that was mostly made up of spinach and lentils. Iron-rich food, your mind supplied. The previous night seemed more and more real.

.You thought about refusing the salad, but you were so hungry, so you ate it. It was surprisingly good, but not what you would have chosen for what would probably be your last meal. You lay back down when you were finished, curled up on your side, and daydreamed of something more satisfying than a spinach salad. 

More time passed. You stared at the walls and tried not to freak out. You wondered if your friends had made it back to the hotel. How long it took for them to realize you were missing. Were the police searching for you? Did your family know? You couldn’t help it when the tears started. You were pretty sure you were going to die here.

You dozed in and out for who knows how long. And then the door opened. Steve walked in with Cole behind him, carrying a chair. You jolted up and pressed yourself into the wall. “Stop,” Steve said, and everything did. “Calm down,” and you felt everything in your body slow. Suddenly, you couldn’t access whatever it was that you’d been so scared of. So you sat still and watched him. 

Cole handed Steve the chair and he placed it in front of your cot. He sat down and looked at you. His gaze made you feel so small. He reached out his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against your knee. A chill ran up your spine, not just fear, but an excitement too, that you couldn’t explain. “Give me your other wrist,” he said, lowly, and you immediately did. He took it in his hand and brought it up to his nose, forcing you to lean forward. He inhaled deeply. “Much better,” he said. “You’re all sobered up now, aren’t you?”

You didn’t respond. You knew, deep inside yourself, that he didn’t want you to. His fangs dropped and you braced yourself, something in the far recesses of your mind knowing that you should be scared. With a slight grin, he sank his teeth into your wrist. The pain was just as bad as the night before but soon, so much quicker than the last time, it was over and Steve was pulling away, his eyes still locked on you.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“What?” Cole asked, from his place by the door. “She’s that bad?”

“No,” Steve growled. “She tastes like sunshine.” He stood up and leaned over you, running the back of one finger across your cheek. “Precious thing.”

You looked up at him and blinked. “Please,” you said, “please, I want to go home.”

“No, honey,” he cooed, so gently, “you’ll never go home again.” As you tried to process that through the fog, he turned to Cole. “Put her in my private reserves. I’ll have her for dinner.” And then he was out of the room.

Cole looked at you, a pout on his face. “Goddamnit,” he grumbled, “I’ve been waiting for a taste.”

“You’re gonna bite me, too?” you asked, alarmed.

He sighed. “Not anymore. I’d rather not face the true death, thanks.” He looked you in the eye. “Come with me.” 

You felt something move through you at that. There was definitely a strong urge to obey that you wouldn’t resist, but it was nothing like what you felt with Steve, or even Cutter, where it was like your body was on strings. It wasn’t a huge weakness, but you were taking note of everything at this point. 

Cole took you through a long series of hallways that you couldn’t hope to keep track of. Cole talked the whole way, mostly inane bits about his frustrations with the pecking order in whatever vampire organization this was. You marveled for a moment at the fact that you were describing something to do with mythical monsters as inane. Finally, just as you arrived at a door not dissimilar to the one you’d just come out of, he concluded with “You’re a really good listener.”

You gaped at him. What did he think was happening here? He’d targeted you, done something to you to bring you here where you were trapped and probably going to die and he thought you cared that he didn’t feel respected enough by his fellow monsters???

But staying alive right now was your primary concern, so you just quietly said, “Thank you,” and let him show you into the room. 

It was much bigger than the cell, but still small, along the lines of a spacious walk-in closet. There was a plush rug under your feet, a deep rose color. A four-poster bed was to one side covered in a big, fluffy comforter that was in a lighter shade of dusty pink and piled with pillows to match. The far wall was entirely made of mahogany built-in bookcases that were completely full of books. There was a soft-looking armchair in the corner by the shelves. You turned back to Cole and asked, “What is this?”

“It’s your room,” he said with a smile. He looked you in the eye. “Now,” he said, and you felt his words travel through your body. He pointed at a door without breaking eye contact, “that’s your bathroom. You’re going to use it now to get very clean and smooth. There are lotions you’ll use after to make yourself soft. There are things in there,” he pointed to a beautiful armoire in the corner, “for you to change into when you’re done. Steve will be back in a few hours and you will be ready for him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice coming out of you without any conscious thought or effort, “I’ll be ready for Steve.”

“Good girl,” he said, and gently patted your cheek. He stood awkwardly, watching you, but now that the command was in you, you were focused on getting to the bathroom so you could get clean. He was in your way.

“I have to get ready for Steve,” you told him, your voice sounding oddly robotic to your own ears.

Cole blinked at you and then sighed. “Right,” he said, sounding almost forlorn. He stared at you again and then shook his head. “I’ll see you again soon,” he said, stroking one hand down your arm. And then he finally left.

It was the most luxurious shower of your life. 

When you came out of the bathroom, clean, smooth, and more moisturized than you’d ever been, you opened the armoire to find a small collection of slips in different sizes hanging in it. You found the one that would fit you best and put it on. It was black, a combination of silk and lace. It felt expensive against your skin. You searched the drawers, and next to a collection of silk briefs, you found a pair of black lace panties that would work for you. 

Once you were dressed (or as dressed as you were going to be with what was available), you moved to the bookshelves. They were chock full of every genre and category you could think of. Vaunted classics next to dime store romances. Shakespeare collections and airport schlock. You ran your fingers across the spines, when, suddenly, from behind you– 

“If there’s something you particularly enjoy, let me know and I’ll have someone get it for you.” 

You spun around to find Steve just inches from you. You hadn’t heard a noise when he’d come in. There was a coldness emanating from him that made goosebumps rise along your flesh. Your breath caught and he grinned. You inhaled and asked, “You aren’t going to kill me?”

He laughed. “Oh no, Sunshine. You’re too delicious. I’m going to be feeding from you for a long, long time.”

You tried to back up, but the wall of bookcases blocked you. You pressed yourself into it anyway. He opened his mouth and you hurried to say “Please don’t make me calm down!”

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. “Explain,” he commanded and you were obeying before you even registered the word.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I feel it when you tell me to do things. And I– I don’t know. I don’t know.” You wanted to obey, every part of you was trying, but you had no vocabulary for any of what this was. So you were left chanting, “I don’t know,” over and over. 

“Stop,” he said, and of course, everything did. “You can feel it?” he asked. “The compulsion? You actually feel it move through your body?”

The word was new to you, but you knew what he meant. You nodded and he hummed. “Oh, you are very interesting, aren’t you, pet?” 

You didn’t say anything to that, just watched him warily. He gave you a sharklike grin that sent chills down your spine and said “Now, calm down.”

And just like before, you felt everything inside you slow. Your body sagged a bit against the shelves, no longer trying to push your way through them.

“There,” he said, cupping your face in his large hand. “Isn’t that better, little pet?”

He guided you to the armchair and sat down in it, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel the supernatural strength in his thighs as you settled on top of him, sidesaddle, as he took all of your weight without any reaction at all. He scratched his thumbnail down your jugular and you closed your eyes. “It hurts,” you said, your tone surprisingly flat for how afraid of all this you’d been just a moment before.

“Hmm?” he questioned, as he nuzzled his nose along your throat.

“When you bite me,” you said, still so calm, “it hurts so much.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, I’ll make it feel just as good for you as it will for me.”

With that, he moved one of his hands in between your legs, slowly sliding it up your thigh. His face was fully in the crook of your neck when he mumbled “Feel this,” and you felt the command vibrate through your whole body. The calmness that had flattened you faded away and you let out a little whine when his hand reached your mound. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his fingers between your folds. You gasped as he quickly found your clit, tracing slow lazy circles around it. You tried to grind down onto his hand and you felt him huff a laugh into your neck. His tongue darted out, licking a wide stripe all along your vein. You let out another whine, so desperate this time. 

He chuckled again. “I was going to make you get wet for me,” he said, as his fingers began to prod at your hole gently, his thumb still working at your clit, “but I don’t need to, do I? Or at least, not with my voice.” He was right, you were already soaking, and there was no resistance as he slipped one finger inside of you. You squirmed against his hand and he added another finger. 

His mouth was still on your neck, lapping and nipping at your jugular, but he hadn’t sunk his teeth in yet. He scissored his fingers for a moment, stretching you so good that you cried out before he added a third. They stroked inside your walls, looking for your spot. He found it and you threw your head back. 

“Come on,” he growled, “give me what I need.” He curled his fingers, scraping against that place inside you just right. You screamed as you were thrown over the edge of your orgasm and that’s the moment he finally sunk his fangs into your neck. You felt it, you did. The pain was just as intense as before but mingled with some of the strongest pleasure you’d ever felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your body spasmed around his fingers as he loudly sucked from your neck. You swore that you could feel the blood rushing to both places. You babbled as you coasted along the waves of your orgasm, feeling like it would never end. Even as the aftershocks quieted and slowed down, his mouth was still latched to your neck, taking what he needed from you. Your body was fully collapsed into his now. Everything offered up for the taking. 

Finally, his teeth left you and he gently licked the blood from your skin. He slowly removed his fingers from you and you whined at the emptiness. He brought them up to your lips. “Clean up your mess,” he commanded and your mouth dropped open without thinking. He slid his fingers in and you swirled your tongue around them. You tasted yourself, sweet and musky, as you sucked him clean. He pulled them out with a soft pop and wiped them on the bodice of your slip. 

You looked at his face. He still had your blood on his lips. You felt the odd urge to kiss him but didn’t have the chance as he pushed you off his lap. Your knees buckled, too weak to stand. He laughed gently, like you might at a cute animal that was struggling, as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. He laid you down and tucked you in. “Rest up, Sunshine,” he cooed, and your body did as it was told, quickly sinking into sleep. “I’ll be back for more soon.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @femefetalelevelingup

[vikkirosko]

I’m not sure if this counts as breaking the character x character rule since it’s generic but…

How would DBD Killers react to finding two survivors in one locker? (Please include the Dredge because funny locker killer)

Well, I don't see a big problem with this request. One of the survivors will be Reader, and the problem is solved

Partially platonic headcanons Two in one locker

🎃 Shape x Reader 🔪

Every time you were among the survivors that Michael was supposed to hunt, he left you at the end. Someone might think that you were a special victim to him, but no one would even dare to think that Michael was giving you a little indulgence. He was giving you a chance to escape while he was busy with the others, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have killed you if you couldn't escape. His feelings for you were strong, but you both had your own roles that you performed. Every time he noticed that you were hiding in the locker, he pretended that he had no idea about it and moved on, but this time it was different. You weren't there alone

As he passed the locker, he heard a voice belonging to Jake. Michael was planning to catch him, but then he heard another voice. Your voice. You were both hiding in the same closet and there was clearly not enough room for you there. Michael felt an irritation that was rare for him. He didn't wait long and opened the locker, grabbing Jake by the neck. You saw that Michael was angry, and you knew that he could have done anything, so you chose to run away. Jake might be very unhappy later, but at least one of you had to get out

It didn't take long for Michael to find you again. He caught you and looked at your face carefully. Knowing that you were there for him calmed him down. He didn't like the fact that someone was so close to you, so he intended to stay with you as long as possible until you needed to go down the hatch, because he was going to get rid of the others

Michael didn't tell you anything, but you knew he was angry. You didn't want to be alone in the locker with Jake, and now you had to deal with the consequences of this act, because Michael wasn't going to forget about it so easily

👻 Ghost Face x Reader 📸

Danny loved to watch and scare his victims. This sent adrenaline coursing through his blood and he pursued his victims with increased enthusiasm. You were the one he particularly liked to keep an eye on, albeit for a different reason. You were his favorite victim and a survivor for whom he had funny feelings. He liked it when you were alone and you could spend time without strangers

When he got rid of most of your comrades, he was looking for you, and when he heard some noise from the locker, he was sure that it was you. It seemed to him like a funny game that he was going to win. But when he came to the locker, he heard another voice besides your whisper. That voice belonged to Meg. She was the last of your friends he hadn't killed yet, and now you were hiding in the same locker. Danny grinned behind his mask, feeling that the game was only getting more interesting

He was wandering around next to the locker, and you realized that Ghost Face was doing it on purpose, pressing on your nerves and trying to unbalance you. When he disappeared from your field of vision, the feeling that he was somewhere nearby did not disappear, and you did not plan to go out yet, but Meg decided to take a chance, and soon she was running away from Danny. When he returned after finishing with her, he saw you sitting on the floor of the locker, which was open. You stretched out your legs, which had time to go numb and just rested, realizing that now you had that little chance to rest a little bit

Danny was sitting with you, taking all your attention to himself. He knew exactly where the hatch was, so he could help you leave quickly, but he wanted to spend time with you without your companions and other annoying factors. He hugged you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder. Even though he didn't tell you, he wanted you to know that the only one you could hide in the same locker with was himself

🦴 Dredge x Reader 💀

Dredge often used lockers to move faster, but sometimes it found a survivor in the locker, which it used. It seemed like an easy way to catch them, although not always the survivors were hiding in lockers. You were one of those who, after learning that it was from Dredge that you needed to escape, tried hard not to use lockers. It amused the creature. You were sympathetic to it as a survivor who always approached the issue of his survival with caution. But this time something went wrong

When Dredge teleported into one of the lockers, it realized that it was surprisingly cramped. This was followed by a startled scream, the source of which was Dwight, but even through the scream there was a soft cry that belonged to you. At that moment, Dredge realized that there were two survivors in the locker, and one of them was you

Dwight was the one who put you in the locker. Despite your irritated whispers that hiding was a bad idea, he took you to the locker. And now he was screaming because Dredge had grabbed him. You were able to get out and run, realizing that there was nothing you could do to help, and it was a miracle that you weren't captured with him. You didn't even realize that Dredge specifically allowed you to escape, because of all the survivors, you were the favorite for it

After that, it couldn't find you in the lockers. You were running away from it with all your might, trying to survive, and it just couldn't miss the opportunity to leave you as the last survivor. You just had to hope that you could find the hatch before it found you

[campbell-rose]

Alastor Redesign

Omg there’s like over 70 people following me – guys I'm o///O flattered and flabbergasted. 

Anyway, onto today’s main event, Alastor. I hate Alastor’s og design, I hate his twig waist and his shoulder pads and the way you can’t see his antlers next to his ears, and his bow tie ugh viv please and his HAIR what even is that??? Not even mentioning that nothing about his design is really like a focal point. There’s no one thing that’s particularly interesting. At least before this he had that cathedral window looking cross on his undershirt that I found interesting. Nothing about his says he’s from the 1930’s other than dialogue. 

