#me @ me: this is a dumbass decision why would you say this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 9 months ago

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hey!! I love you works=) Can I request a fem!chubby(optional)reader x gojo,where gojo is her mean roommate and after a night when he had fun with a random girl and reader couldn't sleep because of it she confront him and he shows her how much he loves-hates her (NSWF if you can,when I say love-hate I mean he loves her,but she is not afraid to attack his ego so he finds this quite annoying) I truly understand if you don't want to write and I respect your decision =) I just say to try my luck and see if you like the idea

lol well, I'm lucky to have time to indulge in this idea, so why not? hope i did this right...

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x roommate! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader can be read as chubby or not - implied mutual feelings/pining - kissing/making out - teasing - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and licking) - doggy style + missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - Gojo being a bit whipped for you - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - implied usage of alcohol - mention of saliva/drool. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

“God, you can be such a fucking dumbass…Who told you to drink so much?”

“Listen–hic–I was just being the life of the party. Plus, gotta impress the ladies~”

“Oh, for God’s sake, just eat your damn mocha bread.”

Lying on the living room couch with you sitting on your knees on the carpet, tending to his drunken state, was not something Satoru Gojo had planned. It was supposed to be a chill night at the club with the guys – Geto, Nanami, and Haibara – yet he somehow found his way to the dance floor and danced like a rock star, drinking like a fish from taking up all the shots bought by all the women infatuated by him. What can he say; he could never refuse the ladies, even if he doesn’t like alcohol.

However, he’ll admit he might have overdone it and puked in the club bathroom for a solid 20 minutes before his friends decided it was time to go. You opened your apartment door to your roommate being carried by Haibara and Geto, the dark-haired men apologizing for the inconvenience at the late hour after dropping their friend on the couch and leaving you to deal with the tipsy fool.

Although, with him dealing with the raging headache and horrid acid from the vomit earlier ruining his tastebuds, Gojo would say this wasn’t all too bad. Why? Well, now he has his cute roommate to look after him like they always do.

Although he feels a bit bad that you were up to see him at this ungodly hour, watching you sitting beside him and feeding him his favorite snack to ease his subsiding intoxication made him feel warm. The little pout on your face as you break apart pieces of the mocha bread to feed into his mouth, your gorgeous eyes examining him to see if he’s okay, and your cute pajamas comprised of an oversized shirt and some shorts. If it meant being treated by you like this, the snow-haired man figured he ought to get drunk more often.

The only problem was you nagging at him like he was a child, grabbing for his hand to hold the glass of water on his own. “Drink; I don’t want you puking on my carpet.” Yup, you were his roommate, all right.

He rolled his eyes while taking a sip. “You’re supposed to be talking all sweet and slow to me here because my head’s going at sixty miles an hour. Aren’t you supposed to be sympathetic to the weak?”

You scoffed. “Oh please, you are not weak; you’re just dumb enough to drink whatever thing some pretty girl gives you.”

“Hmph,” He puffs at you, evoking your eye to twitch. “Well, maybe I should just go back to the venue and find that pretty lady who was dancing with me all night!” He takes a bite of some more mocha bread. “I’m sure she’d be nice enough to minister to my drunk self.”

That was a lie. There was a lady he was dancing with, the same lady who hung out with the guys at the club and had a good time with them. The woman was a wild and entertaining girl, Gojo will admit. But in all aspects, she was just there; she was nothing. If anything, Gojo wished that you were there instead of her. You were busy with work, opting to sit this out and maybe go with the guys the next time.

And although he didn’t try to argue (outside of pestering you in giving in and coming along), he couldn’t get his mind off you while he was away. You were all he could think about, wondering if you were okay or if you remembered to eat dinner. Or just imagining you being with him, wearing something nice and letting loose around his friends – around him. Fuck, just visioning him and you dancing together would’ve been such a treat and probably saved his poor liver and stomach from all the alcohol.

Instead, he’s spending the last moments of his late-night high with you, who should be sleeping. You say to him, “Would you?”

He draws his brows upwards. “Hmm?”

“Would you go back?” he now notices the look on your face, as if you’re going back and forth with something internally. “I mean, probably not because I’m sure whoever has to deal with you can’t feed you your favorite bread.”

He hums, taking note of your expression and your fingers playing with the edge of his plate. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Nanami called me earlier when you were getting a little too wild, like, five shots in,” The number throws the man in a whirlwind; damn, I had more than five? “And he told me you were so tipsy and touchy that you couldn’t stop asking about me. Like, ‘Where’s Y/n’ or ‘Man, I wish Y/n was here; they love this song.’”

Did I say that? “I said that?” A curt nod is given to Gojo, and he presses his lips to a thin line. Ah, shit.

“All I’m saying is,” you continue with a pout. “It would be pretty scummy of you to say you’d wanna hang with another woman and then turn around and worry about me, for whatever reason.”

Sky-blue eyes observe yours downcasted to the plate with the sweet bread. He couldn’t ignore how cute you avoided his gaze — it’s what prompted him to say this: “…There is a reason.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t worry about you for nothing,” you watch the white-haired man bring his upper body up from the couch with his elbows. His face is now a foot away from yours, close enough for you to see the earnest glint in his eyes under the soft, warm glow of the ceiling lighting. “Nothing is for ‘whatever’ reason if it’s with you.”

Your brows furrowed together, eyes avoiding Gojo’s gaze. “What could that reason be, I wonder. You’re just saying that so I can stop being up taking care of—“You couldn’t finish that sentence; how could you when Gojo brought a hand to your chin and prompted you to look back at him? Azure eyes pierced right into yours; it made your heart skip, and your body dare not to move.

“You want me to prove you wrong?” He asks with a neutral expression, hard for you to gauge what’s on his mind. You know him; he likes to poke fun or try to get you riled up. So, this shouldn’t be any different (aside from him holding your chin).

You huff, “Go ahead.”

And it was there where you should’ve chosen your words carefully.

“Khaaa! Ohhh! G–Gojo, stop…! Y’r fingerss—Ahhaaa!”

“Aht, aht, don’t do that, angel. Open those legs up for me…Fuck, you’re so cute…Mmm”

It took you aback when Gojo stood up from the couch, took your hand, and walked you from the living room to his room. Confusion on your part turned into immediate shock when he brought you into a kiss. With wide eyes and thoughts going at a million miles per hour, you instinctively tried to brush him off you. But one kiss turned into two, and two kisses turned into three. And before you know it, you sink into the feel of his pillowy lips, a leg situating between yours while your hands come around his neck.

And the surprises don’t stop there; Gojo then hoists you up — yes, picks you up! — and brings you to his bed to continue laying his lips on you. Your shaky moans resulted from his kisses trailing from your chin to your collarbone, the humps of his lower half chafing the groin of your shorts. The twitch of your chasm happens involuntarily — how embarrassing! Especially when he distracts you by claiming your lips again so he can pull down your bottoms and panties.

And that’s how we end up here, you crying out for him as he kisses and nibbles on your ear while his fingers play with your wet folds. “—Ahahhnn!! G–Gojo, no..! Not there…Hnnfff…!”

“You say that, but you’re not letting my fingers go, huh.” He chortles before kissing your cheek, stuffing his middle finger to aid his forefinger in scraping your inner walls. The wails that escaped your lips were so unlike the stern persona he’d usually deal with; they provoked him into wanting to hear more. “Damn, didn’t know my little cute roomie could make such cute sounds. Let me hear more, ‘kay?”

Cute!? The adjective had your cheeks increase in heat with the twitch of your southern walls clamping onto Gojo’s digits. “Hoooh! Q–Quit playing with me, Gojo; just stop going so fa—Aaahhhh!!”

From your protest, his fingers go even faster. And worse, he sneaks his thumb to your clitoris, where he shocks your body with swipes and grinds to the delicate pearl. Too fast for you to chew on your lip to shield the creams, “Hey now, I said call me by my name.” He looks at you with flushed cheeks and soft, hooded eyes — way too late to blame the alcohol for such effects. But you can see the passion that’s burning inside those blue orbs of his. “Don’t be stubborn on me, pretty girl. What’s my name, Y/n?”

God, first cutie, now pretty girl; how many names was he gonna call you to drag you deep into your pool of embarrassment? “Haahhh, Satoru, please,” your body jerks to the jabs of his fingers hitting inside you.

“Heh, good girl. My little angel…” Gojo kisses you again, sucking on your tongue with a teasing vigor before lifting your shirt to display your body to him in its whole form. Your breasts spill open for him to claim a nipple into his mouth for a quick suck. He then travels down your abdomen, playfully nibbling on your soft skin and flesh for you to jerk. His hands massage your inner thighs after spreading them further.

His face then comes down to your bare cunt, blowing on it to make you squirm. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to look at you for so long. You made such a gorgeous mess for me.”

“Go fuck yourself, Gojo,” you peer down at him, only for him to beam with a mischievous smile. Damn, you cursed his dimples for making him look like a childish bastard!

“No thanks, I’m more interested in fucking this cute thing.” He snickers to himself before descending further in between your legs and having you gasp sharply at the feel of his lips on your slit. His tongue swishes between your folds and sucks in your leaking substances for him to savor, the wet muscle teasing its entrance of your vagina before inserting inside.

You almost choke on your spit, crying out for him to stop and trying to close your legs. But that proves worthless, Gojo’s hands holding them to your chest for him to feast on you properly. You’re forced to accept the laps of his tongue, and it has your ears ringing with the obscene sounds coming from the commotion.

“—Ohoo!! Satoru, stop!!” You bring a hand to his head to grab a tuff of his snow-white hair. It does nothing, only making him eat you out even more unsteadily. His nose occasionally bumps into your clit, your other hand gripping the sheets. “Stooop it, I’m gonna cummm, if you keep….!”

“Go ahead, baby,” he withdraws his mouth, slipping his fingers back inside you to massage euphorically. Your eyes roll up when he licks on your clitoris. “Let’s see my pretty angel be messy for me.”

You couldn’t prevent yourself from following his command even if you wanted to, the fingers and his wet muscle all doing their part in making sure you give in. And so you do, releasing the reins to let your orgasm overcome you, clamping onto his fingers as it pass through your body through the shocks and your erotic howls.

And Gojo eats you up through your sensitive nerves and all, his hands not letting you writhe out of this as he stuffs his face into your cunt. Your body jolts with every passing shock until it relaxes. And even then, Gojo still carries a naughty grin when lifting his face and licking his digits. “Look at that, princess. Making my fingers all pretty.”

The display made your ears hot. “Don’t play with it like that!”

“Why, I’m gonna play with you a whole lot more, anyway,” he says while kissing your thighs. He surprises you with a bite, making you huff in surprise. “Gonna play and mark you all mine all night long.”

And he was not lying. Everything happened so fast; one moment, you’re lying on Gojo’s bed with him, eating you out until you come from his mouth two times. The next moment, your pajamas are stripped off you and thrown to the floor along with his.

“—Noohhh!! Ohhh, fuuuck, ahh, ‘Toruuu, yer goin’ too fast…! Slow down!!”

“Hnngh! Ahhhh, easy for you to say with you gripping on me like crazy…Holy shiiiit, you feel so good…”

Now, you two in the nude are fucking like animals. The hour is way past late for noises to disrupt your neighbors, yet here you are on Gojo’s bed with your face down to the sheets and your ass propped up for him to drill his length deep inside you. He’s caged you beneath him, his strong arms on either side of you while his hips thrust into your plump ass and thighs. The sounds of the action were so raunchy to the ears, something straight from a porno.

The two of you have been going at it for about two previous rounds; your body is already sensitive and sweaty from this. You want to be tired – your mind is trying to tell you you’re exhausted. However, it’s impossible to think of anything else with Gojo hammering his dick into you like no tomorrow. Excessive come leaks from your cunt down your thighs, a white ring forming around the base of his shaft — evidence of your sexes union.

“Ohhh Jesus, this ’s too much…Nnnphh!” The clap of your ass smacking onto Gojo’s pelvis made you sheepish, sinking your face further into the sheets to try and conceal your cries. But that’s not working when the tip of his cock grazes your velvety walls in such a precise motion that you almost choke on a sob, drool coming down your mouth. “Oh God, right there, ‘Toruuu…”

The white-haired man observes from above, examining your round ass and body jerk from his movements. Fuck, you looked so fucking sexy like this under him, wailing out from him being able to make you feel so good. It strokes his ego so badly, but that’s what happens when he’s finally proving to you how much he’s wanted your body like this. Your erotic body, your adorable mewls, and your amazingly tight cunt clenching on him as if you don’t want to let him go — it all makes his head pound, and his strokes smack on your harsher.

“Shiiiit, I’m so close…” He moans with a cold sweat that rolls down to his chin and hits the skin of your trapezius. Gojo then decides to switch things up before his evident release comes knocking. “Hey, sweetie. Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

You were already maneuvered to face him before he could finish that sentence, your front forced to be seen in his gaze. Your half-lidded orbs locked in with Gojo’s as he bucks his hips to you during missionary. Oh, what an intimate position!

“Hic—Don’t look!” You say while putting your hands up to his face – accidentally hitting the bottom of his chin, taking him by surprise – not wanting him to see your disheveled and messy self under his observant eyes.

