#but uh if there is any fear that fear is warranted
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I like to try to adhere to the belief of do what you want forever but if you have never drank before and you are related to alcoholics I do not recommend drinking, don’t even risk falling into that dark hole. Just become straight edge immediately. You’ll be cooler by not doing what everyone else does.
#maybe wise words from an alcoholic#if you don’t think you’re at risk of drinking every night forever than go ahead#and obviously do what you want#but uh if there is any fear that fear is warranted#anthill
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movie night vi
Summary: A theatre full of paraphernalia and a date night with your godmother. What could possibly go wrong?
Word Count: 6.5k
Warnings: swearing, Scream-typical violence, grief mention, scar mention, mentions of past Ghostfaces/attacks
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader
(pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)
“Where are we going again?” You asked as you jogged awkwardly to catch up with Gale.
“Just come on,” she said before continuing to speed walk down the streets of New York.
The day had been chaotic before you had even woken up. You had vaguely been aware of Tara laying completely on top of you, almost like a weighted blanket, and it had been nice. But then you heard yelling, and shouting, and heavy footsteps, and the loud crack of your door being thrown open and slamming into the wall. Both you and Tara flinched, with her pressing down on one (all) of your wounds, and she stood up quickly while you rolled onto your side and tried not to show how badly it hurt.
“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Dicky said with an annoying smile that quickly turned into a frown. “The hell is wrong with you?”
“Didn’t Ma ever teach you to knock?” You asked, doing your best not to groan when you pushed yourself up to your feet.
“Time for coffee,” he said. “Made a cup special for you, Tara,” he said with a smile before backing out of the door. “Don’t keep her waitin’!”
It was a quick rush through coffee, a berating from Ma about how you “made” Tara sleep on the floor, and then a moment to say your goodbyes before Gale ushered the four of you out of the front door of the brownstone. You pretended not to notice Tara and Sam looking around and trying to figure out where they were.
You all followed Gale through the streets until ending up in an alley that Sam and Tara had been hesitant to enter. Not that you blamed them, they didn’t exactly have the best luck with sketchy situations. It wasn’t an unwarranted fear; you had been jumped in alleys plenty of times, and that didn’t even hold a candle to their trauma.
“How did you even find any of this?” Sam asked when Gale searched at the end of the alley.
“It’s called investigative journalism,” Gale answered with a smile. “Now come on in,” she said, “you’re going to want to see this.”
“Well now you’re sketchin’ me out,” you grumbled when you passed her, forcing open the door she was struggling with. It was heavy and a bit rusted, but you managed just fine.
And if you hoped Tara saw your muscles there for a second, well, that was nobody’s business.
You stood aside as all three women walked into the building that you presumed was abandoned. Honestly, it reminded you of the building you had taken Tara to all those weeks ago. Except hopefully no one barged in unannounced this time. Last thing you needed was three trauma survivors losing their shit.
Again, it was warranted, but you could only do so much to help.
The door slammed shut behind you, leaving the sound to echo in the empty hallway. If you had been alone, you would have gone exploring. There was nothing more exciting than an abandoned building in the middle of New York, especially one you hadn’t been in before. God, think of the possibilities of what could be in there? There were definitely some treasures to be discovered, no doubt about it.
“Hey Tara,” you said as you finally caught up with the group, “this kinda reminds me of our movie redo.”
“What?” She asked, her voice a little quieter than usual.
“You know, when you put on Titanic and we thought we were gonna get disappeared?”
“What?” Sam asked, and you all froze.
“Nice going,” Tara whisper-shouted at you.
“Uh-” you looked around frantically, “-what’s that up ahead?”
You smiled bashfully at Sam as you pushed past her, doing your best not to let her glare kill you. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up the date, that was a bad decision on your part. Sometimes silence was your best friend. And unfortunately, you continuously pushed that best friend aside until you got in trouble because… well… sometimes you were a little stupid.
Gale walked in tandem with you as you led the way through the rest of the hall until you reached the open theatre. Sam and Tara stopped in their tracks once they caught up. The quiet gasp from your left side was devastating. The deafening thump in your chest nearly drowned it out; you wish it had.
“What the fuck,” Sam said softly before hesitantly moving forward to check out one of the many glass cases in the abandoned theatre.
“Are these props?” Tara asked with a shaky voice.
“They’re real,” Gale said as she, too, moved toward one of the cases.
Tara left your side to go to Sam, the both of them studying each case. You watched her carefully. Watched the way she hovered her scarred hand over her midsection, almost protectively. Watched the way her eyes darted all around the room, almost as if looking for the ghosts that haunted her even though she tried to push them out.
Your heart waged a war with your head as Tara continued to walk around, her hand lightly running over the glass, or almost-but-not-quite touching one of the items. Did you go over and reminisce with her? Or did you let her process everything on her own, without fear of your judgment or pity? If it were you, you weren’t entirely sure which you would prefer either.
In the end, you decided to let her process everything with Sam. They had both gone through the same thing and had already survived two Ghostfaces together, they could be there for each other. You watched her for just a few more moments before shaking your head slowly and walking over to where Gale was still standing in front of a specific glass case.
“That’s Dewey,” she said softly, her eyes glued to a notebook with drawings in it. Beside it was a knife.
Your jaw clenched.
“He had wanted to meet you,” she said, looking up at you with teary eyes and a sad smile. “Before everything.”
You nodded slowly. “I hear he was a good man.”
“The best,” she confirmed.
“Is that the knife?” You asked as you uncrossed your arms from your chest.
“Yeah,” she said with her own nod. “They used it on Tara too.”
You both turned slowly until you were looking at the stage, where both Sam and Tara were standing and looking at the Ghostface costumes. The blood in your veins boiled, leaving behind a deep ache that you couldn’t quite explain. With a forced huff through your nose, you turned back to look at the knife.
Amber had used it. She had used it on Tara. How could she do that? How could she try to kill her own girlfriend for, what, clout? To be known as the one who took down a Legacy? It made you furious and left your whole body shaking. Your family had done many things, but killing someone you loved had never been one of them. It took a real monster to do such a thing.
You had no sympathy for monsters.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Gale said. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her staring at you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.
“I don’t want her to see it,” you said slowly.
There was a second of hesitation. “Be quiet about it.”
Gale walked away to go stand beside the girls, and you waited until their backs were to you before you dug around in your pocket. It was a simple tool, one Joel had gotten for your birthday way back in the day. With the practiced ease of a professional, you picked the lock to the glass case and opened the lid. You looked back at the stage to make sure they weren’t watching before you reached in and grabbed the knife.
It felt heavy in your hand. You weren’t entirely sure if it was from the actual weight, or the knowledge of who’s blood it had spilled. Whatever the case, you carefully slid it into your boot, being careful not to knick your ankle. It wouldn’t do you any good to hurt yourself while trying to be sneaky.
The cold steel of the blade was jarring as you finally started making your way up to the stage. All three women were still standing there, looking at all the different costumes stuck in their displays. It was haunting, like they were all staring down at you. How could the three of them be perfectly fine just standing in the middle of them? The feeling made your head spin.
“They’re creepier without anyone in them,” you mumbled. You hadn’t intended for anyone to hear, but everyone turned to look at you.
“That’s because you haven’t seen them kill your friends yet,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes before she stalked away.
“I didn’t-”
“-I’ll go talk to her,” Gale said. She patted your unhurt shoulder before walking off to join Sam on the other side of the theatre.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you immediately said once you were left alone with Tara. She turned to face you with softened eyes.
“I know,” she said before walking over to sit on the edge of the stage. Her legs hung off the side and you noticed her shoulders slump.
You quickly moved to sit on her left, being careful not to jostle your stitches a little too much. It happened anyway, but you tried to keep your pained huffs to yourself. Fortunately, Tara didn’t seem to notice; she was far too lost in her own thoughts.
The score from one of the Stab movies quietly echoed throughout the enormous room. It wasn’t loud enough to truly draw one’s attention, but you heard it. Whatever psycho had created the shrines must have kept a running loop of the movies. What kind of sicko would keep shrines to a murderer? No, scratch that, to multiple murderers?
No one understood murder paraphernalia quite like your family; you knew what kind of money you could get off selling them. Whoever had created the shrine must have dropped massive money on all of the items. Or, which could be likely for all you knew, they knew the owner of most of the items. Which would mean they were a suspect for this next Ghostface crew.
Wait. That might be right on the money, actually.
“You need to go home,” Tara said quietly, drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at you.
“What?” You asked.
She turned her head slightly. “You need to go home.”
“Why would I do that?” You furrowed your brows. That statement didn't make any sense, what did she think you were, a coward?
“They’re after Woodsboro,” she said. “You’re not Woodsboro.”
“So?” You asked with a shake of your head. “Out of this current predicament, I’ve got more stitches than all of you combined, save dear Anika.”
“Which is why you should leave,” she continued. “No sense dying over something that isn’t your fight.”
“What makes you think I’m gonna die?” You asked.
Tara went silent and finally looked at you full-on. There was almost a resignation in her eyes. What could possibly be going on in her head that would have her saying such ridiculous things? You weren’t a coward and you certainly weren’t going to die. Vitales didn’t die, they got their revenge. And you were just one Ghostface call away from losing your shit.
“The love interest always dies,” she finally said with a shrug. It wasn’t very convincing.
“So I’m the love interest now?” You asked. If she didn’t lighten up soon, you were going to lose it.
“I’m not playing this game with you,” she huffed.
“Tara.” You reached out to grab her left hand, but she quickly recoiled as if you had shocked her. Her scarred hand quickly found a new home in her lap. You did your best not to show how badly that simple move had hurt you.
“I don’t want to get hurt again,” she said softly. “So leave before I make you.”
“Then make me leave,” you said. Her head turned sharply. “Because I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”
She wanted to argue. You could see it on her face that she wanted to refute your statement. Maybe she would have said something hurtful, something to make you regret associating with her. Or she would go low, insulting you and pushing you away until you wanted to leave. She was more than welcome to try; it wouldn’t change your mind.
You heard her swallow harshly. She looked at you for a few more moments, holding your gaze. Her eyes darted back and forth between yours, and you did your best to keep your features soft. Her insistence on you leaving was still raising your blood pressure, but you weren’t going to let her know that. She had enough on her plate anyway.
A soft, almost silent sigh fell from her slightly parted lips. It was a sigh you often heard from your Pop when he was going over reports for the week; a sigh of resignation and acceptance. Extremely heavy underneath the silence of it all. You wished you could take it all away from her, take all the weight off her shoulders.
Tara let her body fall to the side until her head was resting on your shoulder, and you both just looked out at the Ghostface paraphernalia. What did she feel when she saw those things? Was it a fear that she would be attacked again, that maybe she wouldn’t make it to the end again? Or was it anger at the whole situation, at whoever was trying to attack her this time? Or maybe it was just a mix of everything, you weren’t sure and quite frankly, you knew better than to ask.
You were simply angry. Pure and simple.
“You’re really not leaving?” Tara asked, her voice fragile.
“I mean,” you shrugged with one shoulder to avoid disturbing her, “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”
“You’re such a dick,” she huffed as she sat up.
“But aside from that you’re stuck with me,” you said with a smile.
“I hate you,” she shook her head and looked at you.
“Sure you do,” you said. Her eyes flickered to your lips, and you leaned down to-
“-ahem.”
You both sat up quickly, separating yourselves as much as possible. Sam and Gale were standing in front of you. Sam very much didn’t look happy and, quite frankly, almost looked like she would rip your head off if given the chance. Which she probably would. Gale, on the other hand, was barely even trying to hide her little smirk.
“Done reminiscing over your daddy issues?” You asked Sam.
“Just shut up,” Tara whispered.
“Done harassing my sister?” Sam asked back.
“Not harassment if she likes it,” you shot back.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Tara said loudly. “What’s our next move?”
“You and I stick together,” Sam said. “We need to go check up on Anika and the twins.”
“Productive,” you said with a nod. “While you go socialise, Gale and I will solve this case.”
“It’s not some murder mystery game,” Sam said with a pointed look at you. “These guys are lethal.”
“So am I,” you said slowly, drawing out each word. “And I’m gonna figure this shit out before someone else gets hurt.”
“You’re already hurt,” Tara said quietly with a frown.
“Before someone gets more hurt,” you corrected. “I’ll find your guy in 24 hours or your money back, guaranteed.”
“Can you ever take anything seriously?” Sam asked with a tilt of her head.
“Not at all,” you answered with a smile.
“We’re really separating?” Tara asked. “Do you really think that’s the smartest thing to do?”
“You’ll be with the trio,” you said. “And Gale has survived, what, 11 Ghostfaces?” She nodded in the affirmative. “So I think we’re okay.”
“Then let’s get going,” Sam said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “This place is starting to give me the creeps.”
Both you and Tara slid off the stage until you were standing with the other two, all looking at each other and waiting for someone to make the first move. When no one did, you decided it would have to be you. Pop had taught you to be a leader, you supposed. If they needed someone to keep them safe and lead the way, you would take that responsibility upon yourself.
The sun was still blindingly bright when you all walked out of the abandoned building. Everyone blinked rapidly, trying to ease their eyes back to the amount of light. It was almost like when you walked out of a movie theatre in the middle of the day; logically you knew it was still daytime, but you weren’t expecting the sun. If everyone hadn’t been so grumpy and serious, you would’ve laughed at them.
“Keep your phones on,” Sam said once you all made it back to the street. “And call if you hear anything.”
“Yes, mom,” you huffed. “God, I almost preferred it when you hated me.”
“I still do,” she said quickly. But you could see the slightest softening of her eyes.
“Seriously,” Tara chimed in, looking directly into your eyes. It was almost uncomfortable. “Call.”
“We got it, damn,” you said, “chill out.”
“That’s not something you say to people trying to keep you safe,” Gale mumbled into your ear.
“Anyway,” you said pointedly, “go check on everyone. We’ll call if we need something.”
“Or if something happens,” Tara emphasises.
“Or if something happens,” you repeat back to her.
She wasn’t very happy with you, it was more than obvious. Not that you could exactly blame her, again, you understood her situation. Well, you mostly understood her situation. If someone had been going after your loved ones - aside from the obvious situation at hand - you would have been paranoid and extra worried too. She had every right to be concerned.
But you knew your shit.
“Okay,” Tara finally said softly with a single nod. “Yeah, okay.” It was as if she was trying to convince herself that you would be fine.
You had this.