I wanted him to be in greyscale because that’s the coolest aesthetic, and colored photos weren’t a thing until way after the 30s. Recently I saw jjk, and Jogo’s teeth threw me because at some points I thought he was just straight up toothless. But then when I started this design, that colored tooth look spoke to me. Initially his teeth were yellow to look gross like he never brushes them, but then I was like ‘ayo wait, he’s literally a cannibal’, thus his vibrant red teeth to really pop against his greyscale. Initially his undershirt was white, but I feel like that was too much contrast and white is typically innocence, so by instead having a deep red it shows he’s just straight up bloodthirsty underneath his formal appearance. I also considered it being black, but then he looked like a pastor, and I wasn’t too much of a fan of it. The idea of the red on his design is that it leads your eye down his design to take it all in, with his face being the focus. I gave him glasses because I like the way it obscures his eyes a bit and I imagine they do the anime thing where they glow and hide his eyes. I liked Viv’s idea of sinners having marks where they died, and I slicked his hair back to show it off very prominently. His antlers are larger, I gave him cute lil deer ears. Also, under his suit he is lowkey buff. I feel like a serial killer should at least look physically capable of taking someone down not whatever the fuck viv’s nasty twig men can do. Like, in that comic with the cute sheep girl, when Alastor goes demon mode his body looks so snappable I just wanna like grab his waist in my hands and break it like a twig. I also tried to keep his design simple as if this were for animation, I know pinstripes are complicated and so are antlers but other than that I tried to keep his design basic. 

If I were to rewrite him based solely on the pilot, I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. Alastor is a decent character, his voice actor gives him life, the radio filter is cool, and nothing he did made me want to break my screen (ANGELDUST). The only thing I'd change would be his position in hell. Like, viv’s hell is so wack and I hate it, she’s got the princes, then the goetia and the overlords and then sinners and blah blah, it’s a lot to keep track of, not even mentioning the rings and circles thing. I think Alastor should have had dealings with hell as a human, maybe he routinely did sacrifices or something, and he made a deal with the archdemon Alastor and when he died like... uuhhhhhhh. Maybe through connections he’s gained more power? Idk, I just know I hate the idea of his dying and then having like the bestest most powerful demon powers despite not being hellborn. It’s got this mary sue stench. I’ll figure it out, maybe, who knows. 

I’m not gonna start rewriting since there’s nothing to go off of and alter yet, so that’s gonna have to wait until the show actually drops before anything concrete happens lol. 

Also the sheep girl is a sinner that reoccurs in the show now so sorry I don’t make the rules, you can’t give me a cute sheep girl and try to take her away, I’m gonna redesign her and shove her into the plot as someone looking for redemption at the hotel

[neo-nomatrix]

Rule No. 19

never fall in love with the same person twice, the second time you’ll be falling in love with the memories not the person.

Miguel O’hara x reader

word count: 1056

synopsis: You were Miguel’s wife in another universe and he just can’t come to terms that you’re not his.

a/n: i know a lot of people are asking for part twos of my other stories but i just can’t think of anything 😭

Your death was a horrible day for Miguel. He easily blamed himself for what had happened to you. Shot twice by a random mugger off the side of the street. And he, Spiderman of all people, couldn't save you. How could he even call himself a hero after that? He held your lifeless body in his arms as he came to terms with the incident.

Miguel wouldn’t allow your killer to get away. Chasing him down the block, cornering him in an alley and slowly, almost torturing, beat the life out of him. Miguel tore at his skin with his claws, used all his strength to break his teeth, and practically ripped off the man’s hand from the wrist.

Miguel so desperately wanted him to feel pain he would do anything. But that wouldn’t bring you back, and he knew that.

Miguel had fallen in love with you for many reasons. You were beautiful, smart, funny, and the kindest person he had ever met. He knew that if you saw the person he was now you would not have fallen in love with him. When he looks at himself in the mirror he doesn’t see the man he once was, he doesn’t see the man you loved but a distorted ugly image of that man.

He knew he had changed for the worse but truthfully he didn’t care. If changing meant he got what he was after he didn’t care how it made him look.

The first time Miguel found you in another universe he was ecstatic. You had a family, a beautiful daughter and a life worth being a part of. “Your” Miguel had recently died and he thought he could replace him.

“Oh, I'm so glad you’re home. I was starting to get worried,” You kissed your husband as he walked through the door.

“Im here,” Miguel whispered as a response.

He didn’t know what to do. You were there, in front of him. Alive.

He pulled you in for the strongest kiss he had ever given you. You were slightly shocked but melted into the kiss with such love. Failing to see the tears building up in his eyes.

You were happy, so happy. Until the day it all came crashing down on him. Your world started to collapse within itself, Miguel felt like Atlas trying to hold up the universe on his shoulders. He didn’t know what to do, he was lost. Running from an inescapable situation with you and your daughter. You fell to your knees as you were running. You were glitching. Slowly, in the most painful way he could imagine both you and your daughter disappeared from his arms.

For the second time Miguel lost you, and it was his fault. From then on he vowed to only watch you from afar.

“She isn’t yours, Miguel,” Jess reminded him for what? the tenth time today?

“I know that Jess,” he practically rolled his eyes at her.

“Y’know it’s creepy. You’re basically stalking this girl who has no idea you exist. There are just some things you have to let go,” She offers her advice.

Miguel clenches his jaw at her words.

“I don’t need a therapist, alright? I’m fine dealing with this,” he says.

He’s had enough of Jess and her advice for today. Even though he won’t let himself interfere he can’t help but watch you from the rooftops. He agrees that it’s creepy but he can’t let anything else bad happen to you, he just can’t.

From everything telling him not to, he swings down to try and get closer to you. He enters the coffee shop you just went into. He doesn’t know why. He shouldn’t be here behind you in the long line. It’s not right. He’s about to turn before he’s greeted with your sweet voice. Your voice that sounds like honey and all the good things on this planet and the next.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering what you usually order? I’ve never been here before and I'm sort of lost,” you giggle. God, he could melt on the spot.

He knows you're lying, of course. He’s seen you in here more times than he can count. And you always get the same exact thing, every single time. In fact, you refuse to get anything different. He wants to believe you’re asking him as a way to flirt but he can’t get attached, not again.

“Oh uhm, i usually get their vienna latte,” His eyes flick up to the first thing on their menu, never having gone to this shop himself.

“And then their bear claw,” if there’s one thing he noticed about you it’s that in every universe you love a bear claw with your drink.

“Great! I’ll get that then!” You smile happily as the barista asks for the next person in line.

He didn’t realize how in love with you he really was until he spoke to you all these years later.

“Do you maybe want to sit down together? I know a park nearby,” You approach him after both of you have gotten your drinks.

“I’d…” he trails off remembering Jess’ words. He can’t, he shouldn’t, no matter how much he wants to. “I don’t think I can. I’m really sorry,” he feels horrible after seeing the look on your face. He wants to crumble up into a million pieces seeing you disappointed like that.

“No worries then. It’s okay,” you smile kindly at him. A clear tinge of sadness in your voice.

You walk off leaving him there unsure of his choice. Would one conversation really do anything? Would it tear the world apart like last time? Was he willing to risk it just to talk to you again?

The truth was yes, he was absolutely willing to risk everything for the chance to have you fall in love with him again. But he couldn’t do that to you. He stands there, heartbroken for a third time.

Even though he loves you he’s well aware you’re not his, not really. He knows that if he were to fall in love with this version of you it would be compensation for what he had lost. He would simply be trying to recreate something he couldn’t have.

Miguel loves you, but he can’t have you.

[derangedangel]

Killer Duo - Isaac Lahey

Summary: Lydia’s throwing a Halloween party and your costume coordinates with Isaac’s

Isaac Lahey x Reader

Word Count: 1,591

Author���s Note: Apparently this was in my drafts in 2019 and I finished it in 2020. Why it never got posted, I’m not sure. The timing of this is funny cause I’m currently at work dressed as the character Isaac is dressed as. Anyway, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy Halloween!

“Lydia, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was 12,” you said walking around looking at all the creepy Halloween decorations.

“And this is a costume party. You have to dress up or you can’t go,” Lydia replied walking in front of you heading straight for the costumes. 

“I have no idea what I should be. And most Halloween costumes for women are sexy now, which really means they’re short and inappropriate, and I am not doing that.”

The strawberry blonde rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even looked at any costumes yet and your already jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m just pointing out facts. Halloween used to be fun, then I grew up.”

“And now you’re at the age where you can dress up again,” Lydia smiled at you. “There’s just no candy this time.”

“So what’s the point,” you joked.

“Just come on,” Lydia said grabbing your arm pulling you towards the superhero costumes first. 

The two of you began to look through the racks of clothes. You ran a mental checklist of everything that wouldn’t work for you. 

Batgirl? No.

Iron Man? No.

Elastigirl? Hell no.

“Oh, what about Wonder Woman,” Lydia asked holding up the iconic armor for you to see. 

“Ehh,” you said fidgeting on your feet, “I don’t feel comfortable having my ass out.”

“Okay,” Lydia said sighing at how difficult you were making this. She stood next to you scanning the the other costumes in the superhero section and decided you were going to like any of them.

“What about a witch,” she asked.

“I guess I could be that,” you replied halfheartedly.

“No, I don’t want you buying something you don’t love. That’s the number one rule in fashion.”

“Lydia, why don’t you just look for your costume and I’ll find mines. I don’t want you to keep pulling outfits and I hate them all.”

Lydia turned and faced you. “Honey, I bought my costume weeks ago. No one is going to be wearing the same thing as me at my own party.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Duh, I should have known you already had your costume ready to go.”

“Yes, so this trip is all about you, my dear,” Lydia said tapping you on the nose making you smile. 

“Fine,” you replied. “Well, let’s go look at something a little more spookier then.”

_____________

“Barbie, eat your heart out.”

Lydia walked up behind you in the mirror and nodded. “You look good.”

“I look killer,” you laughed and Lydia smiled shaking her head. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror admiring your white dress, leather jacket, and combat boots. You grabbed your eyeliner pencil and added the final touch. Tiffany’s mole. 

Perfect.

As soon as you saw the Bride of Chucky costume, you knew you needed it. Lydia was just happy you didn’t go with Chucky so you didn’t mess up her bathroom adding all the wounds and fake blood on your face. 

About an hour later, the party was well under way and you already made your first rounds with Lydia. Now she off doing other hostess duties and you were people watching against the wall.

You saw Isaac across the room and smiled to yourself. You excused yourself through the crowd as you made your way across the room.

“Hey, Isaac. Nice costume,” you greeted, looking up at the tall burette in front of you. Well, he wasn’t brunette right now. He was wearing a red wig and a pair of Good Guys overalls. You snickered to yourself. Of course the guy you had a crush on would be dressed up as Chucky. He was basically the salt to your pepper.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, a grin lining his face. “And you are a... biker bride?”

You looked at Isaac confused and shocked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What,” Isaac smiled confused at your response. “Should I know who you are?”

“Yes,” you said laughing. You gawked at him as you held up your plastic bloody knife and pointed to your “Tiff” necklace. His eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m Tiffany...”

Isaac shook his head still lost.

“The Bride of Chucky...”

“Sorry. Still don’t know who that is.”

“Oh my God. Isaac, how are you dressed up as Chucky but don’t know who Tiffany is?”

Isaac shrugged. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on wearing a costume, but Lydia said I had to, then showed up to Scott’s house with this.”

You shook your head, laughing to yourself. “Of course she did.”

“Am I missing something,” Isaac asked wanting in on the joke.

“Lydia knew I was dressing up as Tiffany and she made you be Chucky... we’re basically a couple’s costume.”

“We are,” Isaac asked, his eyebrow raised and smirk slowly growing on his face.

“Uhh, I- I mean sorta,” you replied fidgeting where you stood. “Especially, now when we’re standing next to each other.”

Isaac took a step closer to you. “So I guess I better keep you close then.”

You’re eyes grew big but before you could response you were interrupted. 

“There you two are,” Lydia said walking up to you and Isaac. Her blonde ponytail wig bouncing with each step she took. She definitely was the only I Dream of Jeannie here. You doubted if most of the party even knew who she was, but they all knew she looked good. “Well don’t you look cozy together.”

“Lydia,” you said a little too sweetly for anyone’s liking. “I hear we have you to thank for Isaac’s costume.”

“What,” Lydia asked like she didn’t basically have you and Isaac in a couple’s costume. “I couldn’t have him come to my Halloween party not dressed up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed crossing your arms over your chest.

“Anyway, everyone’s outside so we can take a group pic before anyone is too intoxicated to do it later.” 

“Lydia,” Stiles yelped running up. “Oh, hey guys,” he said waving to you and Isaac. You smiled and waved back before he began talking to Lydia. He was dressed up as Captain Tony Nelson, the perfect couple’s costume to Lydia’s Jeannie. “Um, so, I may or may not have gotten my Captain’s hat stuck on the roof... okay I definitely did. But it was Scott’s fault!”

“Seriously, Stiles,” Lydia fumed. “God,” she whispered under her breath shaking her head before turning to you. “Give it about ten minutes before the picture so I can get his hat down.” 

You laughed nodding your head. “Okay.”

The couple walked away, leaving you alone with Isaac. “Um, I’m going to go get something to drink. See you outside in ten?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, giving you a slow and sexy smile. 

You turned and headed for the kitchen, letting out a long breath as you did. Isaac’s whole existence was driving you crazy. Although you did like the blue eyed boy, and you’ve been wanting something to happen for a while, he was making you incredibly nervous. You’d rather avoid him instead of potential embarrassing yourself. 

After you filled your red solo cup with the fruity punch being served, one of your classmates came up to you.

“Hey Y/N, cute costume.”

“Thanks!”

“I didn’t know you and Isaac were a thing.”

“Huh,” you asked confused.

“The couple’s costume,” they said hesitantly. “Chucky and Tiffany.”

“Ohh, duh” you said to yourself when you realized. “We’re not dating. We just happened to wear costumes that went together.”

“Oh... well, the two of you look good together,” they said shrugging then walked away.

All your friends were already outside ready to take the picture. Lydia handed her phone to the designated photographer, then went to stand next to Stiles. Scott was in the middle, with Kira next to him. Malia was next to Kira, while Stiles and Lydia were on the other side of Scott. You stood next to Malia, throwing your arm over your friend’s shoulder. Isaac stood near Stiles. 

After two pics were snapped, Lydia went to check the photos. She grabbed her phone, then looked up at the group. “Somethings not right...,” she said out loud, thinking to herself. “I know!” She grabbed Isaac by his arm and pulled him over to where you were standing. “That’s better. You’re costumes go together, so it makes sense,” she said smiling. She mumbled a quick you’re welcome to you before she handed the camera back over and went back to her place next to Stiles.

The person taking the pictures counted down “3, 2, 1,” then snapped a pic. But before you got to one, Isaac grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him. You shrieked in response then started laughing. 

“Okay, now a funny one,” Scott yelled so everyone could hear. 

Isaac didn’t hesitate, quickly picking you up bridal style. You yelped, then immediately stuck your tongue out at him. Lydia’s phone flashed as the picture was taken, then everyone stopped doing their poses, but Isaac didn’t put you down.

You giggled before you spoke. “You can put me down now, Isaac. The picture’s over.”

“I said I should keep you close. So that’s what I’m doing,” he said smiling down at you in his arms. “And besides, if we’re next to each other people will think we’re a couple, so no guy will ask you to dance.”

You titled your head to the side, your eyes squinted slightly. “But we’re not a couple.”

“Give it a few weeks.”

Your mouth dropped in a silent gasp, slowly turning into a huge grin. You heard Kira giggling behind you and Stiles’s “yuck.”