But that didn’t fly by with him, immediately grabbing your wrists and pinning them down. “Oh, none of that, princess,” his face descends to brush his nose against yours. “I told you I’d prove you wrong. So, how am I supposed to do that with you hiding from me like that?”

You gulp to give him a snarky answer, “Mmmph—You’ve proven that enough!”

“I don’t think so,” he chuckles lightly; fuck, he sounds so hot. “With you, there’s never enough.” He takes your lips with him before you can say more, grinding his hips onto your squelching chasm to scrape your sensitive spots to evoke your screams to be taken from his mouth.

Gojo then snaps his hips into you at an unsteady tempo, the rhythm too fast to comprehend and catch yourself. The rough hits of his dick so harsh and sporadic, and your mewls are muffled by his kisses. Your hands go to his back, preparing yourself for the climax that rushes back to you for the fifth time that night.

Oh, fuck, oh my fucking God! And it hits you like a slap to the face; your exhausted body trembles for yet another crescendo to crash over you. Your legs come around to Gojo’s waist to hold on. And Gojo’s not too far from orgasming on his own; the fluttering contractions of your cunt force him to give in and spill into you once again, groaning into your wet and puffy lips.

The two of you embrace the jolts of your bodies in union, your lips glued to his as he kisses you through it all. And he drops his sweaty body on yours, the heat between you two sticking to your skins from the contact. A hand comes to the top of your head, caressing and massaging your scalp to further your relaxed state.

Gojo breaks the kiss with a soft sound, and a string of saliva sticks to you two until it’s broken apart from his ascent. He chortles, using a thumb to wipe your mouth from spit. “Well, did I make my point?”

You send him a tired glare, sighing heavily while your finger traces his back. “More than enough, Satoru.”

He beams, the dimples returning to blind you. “Good! Because I was thinking of going for another round—“

Your lips quiver with dread at the words, grabbing for a pillow and instantly hitting him in the head with it, not caring about him exclaiming in pain from the impact.

“Hurry up and get off me, you drunk, horny bastard!!”

But one thing was definite; it wasn’t the alcohol that Gojo was drunk on — it was you.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

Text

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

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It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

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Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

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persevereforahappyending · 4 months ago

Text

A Legacies Secret |8|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 6.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Sam wiped away her tears as she left Tara’s hospital room. She jumped as the door slammed closed behind her. Tara didn’t need her, she had you now, maybe Tara never needed her. She left, she didn’t have a right to tell Tara what to do or judge the decisions she made. Sam left and her little sister grew up without her, she was an adult who had no need for her big sister anymore.

Sam once again jumped back when she turned away from the door and right into Richie. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s me,” Richie said softly, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “It’s okay.”

“Were you listening at the door?” Sam asked, staring at Richie. It was kind of obvious he was listening at the door, just as you probably were, given how quickly you ran into the room. She needed to hear Richie confirm it himself though.

“No, no, of course not,” Richie tried to wave it off. “Okay, yeah, I was listening at the door,” he just as quickly caved, admitting he in fact was eavesdropping.

“It doesn’t freak you out, that my real father was a serial killer?”

Sam searched his face, wondering why he hadn’t run the second he learned the truth. Sam hated her birth father, she hated herself, she hated being related to him, as much as she loved her sister, she couldn’t blame Tara for hating her now as well, she fully expected the same from Richie. You already weren’t a fan of hers, learning this would probably make you officially hate her even more. Sam couldn’t see how anyone could like her, let alone love her, knowing who her father was and what he did.

“I mean, yeah,” Richie nodded, giving her an awkward smile. “A great deal.”

“Okay, go, I get it,” Sam shook her head, trying to keep control of her breathing and not breakdown. She had met an awesome guy, a nice guy, and now she had ruined that relationship, just like every other relationship in her life, all because of who her father was. “I just got to stay and figure it out.” Sam didn’t care if Tara hated her, she didn’t care if her sister never wanted to see her again, this was all her fault and she wasn’t leaving until she learned who attacked her sister, she wouldn’t rest until she knew her sister was safe.

“I’m not leaving you here Sam.” He said it so simply, as if leaving her there alone never even crossed his mind. Sam couldn’t see how that was a possibility, if Richie were smart, he’d leave her, anyone else would have.

“If you were smart, you’d get the fuck out.”

“Well, then maybe I’m not smart,” Richie said softly, stepping forward and taking Sam’s hands in his own. “Because I’m staying.” Sam looked up at him in disbelief, she truly couldn’t believe the words she was hearing, she couldn’t fathom why any sane person would stay when all this was going on, why anyone would stay with her knowing how messed up she was.

Richie looked down, opening a closing his mouth slightly as if he were nervous to say what he wanted to say before looking back up, looking Sam directly in the eye. “I love you,” he said, his voice shaking with each word. Sam’s eyes darted around, searching his face, she truly couldn’t believe he said that. It was the first time Richie had ever said those words to her, she wasn’t sure if him choosing this moment proved how much he loved her or proved how crazy he was for being willing to stay during this insanity.

“You’re a dumbass,” Sam said. She wasn’t ready to say those words back yet, she wasn’t sure what was keeping her from it, she had known Richie for six months and they had gotten along right away, becoming friends long before they started dating. Sam just couldn’t bring herself to say ‘I love you’ back.

“So, your sister won’t talk to you,” Richie caressed Sam’s face, then began running his hands through her hair. “The police aren’t going to help, what’s our next move?”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what Richie said was true. She knew Judy had an officer on Tara’s room and others in the hospital, but they still weren’t anywhere close to actually figuring out who Ghostface was, so they were truly on their own in trying to catch this psycho. “We go talk to an expert.”

Sam approached the trailer of Dewey Riley, with Richie right behind her, one of the perks of living in a small town was it was pretty easy to find someone, it took her less than a minute to get Dewey’s address. She didn’t know what to do, the only thing that made sense was talking to someone who was there at the beginning, who had survived this kind of stuff before. Technically Sheriff Hicks also survived but she didn’t like Sam and she barely counted as being apart of the whole thing. Therefore, it left Dewey, he was also the only one still in town, everyone else was either dead or had some sense and got out of town.

Dewey was still sheriff before she left town, he was sheriff during all the trouble she caused. She had remembered seeing Dewey around the station, but she had never interacted with him. It was always deputy Hicks she had the displeasure of interacting with. Sam was also never officially arrested, Judy usually brought her home, occasionally when she was feeling petty, she’d cuff Sam, throw her in the back of the cruiser, and bring her down to the station until her mom could pick her up. No, the only person Sam saw Dewey regularly interact with was you.

“Go away!” a voice shouted from inside the trailer as soon as Sam knocked on the door.

“Sorry to bother you Mr. Riley,” she yelled back. “We just want to ask you a few questions.” She really needed Dewey to open the door, if he didn’t talk to them, she wasn’t sure what she would do, she had no idea how to prepare for a psycho coming after her and her sister.

“I don’t give interviews.” Dewey sounded more irritated. Sam couldn’t blame him, she couldn’t imagine what his life has been like, surviving all those attacks and being good friends with Sidney Prescott. Dewey’s life was probably filled with nonstop questions, people and reports asking him to describe what happened to himself and to his friends. It couldn’t have been easy being constantly asked to relive probably some of the worst days of your life.

“We’re not looking for an interview.”

Dewey’s face suddenly appeared in the little window of the door to his trailer. “Give me one good reason I should talk to you.”

“I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam said, staring Dewey right in the eyes. This was the first time she said she was Billy’s daughter and didn’t hesitate, she didn’t question the words leaving her mouth.

The next thing she knew Dewey was opening the door. “That’s a terrible reason for me to talk to you.” Dewey was no longer yelling, Sam wasn’t sure if that was a plus though, he just seemed exhausted now.

“My name is Samantha Carpenter,” Sam continued, Dewey at least opened the door, and she didn’t intend to back down now. “I was attacked last night at the hospital. The night before that my sister was stabbed seven times. I know you know what that’s like,” she said the last part softly. She might have wanted Dewey’s help, but she didn’t want to seem unsympathetic. “I’m just trying to protect my family,” Sam sighed. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

“I’ll give you two minutes,” Dewey agreed, though he sounded firm in only giving them two minutes. Sam wished it had been more, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, this could be the only chance to get some advice from someone who survived not one attack but multiple. “I’m missing a show I like.” Dewey went back into his trailer, leaving the door open for Sam and Richie to enter.

“Gale Weathers,” Richie said as he and Sam walked into the trailer. Dewey had her morning show on but quickly turned it off as the three of them sat down. “Weren’t you two…” Sam held in a sigh; she was starting to regret bringing Richie along with her.

“Yeah,” Dewey said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. Dewey took an aggressive sip of his coffee, flicking a glare at Richie before focusing his attention on Sam. “Who’s he?” he nodded to Richie.

“This is Richie,” Sam said. “My boyfriend.”

Richie smiled, readjusting in his seat as if he were about to offer his hand to Dewey and introduce himself. “How long have you known him?” Dewey never gave him a chance to introduce himself, he never even looked at him again, he just got right down to business.

Sam was a little taken aback by the question. “Six months,” she answered anyway, though she was a little confused as to why Dewey was asking.

“Did he know who your dad was when you met? Express any interest in Woodsboro or the Ghostface killings?”

Sam gave an awkward smile, turning to look at Richie, she wasn’t sure if Dewey was actually serious. She came to him for advice not to be questioned about her relationship.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Richie asked awkwardly. He kept glancing at Sam as if wanting her to confirm if Dewey was serious.

“Your killer is obsessed with the Stab movies, right?” Dewey asked, leaning back in his chair. Sam nodded, hesitant but curious as to where he was going with this. “Well, there’s certain rules to surviving a Stab movie. Believe me, I know.” Dewey looked off to the side, looking out the window as if his mind went to another place for a second. “Rule number one, never trust the love interest,” he shook his head, looking right at Richie. “They seem sweet, caring, supportive, but then welcome to act three, where they’re trying to rip your head off.”

“I was with Sam in Modesto when Tara was attacked,” Richie said, instantly defending himself. Sam was looking at Richie, nodding her head to confirm what he was saying. They were together that whole night, she didn’t even get the call about Tara until the next morning.

“And let me guess,” Dewey continued, sounding more cynical as he went on. “You were just in the other room, conveniently unaccounted for when she was attacked at the hospital.”

“Okay, do I have to take this from shitty Sam Elliot over here, or what?”

“Rule number two.” Sam slowly looked from Richie back to Dewey. “The killer’s motive,” he was still glaring at Richie as he spoke. “Is always connected to something in the past.”

“I’m related to Billy,” Sam said. She already knew Tara was most likely attacked because of her; she knew even before Ghostface said he knew her secret; she knew the moment Wes said Tara was attacked by someone in a Ghostface mask. Hearing Dewey practically confirm it though wasn’t easy, Tara was basically attacked all because Sam was the daughter of a serial killer.

“Right,” Richie said, nodding along. “But then why kill that random Vince guy?”

Sam nodded at that; Vince seemed like a random victim. Tara was the first victim, then she herself was attacked at the hospital but it didn’t seem like Ghostface actually wanted to kill her, more like just scare her. You and Tara’s friends were all at that bar, you worked at the bar, you had been outside seconds after Vince was attacked, meaning Ghostface wanted Vince for some reason, no one else.

“That’s for you to figure out,” Dewey said. “And rule number three, and this is the most important rule.” Sam turned in her seat so she could give Dewey her full attention. “The first victim always has a friend group, that the killer is apart of.” Sam nodded along, she remembered that being a theme in all the movies from the one time she saw them, and hearing about the real-life stories. “Does your sister have a closeknit group of friends?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding, Tara had exactly that. “She does.”

“Then look for the killer there.”

She knew Dewey’s logic; she knew from his experience that this was always how it went down. Sam couldn’t imagine it though; she couldn’t picture any of Tara’s friends attacking her. Tara knew all of her friends since she was a little kid, Sam baby sat all of them, they literally grew up together, Sam watched them grow up. The only person who was new to the group, or she guessed more so, new to Tara’s life, was you.

“If you can find out why they’re doing this,” Dewey continued. “You can figure out who’s next.” That made sense as well; despite never understanding why someone would dress up and kill all their friends, the killer always had some sort of twisted motive and that motive tended to explain who their victims were and would be.

“So, help us,” Sam tried pleading. She knew it was a long shot. Dewey hadn’t even wanted to let them in his trailer to talk, the odds of him agreeing to get involved were zero to none. “Help us figure out who’s behind this.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dewey sighed, sounding more exhausted than he had since opening the door. “I’ve been stabbed nine times, I’ve got permanent nerve damage, and a fun little limp. You think I want to do that again?” he let out a humorless chuckle.

“You just said it always goes back to the past.” Sam still intended to try her hardest to convince Dewey to help, she didn’t think she could figure this out on her own, she needed help. “Right?” Dewey reluctantly nodded, seeming to know where she was about to go with this. “So, if I’m in danger, that means you’re in danger.” Dewey seemed to take in her words as he was suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “Come on, let’s do this, together.”