“Get goin’,” you teased Tara when Sam and Gale started to go their separate ways. “Sam might go all Ghostface on me.”
“I’m serious about being careful,” she said as her fingers absentmindedly brushed against one of the bruises on your arm.
“I got this,” you said. “I’m Italian, remember?”
“You’re insufferable,” she said even as she gave you a little smirk.
“You like it,” you said with your own smile.
You looked around for a second, just to make sure Sam wasn’t watching, before leaning down and kissing Tara. Her lips were soft, just like they always were. It wasn’t a long kiss; there were too many things going on and, quite frankly, you were both rather distracted. But it was comforting, and you wanted to remind her that you weren’t going anywhere unless the devil himself came and dragged you down to hell.
“Be safe,” Tara mumbled against your lips when she pulled away.
“Yes ma’am,” you answered.
You pressed one more chaste kiss to her lips before standing up. She walked backwards for a bit, keeping her eyes locked with yours. When she finally spun back around to catch up with Sam, your stomach dropped. It didn’t feel right for her to be walking away. That foreboding feeling settled deep in your stomach and you frowned.
“You coming, Romeo?” Gale called out, and you spun quickly to see her standing a lot closer than you had thought.
“Can you be a normal person for just five minutes?” You asked as you both started walking off to her apartment.
“You like her,” she said, the both of you falling into step with each other. A power team for sure, you had no doubt.
“A lot,” you said quickly. “I’m not throwing the L word out just yet, but you know.” You shrugged.
“But it’s likely,” Gale teased. You refused to look at her, but you could hear the smile in her voice.
You paused. “It’s likely.”
The rest of the walk to the apartment was nice. It was just turning into spring and the weather was starting to warm up, and the streets didn’t smell so much like rotting garbage. Hell, the air was practically crystal clear! You had never breathed so clearly in your life! The world was looking up, that was for sure.
You both waved hello to Michael the Doorman when you walked into the apartment complex. He smiled back and waved, bidding you both a good afternoon. You had always liked Michael; he was sweet. And in a fight? There was no doubt he was lethal, you didn’t have that many muscles purely for aesthetic, not in New York. You trusted him with Gale’s life.
That was a hard trust to earn.
“You should tell her,” Gale said when the elevator doors closed and started heading up to the apartment. “Once this is over.”
“Tell her what?” You asked even though you had an idea.
“That you “likely” feel the L word for her.” Her words were teasing, but her tone said something different.
You didn’t say anything in reply. The elevator doors opened and you both quickly made your way to her apartment, and you listened to her lock all the locks while you walked over to the kitchen and threw open the fridge door. If Gale had asked you what was in it, you couldn’t have told her; you might have been looking but you weren’t seeing.
The thought of telling Tara how you felt had you cottonmouthed. Sure, you were fighting against a serial killer together, but that wasn’t near as terrifying as talking about your feelings! How were you going to explain any of that to her? She barely even tolerated you at this point (at least she pretended to). You were catching on that it was a defense mechanism, but still. It was enough to give you pause.
“What do we have for dinner later?” Gale asked, popping up beside you once again. You didn’t even flinch.
“I don’t even know,” you admitted before closing the fridge door. “Wanna just order takeout?”
“That Korean place on the corner?”
“Absolutely,” you nodded, already salivating at the thought of that stunningly beautiful seafood hot pot. Oh, now you definitely couldn’t wait until dinner.
You and Gale separated for an hour, using the time to refresh yourselves and rest. It was a wonderful routine you had both come up with back in the day when you would sneak into her apartment after nearly getting into some deep shit. You had only needed to surprise her the first time before she learned, and she made sure to keep spare things for you.
And thankfully, you had stashed away some of your things too.
You finished tightening the bulletproof vest before heading back to the living room. It was old, a little worn, but it was still good. There was no expectation for gunshots, but you knew it could keep you at least mostly safe from a knife. If those fuckers were going to come for you, you were going to be prepared. The painful stretch of stitches reminded you how important that was.
“I’m going to go ahead and order dinner,” Gale said when you plopped onto the couch and started setting up your laptop. “The usual?”
“Yes please,” you called out. Your fingers flew across the keys, desperately searching for something that you weren’t prepared to see.
Wait.
“Did you just order three meals?” You asked, turning around and throwing your arm over the back of the couch.
Gale froze. “Yes I did.”
“Don’t you dare bring your boy toy in here tonight,” you said with a pointed finger. “I’m not in the mood to play nice.”
“We all need our stress relief,” she shot back, walking around the room until she sat next to you on the couch. “You should try it, you know.”
“There’s a killer targeting us and you’re bringing him?” You groaned. “He’s going to get us killed.”
“There’s strength in numbers, Y/N,” Gale said softly. You sighed and leaned back.
“I’m not afraid to push him in between you and Ghostface,” you finally said.
“I know,” she said with her own small smile. “What are you looking for?”
“My motive,” you said as you turned back to the laptop.
“Is that security footage?” She asked, leaning closer to look at your screen.
“Of Tara’s house from last year,” you explained.
She jolted back as if shocked. “You’re going to watch the attack?”
“I have to, Gale,” you sighed. “I have to see it.”
“You won’t ever get those images or sounds out of your head,” she said.
“I’ve seen attacks before,” you said with a shrug. It didn’t ease the shake in your hands.
“Not on someone you love,” she said far too softly. It was cutting.
“I have to watch this and the hospital,” you said. “I have to.”
“Why?” Gale asked. “Why do you have to put those things in your head?”
“Because,” you said, finally turning to look her in the eyes. You didn’t think you had ever seen her look so sad. “I need to guarantee I’m pissed enough to kill the fucker.”
The sadness on Gale’s face slowly morphed into something else. Her eyes trailed away until she was staring at your laptop screen once again. You wouldn’t dare watch the hospital if she was in the room, not when you knew Dewey had been killed there. But hopefully she would understand.
You knew the images and sounds would haunt you until the day you died. There was no way you would ever be able to get it out of your head. Yes, you were no stranger to death, but to watch someone you… appreciated getting tortured and used for nothing but sadistic joy? It set off something primal, an anger you didn’t think you had ever felt yet.
Those fuckers would have it coming.
“Come get me when you’re done,” Gale said with an absentminded nod. “And stop if you need to.”
“Yes ma’am,” you said just as softly.
She barely let you finish before she got up and left. You didn’t blame her. But when she was finally gone, you weren’t so sure you wanted to watch the footage anymore. Could you handle such a thing? Could you genuinely handle watching Tara get hurt? You weren’t so sure.
But you needed to be sure you could kill if needed.
You didn’t give yourself time to change your mind before pressing play on the footage. The vest dug into the tops of your thighs as you leaned forward to get a better look. Her house was nice; why she was alone, though, you had no idea. You would need to ask her about it. Shouldn’t she have been out having fun with her friends?
Just like Pop had taught you, you ceaselessly searched every inch of the screen for some sort of warning. Tara wouldn’t have known that, of course, but you wanted to see where she had missed Ghostface. If you could find where the fucker usually came from, you could prevent it from happening again. Yeah, they were different people, but they seemed to follow some ridiculous movie pattern anyway.
They needed to be more original.
The moment you saw the fear on Tara’s face and heard it in her voice, you knew the footage had done its job. You saw red before Ghostface even appeared. To watch the struggle, hear her screams, see her blood smeared around the house… it was more than enough. Your stomach twisted in knots and you felt sick.
And yet, you clicked on the next clip to watch the hospital.
That one almost made you even more furious, which you hadn’t expected. Tara was already injured and weak, and yet the bastard came back for more? For what, an added little “fuck you?” You quickly understood why Tara had that almost unnoticeable limp.
You turned the footage off before Dewey was killed. There had already been enough destruction, you couldn’t watch the love of Gale’s life get murdered in cold blood. It was all too much, you couldn’t handle another one. And besides, Gale was right. The sounds of Tara’s desperate cries and screams were already bouncing around the inside of your skull.
Your phone rang on the table beside your laptop, and you subconsciously picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Sick to your stomach yet?”
Fuck.
You slammed your laptop closed and stood up, practically sprinting to Gale’s room. She was sitting on her bed reading a book, and for a moment you just looked at her. She looked so peaceful. There was no stress of a news story, nothing about a new book, she was just… your godmother Gale again. You missed seeing her like that.
“Cat got your tongue?”
You paused. He had used that exact phrase before. Maybe the same suspect was the caller each time.
“Gale,” you whisper-shouted. She looked up at you with a smile before seeing the phone in your hand.
“Is it him?” She asked.
You just nodded.
“I’m not afraid of a little blood,” you said into the phone, waiting until Gale was right beside you before heading back to the living room.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“Not at all,” you said. You quickly reached down to pull the Ghostface knife from your boot. “You’re just a coward in a mask.”
“How did you like the film?”
The knife was heavy in your palm as you stood back-to-back with Gale. “Last movie I watched was Titanic,” you answered. “It was okay.”
“That’s a lie.” A creak had you turning your head to face the balcony. Empty. “You watched Pearl on your date night with Tara.”
How did he know that?
“I was watching Tara, not the movie,” you said. Where was he? “It doesn’t count.”
“I mean the one where dear Tara was the star.” A shiver went down your spine. “She might be the next Scream Queen.”
You saw red.
“The villain was below par,” you said. Another phone rang, and you felt Gale move behind you. “Let the Opening Kill turn into a Final Girl.”
You turned your body slightly to see Gale put the phone on speaker and wait. It was agonising. The static coming through the speaker was like mosquitos near your ear; constant and irritating with no way to stop it. As much as you despised them, you would hand it to them; they knew how to make things hurt.
“Hello, Gale.” The blood drained from her face. “You both look lovely this evening.”
Keep him talking, you mouthed to Gale, who nodded.
“I was wondering if you would ever call me,” she said as you turned back around to look out at the room. “I was starting to feel left out.”
“I figured you were.” You hung up your own phone and texted Tara. “After all, I’ve called your little godchild twice already.”
“Want to ask your question?” She asked. You slid your phone into your back pocket; you didn’t need an answer. “Or are you just going to shoot the breeze?”
“I don’t have any questions for you.” You reached your free hand back until you could touch Gale; you needed to keep track of where she was at all times. “I have one for your little guest, though.”
“Ask away,” you said without taking your eyes off the room. “I’m an open book.”
“How much would you sacrifice for your dear, sweet godmother?”
Behind you, Gale stiffened.
“I’d sacrifice my left nut,” you chuckled. “Maybe my right tit too.”
“How about your life?”
Your blood ran cold. Gale’s hand reached back and grabbed your forearm, squeezing it tight enough to bruise. Her nails dug into your skin when she turned around and stood beside you, looking out at the room. The air was heavy, suffocating.
The sound of boots hitting the wooden floor was deafening.
Your stomach dropped when two cloaked figures stepped into the room, walking in tandem until they stood in front of you.
Sam was right. They were more terrifying with people underneath the masks.
“Let’s play a game.”
“This isn’t Saw,” you said quickly.
Neither of the Ghostfaces in front of you had a phone to their ear. The call was too clear for a bluetooth headset.
There was a third killer.
“Drop the knife and step forward.” Gale’s grip on your arm tightened. “Or I’ll pay your dear Tara a visit.”
The phone vibrated in Gale’s hand, and you both looked at the screen. It was an image. An image of Tara sitting in the hospital room with everyone else, including an awake Anika, laughing at something. Her phone was upside down on the table beside her.
She hadn’t seen your text.
You looked at Gale. She was already shaking her head, but you couldn’t just let that creep get Tara. The whole gang was there, but two of them were injured and it was a hospital. Honestly, the last time Tara had been in a hospital, it hadn’t ended well. And with two of them, you weren’t going to keep Gale safe on your own.
It was a zero-sum game.
“Still have that birthday present I got you?” You asked when you handed her the knife. She nodded once. “Don’t forget it.”
You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before turning around and heading to stand in front of the two Ghostfaces.
“Turn around.”
“You’re a bossy motherfucker, you know that?” You called out, but did as instructed.
A sharp pain went through your leg when one of them kicked the back of your knee. Another shot went up your spine when you fell into a kneeling position.
“Let’s play a game.” Gale locked eyes with you. “I’ll ask you a few questions. Every wrong answer leads to a stabbing.”
“And every right answer?” She asked.
“No stabbing.”
You exhaled shakily and your jaw tightened.
“Simple enough,” she said. “First question?”
“I’ll start easy.” You nervously licked your lips. “Which movie is Jack Torrence in?”
“The Shining,” Gale answered quickly.
“Very good.” One of the boots behind you started tapping against the floor. “Who was the very first kill of the Stab franchise?”
“Before the film plot? Or during?” Gale asked. You hid your smirk. She was far too smart for her own good sometimes.
“During.”
“Casey Brecker,” she answered quickly.
“Ooh, not quite, Gale.” Your stomach dropped. “It was actually-”
“-Casey’s boyfriend!” She shouted quickly, snapping her fingers near her temple. “Steven. Steven, uh, Orth!”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. You both locked eyes with each other. Was he going to accept it? She had corrected it before he had, it counted, right? Jesus fuck, is this what he put Tara through??
“I’ll accept it this once.” You both sighed. “But with a small price.”
You hissed when a sudden pain radiated from your thigh. Looking down quickly you saw blood already starting to soak through your jeans.
“Next question.” You looked back up at Gale quickly. She better get the next one right; these fuckers weren’t playing around. “How many kills has Ghostface gotten?”
“I don’t know,” Gale whispered. “I don’t know.”
“Tick-tock, Gale.” Boots thumped on the floor behind you. “Or we’ll add another one to the count.”
“Just give me a second,” she rushed. Her lips were moving as she counted, doing the mental calculations.
You could feel someone standing directly behind you. Not to the side, but so close you could feel their body heat against your back. Could he see the bulletproof vest? Oh god, you hoped not. Oh please don’t see the vest, please don’t see the-
“-time’s up.”
Gale’s eyes went wide before you felt something hit your back with enough force to send you forward onto your hands. Something hurt, but you couldn’t tell if it was the knife or the sheer force of the stab. The room was silent.
You froze.
“It seems you’ve cheated.” You looked up at Gale; you didn’t think you had ever seen so much sheer terror in her eyes before. “You’re not a very good sport.”
A hand grabbed you by the shoulder and yanked you back up to your feet. You bit down harshly on your tongue when of the fingers dug into some stitches. The taste of metal was nauseating. A second hand grabbed you by the jaw.