[mrsjobarnes]

May Thy Knife

Summary: When Paul challenges the emperor, Feyd is chosen to fight your brother. Your brother couldn't hurt the man you love, right?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Word count: 1,113

TW:  Violence, Murder, pregnancy and family drama  (let me know if i missed any) 

AN: I got this idea while I was doing my dishes and just had to write it down Also a huge Thank you to @angel-0f-verdun for helping!

Likes & comments are welcome! 

Please do not steal my work! 

You hear a familiar voice and start to walk to the front of the crowd with your husband hot on your trail. Once you come to a stop he puts his hand protectively around your belly. The hooded figure starts to talk when you interrupt him “Paul”. You thought he had died along with your father and stepmother. “Paul,” you say again trying to walk forward when Feyd stops you. 

Paul retracts his hand.“I see you have chosen a side” says Paul glaring at Fey and continuing his conversation with the emperor. Though you couldn’t stay still, eyes continually glancing around the room, you lay eyes on Jessica and the only other person bold enough to make eye contact. As Paul challenges the emperor for his daughter's hand marriage and the rule of the galaxy, you get a good look at him. This is not the same Paul you grew up with, no, that Paul had died. The emperor agrees to his challenge and chooses Feyd as his fighter. 

— 

“Paul if you love me you won’t kill my husband. Please be better than his uncle and the emperor, I’m begging you. As your sister, I beg you please.” You say as you step forward tears streaming down your face. You do your best to maintain your composure as Paul walks to you and Feyd. “May thy knife chip and shatter '' Paul says backing up to assume a fighting stance. 

You feel your heart sink as Feyd turns to you and kisses your lips so sweetly and tenderly almost begging for your forgiveness. “I love you” he whispers. You grab him and beg him not to. He shrugs off your advances as he steps forward. “May thy knife chip and shatter” he says while assuming a fighting stance.

“Will someone please stop this madness!” you scream, begging anyone to stop them. You start to walk towards the fight when Gurney stops you. “Please, that is my husband” you  beg him. He looks at you with sorrow, looking around the room you try to find something to stop this. You scream as Paul almost lands a blow, when Feyd retaliates faster knocking Paul on the ground. He points out the other women besides Lady Jessica who actively wince whenever Paul starts losing ground in the fight, Paul's pet. As they start fighting you start walking towards her, hiking up your skirt you pull out one of Feyds knives and grab her by the side. Whispering an apology you place the blade in a weak spot in her armor on her side. You know that she could easily get away from you but she doesn't try, maybe to grief stricken by Paul throwing her to the side for his own power and ambitions or maybe she thinks you’re faster then her. It doesn't matter as long as this catches Paul's attention. 

“Paul if you don’t stop I will kill her” you scream out still pointing the knife. Her eyes pleaded with Paul to stop fighting. “I love him, Paul, he is the father of my child and my husband. I thought better of you then to become a killer” you say looking directly into his eyes as Feyd stands behind him at the ready. Not wanting to hurt Paul unless he hurts you or his child. He could care less about himself, for the first time in his life he is content. He should have known that the universe would come and take it from him, he has done too much evil to ever be happy. Just as soon as you caught Paul's attention you lost it. He was back to dueling with Feyd, as the fight continued both men were covered in blood, both of their own and of each other. They both seemed to be growing tired but that's when Feyd got the upper hand and stabbed Paul in a non-emergent spot, but just as soon as he had done that Paul had stabbed him in the abdomen, a way harsher blow. As they fell to the floor the only thing that could be heard was your screams of horror. Dropping the knife you held, you ran over to the pair, Paul was pulling the knife out of his shoulder standing up and walking toward the emperor. Pulling Feyd to your lap you assessed his injury. 

“It's okay my love, let me go,” he said, wiping the tears off your face. “I've lived a good life with you, I learned what it was like to be loved and it is marvelous,” he says, coughing up more blood. At this point, you are sobbing cradling him back and forth. You don't even register the cheers of victory all around the room. Suddenly, a hand is placed on your shoulder, looking up to scream at whoever was touching you, you see that it is the woman you threatened to stab. She pulls you away from Feyd as men swarm him, doing god knows what. All you can think about is how the man you love is dead. The only thing that brings you out of that grief is the consistent kicking in your belly. The woman introduced herself as Chani as you walked through the halls of the sand dune structure. She shows you to a room and begins to clean you up. 

“You have to stop crying,” she says in a gentle voice. “You’re going to lose all of your water,” she says, grabbing her canteen and pouring you some water. As you greedily drink it you come to the harsh reality that you are now alone. 

“I don’t know how I'm going to do this alone”. You say while rubbing your belly, which was greeted by a strong kick.  

“What Paul did was awful, he has been corrupted by power. No thanks to your mother feeding him propaganda” Chani says. Looking at her you explain that Paul is your half-sibling through his father and that Lady Jessica killed your mother. “Ahh so being a traitor comes from her side,” she says pacing the room. “I can’t believe I ever loved him,” she says, throwing her glove at the door. 

“He hasn’t always been like that” you say, glancing at her. “His mother brings out the best and the worst in him, but our father raised him better than to be a murderous monster” you say holding back more tears. “My husband is dead, the love of my life is dead. Now I am to have his child by myself, I am all alone.” you say playing with your fingers. 

“You’re not alone” Chani says, waking to sit on the bed next to you.

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

final girl | coriolanus snow

pairing: ghostface!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: you've become a target, the final girl of a killer's movie.

warnings: dark content, possessive!coryo, dark!coryo, obsession/obsessive behavior, suggestive themes(if you squint), stalking, murder, blood and gore, coryo being delusional, threats of violence, violence, sort of modern!au, no use of y/n, naive!reader, r is too kind.

It was october, not only that but there was a killer on the loose. You were by yourself, much to your parent’s annoyance. You told them,”I’m 18 Mom. I technically could be on my own. Please, let me be on my own. I’ll be fine. I’ve got friends who can help me. And 911 on the phone.”

Your mother sighed. "The capitol’s safe enough. Fine. But if anything happens-” “Protocol, I know, I know all the rules, You replied. You did. Normally, your parents weren't like this. But there was a killer. A fucking killer. Of course they'd be worried for their only child.

You were also the heir to wealthy parents and known in the capitol. Your parents were. If there would be a target, you might be on that list. Either way, you were going to be as safe as you could be.

. You place yourself on the couch. The staff, which included the maids, were on their day-offs today, which was unfortunate for you. Tonight, would be different, though, you had no idea.

Clemensia, your best friend, texted you.

Home alone?

You replied almost right away.

Yeah. It took convincing, though. My parents are kind of protective.

You knew she was sighing and rolling her eyes at your comment. Clemensia was logical, so were you. The both of you were, but sometimes you could be reckless. Her, too, but not tonight apparently.

For good reason. I mean, there's a killer out there.

You wanted to just watch a movie, something that was a form of entertainment in the Capitol, obviously. You decide a horror movie was too gruesome for a time like this, and were planning to watch a rom-com. A surprise, considering you loved horror movies.

Yeah. I feel too... scared to watch a scary movie. That's how bad this is getting.

That was the truth, you were utterly terrified. Terrified to even watch scary movies, as if it'd become true. You check your phone. Updates in the group chat continue.

Your friend, Coriolanus, was discussing the killer. But also said that everyone should be careful. It was a known fact he liked you, but you were oblivious.

You were always so naïve.

They say he calls his victims before he kills them. I hope that's not true. I mean, what if he gets one of us?

The latest kills were students at the school, Gaius Breen and Androcles Anderson. This was tragic, and they didn't deserve it. They really didn't. And it made you wonder, why?

Why?

Clemensia was texting you and then calls. “Hey Clemmie, You say. “Hey! She replied. She sounded a little better but still, she was probably terrified just like you. "You okay, Clemmie, why did you call? You ask her, naturally. "Clemmie" was a nickname given in your childhood. You had a friend group that all had your own nicknames, including you. "I don't know, I don't think I'd like to be by myself, She admitted.

"That's fair, You agreed."I don't think... Hold on. I'm getting another call. Can I be right back on that?" "Mhm, it's not your fault, Clemensia said.

You end that call, and while the number was not one you'd recognize, sometimes you don't put in numbers on accident, or change the name. It happens. "Hello? You say, kindly. No matter who called, you tried to be as polite as you could be. 

"Hello."

Already, you know this is a stranger. For one thing, the voice isn't one yo recognize, secondly, the number wasn't in your contacts. So it wasn't one you accidentally kept the number on. Unless this was a prank. 

"Sorry I have to ask, who is this?"

"Who is this?"

"I already asked that. What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know, what number is this?"

You chuckle. "You called me, shouldn't you know?"

"I guess not."

In your mind, you conclude that this must be a wrong number. It wasn't his fault, so you weren't going to be annoyed by it. They seemed to be confused. "Wrong number, it's not your fault, it happens." You hang it up, and it was eerily similar to the beginning of Scream. You brushed it off, and planned to call Clemensia back, when the number called again.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number."  

"Oh, then why did you call again?"

"To apologize."

"Well, I forgive you, so-"

"Wait, can we talk?"

You sigh. "I'd love to. But i've got a phone call to do, bye, buddy." You hang up again. You innocently think of this as some joke. So, entertaining the prankster wouldn't be too bad for you. 

However, you needed to call Clemensia back, ASAP. As you were about to tap her name to call, the prankster called again. However, you weren't going to be mad or annoyed, you were that good of a person.

Maybe naïve for your own good, but kind nonetheless. 

"Hello?"

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" 

"Oh, hi, um... I just don't know you at all. Sorry."

"You seem very sweet and understanding."

"I try to be. You never know. What's your name?"

"You tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine."

You place a piece of popcorn in my mouth, my soda beside me by the movie." As much as it'd be nice to make another friend, you'd have to earn that." A while ago, you texted your boyfriend to come over. Where was he? Your parents were gone. This was your chance to finally get intimate tonight. Still, no response. You texted him a couple of times. You frown. Is he cheating on me? You thought.

"What are you eating?"

"Popcorn, You immediately reply. "I'm watching a movie."

"What movie?"

"A rom-com, I can't bring myself to watch a horror movie."

"Rom-coms are cheesy, I think horror movies are incredible."

"Ah, a horror nerd, You joke. "Well, I normally think so, too. But, it's just... whatever."

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

You smile. "I guess I'd say, Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It's interesting."

"A good choice. It's brutal."

You check your phone a couple of times, still on the call, your boyfriend messaged once. He was on his way, and apologized for not being there. You accepted it, he was a good boyfriend, and was normally on time or responded, he was perfect. So, you forgave him immediately. 

"So, you've got a boyfriend?"

His voice was flirty, and suggestive, even. But you weren't flattered or anything. You loved your boyfriend. "Mhm, You say."So, I'm not interested. We're happy together."

"Ah, lovebirds. How cute."

His voice was sarcastic. However, you still tried to remain kind. You didn't say anything as a response though. 

"You never said your name."

"Why do you want my name?"

"Because I want to know who I'm looking at."

You freeze. "What did you say?"

"I want to know who I'm talking to.""

You shake your head."No. That's not what I heard." Panicked, you text your boyfriend and Clemensia. Someone was watching you."I'm hanging up."

"Why would you do that, Doll?"

"I... I just have to go."

"Don't hang up."

You text your boyfriend once more, hoping he'd come quick. Instead, however, you got a disturbing response.

Don't hang up on me. It won't end well for you.

You lock every door in your house, this creep wouldn't come in your house. But you also weren't ignoring his calls anymore certainly. He calls again, and you pick up. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk, doll."

"No, clearly not. Otherwise-"

"You've caught me. I want to play a game. Like I played with your boyfriend."

"What did you do with him?"

"Go check for yourself."

You whimper, stepping towards the back of your large home. You had a feeling it'd be in your backyard, the answer you were looking for. When you turn on the lights, You scream. Your phone drops, but thankfully doesn't break. Your boyfriend, was hung and gutted in your tree, bloody and all. You began to sob, shakily picking your phone up. "Please, why did you kill him?"

"You belong to me, doll. You're mine. I won't let anyone take you from me."

In that moment, a figure with a ghostly mask bursts in, grabbing you from behind, hands on your waist as you begin to fight, what was he going to do? Take you? You kick, your elbow kicking his rips, and a groan came out from him. You run. You held your phone, call ended. You take this chance and call 911. 

Ghostface gets up, and mid call, is fast and you dropped your phone. You yelp, trying everything in your power.You’re thrown onto the floor and now he’s on top of you, knife in hand was clean but probably washed off the blood after murdering your boyfriend.

what was he going to do with you?

He must be contemplating what he was planning to do. Your legs were stuck, so you couldn’t kick him. He tilts his head. His knife trails down your body, suggestively but also mocking you, it's between your breasts, and then you grab his wrist, trying to pry him off of you. But he's stronger. He says,"Be a good girl and I won't hurt you." He must mean death, so you nod, still crying. The police would come. 

You must've hit the floor hard, because your vision was foggy, and you were close to passing out. If this was death, you were ready. But you had no injuries. You clearly were just going unconscious. You use your free arm to take his mask off.

Your eyes widen."Coryo?" You barely see the grin on his face before you black out.

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

im not sure if youre necessarily comfortable with this, so feel free to ignore this if you're not, but GOOODDD i just thought it was the cutest idea ever. possibly a series idea?

imagining reader finding out she's pregnant with ethan's baby after the costume frat party, due to quinn's suspicions bc of how sick reader was for almost two weeks then. though being unable to tell ethan, due to the whole ghostface thing pretty much ruining whatever chance she had to tell him, especially bc the group were SUPER suspicious of him and wouldn't leave him alone with her (prob bc reader told the group during the whole dinner before ethan, as gf attacked the apartment but left reader alone) but time skip a little, ethans put in a psych ward for a couple months to deal with the trauma from his dad & just being pressured into being ghostface, and he decides to go back and visit his girlfriend because he didn't really have anywhere else to go, but when he arrived at her front door, the last thing he was expecting was to see her with a small baby girl in her arms. (in this essay, i will expand more on my girldad! ethan landry age-) BUT reader doesn't necessarily trust ethan around her at first, and for good reason to, considering he literally tried to kill her and the core five (reader was apart of the woodsboro group, was possibly dating amber??) and ethan has to pretty much work his ass off to regain her trust again. just fluff, to angst to fluff again

I hope you like this!!!!!💕

Flames - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This is going to be a series! It'll definitely have a lot of angst and fluff for those kind sweet souls that have been asking me for it:)

Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of death, suggestion to sex(but not graphic:)

Summary: After surviving Woodsboro, attacks are happening again to your friend group in NYC.

It’d been a little over a month since the infamous Halloween frat party. That night was crazy, especially after Sam tazed some loser’s balls. When the night was cut short, you decided to go back to Ethan and Chad’s dorm while Chad was going with Tara. You hadn’t had much alone time with Ethan, so you had to take advantage of every opportunity you got.

When the condom broke that night, you went out to get a Plan B the next morning, knowing you and Ethan weren’t ready to be parents yet. What you didn’t know was that you were ovulating at the time, and that the future-saving morning after pill wouldn’t work.