There was a split second that it almost seemed like Dewey was going to agree to help them. “Your time’s up,” he said instead. He quickly stood up, walking to his door and holding it open for them.

Sam rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the couch and stomped out of the trailer, Richie following close behind her. As soon as they were out the door Dewey slammed the door closed. Sam couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get involved, it was insane for someone to willingly get involved in this mess, she had just told Richie that before coming to see Dewey. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still annoyed that Dewey wouldn’t help them. She figured out of everyone else in the world the person most likely to help would be someone who had survived what they’re going through now, Dewey knew quite literally what they were going through, and he still refused to help.

“Okay, what’s next?” Richie asked as they made their way back to the car.

“The friends,” Sam said, easily catching the keys as Richie tossed them to her. She didn’t want to suspect Tara’s friends, but they were the only ones that made sense.

Before starting the car, she shot a quick text to Wes, asking him to gather the others. Wes quickly texted back saying he’d do it. Sam sat there for a few minutes when another text from Wes came through. Wes had said the others all agreed to meet at Mindy and Chad’s, since they were the niece and nephew of one of the victims of the second killings it made sense to meet at their house. Sam started the car and quickly pulled out of the trailer park, not carrying if she was speeding on her way to Mindy and Chad’s.

Sam pulled into Mindy and Chad’s driveway, seeing a few more cars there as well. As they were walking up to the door Sam heard another car door closing. She turned around and couldn’t help but smile when she saw Dewey walking up to them.

“You came,” she said when he was close enough. She truly thought he wasn’t going to help them, that she was completely on her own in trying to figure this out.

“Let’s get this over with,” Dewey sighed, leading the way to the door.

Mindy opened the door, leading them to the family room and telling them the others were already there. Sam had only been in the Meeks-Martin household a handful of times when babysitting the twins, but it hadn’t seemed to change much over the years.

Sam stood in front of the others, she had just opened her mouth, ready to tell them that she was the daughter of Billy Loomis, when there was a knock at the door. Martha Meeks quickly ran to the door, happily greeting whoever it was. Sam glanced back and had to do a double take when she saw you walking into the room.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She asked them to gather everyone, she didn’t realize that meant you as well. She was honestly surprised you left Tara’s side for something like this, considering you refused to go to work until Tara basically ordered you to.

“Tara asked me to come,” you said. Sam let out a hum, now that made sense. She wondered how much convincing it took to get you to leave Tara’s side. “You all have exactly one hour,” you pulled out your phone, quickly typing off a text to someone. “So, let’s get this over with.” You pushed past Sam and took a seat on the far end of the couch, putting yourself as far away from everyone else as you could get.

“Why are you here?” Dewey asked. He squinted his eyes, watching you carefully even though you hadn’t so much as glanced at him.

“Tara’s my girlfriend,” you said. “Going to arrest me for that? Sheriff,” you made sure to say that last part with all the sarcasm.

Dewey narrowed his eyes at you. “How long have you been together?”

You rolled your eyes, clearly not enjoying yet another person questioning your relationship. Sam would bet money that it also didn’t help that the one questioning your relationship is the cop who used to always deal with you.

“It will be two years in December,” you sighed, obviously getting more irritated. “Can we move this along, please,” you looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I would like to get back to Tara.”

Sam nodded, she didn’t want to shift the attention back to herself but you and Dewey arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially if you ended up storming out before they even got started. “Alright,” Sam said nervously. She glanced back to see Richie giving her an encouraging smile. “I’m the daughter of Billy Loomis.”

Everyone’s mouths fell open. Sam could practically see their brains trying to process the information. Sam quickly ran to take her seat on the couch, not wanting to be the center of attention anymore. She spared a glance at you, seeing you weren’t shocked, she figured you overheard her conversation with Tara or Tara told you herself. Your jaw was clenched as you stared off across the room, your hands balled into fists, and you refused to look at Sam.

Mindy was the first to break out of her shock by instantly jumping to her feet and running to the closet they had filled with movies. Sam furrowed her brow as she watched Mindy shuffle around the movies, until finally finding what she was looking for and popping it into the DVD player. Sam suppressed a sigh when she saw it wasn’t Stab Mindy had put on but Stab: The True Story. It was basically a documentary of the true story, though no one who actually survived what happened was involved in the making of it or was interviewed. Sam was pretty sure Gale Weathers was involved in some way, but the documentary was mostly made up of pictures and found footage, with a ‘expert’ who had done their research and talked about what happened.

“So, you’re saying that you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis,” Chad said, being the first to break the silence. “And that, what, one of us is the killer?” he gestured at himself and his friends.

“The killer told me he knew my secret,” Sam said. It was clear Chad didn’t appreciate him and his friends being accused of being a killer but based on the history, it was always someone in the friend group. “He attacked Tara to lure me back here.” Sam caught you clenching your fists tighter as her words, she assumed you had already figured that part out as well.

“But then why immediately go and murder some douche-nozzle that was stalking Liv?”

“And why does it have to be one of us?” Wes asked. “What about deputy Dewey here? Maybe he’s the killer.” Wes shrugged. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Dewey said. “But what’s my motive?”

“You got stabbed a billion times, got dumped by your famous wife, and crawled into a bottle,” Wes listed off. “I think it’s safe to say you’re on the suspect list.”

Sam let out a small sigh, she had gone to Dewey for help but what Wes said made sense. As hard for her as it was to admit it still seemed one of the friends was more likely involved than Dewey. Wes’s argument was good but Dewey suddenly snapping after all these years and going after some random kids didn’t make much sense.

“Well, maybe you’re the killer,” Dewey said. “Cause that cut deep.”

“That douche-nozzle is connected,” Amber said. “I googled him. His mom is Leslie Macher. Stu Macher’s sister.”

“Who’s Stu Macher?” Liv asked.

“He’s Billy Loomis’s accomplice,” Dewey answered, leaning forward in his seat again.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, nodding along, everything was finally starting to make sense. “So, the first three attacks are all on people related to the original killers.”

“Oh my god,” Mindy said, shooting up from her seat. “He’s making a requel.”

Everyone looked at Mindy like she had grown two head. “A what?” Sam decided to be the one to ask.

“Like a sequel, fans are confused or torn on the terminology.”

“God,” Chad sighed. “Please speak English.” Sam couldn’t help but agree, she understood what a sequel was, but she had no idea what the hell a requel was or what the hell Mindy was talking about.

“Okay,” Mindy sighed, sitting up straight as she got serious about this topic. “Do you remember the Stab movie that came out last year?”

“Oh, yeah, the one the Knives Out guy directed,” Liv said, seeming to know exactly what Mindy was talking about. Sam was still lost but decided to just wait and see where they were going with this. “You know, I actually really liked that one.”

“Of course you did, you have terrible taste.” Sam rolled her eyes as Liv and Mindy had their little argument, even when she was a kid Mindy the habit of being a bit of a movie snob. “The point is the hardcore Stab fans hated it.”

Sam sighed, beginning to tune Mindy out as she rambled on and on about why the fans hated the movie. She didn’t really care about a shitty sequel to a relatively basic franchise. She was hoping Mindy actually had a point to all this and her random movie knowledge about Stab would actually be useful.

“What’s wrong with elevated horror?” Amber asked, joining in on the conversation.

Mindy then went on to rant about how elevated horror was great, but it wasn’t Stab. The only reason Sam had some semblance of an idea as to what elevated horror was because even as a kid Tara loved that stuff. As Mindy said, Stab was a typical slasher whodunit type of movie, Stab wasn’t elevated horror.

“Come on, it’s just a movie,” Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. She had to speak up, she couldn’t stand listening to them argue about movies and their deeper meaning, they were just movies, they were in the real world where her sister was really attacked.

“No, it’s not,” Mindy said instantly. “To some people the original is their favorite thing in the world.” Sam couldn’t wrap her head around that, she got liking movies, but not loving one so much someone would begin to blur a movie with real life. “The movie that made them love horror. The movie that mom or dad showed them when they were ten and bonded them together.” Once again, Sam got that, she understood bonding with someone over a movie and both enjoying that. “And god help anyone who fucks with that special memory, who makes a movie that disrespects it.”

Sam could sort of understand that as well. She truly understood loving a movie growing up and then a few years later someone deciding to cash in on that love by making a sequel or spin-off or something involving those characters and that world. It rarely worked out, it was usually made as a cash grab and not for the fans, then the new fans had a habit of hating it. Being pissed about a bunch of shitty sequel movies to your childhood favorite didn’t give someone the right to go around dressed up like the killer from the movies. That’s where Mindy was losing Sam. Sam didn’t get how someone could take a simple movie so far.

“It sounds like,” Mindy continued, getting up from her seat before Sam could even think about interrupting her again. “Our killer is writing his own version of Stab Eight but doing it as a requel.” Mindy raised her hands, nodding to herself, clearly proud of her theory.

Sam would admit, it was a good theory, that didn’t answer her original question though. “Which is?” Dewey asked. Sam was glad he still didn’t get it; she didn’t want to ask Mindy again.

Mindy sighed, clapping her hands together as she tried to contain her clear irritation at them not getting it. “See, you can’t just reboot a franchise from scratch anymore, the fans won’t stand for it. Black Christmas, Childs Play, Flatliners,” she began gesturing around the room at her friends. “That shit doesn’t work! But you can’t just do a straight sequel either. You got to build something new but not too new or the internet goes bug fucking nuts,” she rolled her eyes.

“It’s got to be a part of an ongoing storyline, even if the storyline shouldn’t have been ongoing in the first place. New main characters, yes,” she gestured around the room as if all of them were the new main characters. “But supported by and related to legacy characters,” she pointed at Dewey. “Not quite a reboot, not quite a sequel. Like, the new Halloween, Saw, Terminator, Jurassic Park, Ghostbusters, fuck, even Star Wars! It always, always, goes back to the original,” she picked up the first Stab movie to help emphasize what she meant.

Sam was beginning to fully understand what Mindy was trying to say. “Are you telling me,” Sam started. “That I’m caught in the middle of fan fucking fiction?” she couldn’t believe this, it was even more insane than she ever imagined. She figured someone was pissed because she was Billy’s daughter not because they were hurt that the sequel to their favorite movie was total garbage.

“Not just in the middle Sam,” Mindy said, a lot calmer than she had been than when she was rambling about the movies. “You’re the star.” Sam could only stare at Mindy, her mouth slightly agape. She knew she was the reason Tara was attacked but she didn’t think she was the reason all this was happening.

“So, not to put like to fine a point on it,” Liv said. “But according to requel rules, who’s next?” Sam looked at Liv, her eyes coasting across everyone else. She wanted to figure out who the killer was but knowing who the next victim might be was just as important.

“Going by the pattern,” Mindy said slowly. “Whoever it is has to be connected to someone that came before.”

They all slowly turned to look at Dewey, he was the only one connected to the original killings. “I’m starting to regret coming,” Dewey said. Sam knew she told Dewey he was probably a target as well, but she didn’t realize how true her words might have been.

“Jesus, my mom is a character in one of them,” Wes said, sitting up a little straighter.

“No one cares about the shitty inferior sequels Wes,” Minday said with an eyeroll. “You’re safe.” She turned her attention to her brother. “With Randy as our uncle though, you and I are probably screwed.

“Wait, what?” Chad asked. Despite literally being Mindy’s twin, he didn’t share the same passion for horror and movies that she did. It seemed as though he didn’t realize that being the nephew of one of the only survivors of the original attacks put a target on his back.

“Or you’re the killer,” Richie began, laughing Mindy’s theories off. “And this whole elaborate monologue is just to cover your tracks.

“I think it’s pretty clear who the killer is at this point,” Mindy said, laughing off Richie’s accusation.

“Who?” Sam asked. She was staring at Mindy, she had no idea who the killer could be, she didn’t know how Mindy could figure it out so quickly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Amber said, interrupting whatever Mindy was about to say. Everyone looked at Amber, but her glare was solely focused on you.

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. You didn’t seem happy that you were being accused but you certainly didn’t seem surprised. “Are you serious? What’s my motive?” you shrugged.

Amber shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re dating Tara.”

“Never trust the love interest,” Mindy mumbled.

You snapped your gaze from Amber to Mindy, you actually seemed hurt that she was agreeing with Amber. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” you gestured, looking around the room. Sam did the same, seeing everyone staying silent, all of them either looking at the floor or at you like you were the prime suspect, the only one who looked the slightest bit guilty was Liv, she refused to look at you, opting to keep her eyes on the floor.

“If I can’t have her, no one will,” Amber said. “Classic motive.”

“The thing is,” you leaned forward, glaring back at Amber just as intently. “I already have her.” Despite Sam’s feelings on you she had to side with you there, you were already dating Tara, had been for a while now. There was no reason for you to attack Tara, there was no one for you to be jealous of and this wasn’t some twisted version of unrequited love.

“Maybe you’re threatened.”

“By who? You?” you scoffed, literally laughing at the idea of being threatened by Amber “Please! As if.”

“Tara knows you’re not good enough.” Amber smirked, her eyes taking on a dangerous look. Sam had no idea what happened to warrant the animosity between you and Amber, but it was very clear where Amber stood regarding you.