“We don’t play well with cheaters.”
“Don’t,” Gale said. She wasn’t even talking into the phone anymore. “Please don’t.”
“Birthday gift,” you said through clenched teeth. “Go.”
“Say good night, Gale.”
“Gale just-”
-Gale screamed-
-your hammering heart stopped when the cold steel slid through your flesh. It didn’t hurt.
The blade was cold against your tongue.
Why was Gale crying?
The blade ripped forward, tearing through your cheeks.
Your head jerked to the side as your body fell forward. By some miracle, you caught yourself with your hands, keeping you bent over. Something wet fell down your cheeks.
A red puddle started to form underneath you.
“You should run, Gale.”
You heard something drop to the floor. Light footsteps were quickly followed by heavy boots. It felt like you were trying to breathe through water. The liquid was thick in your mouth but you couldn’t swallow.
Three gunshots echoed through the apartment.
Gale. You needed to go help Gale.
Your head swam as you tried to push yourself up to your feet. There was a slight throb in your entire face. Something felt sticky. You lifted a hand to your mouth to wipe it off as you finally got to your feet.
When you pulled it away, it was dripping red.
Something vibrated in your back pocket. You continued to stumble your way down the hallway.
The vibrating continued.
Gale had to be somewhere close. Birthday gift. She kept it in her closet. In a safe. Ghostface didn’t carry guns. It would keep her safe and she would be okay-
-another gunshot-
-something slammed into your chest. You stumbled back, hitting the wall. Everything in front of you started twisting and turning.
Something wet dripped down your fingertips.
You let your shaky knees give out underneath you as you slid to the floor. The thump of your heart was felt in your mouth.
"Oh my god, Y/N."
Something clashed to the floor.
"Look at me, baby, open your eyes."
But they felt so heavy. You forced them open anyway. Why was Gale crying?
Something solid thumped on the floor.
And again.
And again.
"Take another step and I'll gut you like a fish."
She sounded so angry.
Your eyes started to fall shut.
"No, Y/N, don't close your eyes."
Your fingers were cold.
"Wake up, goddammit!"
Just a few minutes.
Your eyes closed.
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Day 5 of ficlet requests~
Do you like time travel shenanigans? I hope you do because uh oh! General Vanrouge is in the present!
What’s that? His friends child is here, at NRC? Weird. Baul has a HALF HUMAN GRANDCHILD? Weirder. There’s himself with a *human* who he’s speaking to so casually and kindly? UNACCEPTABLEEEEE
[✐] ficlet frenzy
As of a week ago, all NRC students have been barred from entering the woods behind campus. All except a select few, at least — namely a select number of students from Diasomnia, of which the group includes its housewarden, vice-housewarden, and a few others.
The reason for this? Well, it was astoundingly obvious to anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear with. A week ago, there had been quite the explosive commotion, a spell gone horribly wrong. And what had entailed but utter chaos, and the sight of a much-younger Lilia Vanrouge rampaging around campus grounds?
Any attempts to quell the man’s panic and rage fell utterly flat, his scathing words striking fear into the hearts of countless students — from the meek and introverted of Ignihyde, venturing out to survey the commotion, to the bold and brash of Savanaclaw, who’d actively picked a fight with what they perceived as an easy target.
That, in the words of the older Lilia Vanrouge, his ancient age now revealed to the students around him, was “a horrible, senseless idea.”
“Are you sure you’d like me to accompany you today, Father?” Silver cannot help but voice his concerns as he trails after Lilia, the two of them winding through campus grounds, making a beeline for the throng of woodland behind the school.
“Why do you say that, hm?”
His brows knit together. “It’s just… the General—” as he’d learnt to call him, a way to differentiate the two, “—does not seem fond of me in the slightest. Would it not be more prudent for Lord Malleus to follow, given how he is the only one he can tolerate?”
At that, his father merely laughs. “Well he’s going to have to get used to you someday, dear!”
There’s a fire going in the woods, contained by a thick circle of magic, constantly crackling and never growing nor dissipating. The figure seated near it glances up as the two of them approach, and Silver feels his throat dry at the sight of those cold eyes, the same crimson of his father yet lacking the warmth that has been there throughout all of Silver’s life. Not for the first time, he wonders what must have gone on in the past to warrant such callous coolness from his father’s younger self. To a similar extent, Silver wonders what must have occurred to mellow him out into the man he is today; together, they are like night and day.
“Good day, little me!” Lilia greets, beaming cheerily even as his younger self’s lips curl into a frown. Dumping the basket that has been swaying from his arm onto the ground, Silver’s father rests his hands on his hips, merry as ever as the General eyes the basket warily. “It’s merely a peace offering,” he explains, when still regarded with suspicion. Lilia arches an eyebrow. “Do I truly look like the kind of person to poison my younger self?”
“If you feel anything like I do towards you, you would.”
Silver grimaces, but Lilia only laughs. “Oh, you! I do forget how serious I acted back then…” Still, he gestures at the basket, at the cloth covering it. “Why not take a gander, hm? I guarantee you that you’re certain to enjoy what I’ve brought.”
Different as the General may be — cold and dismissive towards Silver, outright startled and disbelieving towards Sebek’s entire existence, constantly annoyed and frustrated by his older self, and only ever satiated by being around Malleus — there certainly are some things that remain the same. Silver recognises this well when the General slowly pulls off the cloth covering to reveal, to Silver’s utter horror, a heaping pile of rodents and lizards.
“See?” Lilia preens, smug and satisfied at the sight of his gobsmacked younger self. “I told you you’d enjoy it!”
Abruptly, Silver turns to shuffle away, to escape from this forested clearing where the General has made his home before he can get roped into this.
If there was anything else he wishes changed over hundreds of years… it would definitely have to be his father’s… acquired taste in what he considers food.
#my writing tag#tumblr drabbles tag#ficlet frenzy#twst#twisted wonderland#twst spoilers#twisted wonderland spoilers#twst ch7#lilia vanrouge#twst silver#twst fanfiction#twst writing#i think olive sent this in pre-latest update btw?#i wrote this a little while ago. a week ago? or two weeks ago.#my stuff's a liiiittle stockpiled now because i don't have as much time/energy to write u-u#but!! i wrote another scene for the longfic today!#i wrote 3 ficlets!#let's goooooooo
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GWitch ep 19 thoughts
Every episode is a kick in the teeth with candy boots. A sweet misery you've known like no other. This episode was no different and I relished today's destruction as Mio and Prospera take center stage
That's a loaded statement if I've ever seen one. Really enjoyed this brief intro segment. We get Guel's thoughts on Kenanji; uninspired and suspicious, which are a vast change from his once admiration of the man. Guel also seems surprisingly chill about returning to Earth, but cryptically comments he wants to check the situation there and aid in negotiations. I like how Mio and him have fallen into this friendly rapport after everything. We'd like to see him apologize formally ofc, but it's not necessary for Mio. She's focused on greater concerns than the petty school days of Asticassia
Meanwhile, Suletta is a wreck. She's completely fallen apart after her mother and sister dumped her in space like hot garbo. She can't even plaster on a smile and lie to herself any longer. Earth House just thinks she's upset about the break up, so she isn't confiding in anyone at all. Suletta.exe has stopped working :(
Hilariously, Counselor Secilia has decided to make Martin her servant after listening to his confessional. It's great they make a distinct parallel to Miorine here, with Martin explaining he thought the best way to protect Earth House was to give up Nika. The show is filled with instances of people taking away another person's agency in the misguided belief they're doing 'what's best'. So good!
Real Elan finally gets more dialogue and he makes an excellent point, for once. The quickest and dirtiest way into Benerit's graces would be to forcefully suppress the earthian protests. A gundam, let alone one like Aerial, is a powerful statement of supremacy after all. Shaddiq is convinced Miorine would never allow it, and he's partly right. She wouldn't if she was the one truly calling the shots.
Feng is so cool for a spook. She successfully preys upon Belmeria's cowardice and gains her begrudging compliance. Really enjoyed the dynamic here at this little tea party. It was almost like a date 😳 Love me two older women with some tension. Is this the newest gwitch ship to take flight?
I love how Mio recognized these are peaceful protesters immediately. It's another instance of her demonstrating empathy on a greater level than she once did. Her initial ignorant comments about Earthians in cour 1 seem a distant memory, and much of it has to do with her exposure to Earth House. If not for them and Suletta, her pov would be just as narrow as every other spacian's.
And it's off to a terrible start lmao. I think Mio expected an uphill battle but those are some steep demands. A worldwide ban on spacians is unfeasible but absolutely warranted considering everything the spacians have done. Mio doesn't quite know how to counter, and it's so funny Guel left her here without help after previously saying he doesn't trust her diplomacy skills. I doubt he'd be much help tbh, but I guess he trusts her more than he said? Which is, uh, somewhat appreciated? It's the thought that counts.
Sad widow moment. Norea grieving Sophie's death and expressing her fear of death explicitly has been a long time coming. 5lan bearing witness as the floodgates open and she reveals they share this core dread? God this hit so good. You can't help but feel for these kids. Nika continues to watch on in bafflement as the drama unfolds. When is she gonna leave this level of purgatory?? Only Okouchi knows...
OMG, I AM SLAIN. Defeated. This sad husk of a girlboss misses her (ex) wife so much. Normal people would just have a wallet photo or a locket, but she's reduced to watching this goofy ass promo wistfully. I would find it hilarious if it wasn't so sad. It does give her the strength to continue negotiations so that's neat
More importantly, it reminds her of GUND's ideals and the people who've banded together because of that dream; Earth House. She cleverly points out that fulfilling their demands would also mean removing earthians from space, but she won't because they're her partners at GUND-ARM. Her showing them the medical achievements they've already made together was smart and tips the scales in her favor
I keep saying I love Mio but I really do. She's inspired to grasp the presidency for her own goals, rather than just as a tool for Prospera. She found a path of peace in spite of everything against her. It's bittersweet to know, in a kinder world, this would be the end of her struggles. But Prospera won't be satisfied with peace.
This shot was gold. Suletta raiding the fridge like an unwashed raccoon is perfect on so many levels. We finally get unbound Suletta too. Ugh she looks so good 😭
LOOK AT HER!! Babygirl. She looks like such a sad scruffy mutt here. I love it 🥹 Adored Earth House supporting her in her hour of need and giving her a boost with goat milk too. Really cements the rebirth imagery they had in the last episode.
Martin decides to slink home too and reveals everything going on with Nika. This bit from Lilique says it all. There are times when you are left with only so many options. While you may not choose the objectively best path, you can only pick what YOU feel is best. Miorine, Martin, Aerial. Even Delling and Prospera (Perhaps DoF and Shaddiq as well) It fits all the way across the cast.
I didn't expect to get the Shaddiq real name drop from this shakedown, but I'll take it. Kenanji may be a cop with blood on his hands, but he's a keen one. We learned that 'Prince' is a longstanding nickname and it implicates Shaddiq wholly in the terrorist attacks. 'Whoopsie, all my nefarious plans undone by one kid's rambling!'
(I also think the implication was Shaddiq or Jeru Ogul rather, is the 'heir apparent' to Ochs Earth virtue of his dead family. Not entirely certain tbh)
Looks like Guel will be Asticassia bound next episode along with Kenanji. No idea why Kenanji had to tag along but I guess Mio has enough of an escort. Let's hope this detour leads to Suletta using the Schwarzette! Fingers crossed
You saw it here, everybody. Prospera shot first! I'll admit I didn't fully expect her to go this route but it makes sense. I anticipated her gaining Mio support somehow, but she just cut the BS and said let's do this dirty. Controlling Earthian artillery to mask her intentions and provide an excuse is devious and brilliant
Destroying DoF's secret stache of gundams even more so. She really cut Shaddiq's plan for a cold war at the knees and Guel/Kenanji are on track to expose his duplicity entirely. He'll be lucky to not be jailed let alone president of anything. It's amazing that everything works out for Prospera no matter how many risks she takes or gambles made. Lady Luck must love her nonsense as much as the audience
Cut back to Bel and Feng, their date did not end as well as I hoped. While Bel spilled some details about Quiet Zero, Prospera's second hunts her down and interrupts this powow. Can't risk QZ leaking to the corpo spooks after all. We did learn that SAL is not as unified or well intentioned as we might have thought. Their high council was revealed to be backing Ochs Earth of all corps. Feng seemed to be an outlier in yet another shady corpo-controlled faction. I'll miss her, but maybe she somehow escaped this dire situation? I won't hold my breath. RIP Feng, you were a real one!
Elan Prime seems so smug to be right, even if it means their horse in this race has some real competition. He really is a little shit just like 5lan. That MS shot though. Damn evocative. War journalists eat your heart out. It's visual reference too, I believe?
This is the funniest thing he could've said. Shaddiq is malding just like a pathetic incel. Remember when everyone thought he pulled mad game because he's surrounded by women? But the sad reality is he's the most maidenless person in the solar system. The best outcome tbh.
Beyond the laughs, this line speaks so much about how he views Miorine. He views her little better than a prize only he's deserving of; a 'pure' princess to match his crusading prince. He repeatedly disregards her agency, seen in episode 9 when he acts like Suletta controls Mio and here when he blames Guel for what's happening on Earth. He's such a salty little worm.
Finally, we're left with Suletta and Earth House as they react to the chaos. Suletta recognizes instantly Miorine's innocence and her mother's culpability. This was why Aerial sent her away. This was what everyone is trying to shield her from. It was a moment of clarity I hadn't expected, but a very welcome one. Hopefully, this means she'll be spurred into action now that Mio is in very real danger. Schwarzette time? We can dream~
That next episode is incredibly ominous though. End of Hope? Considering they have that promo where GUND-ARM/earth house are the ray of hope... yikes. Let's hope I'm just reading into things and it's not that grim
Edit* additional musings:
A segment was deleted somehow so here it is
Miorine... You know, I've seen people having a bit of schadenfreude at her expense. 'she's so stupid, ofc this happened!' - that flavor of criticism. My counter to this is what could she have realistically done? She was strong-armed into this agreement and manipulated onto Earth. She dared to imagine a peaceful solution based on ideals she slowly grew to believe wholeheartedly. This isn't her fault, much as she thinks otherwise. I can see her willfully remaining on earth to try and correct this atrocity. Girl needs a big hug from her wife ;-;
#g witch#g witch spoilers#miorine rembran#prospera mercury#suletta mercury#guel jeturk#shaddiq zenelli#elan ceres#elan 5#norea du noc#gundam witch from mercury#gundam#thank you for the kick in the teeth
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Ough augh uhm uh. Any of the mandela catalogue victims (you can pick!!) with a long-distance friend reader who keeps an eye on them and opens their home up to them and their family they would want to evacuate? They just want to help in anyway they can :(
Yeah! Also in terms of "long distance" we'll say Reader lives in a different county with no Alternates or Alternate activity reported (but they're still aware of the invasion bc they keep up with the news).
