#young blondes stalked and murdered

[kevinsreviewcatalogue]

Salem Horror Fest 2024 Week 1, Day 3: Cat People (1942), Burned at the Stake (1981), Young Blondes, Stalked and Murdered (2024), and Faceless After Dark (2023)

The third night of the Salem Horror Fest had another theme to it, especially once I got past the retro films they showed earlier in the day. If the second night was Found Footage Night, then this was Hollywood Night, with both of the evening's films revolving around fame, especially that of actresses.

First up, though, comes the older films...

<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2024/04/salem-horror-fest-2024-week-1-day-3-cat.html>

Cat People (1942)

Approved by the Production Code Administration of the Motion Picture Producers & Distributors of America

Score: 4 out of 5

Cat People is one of the most famous horror movies of the Golden Age of Hollywood to not have come from Universal Pictures, instead being produced by Val Lewton at RKO Radio Pictures. RKO's horror unit, which Lewton spearheaded, was an extremely low-budget affair, and that unfortunately shows through when it comes time to actually show the monster in this movie, in scenes that often sucked all the tension out of the room thanks to the dodgy, primitive special effects on display. It speaks to everything else about it that this movie manages to overcome its extremely low-budget effects work and emerge as a near-masterpiece of classic horror, one that feels like a prototype for a lot of more modern "tortured vampire" stories (only with a woman who transforms into a killer cat) that was notably made back when Universal's Dracula was still a "modern" horror movie. Director Jacques Tourneur was a master at building tension out of very little, and the subtext in the story, ranging from immigrant experiences to lesbianism to proto-feminism, feels like it's pushing against the boundaries of the Hays Code in every way it can. There's a good reason this movie still gets talked about more than eighty years later as one of the unsung classics of its era, and it's still worth a watch today.

Irena Dubrovna is a Serbian immigrant and fashion illustrator who meets a handsome man named Oliver Reed at the zoo while she's sketching some of the big cats they have there. They hit it off and eventually marry... but Irena is afraid that, if they consummate their marriage, her dark secret will come out. You see, back in Serbia, legend tells of people in her former village who, in response to their oppression by the Mameluks, turned to witchcraft and gained the ability to transform into cats, one that has been passed down to her. Oliver dismisses this as superstitious nonsense and sends her to a psychiatrist, Dr. Louis Judd, who tries to convince her as much, but before long, Oliver and his assistant (and potential romantic foil) Alice Moore start to notice strange things happening around them that line up with what Irena told him.

Tourneur knew he didn't have the budget to actually shoot a monster for very long, so for much of this film's runtime, he keeps the cat person in the shadows and lets those shadows do the talking. A lot is mined out of those shadows, too, perhaps best illustrated in a scene where Alice is being stalked by Irena in which we never actually see a monster, but we know full well that there's something lurking in the darkness just outside the reach of the streetlamps, Irena's transformation into a cat depicted by simply having the sound of her footsteps go dead silent -- and ending on what's still one of the all-time great jump scares. Irena herself makes for a great anti-villain, one who's clearly troubled over what she is and fears that she might get the man she loves killed because of it, but still ultimately gives in to what is in her nature. At a time when the original Universal monster movies were still being made, Irena's portrayal feels downright subversive, predicting all the more anti-heroic and morally cloudy takes on vampires and other monsters that have become the standard for urban fantasy stories in modern times, especially with this film's rejection of the period settings characteristic of Universal horror in favor of a contemporary time and themes.

This film has its problems, to be sure. Some of the dialogue is stilted, with a scene of Oliver telling Irena that she's safe now in America getting some outright laughs out of the audience I was with, even if it did do the job of highlighting how clueless Oliver actually was. French actress Simone Simon makes for a very compelling presence, but at the same time, it's clear that English is not her first language, which does lend to the feeling of Irena as an outsider but also means that, when she's speaking, her English-language performance is pretty flat. Most importantly, when the film does have to finally show the monster at the end, it's clear that they just filmed a black housecat and hid it in enough shadows and perspective shots to try to make it look like a big, scary panther, and didn't quite pull it off. Team America: World Police spoiled me years ago on that by doing something very similar as part of a gag, and it took me right out of it towards the end. The film ended on a high note, but there are still a lot of rough spots here.

The Bottom Line

All that said, Cat People remains a very interesting movie, one where even some of its flaws (barring its bad special effects) lend to its appeal. If you're a fan of classic horror from the Universal days and wanna see something from outside the Universal wheelhouse, I'd say give it a go.

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Afterwards, I caught a "secret screening" that turned out to be a long-forgotten bit of '80s schlock filmed in Salem, presented by James Branscome of the podcast Cinematic Void in a manner evocative of late-night basic cable from the '90s, complete with ad breaks thrown in where they showed period commercials from that time. That experience was undoubtedly the most interesting thing about the film and did a lot to liven up the affair, because otherwise...

Burned at the Stake (aka The Coming) (1981)

Not rated

Score: 1 out of 5 (the movie itself), 3 out of 5 (the broader experience at the screening)

Yeah, this wasn't good. Cinematic Void perhaps recaptured the '90s late night cable experience a little too well, complete with the fact that it looks like the screener they used was burned from an old, worn-out VHS copy of the film, because, as the host explained at the start of the show, this is a film that was only ever released on VHS and hasn't come out in newer formats. Specifically, it was one of the later films of Bert I. Gordon, a filmmaker best known for cheesy giant monster movies that have often been featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000, and in this one, he didn't have the trademark special effects that earned him the nickname "Mr. B.I.G." It's a film that's only watchable today as a cheesy relic of a bygone era of bad movies, which helped with the experience that Branscome put together but did little to help the film itself. I wouldn't bother seeking it out.