“That’s not true.” You shook your head, but Sam could swear she caught a glimmer of doubt in your eye. She didn’t think you necessarily believe Amber’s words but there was probably a part of you that truly didn’t think you were good enough for Tara, that she deserved better than anything you could offer her.

“What could you possibly offer her?”

“You’re trying to get me to doubt my relationship,” you kept your voice low as you pointed at Amber. “I don’t know why,” you shook your head. “It won’t work though. Tara’s love is the one thing I have never doubted.” Sam hated to admit it, but she admired your devotion to Tara and your commitment to each other.

“Why are you still here?” Amber continued to poke. “You always talk about how much you hate this place, you literally despise this town.” Amber leaned forward, staring right into your eyes. So why are you still here?”

“For Tara!” you shot to your feet. “I stayed for her,” your voice cracked. Everyone got silent, all of them dropping their eyes to the floor, except for Amber; Sam seemed to be the only other one willing to still look at you.

“I was actually going to say Sam was the prime suspect,” Mindy was the first to speak up. Sam’s eyes widened; her mouth dropped open as she stared at Mindy. “Daughter of the original mastermind,” Mindy looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “It makes sense,” she shrugged.

“But you,” she shifted her gaze to you. “You have nothing and no one, your parents abandoned you, you were a troubled teen, hated this small town, until magically you got your shit together, turning your life around, then began dating Tara, who just happens to be Sam’s sister. You knew Sam before, no?” you only acknowledged her with a glare. “The perfect suspect, one that’s seemingly unsuspecting.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. Sam watched as you looked around the room, seeing how no one argued with Amber’s accusation or Mindy’s logic. “Fuck you,” you spit out before storming out of the house, making sure to slam the door behind you.

“Yeah, because that doesn’t scream guilty,” Amber mumbled under her breath. “Well, this has been fun.” Amber stood up from her seat.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

Amber rolled her eyes. “Home. Unless you want to accuse anymore of us?” Amber gestured around before making her way out of the house without a goodbye.

Wes was the next to go but unlike Amber he actually gave a short goodbye to everyone before quickly running out the door. Last was Liv, she gave Chas a quick kiss, saying something about having to go to work and then she left as well.

Sam sighed, figuring it was time they left as well, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome after basically accusing the entire friend group of murder and after sort of being accused by Mindy. “Well, that went well,” Sam said, as she, Richie, and Dewey stepped outside.

Dewey gave a small shrug. “Now, what’s your plan?” Dewey asked.

“Hopefully food,” Richie mumbled.

Sam ran a hand through her hair. Gathering everyone together had been simultaneously useful and not. They now had a theory on what the killer was doing, they knew his victims were those related to legacy characters, but they still weren’t any closer to knowing who the killer was.

“I need to get back to the hospital,” Sam sighed. Even if Tara didn’t want to talk to her, she needed to try. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Tara alone in the hospital too long, especially overnight, even if that meant sleeping in a chair outside her room or in the waiting room.

“I was hoping for something besides hospital food,” Richie groaned.

Sam sighed, she really didn’t want to waste time going to get food. “I can give you a ride to the hospital,” Dewey offered.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

Dewey nodded. “Yeah, it’ll give me the chance to ask some questions anyway.”

Sam tossed her keys to Richie. Richie didn’t waste time, giving Sam a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off towards the car. Richie had started and pulled away before Sam and Dewey had even started walking to Dewey’s truck.

“A text!” someone yelled, stopping Dewey in his tracks as he started to walk towards his truck. Dewey turned around and Sam peered over his shoulder seeing a woman in a colorful business suit approaching him. “You let me know in a text!” she continued, walking right up to Dewey and slapping him.

“You were on air,” Dewey weakly defended. That’s when Sam realized who this was, Gale Weathers.

“How do you know that?”

Dewey opened his mouth, then suddenly paused. It seemed like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit he still watched his ex-wife’s morning show. Sam couldn’t fault him for that it was either really sweet or really depressing, she was starting to think maybe a bit of both.

“How did you find me?” Dewey settled on, crossing his arms.

“I tracked your phone,” Gale said without shame.

“You tracked my-are you insane?”

Gale rolled her eyes. “I needed to find you and it was the quickest way,” she shrugged. “Who’s this?” Gale turned to Sam, seeming to finally notice her for the first time.

“Sam Carpenter,” Sam introduced herself. “My sister was attacked.

Gale tilted her head, her eyes instantly softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry. Do we know anything yet? What about the second victim?”

“Vince Schnieder,” Dewey said. “He’s Stu Macher’s nephew.”

“He attacked my sister because I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam added. Gale’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head at hearing this information. Sam hated the fact that she was getting used to revealing that information. “Somehow the killer knows and now he’s going after those related to the original killings.”

“What did you just say?” Gale whispered, her eyes taking on what Sam could only describe as a look of fear.

Sam couldn’t blame her for being scared, Gale probably didn’t come back to town and expect to be even more in danger. “This psycho seems to be obsessed with the original movie and so disappointed in the ones that have followed, he’s decided to make his own,” Sam rolled her eyes. She still thought it was ridiculous someone was doing all this because of a movie.

“She’s related to Billy,” Dewey said, pointing at Sam. “So, he went after her sister. Then Stu’s nephew,” he shook his head. “He’s going after anyone related to the legacy characters, anyone related to us.”

Sam watched curiously as Gale pulled out her phone, furrowing her brow at whoever was calling her. Sam couldn’t make out who it was before Gale declined the call. Not a second later her phone buzzing again. Gale once again declined the call, rolling her eyes.

Gale let out a frustrated sigh when her phone vibrated again, but this time it didn’t seem to be a phone call. Gale furrowed her brow as she tapped her phone. She furrowed her brow as she stared down at the screen, then her eyes quickly widened as if she realized something. “Oh, god,” Gale whispered.

“What is it?” Dewey asked.

“Oh god, oh god,” Gale continued to whisper under her breath. She quickly typed on her phone, dialing a number. Sam furrowed her brow; she had a feeling she didn’t want to know who had been trying to call Gale and what they sent her. “Dammit!” Gale screamed at her phone when whoever she was calling didn’t answer.

“What? What’s going on?”

“We need to go.”

“What? Where?”

Gale ignored Dewey’s questions as she dialed 911. Sam’s eyes widened; she didn’t know what was happening but clearly it wasn’t good. Gale began speaking quickly, rattling off an address Sam didn’t recognize it seemed as soon as someone answered. “Yes, it’s an emergency!” Gale yelled into the phone. “Tell the sheriff it’s about Ghostface! The next victim is Y/N Y/L/N.”

Sam’s eyes widened at hearing your name. “We need to go,” Gale said. “Now!” Dewey seemed just as confused as Sam felt but he didn’t question it as he took off towards his truck, Gale right behind him. Sam followed their lead, running off after them. She jumped in the backseat, just barely getting the door closed before Dewey took off, his wheels squealing against the pavement. Sam gripped the sides of the front seat, staring out the windshield, silently hoping they’d get to you in time.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream v #scream 5 #a legacies secret #sam carpenter

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lizlovestofangirl · 8 months ago

Text

"i never was the best to you"

asshole!luke castellan x daughterofposiden!reader

smau - luke and y/n dated but and he never treated her right. he wants to fix things, but it's too late (luke is terrible in this fair warning)

🎧 - best by gracie abrams

a/n: hi guys! thank you so much for 500 likes on my first post! thats absolutely wild. i hope you guys like this! lmk if there's something you want next (also i kinda hate the ending of this so sorry if the second half sucks)

*swearing, not checked so there might be mistakes*

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

liked by larueclarisse, silenaaaa, and others

yn_yln chicks before dicks

view comments:

silenaaaa i love you

yn_yln thanks for getting my mind off things sel ❤️

larueclarisse HOT

liked by author

larueclarisse emphasis on DICK

percy.jackson i second that

yn_yln y'all chill 😭

larueclarisse no i might kill him later

percy.jackson i'll help

larueclarisse we ride at dawn

hi_imtyson i miss my sister

yn_yln miss you too big guy

whosannabeth my favorite

yn_yln 🤍

rachel.edare GIRLS NIGHTTTT

yn_yln WOOOOO 🥂🍕😘

iamchrisrodriguez oh so thats why i wasnt invited

larueclarisse chris you dumbass

_groverunderwood i think i might need to make guys night a thing

itslukecastellan yeah we could go to the city

_groverunderwood you aren't invited

percy.jackson where are you i just want to talk

larueclarisse YOU'RE BRAVE TO BE IN HER COMMENTS

silenaaaa fuck off luke

iamchrisrodriguez not a good choice man

whosannabeth the dumbest boy to ever live istg

rachel.edare theres no way

yn_yln he just got himself blocked 💀

larueclarisse 🦅🦅🦅🦅

percy.jackson good

silenaaaa i can practically hear him crying

iamchrisrodriguez he wants you to unblock him

rachel.edare DONT

larueclarisse DONT

whosannabeth DONT

_groverunderwood DONT

itslukecastellan's story

view reply from larueclarisse:

larueclarisse i hate you 😊

view reply from percy.jackson:

percy.jackson using her favorite artist against her is too far

view reply from iamchrisrodriguez:

iamchrisrodriguez yet another dumb decision

itslukecastellan is just want her to know how i feel

iamchrisrodriguez not the way to do it

iamchrisrodriguez also she blocked you so she wont see this dummy

iamchrisrodriguez nvm clarisse showed her and she said y/n is even more pissed

view reply from whosannabeth:

whosannabeth do you even know what resent means

itslukecastellam beth how do i fix this

whosannabeth 🤷‍♀️

yn_yln's story

view reply from iamchrisrodriguez:

iamchrisrodriguez: y/n/n i'm so sorry. i should've listened to you and told the truth. i should have never put you in a position where you felt like i would choose someone else over you. every time i see you walk by i want to reach out and hold you like i should have held you that night. i love you. please give me a second chance. yours, luke

yn_yln lmao no. don't call it "making me feel like you would choose someone else over me" just call it cheating you dickhead

view reply from larueclarisse:

larueclarisse real bc what is he on

yn_yln HE MESSAGED ME FROM CHRIS'S PHONE

larueclarisse WHAT

larueclarisse WHAT DID HE SAY

yn_yln sent a screnshot

larueclarisse he acts like he gave you a papercut when he CHEATED (percy saw the screenshot and is on his way to find him rn)

yn_yln oop

#luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson smau #smau #pjo smau #luke castellan #luke castellan angst #breakup #luke castellan pjo #percy series #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smau #lizlovestofangirl #lizlovestofangirl smau

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meth0ne · 1 month ago

Text

HOW TO SHIFT STEP BY STEP NO CLICKBAIT

(if you have any questions, don’t be shy)

Hello everyone, I’m Methone

I would like to introduce to you my method called “no clickbait method 100% works”.

I am a shifter since the famous haunted for shifters 2020. But I’ve never believed that I need to drink 10 litres of water to shift or to do other dumb sh!t.

So it was easier for me to find my way to shift.

Just few weeks ago, I would ask some different bloggers about what to do.

But then

I’ve asked myself.

Because who knows me better than myself?

STEP ONE

I would like you to ask yourself a question: Who makes decisions in my life? (if you answer someone that is not you. Bruh. Start again)

STEP TWO

Another question to yourself: Who do I trust the most? (of course it’s beyoncè (i don’t want to risk anything))

STEP THREE

Take a few breaths in.

STEP FOUR

Now. How many hours you’ve been scrolling on shiftblr/shifttok/amino or other apps in order to find out “how to shift”?

STEP FIVE (the violent one)

(this step will blow your mind)

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. YOU ARE SPENDING SO MUCH TIME ON THIS INSTEAD OF JUST SHIFTING?

GURL YOU ARE THE METHOD.

YOU ARE NO CLICKBAIT.

YOU ARE THE 100% GUARANTEE.

YOU ARE EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO SHIFT.

FEEL YOURSELF IN YOUR DR

JUST SAY “I AM” BOOM YOU ARE THERE

OH MY GOD METHONE HOW DID YO-

BECAUSE I AM YOU DUMBASS

THATS HOW

THINK ABOUT WHAT WILL YOU DO, WHAT WILL YOU TASTE AND SMELL

you know why?

BECAUSE YOU ARE THERE.

YOU ARE.

YOU. ARE.

Now go lay down, stand up or sit down and simply shift :)

And you better not scroll after this post because when I catch you Ricky-

When I catch you.

Best Regards

Methone.

p.s: I know there’s a lot of posts like this. But i know from MY experience that when someone has the mindset from 2020 those posts does help. BUT IF YOU DONT HAVE THAT MINDSET WHY ARE YOU EVEN READING MY P.S NOTE?

Go shift.