......
Adam
As much as he appreciates you keeping in touch, he's dead set on staying where he is and and investigating Alternates.
He refuses to leave. Like ever.
After hearing about Jonah's death your concern over his safety only grows, and you even tell him he can bring Evelin should he change his mind-
Only to quickly learn they broke up a while ago, with him not even caring about her either..
Still, you insist that it's not too late for him to leave, though part of you fears that M.A.D already got to him (or you weren't actually speaking to Adam anymore).
His "obsession" with the Alternates has gone too far and you even threaten to drive down to Mandela yourself to convince him.
But he snaps that he doesn't want to be found by anybody before hanging up.
You haven't heard from him since, as he ignores your phone calls and PMs. You presume he's dead.
Cesar
He trusts you a lot despite the long distance and would 100% take you up on that offer.
But only if his mom is allowed to come along, of course. Though you assure him there's plenty of room for them both!
As much as he hates to leave the town and school, it's simply too dangerous for them to stay any longer.
He thought the broadcasts were just fear-mongering tactics if anything, but if you believe they're serious enough to warrant an evacuation...he'll take it seriously too
He hoped Mark would come with them, but unfortunately he doesn't trust you, an online "stranger", 100%. You understand though.
So he's left behind in Mandela.
And Vol 1 plays out as normal.
If Cesar ever learned that his friend died to an Alternate...he's gonna hold onto that guilt for a while, wishing he could have convinced him more.
Jonah
Your late night texts/calls have stopped him from having one too many panic attacks about everything that's been going on in Mandela.
He confides in you about the pressure he feels running from the law and BPS missions, and you simply listen. You reassure him he doesn't have to keep doing this.
If he ever wanted to leave, you'll let him and his dad stay with you; you give him your address and tell him just to consider it.
Let's say he survives Vol 2 by destroying the radio so Six stopped talking, before driving nonstop until he reaches your place, frantically knocking on your door.
When he finally sees you face-to-face for the first time....he immediately cries into your arms, exhausted.
It takes him a while to calm down, and even longer for him to confess that he abandoned Adam.
He's torn whether he was selfish or not for leaving, but just like always you're on Team Jonah, reassuring him that he did the right thing.
Adam, on the other hand, was like a lost cause. He could've gotten both of them killed.
Mark
Besides Cesar, you became a good friend of his despite only ever hearing your voice through calls and online chats.
You sound like a genuinely kind person, always looking out for him and up for talking into the late hours whenever he felt stressed or depressed.
When broadcasts of the Alternate invasion came out, you invited him to stay with you in your county--which was completely free of those "demons", as he called them.
He jumps at the first opportunity, not caring about school or anything anymore, packing whatever he needed.
Poor guy's far too paranoid to live in Mandela anymore.
He feels kinda awkward staying in your guest room, often asking you if it's alright for him to pray.
Whether you're religious or not, you reassure him it is. He's safe.
#rip adam but the other guys are built different#clanask#mandela catalogue x reader#tmc x reader#adam murray#cesar torres#jonah marshall#mark heathcliff#platonic#headcanons
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high honor vampire!Arthur trying to hide his nature not only from an F!reader he is growing close with (characterise her for whatever dynamic you like) but also from the rest of the gang. for ease's sake, vampires in this AU don't burn in the sun but ARE oddly sensitive to it
to be indulgent: NSFW or SFW with a lot of sexual tension over the bloodlust? size difference too to emphasize arthur maybe feeling super guilty abt said bloodlust? 👀
Unholy, Unworthy
Pairing: vampire!Arthur Morgan x f!reader
Word count: 3,300
Warnings/tags: vampire au, smut, fluff, light angst, high honor arthur, everything that comes w being a vamp (biting, blood drinking, light bloodplay) established consent w good aftercare, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, size difference
Notes: decided to get down and dirty w the vamp smut so hopefully it’s not too much, still tried to balance it out with our beloved high honor boah
Arthur Morgan was a bad man — this he knew. Of every sin he ever committed, of every awful thing he’d done; the way he was looking at you now, the way he could smell you, made him feel the filthiest.
He watched the hot crimson trail down your finger and onto your delicate wrist, the faint “ouch” a mere whisper behind the harsh ringing in his ears. He wished you didn’t ask to see his knife and God he wished he didn’t give it to you.
“Arthur?” Your voice sounded far enough away that it was a dream. “Arthur? You there?!” Your arm on his knee woke him from his bloodlust stupor.
Taking a sharp breath he tried not to appear too shaken, but feared it was too obvious.
You laughed gently, “it’s only blood, Arthur. Would think you’d be used to that by now.”
Oh darlin’ if you only knew.
“No it’s uh — it ain’t that,” he swallowed hard. “I just hope yer okay…is all.”
“Of course, it’s just a little cut,” you placed your hand on his. “Everything okay?”
His eyes lingered on your narrow wrist and glanced up to see your concern. Guilt surged at the thought how helpless you would be if he gave into his darkness. You were a fine gunslinger, but that wouldn’t help much in a fight with what Arthur had become.
“Yeah’m fine just…” He waved his arms dismissively, too scared to let any more words fall from his lips, “clean yerself up.”
Pulling his sleeves down and tipping the brim of his hat, he protected himself from the sun the best he could as made his way from the shade of the tree, back to his tent.
Any warm beam on his skin now burned instead of comforted, but as long as he was careful in how he dressed and didn’t linger for too long, it was manageable.
Mostly going for night jobs and robberies made things easier but the gang noticed when he chose to avoid the daytime. Headaches and hangovers were becoming a thin excuse.
The inquiries slowed however when he lost his temper, reminding that he still pulled his weight just fine and brought back more money and supplies than anyone else.
But still, someday something would have to give. Arthur entertained the idea that given everything the gang does and the outcasts and misfits they brought in — perhaps they could accept him this way.
It was you that wouldn’t leave his mind though. You’d become close before the change, feelings that blossomed now burned and Arthur could not separate his affection from his bloodlust.
He had given in to his new appetite on several occasions but tried with everything in him to only go for men who were already dammed. Men who were wanted for acts that would lead to hangings, men who committed those acts but escaped hangings.
He had hoped it would make sense and feel warranted but it never did. It wasn’t a justification — it was a necessity.
But it was nothing compared to Arthur’s guilt around you. Even before the change he felt like a goddamn brute next to you, easily twice your size, rough and jagged compared to your grace and charm.
With the harm he was capable of now? He lost sleep over the shame in how he desired you.
He yearned to gently pull your smaller frame against his substantial one, to make you feel safe; to touch your soft skin and hold you, bring you flowers and make you smile.
Yet the daydreams would darken and he felt himself grow hard with want to tilt your head back and open his mouth against your vulnerable neck. To kiss and bite and make you his. To give you everything you’ve ever wanted but to take for himself.
Soft and severe, a carnivorous killer falling in love with an elegant angel.
As the evening wore on Arthur quietly emerged from his tent to journal under a tree outside of camp. It was one of the few things that kept him from losing himself completely and allowed him peace.
Hearing delicate steps approaching, Arthur turned around to see you sheepishly searching for the right words to say.
“I uh…I wanted to check on ya,” he watched amorously as you played with the wrap around your cut palm. “You didn’t seem well earlier but…if you wanna be alone that’s okay.”
This was going to kill him. He wanted your company terribly but at what cost? Standing there in your dress with concern about him, beautiful and radiant as ever. Something he felt he didn’t deserve nor could ever earn.
“Y’can join me fer a bit. But I should head to bed soon…” It was a lie of course, but the best excuse he could muster.
Sitting beside him he could feel the warmth radiating from you and smell the summer sun on your skin.
Not being able to remember the last time he felt tenderness, Arthur practically jumped as he felt your hand rest lovingly on his forearm.
“It’s a nice night isn’t it?”
The moon’s reflection danced along ripples of the lake, water lapping at the shore the only sound accompanying your nervous breaths. “Sure is,” Arthur replied.
Even in the pale moonlight Arthur could see you looking up at him with a soft smile. Your slender fingers rested on his on his solid bicep with your smaller shoulder huddled against his bulky side. He longed for a time when this would have made him feel like a protector — not a predator.
But your soft lips parted ever so slightly as you leaned closer and Arthur Morgan knew he would be a fool to say no.
Your lips met gingerly at first, exploring something new and exciting. His stubble tickled your face and your tongue teased.
The passion exploded as your bodies instinctively flowed against one another’s, hips rutting with purpose and hands roaming.
You both panted with an aching need, and as you deepened the already heated kiss you gently tugged at Arthurs lower lip with your teeth.
Arthur reciprocated, drawing blood as he did.
The sound of your heartbeat filled his ears, he could hear the blood rushing to your lips and heat and everywhere that reacted to his touch.
And the taste, warm iron sweet with the arousal of your kiss; he hadn’t fed in so long. Coming from you it was better than any whiskey or fine wine he’d ever tasted.
A last ditch effort to control his hunger, Arthur recoiled in a panic.
“Arthur…baby it’s okay, it happens.” Your voice was distant once again, background noise amongst his screaming urges.
“Sweetheart —” His drawl gravelly and tone deadly serious, “you have no idea what kinda monster I am.”
Taken aback you observed him with visible confusion. “I’ve been in the gang long enough Arthur, I know what goes on —”
“No!” Arthur hissed, harsher than he meant to. “Look…yer gonna think I’m crazy but I need ya to understand. Y’know them stories you and the girls were talkin’ about? The vampires in Saint Denis?”
Arthur paused while he watched your brows furrow in anticipation, there was no going back now.
“It’s all real, I ran into one and he…he turned me. I need you to know this so you can stay away from me. For your own protection. Got it?”
You let out an incredulous laugh. “Well can you prove it?”
Arthur wrapped his hand around your slender wrist and placed your palm against his cold chest. He watched with melancholy as you reacted to his much too chilled skin.
Letting go with a grunt, he began unbuttoning his shirt. It was never how he imagined showing his body to you; frustrated, scared and cornered, but if it convinced you…
Arthur silently showed you the many bullet and knife scars in places that should have killed — not healed; the round marks in front of his heart, the white hot slashes deep into his ribs and stomach.
“I was able to survive all of this,” he tilted his head back and bared his fangs, “because of this.”
The look on your face showed that you believed him. An unreal sense of unease and confusion sat plainly in your eyes.
“Darlin’ I mean it. Whenever I’m ’round ya it’s a hunger, a thirst. And I don’t know how long I can control it.”
Arthur defeatedly turned to walk away, to hang his head in shame and wait for the consequences of revealing the truth but instead felt your pleading hand in his.
“What if I don’t want you to control it?”
Arthur’s words caught in in his throat, utterly stunned. He watched your pretty doe eyes looking up at him expectantly.
Running your hands along the scars and slashes, you lovingly touched every part of him he had revealed in angst. His muscles twitched under your touch, the broad plains and curves exciting you on further.
“You didn’t ask for what happened to you and you don’t deserve me any less.” You were nervous but Arthur had never frightened or hurt you, and if he needed to hurt you to keep the beast at bay?
You could think of times when a little pain wouldn’t be so bad.
Biting your lip you flicked your tongue out to dab at the blood, licking languidly as Arthur stared, slack jawed and ready to explode.
Gathering your blood on your fingertip your brought it to Arthur’s lips. “Open up…”
Arthur did as he was told, wrapping his hands around your wrist and sucking at the blood on your finger with the ferocity of a starving man.
He was only driven further to give into his thirst but managed to compose himself after the small taste.
“Christ alive darlin’…”
You placed your warm palm on his cool chest. He hadn’t felt another’s warmth in so long. “I don’t want you any less Arthur.”
Arthur embraced your much smaller frame, kissing intensely. The taste of blood — your blood, sent a blazing electricity through his veins. He wanted to be gentle, so badly. But his hunger and his ache was unbearable.
“You can bite me Arthur.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, soft and timid.
Arthur let out a hungry growl in response, eager but afraid of his compulsion. “You sure?” Ain’t no one ever done this…willingly.”
You pulled down the lace of your dress that had been covering most of your neck, exposing the tendon and vein that breathed under delicate skin.
Arthur gazed hungrily as if he was seeing a woman bare before him for the first time. In a way, he was. You were the first he shared his affliction with and the first who allowed him to indulge. To do something so taboo and dangerous — so intimate.
He was in awe of you.
Eyeing you desperately, he watched as you undressed to nothing but your underwear and placed your back to the tree. Tilting your head to the side, you exposed your neck to him.
Arthur kissed your pulse point, dragging his tongue along the tender flesh before thinking better of it.
Kissing a trail down to just above your collar bone, he stopped at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. “It’ll hurt less here, I’ll try to be gentle…”
“I trust you Arthur,” you mewled.
His fangs pierced the soft skin, slow and firm, not sinking in fully until he heard you moan. His reservations eased when you reacted with pleasure instead of pain.
His grip on you tightened, sucking gently on the wounds he created. Unable to suppress his bliss, he let out a primal groan against your neck, a deep rumble from his chest vibrating against you.
Arthur’s hardness pressed against your thigh, grinding against it roughly as the blood flow painted his tongue.
Shuddering with satisfaction he pulled away to see you looking as drunk as he felt. Messy hair and lust-blown eyes; you smiled at him, dear God you actually smiled.
He felt unholy and unworthy.
Arthur noticed a thick line of blood traveling down the curve of your collarbone and the swell of your breast.
A wicked smirk overcame him as he licked at the same path the blood was moving before reaching his goal. Sucking your nipple into his mouth, he played with the sensitive peak while cleaning the blood — careful not to waste a drop or a chance at pleasing you.
Locking your fingers through Arthur’s hair you pulled his face closer to your chest, crying his name as you did.
Arthur pulled you away from the tree and urged you to lie down in the soft grass beneath it, positioning himself between your legs.
Running his rough hand over the softness of your thigh brought forth goosebumps much to his delight.