When you started to get sick every day, Quinn started to pick up on it. She had her suspicions and asked you to take a test. Your heart sank when you saw the plus sign, but you had no idea how to tell Ethan. Especially when Mindy was so convinced that he was one of the prime suspects in the most recent killings happening around campus. You didn’t know what to believe, especially after your ex-girlfriend was one of the people killing off your friends in Woodsboro the year before. She even tried to kill you, but you were saved after getting stabbed four times.

As you sat at the table with your friends, you couldn’t keep your secret any longer. Quinn already knew, but you had to tell the rest of them.

As Chad started his “Core Five” speech, and Sam confessed to her fling with Danny, you decided it was the right time to let it out.

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, the room instantly getting silent.

Everyone exchanged glances as your cheeks turned red.

“Wait…what?” Chad asked, his shocked expression very similar to everyone else’s.

“Is that why you keep getting sick?” Sam asked, before Mindy spoke up.

“Okay, this is one of the main rules. You aren’t supposed to have sex!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s a little too late for that advice. Shouldn’t that rule be updated, though? Everyone is sleeping with someone.”

“But you’re the one sleeping with a killer,” she smirked, “Sweet, dorky Ethan is Ghostface. Just like Amber.”

“You don’t know that,” you said, as she scoffed.

“Where is he right now?” she questioned, everyone’s eyes landing on you again.

“He’s at Econ.”

Everyone’s phones started to chime. It made you all feel uneasy, your heart pounding as you saw the picture of Ghostface with Quinn.

You all jumped up, standing outside of her bedroom door. You were hoping it was some sick prank, but after the events that happened in Woodsboro, you knew it wasn’t.

You didn’t have much time to think of a plan before the masked figure threw Quinn’s body out of the room, resting against you before she fell to the floor. When Ghostface charged out of the room, you were in the direct path, but they went around you. You noticed Chad and Tara running out the front door, following them to what would hopefully be safety. The second you made it out, the door slammed behind you, and you heard the numerous locks on the door click.

“Fuck, guys!” you yelled to Tara and Chad who were a few sets of stairs down from you. “They’re still in there! The door just got locked!”

They ran back up, the sounds of Chad’s fists banging on the door and the screaming coming from inside the apartment echoing off the walls.

“I don’t have my keys or my phone,” you panicked, tears flowing down your cheeks.

“I don’t either,” Tara said, pounding on the door and screaming for Sam.

After a few minutes, the screams became fainter. You started to lose hope, thinking that all your friends inside were dead. The three of you were crying outside of the door, before Chad spoke up.

“I need to get you two somewhere safe,” he said, nudging you and Tara towards the stairs.

When you made it outside, you bumped into Sam, Mindy and Danny. Mindy was sobbing, and Sam’s face was somber.

“Where’s Anika?” you asked, as Mindy cried harder. Your eyes went wide, “No…”

“Anika and Quinn,” was all Sam could get out before getting choked up.

You all cried as you hugged each other on the sidewalk when the cop cars pulled up. Everyone was questioned before Detective Bailey arrived. He was closest to you because you were the closest to Quinn. He treated you like a daughter, regularly taking you and Quinn out for dinner. You tried to comfort him as he cried, but you didn’t know how to. He’d already lost one of his children in a car accident, and the other was murdered in the room next to yours.

When the ambulance arrived, they kept trying to find the source of your bleeding. You started to feel faint as you tried to explain that it was Quinn’s blood on you, your vision getting spotty. You dropped to your knees, unable to keep your balance. When Sam told the paramedics that you were pregnant, they put you on the stretcher and monitored you as the sun started to rise.

“I’m okay, really,” you said, after an hour of laying there. They were in the process of giving you an IV, hoping the fluids would help with your extreme dizziness.

“The bag’s close to empty. You’re almost done,” the paramedic said, hooking you up to the machine to check your vitals for what felt like the hundredth time.

You watched Mindy get her stitches, completely unfazed. She was so heartbroken, and you just wanted to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay. You could only imagine what it would’ve felt like if you were in her position, and Ethan was the one laying under the tarp.

As your IV was finally getting taken out, Ethan pushed through the crowd of people and lifted the caution tape to walk over towards everyone. Chad jumped up, having a heated exchange with Ethan as he shoved him against a car.

“I had Econ!” you heard him yell, his eyes scanning the friend group. “Where is she?”

“Ambulance,” Chad said, as Ethan’s eyes connected with yours. He ran towards you, before Mindy stopped him.

“Stay the fuck away from her, Ghostface,” she snapped, as Ethan looked back towards you.

“Jesus Christ, I had Econ!”

“It’s okay, Mindy,” you mumbled, as she moved so Ethan could join you in the back of the ambulance.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asked, grabbing your hand. His eyes were filled with panic.

“I’m okay, I just got really dizzy earlier.”

“Thank god, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” Mindy scoffed at his words, thinking about Anika.

After checking out the abandoned theater, and Gale getting attacked, you decided that you needed to head back to Woodsboro. You needed to be with your family, and as much as you wanted to be there for your friends, they were all supportive of you going home. You didn’t have just your own life to think about anymore, so you needed to be somewhere safe.

Ethan was really sad when you left, crying as he said goodbye to you at the airport while the rest of your friends watched. They didn’t trust you alone with him, they all had their suspicions that he was the cause for everything that was happening.

“Please be safe,” you said, hugging Tara.

“You too. Let me know how everything goes after you get back home,” she said, alluding to the current situation, not wanting Ethan to overhear and wonder what she was talking about.

“I will.” you said, “I love you guys,” you waved, walking towards security.

You couldn’t tell Ethan about the baby, even though you were terrified that something could happen to him, and he’d never know he had a child. There was this awful feeling in the pit of your stomach. It could’ve been the trauma from your relationship with Amber, but you had no idea she was behind the Woodsboro murder spree, when you thought you knew everything about her. You thought you knew Ethan, but now you weren’t so sure.

When your plane landed, it felt surreal. Woodsboro was never a safe place to be, and now it was. When you made it to the entrance of the airport, your mom was crying, so happy that you were okay. You hadn’t told her about the baby yet, not wanting to send her into shock. She wanted to take you out for dinner, which you agreed to. The lack of food over the last couple days made you feel weak.

“Do you have anything special you want to do when you get home? Do you want to watch a movie or something?” she asked as she sat across the table from you.

“No, I really just want to sleep. Maybe tomorrow,” you smiled, taking a bite of your food.

You pulled out your phone to see a few texts from your friends, all of them checking to make sure you made it back okay. Then you noticed one from Ethan.

Ethan: I love you so much, and I miss you already. I can’t wait to see you again.

You: I love you too, baby

“You okay?” your mom asked, noticing the sad expression on your face.

“I can’t stop thinking about last year…about Amber. How could I have been so wrong about her?” you sighed, your mom’s sympathetic eyes meeting yours.

“She was sick, baby. I’m not trying to downplay it, because she killed two of my friends…and I know you were devastated when Wes and Liv were killed. She just had issues and needed serious help.”

Your mom got sad every time she talked about Dewey and Judy, you did too. You hated when she mentioned Wes because that was the death you took the hardest. Liv was the one Mindy suspected last time, and she was wrong then. You wanted so badly for her to be wrong this time, too.

When you made it home, you went upstairs and crawled into your bed. You felt safe with the alarm set downstairs, and your parents close by. You were finally able to get some much-needed rest.

Your mom woke you up the next morning, wanting to make sure she told you the news before you woke up and saw it yourself. Your heart broke as you listened to her speak about the few details that had been released. You checked your phone to see a text from Tara.

Tara: We’re okay, Chad’s in the hospital…but Ethan was in on it.

[holylulusworld]

Gun for hire (Prologue)

Summary: You’re his next target. Nothing else. Right?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: hiring a killer, Lloyd being Lloyd

Gun for hire masterlist

Lloyd crosses one leg over the other. He observes his newest client’s every move. His mind and eyes focused on the task. 

So far, he knows two things. The man in front of him has no clue about style, and he’s a cheating bastard. 

Lloyd grins as the man nervously tugs at his cheap jacket.

He wonders if the man has enough money to pay him for his service. If not, the boring guy will end up dead.

Lloyd Hansen. A hirable killer. The man you call, if you want someone to disappear and never get found, has two rules. He doesn’t kill people without getting paid for it, and he hates wasting his time.

He’s a simple man. Nothing gets in his way. No feelings. No remorse. No conscience.

“Who do you want me to remove from your life?” Lloyd stops the man from pacing back and forth. “I don’t have all day. I rarely meet up with my clients. I made an exception because you offered me double my payment.”

“I-“ the man clears his throat. He nervously rubs his arms before daring to look at Lloyd. “You see…”

“Use words and stop stammering,” Lloyd raises his voice. He’s tired of the guy’s antics. “I told you to not waste my time when you first contacted me. Spill it, or I’ll go, and you will regret wasting my time.”

“My…girlfriend.”

Lloyd cocks his head. He quirks his brow and runs his index finger and thumb over his mustache.

Lloyd Hansen is a stone-cold killer. It doesn’t matter if the client wants his wife or gardener dead.

Money is money. A dead body is a dead body.

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” The man asks. “I thought you were not asking questions.”

Lloyd huffs. “I said, you are not allowed to ask questions. You should learn to listen, sunshine.”

“She paid half of the house and my car. Now that she found out about my affair with my secretary…” Lloyd snorts at the man’s admission. “She wants her money back, or me out of the house.”

“So,” Lloyd nods thoughtfully, “you want me to kill your girlfriend to help you keep a car?” He huffs now. “I hope you got my money. If not…” Lloyd slides his index finger over his throat, smirking. “You don’t want to know what happens then with you.”

“I’ll have the money after her death,” the man hastily says. “She’s got life insurance. It includes murder and such.” He grins, proud of himself. “I’m the beneficiary.”

Lloyd runs one hand down his face. He knew from the beginning this was a bad idea. He could’ve bought the exotic beard wax he read about. But no. He decided to listen to this dumbass and his boring story.

“I won’t wait for months to get my money. I’ll kill her within two weeks. I want half of the money tomorrow, the rest after I deliver.”

“Tomorrow?” The man hiccups. “I-I don’t have so much money right now. I need more time. I wasn’t prepared to pay in advance.”

“I give you two days. Meanwhile, I’ll follow your girlfriend and find out more about her daily routine. Get me my money, and I’ll make your life so much easier…”

Part 1

Tags in reblog.

[tibby-art]

I’m adoring the Hitman AU. Scar and Cub share a braincell and Grian just looks like she wants to go home and sleep.

I’m curious as to what powers ConVex has. Or what their motives are with Grian. (ConVex trying to corrupt her.)

I've been picturing Cub and Scar's vex powers as being able to transform into a vex form (pale blueish skin, white hair/eyes, wings, fangs, claws, the whole nine yards). The forms allow them to move at lightning speed and fly, making them perfect as silent killers in their roles as hitmen. They're super sneaky and fast.

I think the vex work with pacts as well - if you make a pact with a vex, they're unable to go against said pact. That's how they ended up working for the government as hitmen. I imagine that in their past they were very powerful and corrupt criminals at Concorp (standard protocol for convex in an au i'd say). One day the government catches up to them, and they're given a choice: Go to top-security prison for one bajillion years because you're a dangerous vex criminal OR make a pact with the government and work under them, using your powers for good. So, Cub and Scar are technically here by choice, but their choices were limited. They're bound by a fae contract that they must perform their given duties as hitmen - they bend the rules and find loopholes whenever possible, though. Vex are tricky like that. They'll get ordered to take out a dangerous crime boss, but because you didn't technically specify that you wanted that done today, they took the day off to go golfing. They'll get to it tomorrow :J (The government learns the hard way that when you order Cub and Scar to kill someone you must specify to them not to eat the person because that has happened and that will happen again and everything is terrible)

Grian is in a similar situation, but he was given less of a choice. While Cub and Scar made their own pacts with the vex to gain their powers, Grian's watcher powers are something she did not ask for at all. The Watchers are much more mysterious than the Vex, not a lot is known about them and they're considered almost a myth until Grian shows up. This makes her more dangerous and unpredictable, in the government's eyes. Grian isn't allowed to just walk away and go back to being a normal member of society - nobody knows what he's capable of (not even Grian knows) so the government needs to keep a close eye on her. When she's paired up with Cub and Scar for missions, the vex are ordered to keep an eye on Grian, and step in if things get too dangerous. Cub and Scar think this is BS and they almost pity Grian, deep down, since he's essentially in the same spot they're in but worse. When their pact says to keep Grian from getting too dangerous, they interpret it as, "Well, if we help her figure out her powers, she's more in control and that will make everything safer :J"

I don't think Convex is trying to corrupt her - I think the government is the one being manipulative here. Convex sees it. I think they genuinely want to help her grow and discover new abilities and how to use them. They're Convex, though, so they might not be the best role models lol. I think what they're trying to do is help her get more confidence and more control over her powers. Cub is a scientist who is very good at figuring out how Grian's abilities work, what he can and can't do, the limits of said abilities, etc. and Scar has the most creative and insane ideas on how to utilize watcher powers that it sometimes leads to discovering something brand new. I can picture him being like, ":J Hey have you ever tried using your watcher powers to spy on a specific location from like, fifty miles away" and Grian is like "Scar that's ridiculous that's not how it works" and then she tries it and is amazed when that actually does work. Scar's like ":J yeah I made that up I didnt think it would work Can you spy on Disneyland now"

[cabinetofquriosities]

Everybody Wants to Rule the World || Chapter 2

Agatha x Rio || Warnings: Violence, Smut for later chapters

Leave a review on ao3!

Full playlist/ Master Post

Listen along:

———————————————————————Agatha traveled back and forth to Westview for a week and a half. She and Chief Jones worked together to create the most accurate timeline possible leading up to the discovery of Herbert Potts’ body. He had been seen earlier that day playing golf up to the twelfth hole. He then had dinner at the club with a few friends who all had solid alibis. After that, he went home alone and was killed between 4-4:50 when he was discovered. It was likely closer to 4:50 given that the killer made their exit while Arthur Hart was in the house.

They questioned his friends, neighbors, and everyone else who knew him in the community. Each person had the same things to say about him. He was kind. He would give you the shirt off his back. He was too heartbroken to date after losing his wife. He adored his daughter and never recovered from losing a child to estrangement. Apart from her and Tony Stark, everyone liked him.

The forensics told them no more than what they ascertained at the scene. He had been alive for the majority of the time he was being cut apart.

No fibers, no prints, no DNA.

After work every night, Agatha would go to the gym. She normally went once or twice a week, but found herself there much more often. She told herself that it was just to blow off steam, but always kept an eye out for the playful brunette with the bleeding heart.

She was there nearly every night at ten like clockwork. Agatha would spend time doing her warmups and catching up on audiobooks until the other woman would walk in.

At first, the two made comfortable small talk. However, a rapport was established between the two by the third night. They became workout buddies. Agatha stopped hiding her smile whenever Alison arrived and Alison stopped keeping herself at arm’s length, pulling her into a hug every time she said “hello” or “goodbye.”

Agatha would go stiff, but Alison would wait until she relaxed into the embrace. Affection was always complicated with her. She paradoxically wanted so desperately to enjoy physical displays of affection while also feeling at a loss of how to operate when it would finally happen. It discouraged a lot of exes and friends from trying, but Alison was like Wanda in that she understood that Agatha actually needed it. She just had no idea how to exist comfortably while receiving love of any kind, whether it be romantic or platonic.