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allaboutnayeli · 2 months ago

Note

Would you be able to do a ashley sanchez fic please. Maybe they've been dating for while and reader is always getting teased when she'll propose and finally does

AT LAST | a.sanchez x reader

summary: you make ashley your fiancée, finally.

author notes: finally getting to this request! this is actually so cute so thanks anon. also um.. i hit 800 followers? that's crazy but thanks yall 💞 enjoy the fic!

contains: ashley sanchez x reader, ncc!ashley, tons of fluff, lesbians are dumbasses, this takes place in a different reality where ashley is still getting call-ups to the national team 🥹 this isn't relevant.. i just miss usa ash

playing prove it by 21 savage ft summer walker 🎵

"four years and no ring? you should dump her, ash," kerolin says as she walks into the locker room. you are quick to give her the middle finger. groaning in annoyance when she gives you the middle finger right back.

ashley laughs like she always does at the teasing. everyone's favorite pastime is to tease you about not proposing to ashley quick enough. you two have been together for four years, almost five now, and still no proposal in sight. it's not like you don't want to propose, you're just waiting for the right time.

kerolin stirred up everyone else with the teasing. half of the team is in the locker room, getting ready to leave after a long training session. they don't have enough energy to play around like usual, but have enough energy to tease you; great.

"i agree with kerolin. you really should dump her," dani gives ashley's shoulder a playfully sympathic pat on the shoulder. the blonde smiles and shakes her head, focusing most of her attention on changing her cleats. you try to throw a waterbottle at dani, but she dodges it then sticks her tongue out at you.

the usual playful comments are thrown around about how "you're making her wait too long" and "if you need some tips, you could just ask."

you make sure to internally write down every word, so you can keep this in mind when they ask you for favors.

"whatever. why is it my job to propose and not ashley's?" you say in defense, standing to go over to ashley who's now changed. you peck her cheek as you pull her close. she says a response before anyone else could, "because i pursued everything else in this relationship."

you let out a gasp of shock that makes everyone else laugh.

"great. now even my own girlfriend is against me. thanks for being bad influences, guys." you gently pinch ashley's side before pulling away from her. the blonde tries to hit you, but you dodge easily. instead you grab her hand and push her to sit down in her cubby.

cortnee is quick to get back to teasing you, "we aren't bad influences, ashley is right. wasn't she the first to ask you out? and the first one to ask to be girlfriends? and also the first one to ask move in together? sounds like she's making all the decisions in the relationship."

you regret yapping about your entire relationship story to your teammates at that one team outing when you were drunk (but you can't really blame yourself when ashley was looking so good that night and you suddenly felt the urge to express your love for her). regardless, you can't even say anything back because she's right.

"whatever," you say. you let go of ashley's hands, going to grab her bag. "can we go?" you look at ashley. the blonde stands, going to link arms with you.

"running away from your problems is cute of you, y/n," you hear kerolin say as you grab your bag as well before walking out with ashley.

you make sure to give her a middle finger on the way out.

on the drive home, your mind blocks out the sabrina carpenter ashley is blasting as it drifts. the teasing is bothering you more than you like to admit. even though you know it is all in good fun, still, that pressure from the comments lingers. it's not like you haven't thought of making ashley your wife. you're smitten with the woman. she could ask you to get the moon for her, and you'll find a way. might even grab an asteroid on the way as an extra gift. she owns your heart; that's a known fact.

proposing has been on your mind and in your heart for a long while. you will never admit this, but you thought about proposing since you two's first anniversary, but didn't want to be one of those lesbians who go too fast.

this year is a perfect time, and you want to propose soon, but you just don't know how or where or the exact day.

you're determined to figure all this out. ashley deserves a perfect proposal.

and you know just the person to help out.

"a beach proposal is cliché and the waves would ruin it," you're currently sitting across from trinity at this cute brunch place you found. getting trinity to come from washington d.c. mid-season was a struggle, but when you told her that you were ready to propose, she booked the first flight to north carolina.

trinity rolls her eyes, "beach proposals are cliché because they're cute!"

"still a cliché and ashley deserves better than that," you say. trinity, and you have been debating on where to propose. she suggested beach at the number one choice, then used a hotel proposal as her second choice. you quickly disagreed with both; beach is too cliché and hotel feels too impersonal.

trinity sighs, "you have been shooting down all of my ideas this entire time. why even have me come all the way here and not use my opinions?"

"not my fault if your opinions are wrong." you shake your head as the forward frowns at you.

"alright, i'm sorry. i just want everything to be perfect. she deserves the best," you sip some of your orange juice to calm your nerves. trinity gives you a look of understanding. it's obvious you just want to not mess this up. why else would you have ashley's bestfriend fly out?

"maybe.." trinity trails off just to take a bite of her alfredo, "you could do it at home?"

it's like a switch is flipped in your mind; of course, a proposal at home makes complete sense.

after trinity's suggestion, the pieces of the plan fall into place like a puzzle.

the location will be at you and ashley's home, you needed carnations and white chocolate, a simple silver band with ashley's intials needs to be made, and you have to work on your speech.

ashley has always been low-key. she's the one who wanted to soft launch your relationship at first, and still, you two aren't over the top with showing things off. everyone knew yall were together, and everyone of any importance knew how much you guys loved eachother, that's all that matters.

trinity had to fly back to washington d.c. to prepare for an upcoming match, so she couldn't distract ashley on the day you wanted to propose. instead, the day after the match against kansas city current you get denise and bianca to take ashley out for dinner. you made some excuse about "not feeling well" when ashley asked why you weren't coming then had to convince her to just attend the dinner when she wanted to stay and take care of you.

at last, you start getting the house ready. firstly, you grab the bouquets of carnations that you hid in the guest room that ashley never goes into. even though it is cliché, you spread the petals on the floor, so they lead into the master bedroom. then you make a heart with the petals on the bed.

you step back to make sure the heart looks at least decent, smiling when you see it's perfect.

the next step in your plan, you go to grab the box of white chocolate you hid in the back of the fridge. you may have took of one piece, but it's fine, you're the one planning this all.

you place the box of chocolates in the middle of the flower heart. you check the time on your phone and see that you have forty minutes left to get ready.

everything is set up, so all you really need to do is shower, change, and make sure your speech is good. also that you didn't forget where the ring is.

after a good ten minute shower, you change into some black dress pants and a loose white dress shirt. you didn't want to overdo it as this is supposed to be lowkey, but still you wanted to look nice. you check your phone to see ashley texted that they are almost finished and she will be dropped off soon.

you spend the last thirty minutes doing the finishing touches on the lil display you did and going over what you wanted to say. the gorgeous silver band you got customized sits nicely in the velvet case you got with it.

finally, you hear the front door open. you hear the soft footsteps of ashley as she walks through the house, softly calling your name.

"in our room, baby," you shout. a smile graces your lips when she steps inside.

ashley gives you a surprised look, her eyes glancing from you to the flower petals to the bed.

"what is all this?" she walks closer to you. when she's close enough, you pull her close by her hips.

"a surprise.." you say before kissing her. she melts into the kiss easily, her arms finding their home around your waist. every time you kiss ashley, the only word you can use to describe it is magnetic. it's so hard for you to pull away from her just to breathe, but you have to. you need to do what you have been meaning to do for a long while.

"grab the chocolate, babe. it's for you," you let go of her. ashley looks at you, then the box of chocolates on the bed before walking over to the bed. she picks up the box, smiling when she opens it to reveal the white chocolate inside.

slowly, she turns to face you, still looking at the chocolate as she says, "baby.. i don't-"

when her gaze lands on you, she sees you down on one knee, a small velvet case in your hand that's open with a silver ring sitting nice and pretty in it.

ashley damn near drops the chocolate, but is able to throw it on the bed before she starts tearing up.

"baby-" she starts, but you interrupt her.

"let me talk first. i swear it's worth it," you smile. laughing when she giggles in between trying to catch her breath.

you sigh then give ashley the biggest smile you are able to do, just to cover up your nerves.

"i know you been waiting for this for a while now, and i'm sorry.. i just love you so much, i wanted it to be perfect because you deserve all the good things in this world. i remember the first time we met, and i just couldn't stay away from you. at the time, i didn't get why i was so attracted to you, but i figured that out a long while ago; you're special, ashley. i don't want to spend the rest of my life with anyone, but you, so ashley sanchez, will you marry me?"

"yes! of course," ashley says. you stand, and she immediately jumps into your arms. after a long hug, she pulls away just to kiss you.

"no more teasing for me then?" you say when ashley pulls away. she laughs before kissing you again.

there was definitely no more teasing after that.

author notes: finally posted another fic 😍 i thought this was bad, but it turned out cute!

#ashley sanchez x reader #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #woso fluff

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shelbgrey · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, could I request more about "Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter HCs:" and we have the Volturi wrap around our finger, please, thank you, and love it.

You put it, the Reader doesn't get along with Bella. I was hoping you could tell us more about that relationship. And I personally would love it if the Volturi knew that we're there since Carlisle and Esme got custody of us. They are "Cousins [ Demetri, Felix, Alec, Janeand Heidi,] Anutes and Uncles [ Uncle Aro, Caius and Marcus] to us". When Alice goes and saves Edward dumbass. We're there to save Edward, but we're also happy to see them. When Demetri and Felix came, we called them Cousin Dem and Fe while smiling. We hug Jane, holding hands with her. The Cullens knew about what we call them. We really don't care what happens with Bella, but we do care about our brother and sister. Personally, I got the feeling we don't really care if Bella lives or dies

Thank you so much 💓

P.S. feel free to message me if you need anything clarification on this

Being the daughter of carlisle and the Volturi loving you:

So I usually don't write for the Volturi so bear with me.

🩷MasterList 🩷twilight List

So you want to know more about Bella and y/n's relationship...

So, I want to compare how Edward thinks and how Bella thinks to show the two girls relationship.

I think when Bella is finally introduced to the family she's quite jelouse of Edward's relationship with you, there's no real incureties to it, she just doesn't want girls hanging around Edward.

Bella also thinks your plan and shy, there's off hand comments on how she's discribes you, Edward on the other hand discribes you as happy, humorous, and so beautiful.

You guys are always throwing harmful comments to each other and Bella usually takes it too far.

You also hate how she's treats her father. She always gets mad and says it's none of your business and you have no idea what you were talking about.

“my parents chose me, yours just got stuck with you”

Carlisle and Esme would put a stop to it, there's been many times Carlisle and Charlie have had talks about Bella's bullying.

Of course you're parents know your not a saint in theses situation, but Bella is usually the one to start it.

“if someone pushes you, you push back” Emmett always says, which is why your never scared to decened yourself.

And since your the youngest, your basically the center of the Cullens universe, but then Bella comes along and puts your family in danger, that's your problem.

You also have a problem with Edward putting everything aside no matter what for her, your happy he finally has a girlfriend but there should be boundaries.

You especially started hating her when Edward decided to go to the Vulturi after Bella's supposed death.

You knew about the Vulturi and you became friends with them in fact, your uncle Marcus(yes, you heard me right) says your the glue that holds you all together.

After Aro found out about a human joining Cullen Coven, he showed up to see if it was true, Aro didn't really have a plan for what he was gonna do, but when he met you he saw no harm. He was in aw at the sight of the small child.

The deal was that you could stay human with the family as long as you wanted, you just had to keep the secret of the Vampires.

Honestly you see Aro as the creepy uncle, you'd never say that to his face and he'll never found out because he refuses to read your mind.

“but, Dad he creeps me out! None of the others do”

Dispite you thinking he's creepy, he'd never hurt you.

At first Cauis wanted nothing to do with you and didn't agree with Aro's decision, but the more the family interacted with the Vulturi the more he grew a soft spot for you.

Marcus is more of a grandpa than an uncle if were being honest, he's a lot older than the others and he's always been so gentle and kind towrds you.

He gives you advice and is there if you need to talk.

I don't know much about Heidi, but I figure she'd absolutely love you and is always spoiling you.

Demetri is like a big brother/cousin and you kinda have a love/hate relationship. You guys tease each other and sometimes it'll get mean, but trust me he'd kill anyone who harms you.

Your probably closest to Jane and Alec, they're both closer to your age and you three just hit it off immediately. You hate hearing about they're tragic back stories but they always tell you it's not your fault and you make they're lives better.

Then Edward left for Italy to go and execute himself 🙄

You were so made at Bella for putting Edward in this headspace and situation, especially after you found out she's was perfectly fine.

But, anyway Alice was getting ready to take Bella to Italy and you wanted to Tag along. Not because you were there to support Bella, but because you wanted to see the extented family.

Ya know... Going to Italy to beat Felix and Demetir at Mario cart again...

What you didn't want to do is see Bella getting all dramatic and telling your Uncle Aro to kill her instead of Edward.

You rolled your eyes and came up to hug Jane as she threatened to use her gift on her, she was only using like 5% of it on Edward just for ✨dramatic effect✨ . “alright Jay, they've learned their lessons”

Jane chuckled and stopped using her powers on Edward, wasn't too painful for him.

“Aw, I was having fun” Felix sighed as you ran up to him and hugged him.

Cauis rolled his eyes trying to hide his smile as Bella looked completely confused. “What just happened?”

“nothing... Just you being dramatic for no reason, they're on our side bone head, You think they'd actually hurt Eddie?”

You left Felix's arms and walked around the Castle. “by the way, where's Dem?”

He appeared and hugged you while Bella looked even more confused and kept asking unanswered questions. “aw, she's still alive”

You laughed and quickly shhed him.

“what? You think just because they're old school and basically vampire royalty they're evil? you asked Bella, you were kinda pissed off she thought so low of them.