Kissing and nipping at your raised skin he gazed up at you. “Would love to bite ya here,” he ran a soothing hand over your inner thigh — so close to your aching heat. “If you’ll allow me…”
“Yes Arthur,” you replied, nearly begging.
Sinking his teeth into your thigh he sucked with more pressure this time, continuing to touch comfortingly with his sizable hand.
You watched as the blood dripped down Arthur’s chin and down your thigh, mingling with the slick gathering.
The pain was nothing compared to the arousal and much to your surprise, the throbbing in your center grew as Arthur fed.
You watched as he rutted against the grass, the sounds coming from him struck somewhere between animalistic and erotic, soft pants and deeps groans. You swore you could have come right then and there.
Arthur licked his lips with a satisfied hum. With his bloodlust becoming satiated he could think clearly again, and the only thing on his mind was making you feel good.
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the most confident in his abilities but he sure as hell would try, and if you enjoyed it half as much as his darker side — Arthur could die a happy man, if he could die.
“How ’bout a gentler taste,” he ghosted his fingertips along your slit “…somewhere else?”
Your hips jolted forward at his touch with a whine, a clear enough answer. “So wet already…”
Moving to his target slowly and tenderly, his tongue grazed along your swollen bud teasing with light flicks.
But the needy “please,” that fell from you lips as you writhed beneath him made it impossible to keep you waiting.
Arthur buried his face where you needed him most, lapping at your heat the same way he indulged in the blood at your neck and thigh. His tongue savored the sweet warmth, a nectar of a different kind.
“Goddamn girl,” Arthur dragged the flat of his tongue along your slit and up your bundle of nerves. “I could do this all night…”
But it didn’t take long for the twitches of pleasure to start in your abdomen and flutter in your core. Any pain from the bites was long since dulled as your climax washed over you, rubbing against Arthur’s face while he held your thighs down.
Breathless but wanting more, you pulled him up desperately to kiss your slick off his lips while ripping the rest of his clothing off.
“Jesus,” Arthur broke the kiss to plant smaller ones to where his fangs had penetrated your neck. “You really do want me huh?”
Appreciating the comfort he was giving, you held him closer to your neck. “You sound surprised…”
“I am darlin’, never thought you’d want me even before my change.”
“I have wanted you,” you found his hardness and stroked slowly, “ and I still do.”
You pushed him forward by the base of his spine, encouraging him to take over. Getting the hint, he lined up at your soaked entrance.
But Arthur moved slowly, inch by throbbing inch until he was pressed deep inside your pussy. He wanted to fuck you with wild abandon, but he had been starved of love and blood for so long that he didn’t realize how badly he needed the former.
The softness and warmth of your skin as he wrapped his arms around you was intoxicating and he wanted to savor every second. Sensing his sentimentality, you slowed your need and kissed his forehead.
Arthur’s pace was slow and sultry, grinding into you like it was his on purpose on earth. And in that moment it was for him.
There wasn’t a thought in his head other than how good your tight pussy felt as he pumped in and out, feeling your wetness spread more as he did.
“Yes, oh — God please don’t stop,” you whined into his ear.
Arthur could swear that it was the most gorgeous sound he ever heard. As he pushed breaths out of you with each thrust and watched your breasts bounce, he was reassured that he wasn’t just a beast.
Maybe you tamed the part of him that needed it or maybe you liked it untamed. But either way, Arthur wasn’t afraid to envelope you, to use his power for pleasure, not when you twitched and swore beneath him.
“That’s it girl, takin’ me so well ain’tcha?” Arthur’s rhythm quickened as he rose to his knees and spread you further.
The sound of your sex and hips snapping together resonated around you as he massaged your ass, lifting you slightly.
The new position allowed for Arthur’s cock to hit deeper in your core, forcing a gasp out of you as he did.
“Yeah?” Arthur let out a breathy laugh, “that feel good?”
“So good,” you wrapped your legs around the small of his back and thrusted in tandem with him.
Arthur exhaled shakily, the show of exuberance and feeling of your walls clenching around him made his release surge closer.
“Oh darlin’,” Arthur moaned sweetly, “I’m almost there…”
“Give it to me Arthur, fill me up.”
With those words he couldn’t pull out in time if he’d wanted to.
Arthur’s pace stuttered to shallow thrusts as his abdomen flexed, pulsing inside of you with a sharp inhale.
Pressing flush against your mound he rutted his seed as deep into you as he could, panting and groaning raggedly.
Arthur didn’t hold back with his noise, praise or indulgence. He had never let go like this with anyone and it was long, long overdue.
Clarity set in quickly for him however, full of strong and mixed emotions that he was unsure how to process; imagining that it must have been similar for you.
His priority was making sure you were okay.
Pulling you close to him he wrapped an arm around your side and retrieved a clean bandanna with the other. Peppering you with gentle kisses, he thoughtfully tended to the small wounds with water and cloth.
“Got some balms I can put on these for ya,” he proposed timidly. “Was it too much darlin’? You doin’ okay?”
“Never been better big guy,” you smiled wide and up at him, wanting to make sure he had no doubts. “A monster wouldn’t take the time to do this ya know…”
He smirked with a small chuckle, “just don’t wanna hurt ya…”
“I very much enjoyed this, and I would do it again.”
Again.
Arthur wondered how he could be so lucky to hear that word fall from your lips in reference to him.
“Well in that case, let’s getcha back to my tent… stay with me tonight?”
“Don’t you stay up all night now?”
“Usually, you can stay up with me if you want. But I’d be just as happy to hold ya while ya sleep.”
And so he did. Arthur walked you back with his arm around your waist and brought you water to drink.
After making sure you were properly cared for he laid down and pulled you close to him, pressing the side of your head to his chest while stroking your hair.
He felt like he could hold onto the summer sun as long as he could hold onto you.
#tw: blood#nsft#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan x f!reader#vampire arthur morgan#rdr2#red dead redemption#rdr2 fanfiction#arthur morgan fanfiction
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Unlawful (Edited)
Hey everyone! So I know I posted this fic already when it got requested, but something never sat right with me once I posted it. I told myself it was fine because it was a creative liberty, but I know it is a sensitive topic to some people, so I edited the end so hopefully it's seen as more of a fun interaction than how it has originially come across. It is only a minor change, but I hope it mends any hurt I've caused.
TW: Extreme dom Rafe! Semi-public sex. Sir kink. Good girl kink. Coercive sex.
SUMMARY: Police officer Rafe Cameron decides to ‘take you downtown’ in his own way…
WORD COUNT: 1800
*Requested*
Unlawful
Your eyes cast down on the speedometer as the blue and red lights sounded behind you. Sourcing your surroundings to ensure you hadn’t run a stop sign or a light, you couldn’t fathom what you’d done to warrant being pulled over. But a good girl through and through, down to your pigtails and pristine reputation, you cut the ignition immediately before pulling the window low enough to slip the license and registration requested from this specific officer.
With The Outer Banks being as tight-knit as it was within their cliques, it made it impossible NOT to know someone, as everyone seemed to cross paths in one way or another. That was why when he lowered himself into your car, requesting you by your last name to gather your attention, you recognized him instantly.
Rafe Cameron.
Former kook prince who’d turned his life around and joined the force after getting clean. He was a beacon in the community for so many reasons, but looking at you now, with eyes harboring such darkness, you couldn’t help but see anything but those demons behind otherwise soft blue hues.
“Did you know you can’t be down this road after noon?” Your eyes flashed to the clock set on the center console of your car as you narrowed your eyes. You were not a lawyer by any means, not accustomed to knowing the laws off the top of your head, and yet, it didn’t sound real. But he was the man with the badge and you were the civilian apparently breaking the law.
“I wasn’t aware, Officer Cameron…”
“What WERE your intentions on this side of The Cut? You don’t exactly seem like you belong here…” You paused, slightly embarrassed as you had simply gone for a drive to clear your mind from your stresses looming in your distant memory. But it wouldn’t exactly BE believable and so you would lie, your eyes cast in clear evidence of your dishonesty.
“Step out of the car please…” He orchestrated when your cheeks flushed as you described how you’d been meeting a friend.
“Do you have anything on your person that can stick me or hurt me? Anything you want to tell me that I’ll find on you or in your car?”
“No…No, Sir.” He chucked his tongue before gliding his hands throughout your entire body, not an inch left untouched. When you would shift in being uncomfortable, he would lead with words of professionalism, even as his actions proved otherwise.
“I have to be thorough…Stand still, please.” He spoke behind a clenched jaw, clearly annoyed, as you were desperate to acquiesce to him, fearful of making him upset in any capacity.
“Now do you want to be honest with me?” He asked, turning you to face him as you offered a shrug.
“I just went for a drive-”
“A pretty little thing like you on THIS side of the island? Uh uh…You are either here for drugs or-”
“No!” His head cocked as he set his hands into the edge of his belt.
“Are you getting smart with me? Do you want me to take you in? Get rid of that attitude for ya by spending a night or two in there?”
“No, please, I-I was really just going for a drive-”
“And I’m supposed to believe a local girl like you doesn’t know the laws?” Your eyes flashed in every direction.
“Yeah, I know exactly who you are…” Your skin chilled as he moved closer to you, your name spoken in almost anger as he closed in on you.
“You have everyone in this town wrapped around your dainty little finger because you’re a ‘good girl’, yeah? But I know the secret behind girls like you…”
“Secret?”
“Good girls are just bad ones who haven’t been caught…but I have, haven’t I? Caught you?”
“Please, I didn’t-”
“That’s it, let’s go…come on- '' You were taken from your car and to the direction of his squad vehicle, your heart racing a million miles an hour. You’d never even gone to the principal's office let alone been in trouble with the law. Because of this, you couldn’t rest your anxieties as they consumed you entirely.
“Nuh-uh…” He corrected as you waited by the back of the car.
“I have a feeling I’ve got to keep a real close eye on you…You’re up with me…” Your eyes narrowed as he cocked his head in further analysis.
“I don’t think I have a stutter or anything…MOVE IT.” He commanded as you swallowed hard, sliding into the passenger’s side of the car, before he moved behind the steering wheel.
But you would notice that from the second the car was in motion, his eyes were in observation of you. He would try to play it off as a clear analysis of his current ‘perp’, but you recognized the look of lechery as you had been on the receiving end of it quite often. It was something worsened for him by the way you carried yourself today. Appearing like a walking wet dream to him in everything but your knee high socks made visible in the bend of your legs and perfect pigtails set tight on either side of your cheeks blushing with innocence. It was enough to make him less than professional as your eyes followed him until he raised a brow.
“Are you propositioning me?”
“Prop-No, sir…I…”
“Spread ‘em-”
“Officer-”
“If I have to stop this car, it’s going to make a bad situation even worse.” To this, you would acquiesce once more, parting the fold of your knees as his hand was suddenly on your thigh, your skin on fire from his touch-forbidden and eager.
“Hiding anything in there?”
“N-no-” You spoke quickly, eyes closed and chest raised in a breath held out of fear, all while he smirked.
“But it’s pretty wet…How do I know something didn’t burst open? Better check…” A swipe within your panties, he pulled his fingers to his lips.
“Nope…just a desperate little kitten needing someone to take care of her…that what you want?”
“I-”
“So help me God, I can make jail VERY unpleasant for you…But someone as…good as you doesn't deserve a place like that…right?”
“Right…” You whimpered as his hand returned to your thigh.
“I’ll only ask one more time…Is that what you want?”
“Yes…” You whimpered as he nodded.
“Good. Panties off. Now.” He ordered.
“Good girl…”
“Officer-”
“Sir-You call me anything but that and you’ll spend the next week in solitary confinement for being so disobedient.”
“Yes…ss-ss-sir…” You quivered as his fingers moved back to your sex, a naked pussy now eagerly awaiting his fingers.
“How many cocks have you taken?”
“T-two…”
“Oh really? I would have pegged you for a virgin…But you’re dirty aren't’ you?” You hesitated, fingers suddenly in a plunge within you.
“I asked you a fucking question!”
“Yes, SIR!” You cried, hi smotions cruel and calculated as they curved into you, his eyes flashing between your body’s reaction to him and that of the road, mostly desolate.
“I work hard to keep this community safe, kitten…And don’t you think I deserve something for that?”
“Yes…yes, sir…”
“And do you think you’re a good girl? Good enough to give it to me?”
“Yes! YES SIR!” You cried as he smirked, your body moving against his hand as you rolled into him.
“Good girl, soaking that seat so well…You want a reward too?”
“Please, Sir…” He nodded, taking the car to the shoulder of the road, where he was quick to retreat his touch. By the time your eyes came open to the correction of his absence, you were pulled from the car and taken over its hood.
“I trust you know what I want…”
“Yes sir…” You pulled up your skirt just high enough to reveal your ass to him, where he would rub it once before ultimately take his hand to your hair, taking a single swipe down your long locks, still wrapped on either side, before wrapping it in his hand and bringing you to rest forcefully against his chest.
“You get to call me Sir until my cock is inside of you…then you call me daddy…You call me anything else and it won’t be good for this perfect little ass-understand, kitten?” You nodded, a slap making you gasp.
“Yes, Sir!” You spoke in quick correction as he nodded.
“Good girl…” His cock was now suddenly between your folds, the sound of his belt sounding off behind you as he exposed himself to that degree to you.
“Letting me take you where anyone could see…being so good for the nice policeman who kept you out of prison…because a good girl like you shouldn’t be in there…you’re too clean…too nice…too good, yeah?”
“Yes sir…” You groaned as he finally sheathed himself into you, slow thrusts pushing your thighs painfully into the hot hood of his car as he kicked your legs closer together.
“You like being a good girl for daddy? You like making me feel so good where everyone can see us?” You nodded.
“Yes, daddy… So good…”
“Even if you are dripping on my shoes and whining like a brat? But you’re good for ME so I’ll let it slide…”
“Please daddy…” You groaned, the orgasm arriving embarrassing quickly as he carried his hand to your head, slow caresses made down your pigtails as praises were spoken in quick breaths against your ear.
“Tell me what you want, kitten…tell me what you want, yeah? Beg real pretty so I know you deserve it…”
“I wanna come, daddy…”
“Yeah? And what do you want from daddy?”
“I want you to come too…” He slapped your ass, “Daddy-” You corrected as he nodded.
“Good girl…But where do you want me to? Anywhere you want, kitten, you’ve earned it…”
“Here…Right here….Right now…please…please, daddy!” You whimpered, becoming more desperate by the second as he would nod in approval.