One night, Alison didn’t show up for her usual workout. Agatha waited for a while, but finally gave up. She didn’t know Alison long enough to be familiar with her work schedule and decided that Wednesdays were probably her off-days.

She walked out to the parking lot, having exercised regardless of her new friend not being there. Her thighs and calves burned from pushing herself thirty minutes further with cardio, due in no small part to hoping that the other woman would walk in at any moment. She called Wanda from the car as she settled her gym bag on top of a pile of takeout remains.

“Well, hello stranger,” said a wry yet posh voice on the other end.

“Long time no see.”

“Or talk, or anything…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. I’ve just been slammed at work,” Agatha sighed.

“Try again. You’re always busy at work, but I usually hear from you at some point.”

“Well, what do you think this is?”

“I normally hear from you every few days. Is everything alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” said Agatha in a frustrated tone.

“You don’t sound it. What’s going on?”

“It’s a rough case. That’s all it is.”

“You sound out of breath.”

“Oh, I was in the gym.”

“This late? I practically have to lure you in there with promises of post-workout wine. Wait, are you working out because you’re dating again?!”

Agatha groaned as she could hear the smile on Wanda’s lips. She sighed, running her hand through her hair.

“I’m not dating,” she said.

“…but you like someone?”

Agatha always hated how Wanda seemed to get in her head. She always recognized Agatha’s methods of lying by omission. She waited a moment, which turned out to be a moment too long.

“Who is she?” Wanda asked.

“Fine. Her name is Alison,” she said.

“How’d you meet? Please tell me she’s not a witness or something.”

“No, geez. She goes to my gym,” Agatha said.

“Ah, so you’re working out to see her, then,” Wanda said, “When are you asking her out?”

“I don’t even know if she’s into women.”

“And you won’t find out unless you ask.”

“You say that like it’s so easy,” she said.

“It’s easier than whatever you have going on now. Have you even taken one rest day since you met her?”

“…no.”

“So, either you ask her out or you become a gym rat who’s sore every day.”

“Fine. I’ll ask her to hang out.”

“No… you will ask her to go out. On a date. None of that unlabeled nonsense.”

“I will ask her out on a date. Happy?”

“Thrilled.”

—————————————————————

As Agatha was on her way to Westview, she received a call from her boss. She answered as she drove in a flurry of snow down the highway.

“Agatha, are you in Westview yet?”

“I’m halfway there.”

“Well, you are going to need to turn around and drive north.”

“To where?”

—————————————————————

Agatha drove back up to Massachusetts, passing through the Berkshires to the town of Cheshire. The scenery was picturesque with mountains dappled with the first snow of the winter. She saw fields and produce stands fly by her window.

While stopped at an intersection, she saw a decoration left over from Halloween. Just outside of the fence surrounding a farm was a painted wooden cutout of a classic witch stirring a cauldron. Despite how progressive it became, Massachusetts would always decorate itself with caricatures of its gruesome past. The witch looked like a cartoon, green and smiling out at Agatha with a pointed black hat. She rolled her eyes and kept driving.

She looked for the turn to Mount Greylock, slowing down to find signs pointing to one of the summits of the Appalachian Trail. Her eyes fell on a small statue of a wheel of cheese. She squinted to look at the lettering. “CHESHIRE’S MAMMOTH CHEESE, 1235 LBS, Presented to Thomas Jefferson, January 1, 1802.”

“I don’t even wanna know…” she muttered to herself as she took the turn.

She pulled up to the Veteran War Memorial at the top of the mountain. The view was breathtaking. Frosted peaks and valleys stretched across nearly a hundred miles in every direction. She looked at a plaque listing three states that could be seen from the highest point in Massachusetts. Vermont, New York, and New Hampshire.

Agatha was normally an avid hiker and she knew this beautiful spot would be ruined by whatever she was about to witness. She took a moment to appreciate the beauty before moving towards the very thing that would tarnish it.

The veteran memorial looked like a pawn from a chess board. It was a tall, sloped structure built from granite with an orb at the top. Slumped near the bottom arch of the tower was a brutalized corpse. The man was 75. Lonnie Duncan. His form was tall and lanky. His cheeks were sunken in from age and his silver hair was stringy, the ends falling to his shoulders.

His head was tipped forward, causing strands of his hair to fall in front of his face. A dark streak of blood stretched above him. Small trails had rolled down the curve and dried between lines of granite blocks. The effect was a geometric design of interconnected red-rimmed rectangles reaching down below his body.

An older, middle aged woman approached her. Going off of her uniform, Agatha could tell she was in charge. She looked like a sturdy, tough woman. Her thick, strawberry blonde hair was loosely held by an elastic. It puffed out in the back and fell like a squirrel’s tail. Her stature was tall and slightly wide. Agatha could tell she was hiding bulky muscles. Her skin was wind blown, a cranberry hue topping her round cheeks. She uncrossed her arms and extended one out to Agatha.

“Chief Mona Wentworth. Thank you for coming.”

“Agent Agatha Harkness. Hello. I would say good morning, but that would be a little ridiculous here,” Agatha said, testing the waters with the other woman.

Mona didn’t crack a smile. She also didn’t act irritated, but it sent a clear message to Agatha about what sort of woman she was. In truth, it was the type of person she worked best with.

“Yes, well, this is an unusual situation for us. We find bodies off of the trail, but they are typically inexperienced hikers who fell or were victims of fatal accidents. Intentional murders are few and far between.”

“But you have seen them before?”

“Yes. Some were premeditated spousal murders and others were drifters who were either perps or victims. The last was a few years back. It was a couple who was killed and robbed by an unwell individual living in a makeshift camp deep in the woods. We caught him soon after.”

“Could this be something similar?” Agatha asked.

“Not likely. Lonnie is not someone who had enough bad blood to make anyone a clear suspect.”

“All it takes is one.”

“His family members are scattered in different states and he kept to himself beyond a casual conversation,” the Chief said, “No chance for his loved ones to be here at the time of the crime.”

“Alright. What do we know about him?” Agatha asked.

“We know he grew up in New Hampshire. He was an accountant for forty one years following his time serving in Vietnam. Came out here to retire.”

Agatha looked up at his blood staining the memorial.

“One hell of a way to honor a vet.”

Once they had ladders set up, Agatha and Mona ascended for a better look. His button down shirt had been opened to show the killer’s handiwork. Carved into his sunken chest and abdomen was a letter and two numbers. The cuts were relatively fresh, with the excess blood wiped off after death to more clearly show the writing.

B

4

23

Agatha wrote the numbers and letter down in her mind. Her attention was then drawn to the man’s extremities. The cleanliness of his torso was the only self restraint the killer seemed to have. Agatha felt a sense of deja vu at the sight of the jagged slices mutilating every inch of his arms and legs until they were barely recognizable as body parts. She couldn’t find a larger fatal wound. It made her wonder if he had simply been left - or forced - to bleed out from the veins opened up on his wrists or inner thighs. Any one of the countless cuts could have caused a slow death.

“He wasn’t killed here,” Agatha said.

“The blood?” Mona asked with understanding.

“Not enough of it. Just enough for him to he bleeding slightly, but not enough to have him bleed out up here.”

“Could he have been killed in town?” Mona asked.

“No… Too much blood was wet enough to smear and drip down. Not a lot, but enough that his body was still warm when he was lugged up here.”

“The killer must’ve been strong. Carrying dead weight up a ladder like that,” she said.

“You’d be surprised at just how many people know how to handle one correctly. Could the killer have caught him hiking up here?”

“In the middle of the night? No. He had some issues with his leg too. There’s no way he’d be able to hike this high alone and his car isn’t nearby,” Mona said.

His face, much like Herb’s, was a portrait of horror. His mouth hung open and his cloudy eyes stared dead ahead. Frost had crystallized over his hair, eyebrows, and lashes. It looked as if the terror of the man’s final moments were frozen into a mask.

“Huh…”

“What is it?” Mona asked, having a great deal more composure than Westfield’s chief.

“The cuts… gashes… look a lot like some I saw on another victim a couple of weeks ago. And another a few weeks before to that.”

“Wait… so this may be a serial killer’s work?”

“I can’t confirm that. Not yet,” Agatha said as she climbed back down to the ground.

Mona descended and moved over to her, slightly into her personal space. Agatha leaned back just as far out of instinct.

“Do I need to be on alert for a serial killer?” she asked calmly in a low tone.

Agatha could see the concern in Mona’s eyes. She recognized the fear so many felt when they were responsible for a newly traumatized community.

“Look, if it is connected then it won’t happen again in your town. The other two were states apart. I just….” Agatha sighed, “I am going to ask that you keep the idea of a serial killer away from any conversations surrounding this death. Unless we have proof, it will only serve to scare people more than they need to be.”

“Fine. But we cannot keep this murder quiet. Lonnie is a well known person here. I won’t lie about what has happened to him.”

“I’m not asking you to. I just don’t want the rest of the police force wasting time panicking about a larger vendetta while they could be focusing on the crime at hand. You will be the first to know if anything changes,” Agatha assured her.

Mona nodded and walked off. Agatha sighed, a cloud of breath escaping her. She hoped against hope that she was right about the killer not returning.

—————————————————————

Agatha tried to shake the memory of a butchered veteran out of her head as she pulled up to the gym. She needed something to help her leave the day behind before she had a chance to bring it home. Other agents used hobbies, alcohol, or their families to flip that switch. Agatha now used exercise. She found herself escaping more and more often as the job seeped into her mind.

She wasn’t thinking about anything but sweating out the memories as she trained with weights. She felt her arms burning by the time her other reason for her nights at the gym strolled in. She caught her eye as she stood up from the bench, taking a swig of water from her bottle.

“Well, hello there,” Alison said as she walked up to her.

“Hey,” Agatha said back, now feeling even more short of breath than she had been before, “I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, I needed a rest day,” she said, “But I’m flattered you noticed.”

Agatha was sure her face was bright red. Of course she needed a rest day. Normal people who weren’t waiting for their gym crush every night took days off.

The two of them ended up running on treadmills next to one another. Every time Agatha looked at her, she would forget how to speak. She did everything possible to keep herself from acting so affected by her. She kept herself staring ahead as they talked.

“…and then we were denied a permit for our rally,” Alison sighed as the soles of her sneakers pounded away at the black rubber of the machine.

“I mean, that is a dangerous part of Springfield. I wouldn’t want to see what would happen to y-to anyone if something went wrong.”

Alison was about to retort when Agatha’s reply fully processed in her head. She smirked before pressing the speed down.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a tough cookie,” she said.

“Find, fine… but let me know if you ever need someone to back you up.”

Alison gasped dramatically, resting her hand over her heart.

“My own personal guard cop?”

“Agent.”

“As sweet as you are for that, I can’t be at a protest about over policing with someone from the FBI. Even if you would make a beautiful Kevin Costner.”

Agatha shut her mouth and nodded. She did wish she could go to one of her protests, but there was no way she was able to with her job. Even with her support of her fellow law enforcement officers, she knew the system was fundamentally broken and nurtured certain types of dangerous people within it. Every industry had corruption in it, but not every job had life or death stakes with protection against any consequences. While she didn’t always agree with every assumption made, she was happy there were activists like Alison out there.

Once they were finished warming down, they made their way to the locker room. Alison bypassed the lockers and tugged her shirt up. A muscled form was revealed underneath, leaving her in her sports bra. She shed her shorts, leaving them on the bench beside Agatha. Not far from them was a cold dunk tank. Alison climbed in, hissing through her teeth as she lowered her body into the ice water.

Agatha took her time opening her locker. She got her own combination wrong twice. She looked shy beneath her gruff exterior. Each time she gazed at Alison, she would be entranced by a new detail. The shifting of her muscles in her shoulders. The beads of sweat at her temples. The small curl of her baby hairs at the back of her neck. The goosebumps erupting across her skin.

Alison looked up at her, causing the other woman to panic a moment and look back into her locker. Alison’s eyes stayed fixed on her. Wanda’s voice stubbornly stuck in her mind.

“Agatha?”

Agatha closed her locker and turned to look at her, steeling herself.

“Do you want to.. do something together…” Agatha stuttered, “Outside of here.”

“Sure,” Alison said with a little smirk, “What did you have in mind?”

“I mean… we could hang o- uh, go out to dinner?”

“Is that your final answer?” Alison said, arching her brow.

“Yeah, sorry…” Agatha said with a forced laugh and shake of her head.

“Don’t apologize,” Alison said with a serious expression.

She stood up in the cold plunge tub, her eyes fixed on Agatha’s. Agatha swallowed, unable to keep herself from looking. Her gaze raked over Alison’s muscular form that shone with the ice water. Droplets forms and ran down the curves and muscle-cut lines of her body. Her bra and underwear clung to her, soaked from the bath.

She stepped out of it, stalking toward Agatha. She stopped once she was toe to toe with her, her smile now softened.

“Ho ahead. Ask for what you want.”

Agatha was flustered for a moment, scrambling to recover any type of composure.

“I want… to take you out on a date,” Agatha said more clearly and confidently than before.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asked.

She leaned in further, her front pressed to hers. Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, her lips parting as all vestiges of her earlier spike of confidence fell away. Considering her slightly masculine attitude, she was normally the type of woman who took charge while pursuing other women. She held the doors, pulled out the chairs, and made all of the first moves. She wasn’t used to being the one rendered speechless. She wasn’t the type to become flushed or nervous.

Alison reached behind Agatha into her locker, her eyes never leaving hers. She took the other woman’s phone. Still pressed against her, she opened her phone with a 0000 password and put her number in. She stepped back and handed it to her.

“Make sure to change your code. For an FBI agent, your phone was way too easy to unlock,” she said, pulling a towel from her own gym bag, “Text me the details.”

She walked out, heading to the showers. Agatha was left with her phone and a mind that was completely melted.

Fic Masterlist

[sage-green-matcha]

OUIJA - ETHAN LANDRY ♟️

Playing with a Oujia Board with your friends, only to be met with a real ghost.

Content includes: mentions of spirits, Oujia board, everyone including me freaking tf out! 😭

<3

<3

<3

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I’m scared” you asked, holding onto Ethan’s arm. “This is stupid guys” Ethan mumbled, the group ignoring him. “Y/n this was your idea!” You rolled your eyes, Mindy's arms crossed.

“Well I regret it, I didn’t expect you guys to actually have an Ouija board” you cringed, Tara and Anika, setting out candles. “Yea, I’m not sure why I had it either but it’s just a game” “It’s not just a game guys…these are actual spirits” You looked at Quinn with furrowed eyebrows.

“Quinn, stop being a creepy bitch” Mindy sat down, putting away her bag of chips. “Okay, you all ready? Tara asked, sitting down on the pillow. “You guys are so dumb” Sam rubbed her forehead, sitting on the couch to watch. “Alright! Everyone ready?” Chad clapped, sitting in front of the Ouija board.

The candles lit up the dark apartment, the full moon's light shining through the window. “Okay, I’m gonna read out the rules” Mindy pulled out her phone proudly. “One! Whatever happens, absolutely do not take your hand off the planchette. That’s the little wood piece on top” she pointed, your eyes scanning the dark room in fear.