“yeah we never said we were gonna kill him and Alice never said that either” Aro said, clapping his heads together.

You then clicked your tough, with a sarcastic smile. “well, we send little miss. Main character home and me and Alice can stay here for the weekend, dad said we could.”

Jane hugged you excited for some girl time while Felix ran around the Castle making sure you had a comfy room to sleep in.

“do what ever you want Dem, killer or set her free, send her to the moon, have her for dinner, I don't really care”

Uncle Cauis laughed as bella started stuttering as Felix and Alec came back with arms full of dvds.

“wait, what?” Edward sighed. “they're kidding”

“we could watch a bunch of TV shows, we got Bones, and supernatural” Felix smiled.

“no Supernatural, they got the vampires all wrong” Alec said.

The two boys and you and Jane both just walked off talking about what you should watch without even a goodbye for Edward and Bella. “What about Moon Knight, dad finally got an account for Disney+. It's a really good marvel show”

“ooh, I heard Oscar Isaac is in it, he's so hot” Jane said, Felix and Alec groaned as you girls started thirsting over male actors.

“they're just gonna be horny for 40-something year old men the whole time” Alec sighed, heide slapped him and told him to be nice.

Bella scoffed and left with Edward after Alice smiled and ran after her sister and Jane.

“Lators Gators” you shouted to Edward.

#Volturi #Volturi x reader #Cullen family x reader #Aro x reader #Marcus x reader #Jane and alec #Jane x reader #Alec x reader #Demetri x reader #Felix x reader #Alice cullen x reader #Edward cullen x reader #Bella swan x reader #Volturi headcanons #Cullen Headcanons #twilight headcanons

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phoenixblaze1412 · 5 months ago

Note

*cries* imagine kid reader wants to have bangs so one of the segments decide to cut them some but it ends up being too short and look horrible 😭

I tried my best with this one anon, hope you like it😭

Bangs.

Seeing your Aunty Sandrone was the reason why you're standing on a small stool and looking at your reflection in the mirror. It was her hair. The way her hair looks so pretty. Most importantly, her bangs.

Your father never really did give you a proper hairstyle, he just combed your hair to get rid of the knots before going to his work in the laboratory. But after walking along the hallways of the palace to grab a little snack and seeing the Marionette, you knew you wanted a hairstyle like hers.

You grabbed a comb and brushed your hair down before holding up a pair of scissors to cut your hair short.

"What are you doing?"

You jumped in surprise and quickly turned around to see Theta leaning by the door with his arms crossed.

"Didn't your father tell you not to hold something big and sharp yet until you're a teenager? You're gonna get yourself hurt, dumbass."

He huffed and grabbed the scissors away from your hands before looking over at the hairbrush and clips you left on the sink as he gave you a questioning look.

"What are you even doing with these?"

"I just wanted to have bangs like Aunty Sandrone! Papa never styles my hair and I wanted one! Please Theta!"

The segment would have immediately said no the moment you exclaimed you wanted your hair to be cut for some stupid bangs. But the moment you pulled out your ultimate weapon against him: those puppy dog eyes you mustered up. How could he say no to you...

"Okay! Fine! Come here."

Hearing him give in to your pleas to help you cut skme bangs was probably the most regrettable decision you have ever made.

Theta was never really skillful when it comes to hairstyles. He could slice open a cadaver but snipping and cutting hair? Not on his résumé.

He wasn't really sure how the Marionette was able to cut her bangs so he tried to cut it the same way as hers. Snipping some of your hair and combing it away with a brush before looking it over and grumbling to himself at how they were uneven and asymmetrical to the point that he keeps cutting it shorter and shorter until its even. He already gave up halfway through and left some parts uncut.

". . . Looks good enough."

Theta stared at your face before biting down on his lips to try and stop himself from laughing. Oh archons, he was terrible with hair.

"Thetaaaa!"

Your cries and wails can be heard from the hallways which caused the other segments to stop from their work.

"Ahaha! I said I'm sorry-! Hehehaha!"

The door to the laboratory was swung open as the segments stared flabbergasted at your tiny form, Theta following behind you with tears in his eyes from all the laughing he did. Some were trying to hold in their laughs, others were worried about you. Delta and Gamma was cackling very loudly in the back which made you cry more.

"What's all this commotion about?"

Zandik walked out from his office as he looked at his segments before glancing at you only to choke on his saliva at your current predicament.

"Papa!"

You watched as your father let out a fake cough to hide his laugh before walking over to pick you up.

"(Y/n), what have you gotten yourself into this time? You look... not like how you usually do."

Your father grabbed a small hand mirror and handed it to you as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Pouting at first before wailing at how you're stuck with your hair like that forever.

"I don't want Theta touching my hair anymore! He made me ugly!"

"HEHEHAHAH!"

"My dear, your hair will grow again. Although it will take a few months.."

"I'm uglyyy!"

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #female reader #il dottore x reader #gender neutral reader #child reader

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

Text

“You’re not going.”

Keith picks his head up from the table. “Huh?”

“To the Blades,” Lance clarifies, chopping up something that looks like a bright pink potato and throwing it in a rapidly boiling pot in what Keith would call an aggressive manner. “You’re not going.”

“…I didn’t say I was.”

He didn’t. He didn’t mention anything about the Blades to any living soul. Like, yeah, he had made the decision and was going to, but.

There’s no reason Lance should know that.

“Good, then, because I took your uniform — which looks like a slutty catsuit, by the way, just so you’re aware — to the incinerator last night. It’s ash now.”

Keith stares at his best friend, jaw dropped, hands resting limply on the edge of the dining table, because — huh? pardon? what happened?

“Whatever identity crisis you’re having can happen here,” Lance adds, shaking some spices into the boiling pot and stirring it a couple times. He dips in a spoon, brings it up to his lips, then makes a face. “Here, try this.”

He marches over to where Keith has been moping as he makes dinner and shoves a spoon into his gaping mouth. Keith chokes, hot stew making its merry way down his trachea, eyes watering and chest heaving.

“A little too salty,” he rasps.

Lance scowls. “Fuck. I knew it. Gotta add more barbie potatoes.” He turns down the heat, grabbing more potatoes from the sack and busying himself with peeling them. Slowly, as he recovers from the fear of his actual lungs collapsing in on themselves, Keith stands, hesitantly approaching Lance and reaching for a knife to chop what he peels.

“So,” he starts.

Lance ignores him.

But Keith is used to this dynamic. It’s either this or flipped. Friends or not, if there’s one thing they can’t do it’s use their big boy words. So he carries on.

“I take it you…don’t want me to go, then.”

Lance grunts. “Oh, look, the caveman has room in his skull for a brain after all.”

“Uncalled for,” Keith says, scowling. “I am not the one who’s refusing to communicate right now.”

The corner of Lance’s mouth twitches upwards.

Score. Point to Keith.

“Obviously I don’t want you to leave, you stupid dumbass,” Lance admits finally. He wrestles the chopped roots out of Keith’s hands and practically dunks them in the pot, turning the heat back up. Keith smears his starch covered hands on his shirt in revenge (and then wisely takes three quick and giant steps back, well out of backhanding range).

“But there are too many paladins,” Keith points out. “You said it yourself.”

Lance grabs a dishtowel, twisting it menacingly in his hands. Keith tries not to think about the scar he knows Hunk has from when Lance snapped a towel at him when they were kids, wrestling in the McClains’ kitchen. He fails.

“Do you actually have any braincells left in your head at all?”

“Yes, jackass. That’s why I did the math. I leave and the numbers add back up. Problem solved.”

“You leave and Voltron falls apart,” Lance snaps. “So maybe crunch those numbers again.”

Keith stills. Lance steps towards him, still glaring, still menacing, but he doesn’t move — he holds Lance’s gaze, searching his dark eyes, looking for the words he isn’t saying. Because Keith…Keith isn’t the one holding Voltron together. There was a reason his heart caught in his throat when Lance came to him downtrodden and talked about being a seventh wheel. There’s a reason his duffel is packed, a reason he’s talked to Kolivan. He knows who needs to step aside.

“You just don’t get it,” Lance says, frustrated. He takes another step.

“You talk to us about teamwork all the time.”

Another step.

“You’re favourite thing to whine about is the bonding moment.”

Another step, this time as he pitches his voice high and mocking, flapping his hands.

“You never shut up about training as a group.”

One final step and he’s toe to toe, shoes to boots, nose to nose. Keith realises, startlingly, that they’re the exact same height, now.

“We are a crew, imbécil. Team, group, boyband. Whatever you wanna call it. All for one and one for all. The whole nine yards, all that cheesy bullshit.” He pokes Keith hard in the chest. “You don’t get to ditch.”

“But it makes more sense,” Keith argues, weakly and half-desperately. “We only have so many resources. If I can be useful at the Blades —”

“Fuck the fucking Blades.”

Keith deflates. His hand comes up to stop Lance’s jabbing finger, curling around his knuckles. Lance softens, slightly.

“I just want to be as useful as I can be.”

“And if you’re enough as you are?” Lance asks quietly.

Keith opens his mouth, but stops, automatic I’m not dying in his throat. For the first time in his life, it doesn’t seem like the truth, with the determined set to Lance’s jaw and the sliding of their fingers together, gripping tightly.

“Then I guess I’m staying,” Keith breathes.

Lance nods. “Good.”

Keith notices his hands are kind of clammy. His forehead, too, is a little sweaty. The air between them feels hot. Keith swallows.

“Your stew is on fire,” he croaks, voice rough.

Lance drops his hand, cursing.

“Oh — por amor de dios, hablas en fucking serio —”

———

At dinner, Keith eats his burnt stew without a word of complaint. When Lance drags him to the sink to help clean up, after, even though it’s not his turn, he goes, and he lingers too close and too long, and he’s grateful that the duffel he packed to leave home for good is laid emptied on his bed when he turns in for the night.

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saetoru · 2 years ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。3:37 AM — ITOSHI SAE.

“see? i told you this would be fun,” you hum.

“fun for you, maybe. you get to sit and do nothing. i’m the one driving,” sae gives you a side glare—one that he’s sure you see but elect to ignore in favor of picking the next song on your phone.

if you’d told him half a year ago that he’d be here, giving up sleep to drive you to god knows where in the middle of the night, sae thinks he might have actually laughed—which is something he doesn’t do very often. he’s a bit appalled with himself, truthfully—it’s half past three, way past his usual sleep hours, and he has practice in the morning. yet somehow, he almost thinks he’s having fun.

and then he comes to the daunting realization that he’s really not sure who he even is anymore.

athletes like the itoshi sae need to follow strict regimens. athletes like him need at least eight hours of sleep a day, need balanced diets and a healthy amount of exercise, and need to be level headed and make responsible decisions. athletes like him don’t stay up this late because of one measly pout and a tug to his arm. there’s no reason that sae should be this weak to you, no reason you should hold this much power over him—and yet, in a cruel twist of fate, you do.

you do and you know it, and you’re evil enough that you use it to your full advantage.

“where are we even going?”

“sae, shut up,” you roll your eyes. “why do you always have something to say?”

scoffing, he stops the car at a red light, pressing on the brakes and turning to face you. and he hates to admit it, but the moonlight kissing your skin through the windows makes his heart beat rapidly.

“do you realize i’m sacrificing my sleep for you?” he scoffs at you, looking over at the small patch of skin of your shoulder blade as his shirt droops over your body. he tries not to stare too long—but he fails miserably, and you seem to notice it too.

“quit staring at me,” you smirk, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

he swats your hand away—though gently—and scowls, grumbling under his breath at your supposed claim. you only offer him an amused giggle as he rolls his eyes, and no matter how correct you may be, itoshi sae refuses to admit, even to himself, that he was in fact staring. in his defense, how could he not stare when you look like that in his clothing?

“was not staring at you, stupid.”

“you so were,” you laugh, and he grunts, shaking his head as he rolls his eyes at you unimpressed. it’s a battle that costs him just about all of his self control to not glance down at your lips, but he wins—although miraculously, otherwise, he’d have to hear even more of your teasing, and he doesn’t think his eyes will recover from another round of rolling this time.

“no i wasn’t. that head of yours is too big,” he says, frowning and flicking your forehead at the smug grin you give him. and sae should be asleep, he should be getting enough rest to ensure his optimal performance at practice in the morning so that he can put his teammates efforts to shame—but you said please, and you pouted, and he’s not as strong as he claims to be, although he’ll never admit it.

so now he’s here, and he’s fighting for his dignity as you wiggle your brows playfully at him. but deep down, sae doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere else right about now.

“okay, if you say so,” you snort, “you’ll survive without eight hours of sleep for one day. and by the way, the light’s green now, dumbass. pay attention.”

he hears your giggling as he curses under his breath and presses on the gas pedal, and you slide your hand over his shoulder to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. he pretends to lean back and try to shake your hand off, but you both know it’s his way of leaning further into your touch—so you grant him more of what he craves, rubbing over the back of his neck soothingly as he drives.

“okay, well you’re supposed to be giving me directions, so where do i go now?” he mutters. you shrug, and he groans.