“Good girl…so good for me…okay…come for me…come for daddy, babygirl…” He panted behind you, his cock twitching as a further allowance of your release as you clawed at the hood of his car before finding that release he’d granted. Quick to follow, fingers interlaced within your own, you were left heaving over him as he made you endure those motions of overstimulation before coating your inner walls with his cum.
“Good girl, baby…” He kissed the back of your head as you turned around to face him, innocence drained as you now looked at him with that coquettish indifference.
“Better get you home. It isn’t safe for good girls like you to be out this late…Never know who might take advantage of you…” You rolled your eyes to his words as his eyes followed your attitude.
“Too much?”
“Maybe next time I don’t have to wear the pigtails or the knee-highs…” You teased as he leaned over to you.
“You kidding? That shit made me come so quick, baby…”
“Well then how about next time ONLY them?” He bit his bottom lip.
“Maybe next time I could put the costume on?” He scoffed.
“Not likely, sweetheart, I’m the one in control.”
“That’s only because you’ve never let me. Five minutes in those handcuffs and you’d be crying for me, Rafe.”
He smacked your ass. “Let’s get you home and see if the costume shop made ones strong enough for what I’m gonna do to you…”
@hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @belcalis9503
#rafecameron x reader#rafecameronfanfiction#rafecameron#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#outerbanks#obx#outer banks smut#obxsmut#obx fanfiction
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Can you do an Usopp x reader where Y/N was one of the toys he released in Dressrosa and she’s just been “sneakily” following him to try and work up the courage to say she’s devoting herself to her savior, God Usopp, and basically becomes his silly little cheerleader?
Devotee ↠ Usopp x Reader
➼ Word Count » 0.7k
➼ Warnings » None
➼ Genre » Romantic, Fluff
You poked your head around the corner in awe at the long-nosed man. You'd been following for a couple of days now, and could tell he planned on leaving soon with all the crates he and his friends had been carrying onto their boat. The thought alone made you nervous. What would you do without him? Your savior, gone away on a boat to who knows where, and you hadn't even thanked him yet. It was criminal, really, and you knew you'd regret your entire life if you couldn't manage to work up the courage to, at the very least, say hi to the man.
You couldn't help the sigh that left your lips as you watched his bandaged-self work. What you wouldn't give to be held in his arms ── what you wouldn't give to have him simply shoot a glance in your direction.
You felt your face heat up as he indirectly gave in to your request, turning curiously at your skittish movements he happened to have caught in the corner of his eye. You immediately moved to hide fully behind the wall, back firmly held against the scratchy brick as you tried to ease your breathing.
You were about to peer back out to see if he'd noticed you when you heard the voice come from overhead.
"Hi there," Usopp smiled, now directly above you on the crumpled wall you had hidden behind. It no doubt was someone's house before the atrocities that had been enacted just recently. His head rested in his hands as he stared down at you, although his smile had dropped now that he realized how terrified you looked. "Are.. are you alright?"
You nodded a lot quicker than you had meant to, your eyes wide at the prospect of being under the gaze of a deity ── your deity. You didn't deserve this treatment from your Lord, you'd hardly done anything to warrant such luck from the universe.
"O-Oh! Yes! Why wouldn't I be?"
His beautiful eyes glanced uncertainly into your own while you tried to take in as much of him as you could, eyes darting every which way to ensure you didn't miss a single detail on the perfect man before you.
He shrugged, "You just seem kinda... jumpy. I'd hate to leave any of the locals in fear for their lives, especially when the Great Usopp is still around to defend them," He chuckled proudly, although, he doubted he'd be able to do any real defending considering the state he'd been left in. No matter, Sanji would be more than willing to help, he was somewhat sure of it.
"I-I've decided to devote myself to you fully," You finally blurted out, "I don't have anywhere else to go, please, let me serve you, my Lord."
Usopp sputtered at your words as he fell from the wall, making the short trip around to confront you more directly.
"W-what are you t-talking about??" He gripped your shoulders in his hands as he stared at you with genuine concern.
"You saved my life, it's the least I could do," You answered, bowing your head obediently. "Let me go with you, I want to help you in any way I can."
"N-No! Stop talking like that!"
"I know I'm new to the religion, but I promise I'm a fast learner."
"What religion?? I-I thought we freed you already?? You can go home now!" He reminded, hands shaking as his hold on your lightened.
"You did! That's why I'll help you with whatever you need!"
He winced, praying that this was all just an honest mistake and not another one of his lies that went wildly out of control again. "W-well, I'm... uh sure we could find a spot for you."
He had no idea how he was going to fix this as he walked rigidly back to the ship, you following loyally behind him. How would he even explain this to the crew? What would Robin say?? But you were so determined and gleeful... he didn't think he had it in him to turn you away.
He ran a stressed hand down his face as thought up ways to solve this issue while you walked beside him with your knife out, ready to lunge the second he gave you the command. Hopefully this solution would come sooner rather than later.. but with his luck? He highly doubted it.
"This lighting does wonders to you, my Lord."
"Please, don't call me that..."
#one piece#one piece oneshot#usopp op#usopp#op usopp#usopp x reader#one piece usopp#usopp one piece#op usopp x reader#usopp op x reader#usopp fluff#usopp oneshot
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a/n; thinking ahead i'm going to have to put all of these in some sort of masterlist eventually. the fact that i'm planning a masterlist on here is so wild. it'll be a task for future me though. anyway, coming back to edit this some more has me liking the base idea. once this whole kinktober thing ends expect some more of this in particular, i got plans brewing lads.
warnings; sub male, dom reader, gn pronouns, nasty reader, cock/strap interpretation, office sex, power play, non con to dub con to con, slight yandere behaviour
word count; 1241
Your eyes squinted as you looked down at the computer screen in front of you. At this point of the day the numbers basically blended in together, causing nothing short but a debilitating headache. A dramatic and drawn out groan left your mouth as you reclined in your chair.
The overcast weather outside did nothing to brighten up the office you sat in basically everyday, the dull colours of the company added no substance either. The mindless crawl of financial work never ended.
A short knock at the door broke you from your thoughts. Upon your call to come in the person at the door opened it up and sidled inside. The new hire, a small mousey looking boy that looked like he was fresh out of university, stood there with a pile of papers in his hands.
"Is that the month report?" You looked at the pile of papers, knowing that it couldn't possibly be the month report due to the sheer amount of content.
"Uh no, it's the corrected income from the past few years." A look of disdain crossed your expression. Since he had been hired this was what he had been doing? It wasn't uncommon for the older workers to play pranks on the newbies but you had never seen something as mindless as this.
"So you've spent what... a week writing this all out? You know it was a joke right?" You sounded disgruntled, which was perfectly warranted. You reported right to the CEO at the end of the day and he was a mega bastard to deal with, this just spelt bad news for you. The kid looked floored, or at the very least sheepish. At the end of the day that wasn't enough, it was technically your ass on the line.
"This has been a major time loss and honestly a major disappointment." You got out of your chair, already fearing the conversation that would happen at the end of the day. Right now your stress was through the roof, there was still a couple of hours to get the month report done... if you were lucky. There was no use starting such a big project stressed though.
"Tell you what, I should be firing you for wasting this company's time but I'm in a good mood, or at least I will be in a second." A nasty look sparked in your eyes, what better than a stress ball to release your anxiety on?
"If you do me a favour I'll make sure that you leave this office still an employee." The timid look on the man's face came back, the hope he had gathered from your words quickly being stomped out at your expression. You stopped at the front of your desk, leaning back on it. He seemed to nervously gulp, his eyes barely lingering on you for too long.
"What do you say, new hire?" He looked at you then, as if he was looking at the devil himself. How badly did he want to keep his job, how far could you push him. You knew that even if things got bad you wouldn't be fired... no, he wouldn't allow it. After everything that you endure from a day to day basis why wouldn't you take this opportunity.
"Alright." His voice was quiet, small and resigned. He was already broken and you hadn't even done anything yet.
He simply wasn't going to survive.
Still he walked forwards, in small shuffling steps, your eyes roved over his body. Even his figure was small, cute and compact. He looked like he would keep his mouth shut no matter what happened and if he was already giving in then maybe things would work out for him. Only time would tell.
Once he was close enough you pulled him to you, not wasting any time. He seemed fidgety but there was a certain laxness to his body. One that you didn't dwell on for too long. His struggles were cute as you brushed your fingers down his sides and into his pants, quickly sliding your fingers under his boxers.
He must've been a virgin as he got hard in a couple of strokes, his cock flush against his boxers as you went to pull down his pants. Anxiously he looked back to the door of your office, his hands grappling at your hair as he muttered his rejection. You ignored it though and continued to satisfy yourself.
Now with his pants out of the way you quickly moved to moving his boxers to his ankles as well, the band of fabric acting as a sort of bound to keep his legs from flailing too much. With one quick motion you picked him up and pressed him against your desk, manhandling him so that you were able to slide your own cock inside of him easily.
It went in much smoother than you were expecting, your eyes squinted a little as confusion wrapped around you. The feeling didn't stay for long though as the feeling of being inside him overtook your senses. He was warm and tight, even better he wasn't trying to throw you off anymore. Unbeknownst to you he was having a much better time than you expected, his face doused in arousal as he tried to keep up the façade.
He had never imagined that meeting the CEO of the company would lead him to getting fucked in the finance manager's office. He also hated that he was going to have to admit that he enjoyed it.
Your thrusts were getting deeper now, completely gone was the strange circumstance of him being fully prepped somehow. Now the only thing you could think of was chasing your high. And you did exactly that, not really caring about the hire below you. His hips would most likely be bruised from the force you were driving your cock into him but it felt too good to stop.
Your hands tightened on his hips, digging into his skin, as you alternated your pattern. Going from hard and fast to deep and slow made both you and him moan. Distinct grunts and small wimpy breaths echoed through the office as you fought the urge to press your upper body into him as well, make it so there was no way he'd be able to move as you came to your high.
The feeling settled in your gut, tightening like a rubber band before it finally broke as you snapped your hips into him once more. A drawn out groan came from him as you buried yourself into him as your climax slowly calmed down.
With your chest heaving still you pulled out and used a nearby tissue box to clean yourself up. Now that you were fully relaxed you could start on the report. Without much care for the hire you went to get the files needed out, begrudgingly.
"Uh... boss?" Incredulously you looked over to the hire who you were sure was going to bounce as soon as you left him. He was holding out a folder to you, month report written on the front in black marker. There was still a distinct blush on his face, his eyes downturn as he held it out to you.
"You're fucking kidding me right." He was in fact not.
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120. Climb
♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader
♡ Word count - 1k
♡ Warnings - none
Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3
Part 1 ---- Part 2 ---- Part 3 ---- Part 4 (you are here!)
The suns beat jealous heat down on the sands. Your tomas breathes steadily, despite the bullet graze on its right leg. Your own arm throbs, bruising with handprints.
You barely escaped.
Don and Mac were a lot less drunk than they acted. And they were a step ahead of you, too. They made a move for your equipment, the research, just before dawn that next day. You were all set to make a run for it, then they –
You grunt and snarl at nothing, furious. They tried to assault you. Should have known. The only reason you were still whole in any sense was the way Vash came to your rescue, fighting off both big men while telling you to run for it.
So you did. Like a coward.
Telling all this to McDonough when you get back to town elicits a few swears from the old man. He’s red-faced, angry, but still asks if you got the research away. With a glare, you push the papers into his greedy hands and demand your payment. Now.
He at least has the decency to offer you a room to sleep in that night. The whole of the payment sits heavy in your pocket as you sit and stare aimlessly on the bed. What do you do now? Return to the university, obviously, with more than enough funding for the next assignment you’ll be sent out on. But it doesn’t feel right. You have no idea what happened to Vash; if he managed to get the upper hand on Don and Mac.
What if he’s been left out in the desert to die, and those two fiends are on their way to take the payment by force? Suddenly staying with McDonough doesn’t seem like such a good idea. Staying in town in general sounds like a horrible plan. You stand and begin packing up your things again, quickly. Doesn’t matter how tired or sore you are; if someone is on your tail, you need to get somewhere safer than a Podunk little town with one sheriff.
A knock comes to your door. You pause, a hand in your bag. You look to the window. A two-story drop doesn’t sound so bad. You call out, “One second!” and hook your bag around your shoulders. The window is hard to open; it doesn’t seem like it’s been opened in a while. The wood squeals a bit as it’s lifted. One leg goes out, then the other, and you turn to lower yourself as far as you can down the side of the building. Another knock comes, and you call out, “Just – hold on – wha – !” Your hands slip a bit on the stool of the window.
You don’t hear your door open, but you feel hands on yours, gripping your wrists. You yelp in surprise and let go. The hands hold firm, and suddenly you’re dangling out the window, feet kicking thin air.
“Woah, hey, woah! ______, calm down!”
It’s hard to concentrate when you’re mid-air. But you look up and see Vash, whole and bright-eyed and panicky, trying to lift you back up to your room. “Vash!” You call out. Despite your fear, you feel a bloom of warmth and relief in your chest. He’s alive. He’s okay.
“Put your feet on the wall and climb back up!” He says, grunting.
You do.
When you’re back in the room with feet firmly planted on the floor, you rush to hug him. He takes it awkwardly, arms going out on either side before finally encircling you, light as a feather. You pull back after a moment and look him over. “Are you alright? I thought you died!” You see a bruise on his cheek, some scratches on his neck and hand. You stop yourself from brushing a finger over them.
“This, coming from the girl who was dangling out a two-story window?” He asks, lips quirking up.
Your face flushes. “I thought you were Mac or Don come to finish me off. I was trying to escape quietly.” He laughs, and you push his shoulder. “Seriously, are you alright? You look…beat up.”
He smiles. “You should see the other guys!” He shrugs at your questioning look. “I, uh, tied them up at camp and gave the sheriff a tip on them. Turns out they have a few warrants in other towns, just not this one.”
How convenient. You shake your head. “How in the world did you manage both of them?”
He laughs again, sheepish, and scratches at his neck. “Lucky, I guess. I came right after you, though. Wasn’t sure if you’d been hurt with all the scuffle.” He brings his hands to your arms and turns you this way and that. “Are you alright?” He sees the bruises on your arms where Don had grabbed at you. A flash of darkness overcasts the blue in his eyes. “Oh…”
“I’m fine,” you say, automatic. And you are. Bruises heal, and thanks to the man in front of you, that’s all that needs healing. Speaking of, you reach into your pocket and pull out the wad of cash McDonough gave you earlier. “We got paid, in full by the way.” You count out two-thirds of the money and hand it to him.