“Number two! Be respectful, we don’t want these spirits attaching themselves to us” Your body shook, no longer attached to Ethan. “Three, always say goodbye. If any of you take your hand off before we’re done and if we don’t say goodbye we are fucked! And then the apartment will probably be haunted forever!” She smiled, all of you shivering in fear.

“Okay! So shall we start?” You shook your head. “Y/n, if you don’t wanna play then don’t play” Quinn added, eyeing Sam. “No, I’m not a scaredy cat” Sam rolled her eyes. “I have prayers on hand guys, I memorized a bunch of them in elementary school” You all stared at Anika, thankful but confused.

“Okay, we’re starting” Everyone except Sam put their hands on the planchette. You closed your eyes tightly as Mindy asked the first question. “Is there any spirits here with us?” You trembled, your heart pounding in fear. “Okay this is scary” Tara looked back at you.

“It’s not working” Chad mumbled, face unamused. You were all slightly unfocused on the planchette, hearts racing as you felt it move. “What the fuck!” You watched as it moved all of your hands to the top left corner. “Oh hell no” Chad shook his head “Uh uh, no. Absolutely not” “You just said you weren’t scared!” He shook his head, trying his best not to take his hand off. “I never said that!”

“Shut up guys! What is your name…?” Everyone looked at each other in fear as it moved to the letter R. “R for…Ricardo?” You frowned at Anika. “That’s a dumb name” “Y/n shut up! You’re gonna offend the spirit” Quinn spat. “I’m sorry spirit” Ethan laughed at your apology, your other hands fingers digging deep into his thigh.

“Is your name…Richie?” Tara asked. “Shit…” the piece moved back to its original spot. “Yes…” “Guys stop it, end it” Sam shook her head. “Okay seriously, who the fuck is moving it?” You asked, everyone defending themselves. “I’m not moving it! I swear” “why would we move it?”

“Are you the ghost face killer?” You waited for the piece to move, but it never did. “Fuck no! I am not fucking with this” You shook your head. “I thought you weren’t a scaredy cat” Quinn frowned and you shook your head. “I am” Ethan spoke up, asking Richie a question. “Why did you try to kill them?” He bit back his lip, eyes barely open.

You watched as the planchette moved to the first letter. “S” the whole group announced, the piece moving to different letters. “Stab 9?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You all freaked out as the planchette moved, even without asking a question. The little piece moved all around the board, spelling something else out. “Legacy…? What is that supposed to mean?” Mindy asked. “What does that mean?” Quinn spoke and the planchette started to move once again.

“Sam” you all screamed, shaking your heads. “I can’t! I can’t I’m sorry” Tara huddled up next to her sister, her fingers no longer on the planchette. “Tara! You idiot! Now, Richie's soul is gonna haunt you forever!” “It’s not like it already isn’t!” She cried.

“Guys, maybe this isn’t a good idea anymore” Ethan spoke. “It never was” Quinn shot you a glare. “Let’s continue” Mindy let out a deep breath. “Are you in hell? Did you go to hell?” You squinted your eyes as you spoke, feeling it move underneath your fingers.

“Stuck..?” Chad turned his head in confusion. “Stuck in what? On earth?” Ethan asked and you felt your fingers glide with the planchette. “Yes,” you were so tempted to take your hand off and watch with Sam and Tara. But the thought of ghost Richie haunting you creeped you the fuck out.

“Is hell real?” Anika asked and Mindy glared at her. “Why would you ask that?” “I’m curious!” The game piece moved around, everyone saying out the letters as it spelled something out. “Nothing is real?” You bit your lip. “What the fuck is ghost Richie on?” Quinn mumbled, a shiver going down her spine.

You all quickly shut up, one of the candles in the room turning off. “Okay! I’m done with this! What the fuck?” You screamed, Mindy and Anika agreeing with you. “Yea, I know this is all a game and stuff but I’m scared” Anika huddled up to her girlfriend, skin still touching the wood.

You felt your heart jump out of your chest, Richie spelling out something else for all of you. “I’ll be back..?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “How? He’s literally dead” “Y/n! You’re gonna piss him off!” Quinn yelled at you. “Sorry, sorry Richie”

“What are you even doing here anyways? Shouldn’t your spirit be in Woodsboro?” Chad asked, Richie, answered right away. “Travel in mask…what mask?” You knew you didn’t bring a mask back from Woodsboro, so who did? “I did..” Sam gulped. “Sam what? You know that’s police evidence, right?” Ethan added.

“I know! But I didn’t know it could carry his spirit! He’s been in my closet this whole time I swear!” Your other arm wrapped around Ethan’s, hiding your face In his shoulder. “Okay Richie, we’re gonna say goodbye. Is that okay?” You peeked your eyes up, the feeling of the planchette moving down. “No” you shook your head. “Then how are we supposed to end this?” Quinn asked, confusion covering her face.

The planchette started to move again, taking her question for you as if it was for him. “Never ending” you scoffed. “Well, we know that” Ethan wrapped his arm around your waist, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Say goodbye anyways” Tara mumbled, the group looking up at her. “Well, it’s not like he can do anything about it” Mindy shrugged before pushing the planchette in a figure 8 motion, wiping down across the words on the board. “Goodbye,” you all said, taking off your hands immediately.

“That was the scariest shit I’ve ever done” Your body shook, wiping your sweaty hands on your pajamas. The group paused to look at each other as they heard breaking glass, heavy footsteps following up. “What the fuck was that?” Anika asked with concern, fear drenched everyone in the room.

“It’s never-ending!” The familiar voice popped up from the dark room, Ghost Face standing in front of all of you, the room rattling with screams. “The legacy continues, round two mother fuckers!” Everyone scattered. The chase had begun.

A/n: Quinn and Ethan were the ones moving the planchette 😒

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 7)

Wherein Kei contemplates punching people. Not even all of the same people as a second ago.

(a rather intense thing I've been saving up for, since my birthday was a bit busy.)

Across the way—and notably between Kei and the first guy who’d been stabbed—Stain chose this moment to break into the conversation. “So, you knew your friend might seek me out?” Stain asked, still leaning forward into a clearly aggressive stance. “And you showed up to save your friend’s life. You even made a big entrance. But I have a duty to kill him and this so-called pro. When your friend chose to fight me, it guaranteed that the weaker one would be culled.” 

Oh good, a zealot. 

“So, what will you do?” Stain growled.

While Midoriya reached back for his phone, Kei stepped up as a distraction and delivered the most carefully neutral sentence of her entire stay in Tokyo: “I’ll make you a better offer. If you back away now, we’ll let you go.” 

Iida couldn’t jolt and didn’t swear, but the next words out of his mouth were a betrayed, “Gekkō-san, no!” 

“Either he’ll leave and get caught by someone like Endeavor, or he won’t, and we’ll fight,” Kei said quietly, “and I’m not afraid to fight.” She sounded mostly like she was leaning on her nonexistent PR training, but with four witnesses, she couldn’t just grab the man and make him eat pavement without even a token attempt at negotiating. 

Sure, she hadn’t given that first Nōmu a chance, but he’d also been in the process of beating Aizawa to death at the time. Like with Midoriya’s opening punch tonight, stopping an ongoing attack mattered more than manners.  

And besides… “He’s human enough to have a choice.” 

Not a chance. Because he didn’t. But a choice. 

If the Hero Killer committed to attacking, then he earned the right to suffer consequences. 

And Stain pulled a knife in addition to his word, which was as good as proof that a) free will was wasted on him and b) he had no idea what Kei’s “Quirk” was. Kei doubted Midoriya or Iida could actually see the movement, between the darkness and the fact that Stain was generally pretty sneaky about it, but it did mean that she had little interest in negotiating further. 

“Listen to me!” Iida insisted. Agonized, angry, and unable to do anything about either. “Stand down and run away. I told you, this has nothing to do with you!” 

“If you really believe all of that, then why are you trying to become a hero in the first place!” Midoriya snapped at Iida, silencing him. As he raised his fists into a ready stance, he muttered, “There are plenty of things I have to say, but they’ll have to wait.” Then, louder: “All Might was right, though. Meddling where you don’t have to is the essence of being a hero!” 

Oddly, that appeared to strike more of a chord with the serial killer than the hero student still on the ground. Stain’s lack of a nose—seamlessly so—actually made his grin dominate his features more than anybody without a mutation Quirk. And Kei counted that skull-faced kid in 1-B when making that judgment.

Midoriya lit up in green sparks again. He could launch the second Stain blinked. 

Stain shifted to meet the inevitable charge, already swinging his katana.

Kei made the Dog hand seal and flooded the alleyway forward of her position half a meter deep, careful not to risk drowning Iida. And while both Midoriya and Stain paused to recalculate their traction, Kei flowed through four other hand seals and shoved her clasped hands forward with her chakra firmly behind the movement. Isobu’s strength backed her all the way.

Water Release: Water Wall. 

The entire alleyway was suddenly flooded. Kei kicked her way upright with the patience of an apex predator as her costume’s flowing bits trailed behind her. 

Suffice it to say that nobody got to move without her permission. 

While Kei took the time to form air bubbles around the heads of each participant in their backstreet brawl, her strength now ruled. If the USJ Nōmu wasn’t able to escape her grip despite being geared toward fighting All Might, nobody here had a shot. Especially not a pissy murderer who wore that much metal. With a wave of her hand, Kei yanked Native and his cloud of water-dispersed blood back toward safety, shoved Stain toward the other end of the street, and reeled Midoriya in all at once. Within thirty seconds, she’d entirely rearranged the battlefield so that her charges were behind her while the only legitimate target was in front. 

Though the water did represent a minor communication problem. 

It would not for you alone. 

Unfortunately, allies also make very good witnesses. 

Kei pushed forward until she could lock her hand around the immobile Hero Killer’s throat. She didn’t yank him out of the water, but instead formed a Water Prison around him and dismissed most of the excess from her direct control. With it mostly rushing downhill, the sudden wave would miss Iida and Native and likely end up somewhere more useful, such as within Manual’s range. 

“So,” Kei said, as mild as if they were talking about the weather. Drawing Stain’s face partially out of the Water Prison, she flicked water off her other hand. “How’s this working out for you, Hero Killer?”

Stain took a moment to cough. Sure, he spat water out so it almost reached her face, because Kei had been a little less careful with his breathing than the others’, but perhaps that was the cost of this restraint tactic. His lack of a nose did not help. Then: “If I die purging the world of the unworthy, then so be it. Nothing is more of a stain on this world than the festering corruption of a society that ruined the name ‘hero.’ It falls to me to teach you all a lesson.” 

Kei sighed. Half the reason she’d grabbed this big fish physically came down to the possibility he’d bite her, but she didn’t actually enjoy playing straitjacket for a murderous shithead. “Get a license and then we’ll talk.”

“How long can you hold him there, Gekkō-san?” Midoriya asked as he darted over to check on Native and on Iida. His entire hero outfit made squelching noises as he moved, but Kei didn’t have the time to fix that for him yet. 

“Long enough.” Which translated to “until she got interrupted,” which was standard for the Water Prison technique and a shinobi with Kei’s huge chakra reserves. “But if I do lose my grip, I’m probably going to punt him over a building,” Kei admitted, “just to get him out of our way.” 

“Okay. Then, when you drop it, can you grab Native? I can take Iida-kun.” 

Well, assuming the Hero Killer didn’t try to live up to his name… “Should be fine.” 

There was the occasional clanking sound as Midoriya got each of the others into a rescue position. Native tried to talk him into just calling for a pro to help, but knowing that the entirety of Hosu was already being attacked and the emergency responders were tied up put a mild hole in that plan. Midoriya even said so. For some reason, that worried Native a little less than the serial killer Kei had already subdued. Maybe that was proximity talking.

But more piercing than that was Iida’s protest. “Gekkō-san—if he’d hurt your brother, you can’t tell me you’d just walk away from this!” 

It rang through Kei’s skull for a moment. Like a flashbang. Her left hand twitched with the urge to make a fist. 

Fuck him for bringing up Hayate right now, was Kei’s initial thought once the ringing stopped, but she stomped it down as spiteful and unworthy. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in a crisis threw her weaknesses back in her face.

At least you know what they are, and that they are unreachable.

“Tensei didn’t deserve that,” Iida continued, still as angry, still as heartbroken. His voice cracked. “The—the only reason the Hero Killer lashed out at him was because he was a legacy hero! For wanting to make our family proud. All my brother ever did was help people!”

And the Hero-Killer scoffed, as though annoyed that Iida still had enough sense left after percolating in vengeance to call him on his bullshit. “From impure motives—”

Kei shoved Stain’s face back underwater rather than let him finish that sentence. He’d survive, but Iida didn’t need to hear his spewing hatred any longer. Then Kei glanced back over her shoulder toward her companions, while Midoriya got the other two into rescue positions for an easy grab-and-go option. Perfect for fleeing upset heroes and angry murderers as needed. 

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Love is a killer that never dies (part 1)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. NSFW!! Discussion of dub-con.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series.

This is part one of four. Kuraigana Island is Mihawk's home in the manga/anime.

Shanks being in a relationship with his crew's doctor is an allusion to this headcanon list and then to this fic, even though they take place in a different continuity.

*****

Dracule Mihawk was in a conundrum. 

That was more than a little unusual for him, since as a rule there was very little that had the power to actually catch his interest, and when that happened he was inevitably powerful, well-connected and, on occasion, intimidating enough to get what he wanted without too much hassle. Most of the time he was content, even happy with his life, and with what he owned, and he rarely found himself wanting for more.

Well, it appeared life still had the power to surprise him, because at his age, after years in which no opponent had been able to seriously trouble him and he had grown bored with his occupation as one of the Seven Warlords, he suddenly found himself highly interested in a certain matter, something he deeply desired, that he craved, even that he physically needed, and that at least for the time being was not only outside his reach, but Mihawk had not the faintest idea of how to make it his.

Well. He said something, and it, but somebody, and she, would have been more appropriate; a she who had a lovely smile, and very pretty hair, and a particular way of walking that made her hips and backside sway in such an enticing way…

“What are you thinking about?” (name) asked, looking curiously at Mihawk and unknowingly distracting him from thoughts that not only concerned her, but she had a protagonist role in “I’m sorry, I’m boring you…”

“Not at all.” he rushed to reassure her, forcing himself to swallow and act normally; he had not made a fool of himself in front of a lady when he was a hormone-prone teenager and surely he would not start now that he was decades older “I just… got distracted. I’m very impressed by all of this; you and your mother must be very proud of yourselves.”

It was the third day of his permanence on (name)’s island, and the woman had brought him to visit the site of her newest project: a museum, which was going to be inaugurated soon in a large building that had previously housed the island’s chamber of commerce. Once the organisation had moved to a new headquarter, closer to the centre of the city, (name) and her mother had decided to repurpose the old location, destining it to the preservation and display of works of arts and other culturally significant pieces. 