“i don’t know, i’ve been making up directions this whole time. just wanted to drive around. anyway, did you know van gogh’s starry night was painted from his window in an asylum?”

side eyeing you, he purses his lips, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh. and even if you’ve dragged him out of bed for no reason—on a practice night no less—while he’s supposed to be getting much needed rest, he can’t help but find every annoying little quirk of yours endearing. even this one.

“what does that have to do with anything?” he asks flatly.

and sae is not an easy book to read, he never was—he’s like those difficult words you have to stop and google to understand, or those ridiculous metaphors that only literature teachers care for. but he’s well worth it, you think. he makes you want to skip the pages and jump right to the end, and he’s the kind of story you pray ends happily. and somehow, when he climbs out of bed in his wrinkled shirt and loose sweats, hair tousled and sleep laced in his eyes as he begrudgingly grabs his keys for you—you think maybe you don’t want the story to end at all just yet. or ever.

“just a fun fact, jeez,” you pout. “any soccer fun facts you wanna share?”

“athletes need plenty of sleep to perform their best,” he shoots instantly. you huff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms at his stubbornness to just admit he enjoys being here as much as you do.

“sae, one of these days you’ll drive me so crazy, i’ll need to be in an asylum myself.”

“one of these days, when i send you to an asylum, maybe i can sleep reasonable hours,” he smirks at you. the soft slap to his shoulder causes him to chuckle in amusement, and you cave and send the softest of grins at his direction.

“you’ll never last a day without me,” you quip, and to your surprise, he smiles a little. it’s gentle—much gentler than you expect from someone like him, and you’re not used to it. but it’s pretty, just like the rest of itoshi sae, and you hope fate permits a few more nights with him by your side, whether it’s in bed as he sleeps or in the car as he drives. maybe, you’ll even dare to hope for an eternity.

“i don’t know,” he hums, and one hand lays gently on your thigh as he drives mindlessly with the other on the wheel, “i think i could manage to squeeze in ten hours of sleep if you were gone,” he adds with smug grin, and even as you scowl at him, you decide right then and there that if itoshi sae isn’t your happy ending, you don’t think you want one. ever.

“you’re rude, y’know that?”

“i’d say driving aimlessly for your stupid whims is rather generous.”

“hmm, maybe,” you murmur, looking at him with a look so sweet, he feels his breath catch in his throat when he peeks at you through the corner of his eyes. and he hopes you don’t notice it, or the way his expression softens too. “love you,” you add quietly, lifting his hand to kiss the back.

“yeah,” he mumbles. “love you too.” you lace your fingers with his, setting his hand back down onto your lap. he squeezes gently, and you squeeze back. “i love it more when you sleep, though.”

i think sae rly likes driving tbh. finds it relaxing and if u play with the hair at the nape of his neck he loves it more. he’s pathetically a loser

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #sae x you #itoshi sae x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 10 months ago

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hi it's the good omens mascot here's some shit about me that might be relevant

I appear to have accidentally caused chaos so I figured you might as well know about me since I'm responsible for it. And also so that you know who you broke, thanks ineffable fandom.

I have been called the prophet by some of you all. This is not entirely untrue, but I would like to add as I did in one post, that Apollo also gave me the curses of art, (very emotional) music, (sometimes good mostly dreadful) poetry, (same parentheses apply, except that the dreadful is on purpose) writing and (used to be good now dreadful) medical knowledge, and so yes, you did accidently adopt a messenger of an ancient Greek god.

Yes, this entire entry into your cult happened from start to now happened in 48 hours.

This will seem less bizarre when I give you context about me and fandoms. I changed career paths (after three years of intense study that cost me my sanity) from science to the arts because I was inspired by drarry fanfiction of them leaving their ministry jobs and following their dreams. Yes I tossed three years and my loss of sanity away in one week of decisions. I'm now a designer. Thanks Draco.

I read so much drarry fanfiction that my mum had to take me to the hospital for injured wrists. I wore wrist and elbow supports and was in constant pain for a few months. I was only later introduced to autoscroll. Yes, I am a fool. Yes, I am unaware of how to human.

I'm broke and cheap enough that I feel guilty buying bottled water, but for Christmas I spent the equivalent of around 150 bottles of water getting a Bakewell tart custom made (they don't sell them where I live). Why? Because in one single fanfiction, it is Draco's favourite food. I would never spend that kind of money on a dessert for any real human being.

That is to say, you all are not ready for when I REALLY fall for Crowley. I don't saunter vaguely downwards for people. I bypass earth and crash into hell, leaving a smoking pit in its infernal ground.

I swear I'm not as dumb as I seem, I just have ZERO general knowledge, and am terrible with faces. I can tell you what the graffiti on the walls of Pompeii from before 70 AD said but I don't know who my previous president was, and personally I think that's very classy of me.

Some of you seem concerned about my sleep schedule. Worry not, I sleep in four installments, night, morning nap, afternoon nap, evening nap. I sleep more than you all, that I can promise. I sleep more than my doggy sister.

About the streams and the timezones, I have no idea how to make it so people can watch, because I frequently mix up east and west and last morning I mixed up the Pacific and Atlantic ocean. I don't know at what point the Eastern hemisphere becomes the Western or how any of it works. I also thought Wakanda was a real place.

But hey fun fact, in 2020 diclofenac sales were dropping in Iceland. I know this because I wanted to make sure to use the correct painkiller in one sentence of a story I was writing. It was completely irrelevant. But hey any of you writers here probably feel my pain. I don't write fanfiction, but I am an author and I write original stories. And honestly what is more useful, Icelandic diclofenac sales from three years ago or timezones?

A career test once told me to be a standup comedian.

Yes that's me Asmi, just your regular dumbass lad who is slightly unhinged, serving himbo twink energy, hello hi nice to meet you all. PS: the poll results are out and Doctor Who won, so tremble, DW fandom.

#good omens fandom #good omens mascot #asmi #weirdly-specific-but-ok #this is me y'all #good omens brainrot #thanks for breaking me i figured you should know about me #crowley #just crowley i'm going to shatter soon #drarry #draco malfoy #fandom culture #fandom things #doctor who #dw fandom #more inaccurate summaries coming up #good omens #fanfiction #and how it ruined and saved me

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jojissalsa · 2 months ago

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idk wtf this is, basically deadpool is your husband. you two got hitched during a bender. what's new for me. sorry if this sounds jumbled, i'm very sleep deprived and wanted to give y'all some food.

cw: 18+ (obviously), mentions of wolverine/logan howlett being a hoe, possessiveness/slight jealously, breeding kink if you squint. idk.

MDNI, 18+ under the cut.

wade dumbass wilson was famously not a smart man. he had a lot of regrets in his unfortunately long life, his love life being a major part. the disaster that followed him just wasn't suitable for most, so when he felt that familiar pang in his chest when he looked at you, he pushed it down with the rest of his deeply complicated emotions.

he knew he shouldn't join you on your depressive drunken bender, but who was he if not a person who made horribly stupid decisions? you were one of his best friends, and there's no way he could consume enough alcohol to forget marrying someone.

sooooo. uh. oops?

he remembers the initial dread the two of you felt when you stared at that pink slip of paper. married on a whim? without even being together? not to mention the several used condoms you found in the trash when you started cleaning up your apartment. the dread was quickly washed away when you actually sat down and confronted things head on, barely feeling any regret for being legally tied to the man.

him on the other hand?

he couldn't believe you'd actually consider staying with him. it was the first time in his life he didn't have anything witty or snarky to say. well, partly. he was internally chastising you for being such a fucking idiot. but he didn't wanna ruin the moment. you were being so affectionate, and all the things you said melted his core entirely. you called him cute, funny, you somehow made his perverted side sound endearing. it was foreign, and while it made his brain short-circuit for a few moments, it was all welcomed.

the only thing he was really worried about were the other facets of his life. he knew you were fine with him being a mercenary, in fact he remembered you calling him an "adorable homicidal maniac". your words, not his. he didn't think he was that cute. you practically cooed at him like a dog, but why would he tell you otherwise if it meant he got attention? all of that left him with his last qualm, his x-men buddies.

he wasn't worried about his friends not liking you, god no. you were a very lovable person, and he didn't care if they thought he was even more of a psycho for marrying you on a bender. he was worried about being jealous. jealous was not something that described him, hell, he was the exact opposite. if you were simply his girlfriend, he'd be more than happy to share. you were both experimental freaks, one of the many things he loved about you. you matched his violent and downright concerning freak, and he was all for it. that being said, he wanted to keep it between you.

he could feel his blood pressure rising just watching you interact with logan. wade was the first to know of his honey badger's manwhorish tendencies, which he was proud of at times. he just prayed it would never be directed to his beloved mrs. wilson. you only gave logan polite smiles and your usual sweet laughter to be nice, because even under your stubborn attitude, you still wanted to be kind to others. it was unbearably painful for an attention whore like wade. he wanted all your laughter and sweetness directed to him. not that preening slut.

that led you to now, your body folded to mold against his as his hips slam into you. his rough hands dig into the fat of your thighs as he presses you harshly into the mattress, growling at your nails digging into his biceps. "wade, please–" you barely get a chance to plead when he thrusts sharply, his cocky grin making your body feel taut. "what's wrong, baby? use your big girl words." you hate that his snark always riles you up, whining as the sound hits your ears.

"you're being rough." you can barely get the words out, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth from how fuzzy your brain is getting. "never been an issue before? usually you're begging for rough." you moan at his teeth sinking into the meat of your neck, your hands scrambling to find their place on his body. "it's different, it's been hours, you're killing me here—" he cuts you off again when his thumb presses against your clit, any semblance of words leaving as your screams start to fill the room.

"don't want you forgetting who makes you scream like this, sweetheart. all fucking mine." the pure possessiveness in his voice makes your back bow, the familiar tightening in your core feeling all the more intense. "jesus, so damn tight, pussy's just sucking me in. i'm not going anywhere, sugar, no need to hold me like that." he can feel your nails scrape down his skin, and it makes him shudder more than your moaning does. he leans back to see your cute, scrunched up face, and he can tell you're too fucked out to be snarky with him. he knows deep down you wanna tell him he's a million times more clingy than you, but he won't let himself ruin the moment. not when you're this pretty under him, barely able string along words other than 'please'.

"shut up, just shut up, 'm so close." he can barely hold back his smile, loving that you can still be your usual bitchy self even when he's fucked all that's left from you. "then tell me what you want and we can go to bed, sound good, princess?" you pout at the mocking lilt in his tone, annoyed at how it makes you tighten around his cock.

"cum inside me, please."

wade has tried to predict a lot of your wants and needs, and he should've predicted this would happen sooner. "fuck.." he can barely register the downright pathetic whine he lets out, his thrusts getting sloppy as he slams his hips faster and faster, desperate to please you.

like the many decisions he's made with you, they're always impulsive, chaotic, insanely stupid, and so fucking good. he completely forgets the fact that he's not wearing a condom, and can barely remember if you're on birth control or not. he'll just chalk it up to unchecked ADHD, because you've probably brought it up a million times and he just can't think because you're screaming his name and your nails are hitting that spot he likes and—

his cock twitches as he paints your walls before he can register what's happening, keeping you flush against him as his body practically collapses on top of you. "you forgot to put a condom on, didn't you?" your breathless, slightly concerned tone snaps him back to reality, leaning up to smile at you with his signature dopey charm. "we're still using condoms?"

#deadpool #deadpool x fem!reader #deadpool x fem reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool smut #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool x you #husband! deadpool #obligatory logan manwhore howlett mention #sorry if this sucks #it's highkey very rushed apologies

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hp-hcs · 10 months ago

Note

(he/him pronouns) would you be interested in writing a more dominant darling/a darling who's a top? i see so often where darlings are bottoms or submissive, but i think it be so interesting to see how delighted characters like enzo would be when his darling finally just responds to him and even takes the reigns. i think you write him as someone more subtle and less obvious in his use of force towards getting the darling to respond, so i think he'd be one of the most overjoyed if his darling was to react in a way he never expected (though it's very, very welcomed)

(i'm focusing more on enzo here since i find him most interesting, but if you'd like to include other characters, i wouldn't mind) nsfw or spicy-adjacent please! men who whimper are just exquisite and it is a need to spread this agenda. there's nothing to avoid here, throw in whatever you see fit: gore, alcohol, cursing, smoking, have your fun!

OHOHOHOOH HOLY SHIT YES

• smut • shut up — yandere! submissive! enzo berkshire x male! dominant! reader

he’s my little sweetie pie and/or bitch

warnings: dubcon—sexual acts performed under the influence of alcohol, amab anatomy for reader, oral sex (performed on reader), light/moderate yandere behaviors, dominant/submissive roles, pet names, degradation (not really) & praise

guess what! i actually wrote semi-okay (?) smut for once! and it’s actually kind of descriptive this time!

⛔️ smut ahead! MDNI! ⛔️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Okay, it calls for…two sprigs of box elder next,” your project partner and general nuisance Enzo Berkshire read aloud from the Potions textbook. He dug through the sachet of ingredients and pulled out a cluster of leaves, holding them out to you and shooting you a winning smile. “I picked these for you, handsome.”

You looked up from where you were stirring the cauldron with a bored expression. “That’s poison ivy.”

Berkshire dropped the leaves with a startled sound, hastily wiping his fingers on his robes.