His eyes widen, but he pushes it back. “Half and half.”
Your brows furrow. What kind of merc is this guy, asking for less money? “Vash, you saved my life more than once on this trip. You deserve a fair cut.”
“And half is fair.” He smiles.
You sigh and shake your head. “You’re strange. Very strange.” Still, to placate him, you recount the money and take half and pocket it. You’ll try to sneak it to him later.
He pockets his half, then gives you a look. “So…wanna go get food to celebrate?”
You do.
And it was a strange and frankly boring way to end your first adventure with Vash the Stampede. Sitting at a Ma and Pa’s waiting for donuts, of all things, to be served wasn’t how you pictured it. But years down the line, you’ll look back at it fondly, knowing that was where it all started.
#not at all happy with how this arc ended#but im desperate to get back to one-shot pieces lol#we'll all suffer together <3#trigun#vash the stampede#trigun stampede#tristamp#writing#vash x reader#reader insert#self insert#vash the stampede x reader#nova writes#trigun x reader#150 bullets
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He was an awful father.
Didn't even know his own daughter's birthday until he'd heard some of her classmates whispering about it. Hadn't even thought to ask, though he felt quite the cad in hindsight.
He'd started wracking his brain immediately of course, but... what did one give to their daughter of strange circumstances?
What had her Hector gotten her?
Box in hand, Hector stood now at her door, and knuckles rapped lightly against the grain of its wood. If he were lucky, she'd not have heard, and he could make quick his escape before he'd a chance to muddle things up too badly.
'Nervous' didn't cover the half of it.
"Ah, um, g'mornin Lilina..." A greeting missing his usual hearty boom.
He ran a hand through the fuzz at the nape of his neck. Oof.
"I heard-- uh, well, I wanted to say, happy birthday!"
Whether she shows up at the door or he has to leave the package before it, it contains the following:
a matching bathrobe and slippers in bold hues of crimson red; a whetstone, 'for the aspiring axe-wielder' if he'd spied correctly over at the training grounds; and a flaky meat pie of turtledove and pork and spices and potatoes, a la Ostia.
Happy birthday, a note within read. Don't forget to rest up now and again. I know you've been working hard. -H v O.
The writing is neater than his norm. What she doesn't see are the multiple scrapped letters, some which say more, some which say less.
He can but hope the sentiment comes across.
By the time Lilina had returned from a full day of classes she already had the rest of her day planned out. Her birthday was… nothing special. After spending the last the way she did, she had no want for any fancy celebration that might have been warranted on special order while she lived at the castle. She picked up a new book from the library and perhaps she may seek a friend out at most, but she was content to not spend it in tears and fear at least.
Her head tilts upon finding a package by her door. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected anything at all. What friends she did have here she hadn’t known long enough or it just had no need to come up in conversation. She picks up the package and opens the letter as she takes it inside.
She would know that handwriting anywhere, but even still she cannot help but smile at the very practiced style of the letters. Lilina clutches the letter to her chest, expression still bright on her face as she collapses back first on the bed. So he remembered, he thought of her.
Rolling to sit back up and unpack what she received, she lets out a soft gasp at each item. The bathrobe and slippers were velvety soft to the touch and red was of course her favorite color. The whetstone and pie she holds in her hands observing each.
Pie in hand, she stands and begins her search to find him. What good was a birthday celebrated without family? She could share with her father and thank him. Perhaps she would even suggest that he show her one day how to sharpen her own axe.
#braveryinblue#support: hector#(( oughhhgh father :pleading: hvo tv of fame ))#(( really meant to post these on her actual birthday but you know how it is ))
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heishin for the ship bingo!
Them!! 😭
They are EVERYTHING to me: Okay, so, I've been familiar with Detective Conan for about a decade, yeah? Ten years ago is around the time that I first started watching the anime, and let me tell you: I don't remember caring for Heishin—or even Heiji!—like, at all back then. (The Reveal (Episodes 57-58) was fun, but I wouldn't say my feelings really went much deeper than that.)
But I've been rewatching, and getting way further than I ever got the first time around, and my fictional taste buds must have changed because these two have now absolutely destroyed me. I wrote my very first DCMK meta about them, and, well, I put this together for another post also about them that I've been working on, the intention being to highlight all the Heiji-Shinichi relationship analyses on my Ramblings page in order emphasize my utter infatuation with this duo, and... yeah.
Of all the Detective Conan essays listed here, 17/43 of them concern Heiji and Shinichi to some extent... and since I only update this page periodically, this list doesn't even include my last Heishin post, which would make the count 18/44.
So, nearly 41% of my writing about this series involves discussion on them... and one of these characters is only included in maybe 10% of the story.
They really, truly are so much to me.
They drive me crazy/insane /pos: Clearly! "Miss Mystery," Opening 33, has me screaming, crying, and throwing up with its depiction of their relationship...
And I flipped through the manga version of Episode 174 for the first time recently (Files 225-230), and the way that Conan imagines Heiji's smiling face when he fears that the worst happened to his friend utterly destroyed me (File 228)...
And one of my GIFs (from Episode 277) got passed around some more a bit ago, and I was once again reminded of how gently Heiji places Conan on the ground, how careful he is regardless of the minimal distance, and I once again felt like the pleading face emoji...
And have I mentioned "Conan's Dream Vacation" enough yet?
I could go on and on and on. (And considering that I've, uh, written a whole Heishin masterpost, I guess I kind of already have.)
Relationship goals <3: They've got problems, absolutely, but the way they just... sync? The way they Vibe? #Goals for sure.
They get each other. Immensely. They finish each other's sentences, come to the same conclusions at once—they both serve as a reminder to the other that they're not alone.
It's easy to meme on this panel of Shinichi in the manga (File 520), but it is beyond sweet to me that he's so eager and excited at the notion of someone just like him.
Heiji and Shinichi are genuinely a place of comfort for each other, and that is the definition of "relationship goals."
I need a 30k hurt/comfort fic on my desk by Monday: Detective Conan seems all but entirely disinterested in depicting its heroic men as vulnerable. Heck, if the "Murderer Shinichi Kudo" case (Episodes 521-523) is any indication, there's the message that a person like Shinichi would never do something like cry. He's too "strong" to.
Needless to say, the sentiment leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Relying on others and crying aren't "weak" things but human things, and one of the biggest draws of Heishin—for me, anyway!—is that Heiji and Shinichi do allow themselves to be vulnerable with each other. Shinichi admits to some of the trauma he's suffered in as soon as his third encounter with Heiji (Episodes 77-78); later, he completely opens up about the pain of hiding his identity from Ran, and he even asks Heiji for advice (Episode 189). Heiji, similarly, isn't too afraid to reveal that he cares deeply for Shinichi to Shinichi's face. He easily conveys how haunted he was by a nightmare in which Shinichi dies, with minimal prompting, in Episode 118. In Episode 479, he also lays his insecurity bare in Shinichi's presence and asks if all the criticism and mockery he's received is warranted.
Canon gives us these crumbs. Fanon can take it so much further. Shinichi spilling out details of how scared he is to Heiji, trying desperately not to freak out or cry, all while Heiji tells him that he can cry when he feels like it, just as Shinichi told Ran when they were in preschool (Episode 854). Heiji actually working through his unhealthy tendency to make everything a competition with Shinichi's help and support.
I think the focus of my last Heishin post, about how the nasty attitude Conan gives Heiji on occasion stems from his resentment that he can't be Shinichi when they're together, also lends itself well to hurt/comfort fic. What if Heiji calls out Conan's cold behavior, and he doesn't act like it's a joke or a minor nuisance for once but really communicates that it hurts to be treated like that, and Shinichi reveals the truth? Or what if Shinichi has a moment of self-reflection and regrets his cruelty when Heiji winds up seriously injured or dead on his behalf?
If you throw in potential romantic feelings, other possibilities open up. It kills Shinichi that he can't hold Ran in his arms (FUNimation's English dub for Episode 42), that he can't tell her he loves her with his own voice (Episode 3), but he doesn't think Ran's aware of his predicament. With Ran, Conan can put on an act and lie and pretend like none of his romantic feelings for her exist, and maybe that provides relief.
But Heiji is well aware of Shinichi's predicament. There's no playing a completely separate, unrelated child with Heiji; Heiji's already broken the illusion, and there's no going back to it. When Shinichi's by Heiji's side, he's by someone whom he can be himself around, whom he can't be anything but himself around, and that's got to make the impossibility of a romantic relationship a pain that festers like an open sore. There's no putting a Band-Aid on this one. No separating himself from the situation. No covering up the sting with an invented personality.
Okay, maybe that's more hurt no comfort, but there is so much potential here, I swear! Heiji isn't just the goofy, silly comic relief guy with the Osaka accent, and his relationship with Shinichi deserves more serious exploration and treatment. I think there's especially a lot that could be done with Heiji's jealousy, and—in my eyes, anyway—it stinks that canon plays Heiji's obsession with one-upping Shinichi's confession to Ran as a joke rather than the sad, insecure thing that it comes off to me as.
They're going to be the death of me: I bought a movie guidebook for The Crimson Love Letter, the 21st Conan film, which I haven't even seen yet, purely because I liked the cover art (and included poster) showing Conan and Heiji being unabashedly happy together...
And I am so tempted to get this Heishin mug set...
And I'm looking to add some Treasured Selection Blu-rays to my largely DVD-comprised DetCo collection, and while I don't believe the Treasured Selection Blu-rays for traditionally animated episodes really increase the quality that much, I'm still thinking I'll get #5 because it has The Boys on the cover (and also includes one of my favorite cases, Episodes 277-278)...
And there's also that merch from Carddass...
If nothing else, these two might be the death of my wallet!
(It's maybe also worth noting that I mostly store my DVDs for this series in 6-DVD cases, so only a select few covers are actually displayed. I purposely ordered things in a way to display the majority of the Heiji-and-Conan covers—5 out of the 7 that I own. I'm love them.)
They,,, kimss,, holde handss,,,,: I used to be like, "I don't really ship them; I just like their relationship!" And got, "Sure, Jan" in response.
But heck with it—while it's never, ever my intention to undervalue platonic bonds, I do like romance, and I'm tired of being ashamed of it! Shinichi and Heiji should open up their own detective agency and also kiss and hold hands, yes.
Which can absolutely be platonic, too! I love them either way.
#replies#tangentiallly#anonymous#ramblings#gifs i made#i'm sorry this is ridiculous ^^;#tl;dr i love them a lot!#thank you for the asks!#heishin#detective conan
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Haven't sent a worldbuilding ask in a bit, but I've been thinking about how there are a lot of heraldic beast type monsters that I'm fond of, and figured I'd ask how they manifest in your setting if you've got it figured out. Gryphons are the obvious first ask, which I think you've talked about general gryphon-rider culture in your setting before but if there are any differences in approach to gryphon-rearing across different cultures, or information on what wild gryphons are like and how people deal with them, or any other gryphon worldbuilding you've done I'd like to hear it. You've talked about your settings dragons but haven't really gone into wyverns if they exist, and what relation they have to dragons if any at all. Basilisks/cockatrice and unicorns are others that I have soft spot for in that category if you have an interpretation of either of those in your setting?
Gryphons, if I can recall my own posts, I believe were established as having a lot of convergent evolution as to how they're reared and utilized just because they're very exacting beasts to manage. This includes having to keep them separate from conventional cavalry (as horses fear gryphons and gryphons consider them prey) and needing to be restrained or otherwise sequestered in many cases since, hey, the flying mail courier's mount mauling a stableboy is the sort of thing you don't want happening every week when the mail comes.
This same behavior is also why wild gryphon populations, never having been very high, are diminishing as more wildlands are settled, with hunting parties (either on bounty or simply opportunistic) go out to kill the adults and retrieve the eggs to be raised in captivity. This is, incidentally, why some groups (from kingdoms to ambitious rancher-barons) are trying to beef up the rearing of pegasi despite being overall inferior flyers, fighters and managers of challenging conditions; because simply not being vicious predators that are anathema to your workhorse, uh, workhorses is a pretty big bonus.
Wyverns, to be honest, haven't really gotten much thought from my. I tend to think of young and adolescent dragons (ones too small and vulnerable to warrant that near-divine regard of awe and fear afforded to adult and elder dragons) kind of fill in that ecological niche, in the same way Tyrannosaur adolescents outcompeted whole other species in the same niche. Which I might just make canon and say that wyverns are now extinct for that very reason.
Unicorns I figure for something too rare and unique to be bred or used in a standardized way. They're the sort of thing I think that warrant being treated with some gravitas.
Basilisks, in my setting, take the pretty conventional form of flightless, very saurian birds, with the caveat that while their gaze causes petrification, their saliva cures it and their teeth and jaws are developed for breaking and crushing stone, since they have to eat somehow. Trying to use them for practical purposes or war is a pursuit someone who thinks they're really smart takes a good ol' college try at at least once a decade and it's yet to end well; controlling where a temperamental wild animal looks is a pretty tough set of challenges.
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Sword and Sorcery
(Part 1)
Tw: Violence, Mentions of Death, Harassment
(Abigail belongs to me, Clay belongs to @rottent33th <3)
Me and t33th were shipping these two from the medieval au that was going about a while ago! (Check out the moodboard here). I decided to write a bit for them since the idea was giving me massive brainrot lol
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Clay set down his mug with a sigh, looking around the village tavern. It was a quaint little place, and cozy. A fire from the hearth provided warmth and gentle light, comforting the patrons. They spoke and laughed quietly after a long day’s work, nursing their own drinks. In the corner a bard strummed at his lute, recounting the story of Erik the Red. It had gathered a small crowd of eager listeners who huddled by the fire. Clay himself would have normally been more keen to sit down and enjoy the tale, but there were more pressing matters on his mind right now.
There had been of late a dragon terrorising the kingdom, and the creature had taken the lives of many men sent before him. The king had appointed Clay the sole member of a dragon-slaying party in hopes that he would be able to fell the beast. It was almost certainly because of his reputation in battle; a total twenty-seven of the foul serpents had died by his hand. If only he could make it twenty-eight, but as luck would have it he had run out of clues on where the dragon’s lair would be. Now Clay worried it would emerge again and cause more tragic loss of life.
“Need a refill?” Came a gruff voice behind the counter. He looked up to see the bartender, a hefty and ruddy-faced man, drying out a tankard with a towel.