“There are excellent schools on the island, and libraries, and even an astronomical observatory.” (name) explained as they crossed one of the still half-furnished rooms, that according to the panel hanging out of the door was destined to house archaeological artefacts “But no museums. I got the idea reading about the inauguration of an art gallery on the paper; I have visited quite a few, as well as botanical gardens and other institutions, when on holiday with my parents as a girl or on my own; but not everyone here can travel freely as I can, and I want my people, especially children, to learn to appreciate art, and that learning doesn’t necessarily happens inside a classroom.”

Mihawk nodded; he admired how dedicated his friend was to the well-being of her island, and of the people she would one day rule over. “What about the collections? How did you acquire the pieces to fill all these rooms?”

“Well, the art section will mainly house paintings owned by my family; they will look better here than in rooms that no one but me and my mother have visited in years. Some others have been donated, or lent, by larger institutions my mother has written to; and a few… well, my latest two bounties were particularly high, and after I bought a new dress there was more than enough for a few antiquities.” she answered proudly “I can’t wait for this place to open, I was thinking about inviting the lords and ladies of a few other feuds to the inauguration…”

The two spent a while walking around; they were alone, the construction workers having left an hour before. Mihawk did his best not to look uninterested in the project the woman next to him clearly cared so much about, but as he listened to her talk, and saw her proud smile as (name) described the way the artefacts would be arranged in the various rooms, and how she had invited the kingdom’s leading archaeologist to attend the museum’s inauguration, all he could think about was how pleasant would it be to take advantage of that solitude to press her back against one of the building’s unpainted walls, rest his hands on her deliciously feminine hips, and kiss her long and hard enough to leave both of them breathless. She would taste heavenly, he was sure of it, but what he wanted the most, what he would give half of his blood to experience just once, was to hear her say his name in the throes of passion, their bodies pressed against each other, his mouth avidly swallowing her moans as her lovely hands, that Mihawk had seen delicately holding a fork or a pen, and then confidently clench around the butt of a gun, caressing and stimulating his skin under his clothes.

“M-Mihawk… don’t stop… oh, Mihawk, I want you so much…”

Gods. He could get hard just by thinking about it; what was happening to him? How could he manage his urges… and, more importantly, the feelings that had aroused them? 

“I’m sorry if all this feels dull to you.” (name) said later as they, sitting in the small but elegant horse-drawn carriage, looked at the people and building of the city pass in front of them on the way to the fortress; Mihawk saw many passers-by respectfully bow their heads at the vehicle’s passage, no doubt imagining who was riding inside “I love my island, but there is not much to do, especially for a guest who is used to a more… active lifestyle; also, I have so little time…”

Mihawk smiled - briefly, and only for a moment, but sincerely. “You have nothing to apologise for; I don’t need to be entertained every waking moment, and I understand you have duties to attend to.”

(name) smiled, relieved and almost shy; Mihawk saw her bit her lip -her lovely, rouge-tinted lips, that he recently had found himself dreaming of more than once- and briefly move the hand resting on her lap, apparently without a reason… or maybe, Mihawk allowed himself to believe for a moment, to touch his, only a few inches away. 

“Still, you are my personal guest; it is my duty to make sure you are well looked after, and do not regret accepting my invitation.”

“You don’t need to fear in that regard; you are an excellent host.” he reassured her. “I am actually enjoying my stay more than I expected.”

“I’m very happy to hear you say so.”

The two of them spent the rest of the ride home in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence as they always did - with each other, and few other people besides. When the carriage stopped in front of the fortress’s main gate, Mihawk allowed a servant in livery to open the door, stepped out and then offered his hand to (name) to help her descend, receiving another smile as a reward. Gods, her smile, he thought; that alone could be enough to make his self-control crumble.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“It was my pleasure, my lady.”

They were about to walk inside when the servant cleared his voice. “Apologies, my lady, but the lady Veressa asked me to inform you that lord Theon has honoured us with a visit.”

Looking at (name), Mihawk thought the woman didn’t seem to feel particularly honoured; rather, she had the face of someone who had been told they would never celebrate their birthday again. “You mean today? Now?” she asked “He was supposed to come for my mother’s birthday, next month.”

“Yes, my lady; he arrived less than an hour ago. He is in the banquet hall with your mother.”

“Alone? I mean, are his wife and son with him?”

“No, my lady. He came alone.”

(name) frowned. “Which means he could want to stay a while. Just what I need.” she muttered, clearly unhappy; realising she had actually uttered those words instead of simply thinking them, she rushed to dismiss the servant, who bowed low and left.

“I gather this guest is not of your liking.” 

“He really isn’t. He… well, Theon is my cousin. If unpleasantness were a sport, he would be a world champion, but since he is one of my closest relatives besides my mother I can’t always avoid him. He has the unspoken right to come visit whenever he pleases, a privilege he makes large use of with the sole purpose of vexing me, even though he doesn’t enjoy my company any more than I enjoy his.”

 “Why has he come visiting, then?” Mihawk wondered; he thought the question harmless, but he saw the woman in front of him frown, the good mood of the afternoon spent together disappearing like snow at the coming of spring.

“Well… you remember I told you I can’t have children?” she said in the end, not even attempting to hide how painful it was for her to discuss that topic. It had been unintentional, but Mihawk mentally kicked himself for leading their conversation towards such a difficult topic.

“Of course.”

“Theon is not simply a close relative of mine… he is the closest, obviously after my mother, which technically makes him my heir. He’s two years older than me, which means he’s probably not going to enjoy being the lord long, but five years ago he had a son, and since I was still unmarried and childless, he formally asked my mother to exclude me from the line of succession, naming him her heir. My mother obviously refused, which only helped exacerbating Theon’s resentment against us both.”

Mihawk tensed. “You think he could attempt to depose her? Or hurt one of the two?” he inquired, and (name) actually considered his hypothesis for a moment before shaking her head.

“Theon is an idiot, but he’s not a fool; he knows the people of this island would never accept him if he took power by force.” she reasoned “He only wants to check whether my mother is in good health, clearly hoping she is not… and if I have a partner who could get me pregnant, since we have kept the fact that I am now infertile secret. He’s becoming more insufferable every passing year…”

She looked decidedly unhappy, an unusual circumstance for a normally self-assured woman, her eyes downcast as her hand almost unconsciously brushed against her stomach - against her womb, that would never grow heavy with a child. 

For a moment, Mihawk seriously considered offering to tell (name)’s cousin she did have a partner - him, a powerful and menacing pirate with a six foot four sword hanging from his back, who would have no qualms defending her from any unpleasant comment or insinuation; the woman could take care of and stand up for herself, but she might be forced to be polite to her cousin, while he would happily introduce the fool to Yoru’s cutting side to save her the torment. 

“I’ll have to ask him to dine with us.” (name) muttered as they both set off towards the inside of the fortress “I’m so sorry, Mihawk.”

“I don’t mind.” he lied “To be honest, I can’t wait to meet your cousin.”   

His desire was fulfilled only a few minutes later when, crossing the banquet hall to reach their quarters, they met the lady Veressa, deep in conversation with a tall, well-dressed man. The older woman smiled seeing them come in, but her gaze grew tense a moment later; she clearly did not appreciate Theon’s visit any more than her daughter did. 

“Hello, my love; Mihawk. Was your afternoon pleasant?”

“It was, mother, thank you.”

“Good. Look who came to visit us.”

There was a vague resemblance between Theon and his cousin and aunt, Mihawk found, even though the man’s face was devoid of the beauty they had been blessed with; he was tall and broad-shouldered, but a weak chin was visible under his well-kept beard.

“Theon. We were not expecting you.” (name) pointed out without a smile, fake or otherwise.

“I’m returning home from a trip abroad, and I thought I would pay my family a visit before returning home.” Theon explained “Good to see you, (name);”

“And you. How are your wife and child?

At the mention of his family, a touch of sincere affection coloured the man’s voice.

“Very well, thanking all the Gods. My son has just started his classes with a tutor, the man says he has never had a cleverer pupil.” he said, before smiling sweetly at his cousin - the sort of smile one could expect from a snake ready to gape its jaws “And what about you, dear cousin? No man in your life… and no child in your womb?”

“Not for the time being, no.”

“You should hurry. After all you’re no longer a girl, am I wrong? I thought you’d be more interested in the future of your feud… even though I understand it’s not always easy to find the right person, when one is not exactly… well, of course there’s nothing wrong with having high standards…”

(name)’s expression had turned to ice; clearly she was used to her cousin’s subtle cruelty, but Mihawk could see the hurt in her eyes. 

“Did you spend your afternoon working in a construction site?” Theon insisted, before (name) could utter an equally biting answer.

The dress the woman had chosen that day was one Mihawk had seen her wearing more than once; she looked lovely -and oh, how deliciously she filled it, the shape of her body caressed by the fabric- but neither her nor Mihawk had noticed there were traces of plaster dust on her skirt and sleeves, no doubt a residue picked up at the museum’s site.

“Let’s say that is my new hobby. To be honest, I’m quite busy these days; unfortunately not all of us can spend our time hunting in the woods and playing chess.” she answered sweetly, without even attempting to hide or clean the dirt on her dress “Duties of the heir, you will understand. Or maybe not.”

Mihawk felt a smile tug at his lips; meeting the lady Veressa’s eyes, he saw the older woman hide her own amusement behind a hand. Theon, on his part, went red in the face; like all cowards, Mihawk thought, he enjoyed making fun of others, but was unable to defend his own honour when he was the one attacked.

“Theon, I don’t think you’ve ever met our guest.” the lady Veressa intervened, stepping closer to rest a reassuring hand on her daughter’s back “Meet Dracule Mihawk.”

Theon blinked; only then he seemed to notice the presence of the tall, menacing man in black next to his cousin. “Dracule Mihawk? That Dracule Mihawk?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice “One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea?”

“I am not aware of another man with my name.” Mihawk replied, his tone icy. Theon gulped; both Mihawk and the two women saw him eye the man in front of him, and then the huge black sword hanging from his back.

“What… what are you doing here? Don’t tell me the Marines sent you…”

“I am not here on business; I am (name)’s guest.”

“Mihawk and I have known each other for many years.” the woman interjected, moving in turn marginally closer to the man; Mihawk felt her fingers brush against his “He’s a good friend.”

“R-really? I… had no idea…”

“I admire your cousin’s ability with a gun; I have seen her shooting a man between his eyes from a hundred and twenty feet away. Do you remember, (name)?”

“I most certainly do. It wasn’t a criminal I had been assigned to capture by the Marines.” she replied innocently, her hand now brushing against her faithful derringer, hanging from her waist in its holster “It was just someone who was irritating me and should have minded his own business.”

Theon gulped. He looked at (name) as if he was seeing her for the first time, seriously wondering if the woman would actually shoot him, rules of hospitality and familiar bond be damned; then his gaze moved to Mihawk, and even though he had just met him Theon did not doubt for a second the pirate would happily slice him without a moment of hesitation. 

“W-well, that’s interesting. I hope we’ll have time to talk some more at dinner… now, if you excuse me, I need to… you know…”

He quickly retreated towards the door; (name) almost didn’t wait for him to be out of earshot before laughing. “What an asshole!”

“(name), language.”

“I’m sorry, mother. But Theon really deserved it; one day I’ll use him for target practice!”

The lady Veressa giggled; she smiled gratefully at Mihawk, who silently bowed his head in response, and took her leave.

“Before I forget; your cousin has brought you a gift.” she added before departing, nodding in the direction of a large box placed on a nearby table “I don’t ask you to like it, but you should at least see what it is.”

(name) promised she would; she waited for her mother to leave, then she smiled at Mihawk, and after a moment of hesitation she took both of his hands in hers - a chaste, completely uncompromising contact, that nonetheless filled the swordsman’s heart with a feeling he struggled to find a name for. 

“Thank you.” she murmured “I’m sorry you had to deal with my cousin, but… thank you for supporting me.”

“You seemed perfectly capable of putting him in his place by yourself.”

“I am; I have been practising since I was maybe six. But having you near… made me feel stronger; safer, even. I’m sorry, you’ll think I’m an idiot, a weak woman who needs a man to protect her…”

Mihawk huffed. “I could never consider you weak, (name).” he murmured as he delicately caressed the back of her left hand with his thumb; his heart was pounding, hard enough it almost hurt “Nor could anyone who knows you. You must be one of the strongest people I know.”

Again that shy, grateful smile and Gods, Mihawk was this close to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. “Well, that is a great compliment, coming from one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.” she said “Anyway, I’m happy you are here, Mihawk.”

“I’m happy as well. Truly.” Mihawk answered softly. For a whole minute neither of the two moved, or spoke; they both looked down at their clasped hands, and then their eyes met. 

The world stopped turning. 

(name) was the first to look away; Mihawk was almost sure she had blushed. “Well, I should take a look at this gift; I bet Theon has chosen the least tasteful thing he could find.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… baby clothes, maybe? In the hope you’ll soon need these…”

“If he has done that I swear I’ll carve his heart out with Yoru.” Mihawk promised; Theon didn’t know (name) couldn’t have children, but still he had to have realised how painful the fact that she was yet to give an heir to her feud was for her “And I’ll offer it to you on a silver plate.”

The woman grinned as she left his hands to walk to the small table the box had been placed on. “Now that is a gift I would appreciate… oh. Oh, would you look at this…”

This was the content of the box, that (name) had quickly opened; a vase, its upper lip roughly as wide as a serving dish, from which a single tall flower rose on a long, thin stem, surrounded by a bed of tiny green leaves. The flower was closed, its bright pink petals secured around the central head; Mihawk knew vaguely the process had the purpose to protect the flower at times when pollinating insects were dormant. 

“It is… nice.” (name) almost reluctantly admitted “I mean, I don’t particularly like flowers, but… what’s wrong?” she added, seeing that Mihawk had frowned “What’s so weird about gifting flowers to a woman?”

“Nothing, I assume. It’s just… I think I have seen this flower already.”

“Where?”

“It was an illustration on a book; it was Shanks’, I saw it the last time we met. I can’t remember what it said, but there was something strange about this flower.”

“Is it dangerous?” (name) asked, clearly intrigued “Is it one of those carnivorous plants that eat any creature that comes close to them? Maybe Theon hopes I will keep it on my nightstand, and at night as I sleep the plant will come alive and devour me…”

The flower, still and barely a foot tall, didn’t look particularly threatening, but Mihawk wasn’t convinced; (name) seemed sure her cousin, unpleasant and resentful as he was, would not try to seriously hurt her, but he decided it was better to be safe than sorry. 

As usual, he was wearing the Kogatana on his neck, the deceptively small knife resting against his chest; Mihawk took it out of his sheath. “Stand back.”

“What are you doing? Mihawk, it’s a flower, you don’t seriously think…?”

“Stand back, please.” he insisted, and (name), clearly perplexed, obeyed. Mihawk slowly extended the knife towards the plant; he didn’t dare thinking about how ridiculous he had to look in that moment, pointing his weapon against an opponent whose kind was routinely cut to be made into bouquets and wreaths, but his instinct said he better be on his guard, if only to avoid (name) or the lady Veressa to fall into some kind of danger. If only he could remember what that book had to say about this flower…

Nothing happened as Mihawk let the blade of the Kogatana slowly approach the flower; then, when the tip of the blade was half a foot from it, the small plant seemed to quiver, as if it had perceived the presence of a threat. Slowly, its petals opened, and Mihawk and (name) found themselves staring at what looked like a pale yellow eye, surrounded by pink lashes.