You just rolled your eyes and sighed. “Fucking dumbass.”

~~~

“Y/n!”

You turned around, startled. Enzo waved cheerily at you with that big dumb stupid grin on his big dumb stupid face.

“Berkshire, I mean this in the nicest way possible. How the fuck did you know where I was?”

“Oh, you always go to Hogsmeade at noon on Sundays!”

“Dude, why the fuck do you know that?”

~~~

“What the hell were you doing?”

You turned around at the demanding voice and insistent tugging on your sleeve.

Enzo Berkshire was glowering behind you, his arms crossed over his chest and a red solo cup in hand.

“Wh- oh, it’s you,” you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you talking to Nott?” The scent of alcohol was thick on his breath, although you weren’t really much better.

You scoffed. “Because I can?”

“Well, I don’t like it,” he sneered. “He’s a fuckboy. He’ll break your heart.”

“And? I can make my own decisions.”

“No you can’t!” He snapped, crowding further into your space. No one else at the crowded common room party even seemed to notice this mild squabble.

You opened your mouth to retort when he grabbed your sleeve again and stumbled down the hall to his dorm, dragging you along with him despite your halfhearted protests.

~~~

The door had barely clicked shut before you shoved him up against the wall.

He flinched back at the suddenness of your reaction, scrambling for anything to hold onto to regain his balance. “Wh-”

“Okay, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up,” your voice dropped to a deadly low tone and your grip on him tightened in warning. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

Enzo’s eyes widened and he whimpered.

You paused at the sound, an eyebrow quirking up.

“Did you seriously just fucking whimper?”

His cheeks turned bright red and he looked away.

You guided his gaze back toward yours with a firm hand on his jaw. “I asked you a question.”

Enzo swallowed nervously, his eyes darting around before he nodded slightly.

“Words.”

“Y-yes,” his voice cracked halfway through the word.

“Good boy,” you said sarcastically, releasing your grip on him and trying to ignore the way that your own cheeks flushed.

He whimpered again, his hands instinctively reaching out for you as you moved away. “No, wait-”

That did it for you. The combination of teenage stupidity, alcohol, and the little noises he made created a Molotov cocktail of lowered inhibitions.

Kaboom.

Without thinking, you cut him off with a searing kiss and shoved him back against the wall again.

He whined softly, his hands pawing frantically at your chest and trying to drag you closer by the tight grip he had on your shirt.

You smacked his hands away, pinning them up against the wall with a tight grip on his wrists.

You split apart, both breathing heavily. His cheeks were flushed a bright red and he looked quite startled—either by your reaction or his own, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Uh-” Enzo cleared his throat, trying desperately to regain control of the situation. “S-so you do like me! I knew it!”

You rolled your eyes, your hands releasing their grip on his wrists and wandering down to his hips. “Shut up.”

He grinned cheekily, his eyes narrowing in a (poor) attempt at seduction. “Oh yeah? Tell me, would I be coming off too strong if I asked you to get on your knees for me, darlin’?”

You snickered.

His over-confident smirk faltered at the sound.

“Oh no…darlin’.” you grinned shrewdly, drawing your hands back. “I don’t get on my knees for anyone.”

You punctuated your point with two heavy hands on his shoulders, firmly guiding him downwards.

Enzo made a startled noise and went down surprisingly easily. He kneeled down at your feet without a second thought and rested his hands on your thighs, looking up at you with blown wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

You petted the top of his head, running your fingers through his hair in a patronizing way—like he was nothing more than a dog.

“What, not much of a big-talker now?”

He gulped.

You caressed Enzo’s cheek, running your thumb along his cheekbone. “Go on, pup. Why don’t you make me feel good, hm?”

You could physically see his pupils dilate at the nickname. His hands scrambled to unfasten the button of your trousers, yanking them down mid-thigh.

You drew in a sharp breath, caught off guard by his enthusiasm.

Enzo wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around the base of your dick. He licked a long stripe up it, promptly wrapping his mouth around it and looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes and fluttering lashes.

“Shit- fuck- so fuckin’ good, babe. S-so good for me,” you gasped, carding your fingers through his hair.

He moaned softly around you at the praise, the vibrations from which sent sparks dancing up your spine.

“Merlin- darlin’, y-you-” your free hand shot forward to grip onto the wall behind him, keeping you steady as your legs shook.

Invigorated by the obvious effect he was having on you, Enzo redoubled his efforts to bring you to your breaking point.

It didn’t take long.

With only your hand tightening in his hair as a warning, your orgasm hit you like a truck. You could’ve sworn your vision went white for a second.

As soon as you regained your bearings, you yanked him up by the front of his shirt and immediately kissed him with a “good boy” mumbled against his lips. His hips bucked frantically against your hip and he let out a pleading whine.

You shushed him softly with a kiss pressed against the base of his throat, your fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

Your hand dove into his trousers the second you got the button undone, your fingers wrapping around his dick with no further preamble.

Enzo whined, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and holding onto your shoulders with trembling fingers.

“Oh? Is all this for me, pup?” You teased softly, your hand beginning to move in a fast but steady rhythm.

At his sweet and quiet moan, you kissed the spot where his jaw curved behind his ear.

He full on whimpered yet again.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to last long.

His fingers began to dig into your shoulders as he clung to you for support. “Y/- oh, Y/n- I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

His body shook and quivered under your touch as he fell apart with a high pitched whine. He clung onto your shoulders as his legs threatened to give out from underneath him.

You quickly grabbed onto his waist to steady him, his breath coming out in short pants.

“You’re okay, you’re alright. Deep breath…that’s it, good boy,” you mumbled reassuringly, tracing a random pattern with your fingers into his hip.

He huffed out a laugh as his breathing slowly returned to normal. “Aww, look at you being all sweet and cute. Big tough guy with a heart of gold.”

“I see you’re still an ass, Berkshire.”

“I get the feeling you love my ass, L/n.”

“…shut up.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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genericpuff · 6 months ago

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You know what do you think of hanza cancelling her own comic that is the guy upstairs? Like for me,I really really hope she's okay. And I know blacklightjack(he make a video about this) and the line he says about artists need to grow a thicker skin is just. I'm sorry like,look I get what he's saying but hanza have to cancel the comic because of toxic shippers. Sure,you can just ignore them and pretend they don't exist but they will still still still annoy you and h*rass you to the point you can't take it anymore and have to cancel the comic because of the whole goddamn toxic fanbase.

(as a Malaysian myself,I need to say this,I really hope hanza is alright. And in my language saya harap dia dapat bantuan Dan menjaga kesihatan sendiri)

So...

sigh I feel like this isn't the answer or essay you expected but I hope you're open to at least hearing it out all the same.

I do not think Hanza handled the situation in a way that benefitted her as a creator or her audience of people who genuinely love her work.

I DO think she was justified to be pissed off with the people harassing her. Those people suck ass and they're the definition of "this is why we can't have nice things."

But like... the notion of "you need to grow thicker skin" is true in being a creator who puts their work out into the world for an audience. Hear me out, this does NOT mean "creators aren't allowed to have feelings". But it does mean that you have to find peace with the fact that there are gonna be weirdos and assholes who take shit too far within your community. You don't necessarily deserve that. But you can't give those people power over you by going scorched earth in the way that Hanza did, because who does it really benefit? Hanza is now out a job and she's soiled her own reputation with her audience by basically going "FINE, because of these few people who were shit, NO ONE gets to have a good time!" And that's just... not a productive or healthy way to deal with these issues because it's just doing what those trolls and shitheads likely wanted. They wanted a reaction out of her, and she delivered it to them on a silver platter.

Like, I think of the dumbasses complaining about Hanza "taking advantage of the dark romance community" (she didn't, she just made a horror thriller comic that they felt entitled to see romance in) and guess what? Now those dumbasses have power over here because she ended the comic and in their heads, I'm sure they're thinking "good riddance". By choosing to not only end her comic, but spoil it entirely for her fans who were there in good faith, Hanza gave power to the people who weren't even a part of her target audience to begin with.

I do think it's ironic if people assume I'd automatically boo the "grow thicker skin" mantra because like, y'all... many of my complaints here are literally about people like Rachel who behave badly with their audience and desperately needed to grow thicker skin. In a lot of ways she's not even reacting to direct harassers, she's reacting to people simply discussing her comic in their own spaces which aren't mean for her. If she spoiled the ending of LO for her fans and ended the comic prematurely, I would feel awful, but... it still would have been her decision at the end of the day that she'd have to stand by and take responsibility for.

I think, at best, if I were to give her any unsolicited advice, she should have just put the comic on hiatus, taken a break, focused on her mental health and given herself enough distance to ask herself if she wanted to continue TGU. Maybe it still would have ended the same way, but at least she would have given herself the time and space to heal and rationalize her choices.

Instead, by choosing the nuclear option of spoiling the series for her readers and axing the comic - just to backpedal and go back to "no no it's just an indefinite hiatus!" - she gave up her power to the people who were harassing her. She reacted in a way that gave them power over her, not herself over them.

And I say this as someone who's currently on an indefinite hiatus with their main project, which I still have not spoiled for the 5 readers I have, despite the fact that I have zero clue when I'll return or if I'll even be able to. Whether or not Cyra and co. break out of the Reaper Society is now a 2 year old question.

I say this all as someone who has been harassed and is still harassed for doing what I wanna do. My first ever webcomic website when I was like 17 used to get emails and comments from shitty classmates and other local yokels who knew of me and wanted to pick fights over a teenager's dumb lil' gag comics. I kept making those comics anyways for myself and for the people who did like reading them, until I was ready to drop the comic on my own terms and move onto my next project, which would be Reaper. Reaper also got a lot of nonsense complaints and harassment. As did my fanfiction projects, as did my digital art, as did everything that I've ever put out into the world through the Internet, because the Internet just sucks for everyone always and then you die 🤣

And now, 10+ years later, I get the occasional "you're a shitty talentless person who isn't gonna amount to anything and yaddayaddayadda" which, to be fair, is a reaction from the folks who are unhappy with my intentions to make a Lore Olympus rewrite comic!

But I'm not going to give them power over me by stopping. I have a story I want to tell and if I stopped telling that story due to the shitty things they had to say and do, then I would be punishing myself and punishing my audience for the actions of a few bad apples. I do not deserve to have those abusive actions targeted at me (though they surely do and that's on them) and I do not have to put up with it, but I genuinely would not be able to live with myself if I gave them power over me by reacting in such an explosive way that my bloody remains land on everyone around me, including the people who were supportive and loved my work along the way.

That said, I also don't know to what extent Hanza was harassed. I've seen people claim she was doxxed, but have yet to see any evidence of that. I have seen people claim she got death threats, but Hanza hasn't shown anything to back that up. I'm going to assume the best of her that the harassment must have gotten pretty fucking bad for her to want to quit, and again, that is justified, and I cannot in any way use my experiences as a way to diminish hers. Maybe she just flat out isn't interested in making TGU anymore which... I can definitely say I relate to that, too.

There's this sort of mindfulness technique in stress and emotional management where you have to recognize that other people's actions are NOT your responsibility, but your REACTION is, because your reaction is what you can control and have power over.

Rachel Smythe finished LO in spite of what wackjobs like me said (and still say) about her and she has power in that perseverance, power that wackjobs like me cannot and *should* not try to take away from her.

mongie decided Webtoons was not suited for her work and vision and decided to put the comic on hiatus until she could get her distribution rights back and continue Let's Play on another platform. She has power in that decision and integrity, power that Webtoons cannot take away from her.

Whether or not you like my work, whatever opinion you have of it that you're entitled to, I have power in knowing that I started a project that I now love dearly and can take pride in, and has brought closure to people like me who were left disappointed by LO. I have power in that stubbornness and refusal to let other people determine what I'm capable of.

Even if you remove the external influence of the audience from the picture, we all have power as creators that we need to harness and take ownership in.

By going nuclear and spoiling her comic for her audience and ending it entirely, Hanza may have gotten the short term satisfaction of turning the school bus around to go back home, but she still disrespected herself and robbed herself of her own power as a creator which will ultimately stick with her far more than it will the harassers who will inevitably move on to some other target and forget she even existed. And that's a decision that she has to live with.

The harassers got under Hanza's skin and gave her more than enough reason to feel frustrated. But they did not choose to spoil and end the comic. She did. And she is ultimately the only one who will have to live with the consequences of that.

I do hope she's okay and that she's getting the time and space she needs to heal from this. If this truly is the outcome that she feels gives her the most power and the ends justified the means for her, I hope she found strength in it, regardless of the opinions of people like myself that ultimately should not matter to her. I hope the people harassing her get what's coming for them whether it be actually getting called out or just the universe delivering karmic retribution on them. I hope Hanza can find joy and peace again either in TGU or whatever project she pursues next. But most importantly, I hope she finds the confidence and power she needs to stick to her guns and create what she wants to create, unapologetically.

"Growing thicker skin" doesn't mean we as creators have to be comfortable with abuse - it just means we need to do ourselves the honor and favor of making decisions that give ourselves power rather than giving it away to the abusers who do not have to live our lives at the end of it all.

And that is my very big bag of cents on that.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #webtoon critical

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