“Ah…” Clay then realised how tightly knit his brows were, his thoughts darkening his features. “Uh, no thanks. I can’t be staying long.” He took another swig of his mead.
“Got someplace to be?” The bartender asked, an amused twinkle in his eye. Clay thought for a moment. It might be a worthwhile idea to ask this man, for as much as he likely passed around village gossip.
“I’m… Looking for something.” Clay lowered his voice, leaning in. “Something… magical.”
That was not a lie. Dragons were powerful magic users. It was what made them so dangerous to humans. Although what he himself was more interested in was a magical object that could help him find this one, however taboo that might be. He honestly felt he was out of options.
The man’s face fell as he placed down the mug, eyes darting around the room.
“Magical?” He whispered. “You mean… The Witch?” Clay blinked, confused for a moment. He’d never heard of such a woman. But he nodded, wondering if this could be just as useful. “Yes, the Witch… Can you tell me where she lives?”
“I…” The bartender hesitated for a moment. Clay watched as he grew pale, clearly unsettled about something. He wondered for a moment if he’d pushed things too far. Reaching into his satchel, he produced a few gold coins and placed them onto the counter. A bribe. The king had given him plentiful funds for any sort of obstacle he should run into, so it was no question of money.
The man seemed to understand this, licking his lips as he pocketed the gold. “Aye, I believe I can…” he took a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve heard of Witches’ valley?” Clay nodded. It was quite close by, a desolate stretch of land darkened by constant thunderstorms. “South of there, lies Webwood… That be where she lives.”
He shook his head, “It has long been haunted by restless and vengeful spirits. There were many killed there in a battle long ago, you see. We dare not enter for the fear of them, and for fear of her.” Clay frowned as the man seemed to shiver in fear at the thought of this woman, and for a moment felt slightly guilty for asking. At the same time, he did wonder how much fear was warranted. Had there been a history of this Witch cursing the locals?
“Ser, that’s as much as I am willing to say, no amount of gold would be worth the risk of her curses.” Clay nodded in understanding. “That’s fine. Thankyou for your time.”
Finishing off the rest of his beer, he got up and brushed off his crimson dyed cloak. He wore it for a reason; his deeds had made him a famous man, but he had no desire to draw a crowd. Especially not today, I’m not in the mood, He thought.
He’d been halfway out the door when he heard a girl squeal behind him. He immediately turned his head back, and what he saw enraged him. Some drunkard who’d been sitting in a corner had grabbed a hold of a maid’s arm and was slurring out obscene things. The poor girl looked petrified.
Within a single stride Clay had him by the back of the neck, grabbing him by the scruff like a dog. When he saw Clay towering above him, he suddenly looked very sober. From under the hood he made out long locks of fiery hair and a freckled face, darkened with rage. He immediately recognised him.
Clay’s steel gauntlets cut sharply into the man’s wrist, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Let go of her arm, now, or I’ll break yours” He hissed into his ear, blood boiling. The man let out a pained noise and relented, dropping the maid’s wrist. She quickly shuffled away.
“Hey!” Bellowed the bartender from the other end of the tavern, having finally decided to act. “I’ll have none of that, Pete, get out!” Clay shoved him away, lip curling in disgust as he watched Pete cower. He muttered something under his breath and then stumbled drunkenly out of the tavern.
The girl looked up at him in fright, “I thank you, ser!” She squeaked out, and hastily bowed her head. He frowned as he watched her scurry away to the kitchen. He hasn’t meant to scare her too. But as he looked down at himself, he knew it couldn’t be helped. He did try not to show as much outward brutality to innocents, but even his stature was enough to frighten.
With a sigh he made his way out the door himself, looking around to see the drunkard had quickly made himself scarce. Then he saw the familiar white face of Chevy, his trusty mare. She was still tethered to the post outside the tavern where he’d left her.
Walking over to untie her, he felt some sense of relief being by her side again. “Hey, girl.” He cooed softly. Chevy snorted in response, nuzzling his hand. He produced an apple from his pack, and she munched on it happily. He did dote on her, the old girl. Although he had been offered many young stallions to replace her, he wanted no other.
As he watched her enjoying her snack he thought about what he had to do next. Southward lay Witches’ valley where he could see it from the hill. Dark thunder clouds rolled across that expanse of the sky, making it unmistakable. He decided to seek out the Witch, to see if the rumours were true. If she was to help him on his quest he would gladly leave her be. If she be wicked, he would slay her.
“It’s going to be a long journey ahead…” He pulled himself up onto the saddle, patting her neck fondly. A soft caw caught his attention, and Clay looked up to see a raven perched up in the naked branches of a tree. It stared down at him with black beady eyes, then took flight. He watched it ascend and soar over Witches’ valley, as if to be his guide.
(Taglist: @slaasherslut)
#our cute little ship#this was so fun to write because of the setting I’m excited for the next one#knight!clay has my whole heart#Clayton Spencer#Clay#Abigial Williams#Abigail#Knight!Clay#Abigail x Clay#medieval au#fantasy au#fic#other people’s OCs#moots <3#rottent33th#abiton
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2nd part of the backstory...
Ottawa was an entirely different beast.
That argument could be made for any Canadian city for an inexperienced kid from the U.S., but it wasn't just the city nor the country. The atmosphere of the team itself was different...and he liked it. Detroit felt like work, because of their history, which led to pressure and expectations. The Senators didn't, despite being a Canadian team and that carrying it's own set of expectations. He knew the team was rebuilding, which he figured was the reason he was brought in in the first place, but they didn't take themselves seriously all the time, which he found refreshing. Practice and skate sessions seemed a pleasant mixture of work and fun, and he was welcomed almost immediately rather than having the "awkward new kid" experience he expected. The coaches and players were excited to have him, he was excited to be given a legitimate shot at the NHL, and he was excited to see what the upcoming season would bring. On the other hand, he did feel like he was having to play catch-up, not because he wasn't a good player, but because he did not have the shared experiences the others had: national development teams, AHL experience including playoffs (he had a total of eight games with the Manitoba Moose in two seasons), and especially being drafted.
He finished pre-season with four goals and two assists, even getting a few fights under his belt. This seemed to garner approval from the team's captain, Brady Tkachuk, who banged his stick on the boards the loudest.
When head coach Jaques Martin called him into the office, he couldn't help but have that pang of dread, fearing a repeat of what has happened with the Red Wings. He took a seat, bracing himself for the worst, but hoping for the best.
"Needless to say, I've been very impressed with you, Devin. We don't usually see this level of play from undrafted talent, let alone with limited playing experience. There as no time with the US National Development Team listed in your file, nor any notable junior hockey experience. How'd you get to this point?"
"No, there wouldn't be, I reckon, but uh, I didn't start hockey until I was about 9 or 10. I feel in love with it after going to my local team's games. My junior experience was spent with the Hampton Roads Whalers, in the Chesapeake Bay Hockey League. Never did get up to the elite level, but after going undrafted, the Norfolk Admirals picked me up."
"Well it seems we've found a diamond in the rough, so to speak." Coach Martin cleared his throat and leaned forward, forearms resting on the desk, his fingers laced together. "I'm sure you'd agree your game needs work, but I don't see anything that warrants any sort of extended stint in a lower league. I'm willing to take the gamble and put you on the third line. You'll be on the wing until your face-off wins improve."
His eyes lit up, and he had to remind himself to be professional. "Thanks coach, that's greats news. I wholeheartedly appreciate the opportunity."
Afterwards, he met with the Senators' equipment manager to get his gear in order, mostly for a number change and to get his specifications on file. He put got a new helmet, but refrained from getting new skates or a new type of stick. A few days later, it was contract signing day. The Senators saw fit to offer him three years for $0.850 million, an offer that, per his agent, was unusual for an undrafted rookie. He had the biggest smile on his face for the photos. Finally, there was quick media availability.
"Devin, you went from being undrafted, through pre-season, and now making your NHL debut. What do you expect for this game?"
"I think it's gonna be a challenge, for sure, but I'm also just trying to enjoy it."
"For those who haven't followed your career, how would you describe yourself as a player?"
"Ha, well, as my fans in Norfolk will tell you, the hardware comes second to me. I'm looking to help the team win and play the game I love."
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FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: JANINE MELNITZ
Asked by anonimus
@thereisnoblogonly-zuul
@professorlehnsherr-almashy @thealmightyemprex @goodanswerfoxmonster @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa @gravedangerahead @parxsisburning @softlytowardthesun @themousefromfantasyland @filmcityworld1 @lord-antihero @lioness--hart
@budcortfancam @bixiebeet @spengnitzed @angelixgutz @stantzed @janeb984 @amalthea9
Favorite Thing About Them: Let's face it, besides Lois Maxwell's portrayal of Miss Moneypenny in the James Bond film series, there weren't really other examples of desk secretaries so well developed as Janine Melnitz. It is a hard job, and vital to keep government institutions and companies organized, but like the also hard work of being a howsewife, it is often overlooked because is a job associated with women that writers tend to think it won't be interesting to audiences as " the stories of man of action going into a battlefield or other dangerous kind of adventure" that they often choose to focus on. So to have this simple working class lady being portrayed with charisma, as we empathize with the boredom, excitement, confidence, anger, stress and fear that she shows as she navigates trough her job, acting as the human element that helps to keep us grounded in this fantastic story about scientists hunting ghosts in New York City, is marvelous to watch. And she is also shown to be able to adapt and become a competent Ghostbuster in her own right, even leading a back up team while being someone who, like Winston Zeddemore, didn't got access to an Ivy League University Doctorate, showing that there are other forms of being inteligent besides having a golden framed diploma, like conecting with the general public and providing emotional support for friends who need it.
Least Favorite Thing About Them: The fact that when Ghostbusters 2 went to take inspiration from the cartoon The Real Ghostbusters, it made the mistake of only getting inspiration from the character design in the messy later seasons, ignoring the idea of her acting as the fifth Ghostbuster presented by the first two seasons and instead making her have a sexual escapade with Louis Tully out of nowhere to boost his confidence so Louis could be the new fifth Ghostbuster. The writers of the second movie, wich was the same team as the first one, had the template to make progress in making a urban fantasy adventure comedy story where man and woman worked together as a team to save the day without seeing anything weird about it, and didn't tooked any advantage of it.
Three Things I Have In Common With Them:
*I have short hair and wear glasses;
*I often use sarcasm as a mechanism to cope with problems;
*I also work behind a desk with a computer, telephone, pencil and paper;
Three Things I Don’t Have In Common With Them:
*I'm not an american from New York City;
*I'm not a red head;
*I wouldn't have the courage to fight against ghosts and monsters that she has;
Favorite line:
From the July 1983 Script Draft:
"The phones? I wouldn't say the calls are pouring in, Dr. Venkman."
"Good night, Egon."
"Is it alright if I watch?"
"Thank you."
From the October 1983 Script Draft:
"Who do you think you're talking to, Mister? Do I look like a child? You can't come in here without some kind of warrant or writ or something."
"It's a sign, all right... "Going out Of Business."
"I want you to have this."
"It's a souvenir from the 1964 World's Fair at Flushing Meadow. It's my lucky coin."
"Keep it anyway. I have another one at home."
From the 1984 movie:
"You're very handy. I can tell. I bet you like to read a lot, too."
"Oh, that's very fascinating to me. I read a lot myself. Some people think I'm too intellectual, but I think it's a fabulous way to spend your spare time. I also play racquetball. Do you have any hobbies?"
"Hello, Ghostbusters. Yes, of course they're serious. [she paused and sat back down] You do? You have? No kidding. Uh-huh. Well, just, uh, just give me the address. Yes, of course. Oh, they'll be totally discreet. Thank you."
"We got one!"
"Do you believe in UFOs, astral projections, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, telekinetic movement, full trans-mediums, the Loch Ness monster and the theory of Atlantis?"
"I've quit better jobs than this."
"Ghostbusters! What do you want!?"
"You are so kind to take care of that man. You know, you're a real humanitarian."
From the novelization of the 1984 movie:
"Would I kid you?... Well, the soonest we could possibly get back to you would be a week from Friday... I'm sorry, but we're completely booked until then... Uh huh... All I can suggest is that you stay out of your house until we can get to you.... Well, in that case. I'd be not to provoke it. You're welcome."
"Egon, there's something very strange about that man. I'm very psychic usually, and right now I have this teerible feeling that something awful is going to happen to you. I'm afrayed you're going to die."
"That's so romantic. "
"You're sweet, Egon."
brOTP: Peter Venkman, Ray Stantz, Winston Zeddemore, Dana Barrett, Tiyah Clarke, Louis Tully, Kylie Griffin, Melanie Ortiz, Louise, Irena Cortez, Bryan Welsh, Ilyssa Selwin, Walter Peck.
OTP: Egon Spengler.
nOTP: Ron Alexander.
Random Headcanon: Her maternal family is of german-irish, lutheran and catholic background, while her paternal family is of ucranian, polish and georgian jewish background. She always took part in traditions of both sides of her family, but has more strong identification with the jewish side.
Unpopular Opinion: I understand the idea of the Real Ghostbusters cartoon series episode Janine, You Changed being an attempt to criticize the executives that wanted to force Janine into what they deemed conventional patterns of femininity by inserting the plot of an evil fae that prays on insecurities manipulating Janine after she feels insecure about her appearance, but I think that is still out of character because when it camed to her physical appearance, Janine never seemed likely to feel insecure about it, but take pride in it. If a writer really wanted to explore some insecurity in her in a way that felt organic, it would make more sense to explore her insecurity due to the fact that she camed from a working class background and didn't have access to a college and university doctorate like Peter, Ray and Egon because of lack of money or family connections and because the universities criteria to accept new students is arbitrary and elitist, but Winston, who also shares a working class background, and the other Ghostbusters would assure her that just because she isn't a former Ivy League graduate, doesn't mean she is less inteligent or capable to understand the work of tracking and studying the supernatural.
Songs I Associate With Them:
Elusive Butterfly
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If
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Andante, Andante
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Somebody to love
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You Are the Sunshine of My Life
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Stay
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Favorite Picture of Them:
Annie Potts in the 1984 movie
In the original two seasons of the Real Ghostbusters animated series
In the IDW licensed comics
#fictional character ask#character ask meme#fandom musings#ghostbusters 1984#the real ghostbusters#idw ghostbusters#janine melnitz#annie potts#Youtube
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