“It’s lovely.” the woman murmured “I can’t believe Theon would gift me something like this…”  

A moment later two things happened in rapid succession, too fast for the two to be able to react. First, the tip of the dagger -tiny, but sharp enough to cut through a person’s body, if handled with sufficient strength- touched the flower head, that trembled again, as if in pain, and then, lighting fast, a shower of pollen erupted out of it, hitting Mihawk in the face.

“What the…?”

“Oh, Gods!” (name) cried; she quickly retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket, and used it to clean the grains from the swordsman’s face “Mihawk, I’m so sorry… are you alright?”

He thought about it for a moment, gently taking the handkerchief from her hand to clean himself; the smell of the pollen was too intense for his liking, unpleasant after he had breathed some of it, but the sensation was not painful… even if it did make him sneeze. 

“I’m fine.” he reassured her in the end “That had to be the flower’s defence strategy, a way to ward off predators. Curious…”

(name) frowned. “Clearly this is what Theon wanted; to pull a stupid prank on me, like that time when he was fourteen that he hid a lizard in my jewel case to scare me. He clearly hasn’t matured since then… I’m sorry you got involved…”

“No harm done, truly.”

A moment of embarrassment passed through them; Mihawk felt his fingers touch (name)’s as he returned the handkerchief to her. “Maybe your cousin should remember that, just like this flower, you also know how to defend yourself when someone threatens you.” he said, more gently than most people had ever heard him talk.

“Yes; maybe he should…”

A moment later, a valet entered, to announce (name) was expected at an audience she had granted to a few members of the court; the woman sighed, clearly unhappy she had to leave.

“I’ll see you at dinner, alright?” she asked Mihawk “Thank you for being with me today, I spent a lovely afternoon.”

“As I said, you are an excellent hostess.”

“Such a flatterer…!”

She smiled at him, now neither shy nor embarrassed, before leaving, stopping just to tell the valet to make sure her guest was well looked after in her absence; Mihawk couldn’t help following the movement of her hips, the delicate fabric of her skirt hugging her curves, as the woman walked away.

The valet bowed. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” he asked; a moment of reflection, and Mihawk shook his head in response.

“No.” he answered softly, more to himself than to the man in livery in front of him “I have everything I need already.”

*

Mihawk’s feelings for (name) had succeeded in what no opponent had been able to do in his life since he was maybe seventeen: they had snuck up on him, slowly growing in his heart unnoticed, and then revealing themselves once they had been too intense for the swordsman to be able to deny or suppress them.

The realisation had caught him off guard, since he had never given too much thought to love and feelings in general; he had never had a serious relationship in his life, and since he had reached adulthood the occasional night spent with a woman whose name he promptly forgot -or never cared to learn- had been enough to satisfy his needs. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women, because he did; he simply had never found one interesting enough to attract his attention for more than a few hours spent in an inn room.

In hindsight, he should have imagined (name) would be the one to break down his defences, if only because she had no idea she had done so, nor had she even tried to endear herself to him beyond mere friendship.

But she had. Gods, she had, and for months now Mihawk had felt his heartbeat accelerate every time (name) smiled at him. There hadn’t been a specific moment his feelings had grown beyond the pleasant, firm and deep friendship he and the woman had built in so many years to indisputably, irrevocably fall in the realm of romanticism. It had simply happened that one morning Mihawk had woken up in his bedroom at home on Kuraigana Island, and instead of getting out of it to quickly begin his day as he usually did, he had lingered for a while, looking at the other half of the double mattress and thinking how lovely, how right, it would have been if (name) had been there, sleeping soundly with her hair spread on the pillow or already awake, about to smile at him and wish him good morning with a kiss. That had been enough to make him realise he was lost already, completely and utterly enamoured, and for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to do.

While he hadn’t expected his feelings for her to change, Mihawk wasn’t surprised (name) had been the one his heart had turned to. They had been good friends -she was maybe the only one he had apart from Shanks, which was two friends beyond what Mihawk expected to have or felt the need for- for so long, and the swordsman sincerely respected her: (name) was clever, strong-willed, determined in pursuing her goals and didn’t let anyone doubt or demean her on account of her gender or origins. She could have lived a tranquil, privileged life on her island, far from danger and surrounded by the comforts she was entitled to as the lady’s daughter; instead, she had spent her youth learning to shoot, first taught by her grandfather and later on her own, and then she had become a mercenary and bounty-hunter -and an exceptionally capable one at that- spending her time tracking down pirates and other criminals to bring back to the Marines. Most of the berry she earned with the bounties were spent for the good of her home and people; she didn’t do it for the money, rather to prove how capable and resilient she was and could be, not only a noblewoman destined to rule over a small but wealthy feud, but a capable markswoman no one could afford to underestimate or challenge lightly. Mihawk admired her for that; he respected her intelligence, the quiet strength anyone who met her couldn’t help perceiving, and the way she had to fight for what she believed in and considered important, be it refusing to back off in an argument or pointing the barrel of her derringer against the temple of a killer and telling them to plan their first move carefully if they didn’t want to end up with a bullet in their head. 

And she was beautiful. He had thought that since their first meeting, how could he have not? (name) was simply gorgeous, even not considering the practical elegance she dressed with, the comfortable but refined dresses she liked to wear that only accentuated her natural charm, even though Mihawk was sure he would find her enchanting whatever she wore - or didn’t wear. He wasn’t the only one to find her good-looking; while (name) had confided him she felt completely incapable of flirting or making romantic advances, many victims had fallen prey to her captivating smile, not imagining that the pretty woman who looked so interested in what they had to say was already clenching the butt of a gun under the table, and Mihawk had once heard Garp mention that in the years of her collaboration with the Marines at least two officers had -unsuccessfully- asked her out. 

Yes, he had always thought she was attractive, but since he had become aware of his own feelings for her, Mihawk found he couldn’t stop looking at (name), and that his appreciation no longer stopped at the beauty of her smile or her elegance, but had started drifting towards other parts of her body. The morbid curve of her chest under her corset, the way her hips swayed while she walked, and the way her shapely -he had no way to know for sure, but he was sure they were; they had to be harmonious and well-proportioned, nothing that was part of her couldn’t not be- legs peeked out from under her skirt when a gust of wind lifted it… She was just so lovely, so exquisite in her natural sensuality, and every simple touch between them, even just his hand holding hers when he helped her dismount from the carriage, was enough to give him palpitations.

He couldn’t take it anymore; that situation was driving him crazy, worst of all because (name) had no idea of the effect she had on him. The fact that the woman had invited him on her island for a few days -or more, if you want; you can stay as long as you wish, you know I like having you here- had pleased Mihawk immensely, since it meant spending plenty of time with her, alone, but keeping his emotions in check in her presence got harder by the hour. (name) had already asked him if he was alright twice, which meant she had noticed his behaviour was somehow odd or unnatural; if he didn’t do something soon, Mihawk reflected, he would end up making a fool of himself, a problem for which he could see only one solution…

He had to declare his feelings for (name); he had to confess how much he cared for her, how special and beautiful and precious he thought she was. He had to tell her he was in love with her, that there was not a moment in which she was not in his thoughts, and in his heart, and that while he had always felt content and satisfied alone, with few people he tolerated and even fewer that he enjoyed spending time with, he had come to wish she would share her days, perhaps even her life, with him, an exclusive bond made of loyalty and affection and respect and yes, pleasure as well. He could make her happy, Mihawk was sure of it, and if he were lucky enough to discover his feelings were reciprocated, he would make sure the woman forgot any other man she had ever met or been with.

The problem was, he had no idea whether (name) cared for him like he did for her, and in that case, if she would actually be interested in a relationship. She was clearly fond of him, and enjoyed their time spent together, but that didn’t necessarily mean she could see him as a potential partner - as a lover. Like Mihawk the woman mostly kept to herself, at least while on the island, mainly to maintain her good name and avoid gossip about her love life, and occasionally took a lover while away on vacation or travelling around for her mercenary assignments, relationships she invariably abandoned after a few days at most. The arrangement seemed to suit her just fine; who knew if she would be interested in something else, in a more committed relationship? Maybe she was, just not with him, because she did only see him as a friend and wasn’t attracted to him at all…

Also, there were (name)’s duties towards her feud and people to consider. The lady Veressa was in excellent health, but sooner or later she would have to take her place as lady of the island, which would mean abandoning her activity as a mercenary and remain at the fortress to take care of her people and land. Children were regrettably something she didn’t have to worry about, but who knew if she would approve of him as her consort? (name) was not the sort of woman who judged people on their origins and he knew she valued his intelligence and strength of character, but perhaps she wanted someone different to share her responsibilities, someone who was born on the same island as her or at least who knew what it meant caring for a family of more than a thousand people. Mihawk himself wasn’t sure he could see himself in that role, given his intense preference for solitude and relative disinterest for what happened for most other people. 

Maybe they, or at least their inclinations and ambitions in life, were too different for him and (name) to be compatible as a couple; maybe the woman was not, and would never be, attracted to him. Simply considering that hypothesis was painful, especially because Mihawk knew finding out they wanted different things from their rapport would most likely mean the end of their friendship.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t remain silent; his feelings were too intense, too encompassing, too deep and real to keep them secret. He was already happy with (name) in his life, but what he really wanted, what he craved, was to have her by his side, to share his feelings with her as well as his thoughts and his time; he wanted to know no other man existed for her, because no other woman could ever exist for him. Perhaps his friend expected he would confess his feelings first, as was tradition for men to do, perhaps she had simply never thought about him as a potential partner and lover; that was fine, and he was confident he could change her mind. All he needed was a chance, just one, to show her how happy he could make her, how much pleasure and joy and empathy they could create and feel together…

*

Mihawk sighed as he closed the door behind him and contemplated the spacious chamber he had slept in for the last two nights. The bedroom his host had had prepared for him was almost as large as the one he slept in at his home, elegant and comfortable, with a lovely view of the city’s harbour out of the thickly curtained window; Mihawk had even heard a servant mention that (name) had requested the furniture moved to better suit his tastes, a consideration that had flattered the swordsman - even though he could not avoid thinking how even more pleasant it would have been to share that ridiculously large bed -but the mattress was firm, just like he liked it; he wondered if his friend had thought about that as well- with her, or to sleep in hers.

Nevertheless, not even the simple opulence of his apartment could comfort Mihawk at the moment; he had made a fool of himself in front of (name) with that stupid flower, and while she wasn’t the sort of person who would make fun of him, he could have taken advantage of that moment of intimacy after her mother had left to tell her about his feelings. He hadn’t thought about that -something he felt he would reproach himself for a long time- and this was already the third day of his sojourn on the island; even though (name) had told him he was welcome to stay for as long as he wanted, he had decided he would confess his feelings for her before leaving, and the time at his disposal was starting to run short.

But how? Could he start by asking her if there was someone important in her life, or if she ever thought about settling down with a partner who would one day help her rule over her island? Or was it better to invite her for a walk, make sure they were alone, and tell her he couldn’t stop thinking about her and he would give half of his blood just to know she cared for him as well? Or perhaps the right thing to do was to knock at her door at night, pick her up to carry her to her bed, and prove (name) beyond any reasonable doubt she was his already and he was his as he made her scream his name…?

He had no idea. Still a reasonably young man, Mihawk had done and seen more in his life than many people could even dream, but this was completely new for him - a veritable leap in the dark, and while the word fear simply didn’t exist in his vocabulary, he had to admit he felt… anxious at the prospect of discovering whether (name) shared his feelings or not, a mix of trepidation and worry he had never felt before…

A small but elegant desk was positioned in front of the window, with a set of writing instruments neatly placed on the wooden surface in the event the lady’s guest wanted to pass a message or leave a request for the servants. Looking at the small stack of white sheets, Mihawk felt more foolish than ever; writing a love letter was something shy boys did, which he was not, or men whose ladylove was physically distant from them, while his slept no more than a dozen paces from him. Furthermore, (name) deserved better than that; she deserved a declaration she would remember for the rest of her life, a confession that made her feel as special, precious and splendid as he thought she was, and he would give it to her; he would give her everything she needed and wanted, and the only thing he wanted in return was her heart.

He felt strangely tired all of a sudden, but not exactly the way he did at the end of a long training session; rather, it was a weird, uncomfortable drowsiness that had fallen on him like a wet blanket, making it hard for the swordsman to focus. Was he coming down with a fever? He had no reason to believe that, but he was sure he would feel better after he had rested for a while; he had plenty of time before dinner… but there was something else he wanted to do first.

Mihawk was sincerely glad no one could see him as he retrieved three sheets of paper and a pen from the desk and brought them to the bed, together with a book to use as a support. He would not confess his feelings to the woman he loved in writing, but perhaps it could help him to decide how to… address the issue.

My darling (name)

(name), there is something important I need to

Since the day I met you, I have known you were special

I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for you

Mihawk sighed; all those words, and the feelings they described, corresponded to the truth, but at the same time they felt reductive, because not even the greatest poet in the world could describe the depth and intensity of his love for (name); he sighed, partly discouraged but still determined to find the right words.

I love you. I have loved you for a long time, and if you gave me a chance to

I dream to hold you in my arms and kiss you until we both can’t breathe

I want to worship your beautiful body and to make you scream my name

I need to fuck you senseless and feel your wet pussy clench around me

Mihawk blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the piece of paper in front of him - specifically, at the last lines written in the elegant cursive his older sister had taught him to write in, a lifetime ago. Yes, that was without a doubt his calligraphy, and the pen was still in his hand, but he couldn’t believe he had actually written those words. Embarrassed, irrationally fearing (name) could somehow find and read them, he looked at the empty fireplace in the room and tore the sheet of paper into tiny pieces, making it impossible for anyone to read his incriminating desires.

What in the world was he thinking? Yes, he was attracted to (name) and he had fantasised about them together -what man worthy of the name wouldn’t? How could he look at her, at the shape of her beautiful body under her dress and not wish he could ravish her, feel her writhe under his body and stimulate her with his mouth?- but this was not how he wanted her to know! Mihawk was in love with her, a much deeper and more lasting feeling than a passing infatuation or the simple impulse to find relief between her legs; sensible and mature as she was, (name) was not the sort of woman who would faint or react running away if a man propositioned her, and he did plan on showing her how irresistibly arousing he found her body. But to convince her of his feelings, and that they could be happy together, was Mihawk’s first and foremost goal.

And he would accomplish it soon. But first he did need to rest for a while, the swordsman reflected as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Despite the pleasant breeze coming in through the open window he felt uncomfortably hot, his head swimming to the point the furniture of the room appeared blurred to his eyes; all of a sudden he felt as if he had been awake for five days.

I’ll tell her soon. Today, if I can; but not now. Now, I have to sleep.

He left Yoru propped against the wall, and the Kogatana on the table next to the paper and pens; he quickly got rid of his coat and boots, for once not caring where he left them.  Mihawk sighed as his head fell into the pillow - not too soft just like he liked it; he heard the birds sing on the branches of the trees in the garden.

He fell asleep with her name on his lips.