Opening in 1692 with a brief history of the Salem witch trials (butchered, of course), the film then fast-forwards to modern-day Salem in 1981, where a young girl who's descended from Ann Putnam, one of the primary accusers in the trials, winds up possessed by the spirit of her ancestor, who it turns out was influenced by the Devil himself to corrupt the town in a wave of paranoia and false accusations of witchcraft. At the same time, the father of one of the accused in 1692 finds himself mysteriously transported to the present day, and must work to stop the evil that has reemerged. It was all very dumb, put together with the production values of an afterschool special and only really notable because they shot it on location in Salem, Massachusetts (perhaps the reason why the Salem Horror Fest and Cinematic Void picked it for the program). It was an interesting historical artifact of '80s Salem, watching the film and seeing what had changed or remained the same compared to the city I saw outside the Peabody Essex Museum's auditorium, but beyond that, I had to put up with a lot of terrible production values, awful lighting, bad acting, and everything else you could imagine showing up in a bottom-of-the-barrel straight-to-video VHS quickie from the early '80s. There were apparently some bits that were based on real-life folklore concerning witchcraft, including working with actual witches who lived in Salem as consultants, but it barely came through in the film itself, especially when it was tough to even make out what was happening on screen. One kill that was supposed to involve a giant spider coming out of somebody's back instead looked like he was being mauled to death by a possessed dog, to the point of creating plot holes.

The Bottom Line

Burned at the Stake is an extremely deep cut that I'm not surprised hasn't gotten rereleased since, even with Gordon's schlockmeister legacy. Cinematic Void's presentation was honestly the big reason it was watchable at all, not unlike how many of Gordon's other movies have been immortalized by MST3K, and that's not what I'm reviewing here (though do give them a listen). This one was rough.

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The evening was when this turned into Hollywood Night, with the first of two very good slasher-adjacent horror movies about being a film actress.

Young Blondes, Stalked and Murdered (2024)

Not rated

Score: 4 out of 5

Young Blondes, Stalked and Murdered is a film that's very, very good at both building tension to a head and then denying you any sort of payoff. It's a slasher movie without the slashing, one in which the real terror comes in the paranoia as we watch a young woman navigate a world where, off in the background, there's a serial killer operating and it's increasingly clear that he's set his sights on her. It ended on a note that at once felt both anticlimatic and entirely appropriate, one that took the undercurrent of Hollywood satire running through the film and drove it home by indicating that our protagonist's failure to "make it" in the industry may have very well saved her life. This is one for horror fans who are interested in a film that may not have a lot of big thrills and frights, but instead serves up a ceaseless parade of little ones that slowly build up and never let up.

Our protagonist is a twentysomething woman named Stacy who's moved from Minnesota to Los Angeles to become an actress, and is struggling to get parts even as her friends in the city, all fellow actresses themselves, are finding ways to get parts and succeed in the industry. What's more, some of them are turning up dead, slaughtered by a serial killer who films it and then posts the deeds online. Initially, the murder is something that happens in the background, alluded to in the opening scene but something that we're mostly encountering through Stacy's eyes, hearing from her friends "hey, did you know that Chloe, that girl from our acting class, was found brutally murdered?" or something like that, as just one of many things that's on her mind. It's a slasher movie that, by taking a perspective that's initially far away from the killing, puts us in the shoes of somebody who doesn't initially seem like she's in danger. We know she is, of course, because this is a horror movie and she's the main character, but it's easy to see how she could miss the warning signs, especially because the film never actually shows the kills, only the impact they have on Stacy and her circle of friends. Not showing the kills denies you the instant fright, but instead feeds the slow burn of the film's drama, keeping the viewer squarely in Stacy's mindset as she starts to slowly, but not entirely, realize that something's wrong. It's honestly a pretty creative way of explaining how a character in a horror movie keeps making dumb decisions -- because she doesn't know she's in one, even if we do.

Samantha Carroll has to carry the entire movie as Stacy, and she does a very capable job. Her life is not the glamorous one she wanted -- she may be beautiful, but she's living in a dingy apartment, she's struggling to make ends meet, and she's increasingly wondering if this is worth it. It's easy to understand how somebody in her position brushes off all the growing warning signs around her as her friends drop dead one by one, especially as their deaths give her hope that she might have a shot at their roles. It's clear that she's the kind of self-centered person who often comes to Hollywood with stars in their eyes, but she's still somebody we sympathize with. The film is beautifully shot, at once making Hollywood feel both gorgeous and bleak while also hiding a dark side that increasingly starts to weigh down on both the viewer and Stacy as it goes on. The killer's identity is never explicitly stated but is otherwise very heavily implied, and when Stacy and the killer meet, it is one of the scariest scenes in the film as alarm bells started going off in my head telling her to get out of there. That scene in particular marks something of a turning point in the film where what had once been lurking in the background increasingly comes out in the open to the point that even Stacy is starting to feel it, even if it feels to her like just one more thing weighing on her mind.

The Bottom Line

An offbeat, minimalist take on the slasher genre that's powered by creeping dread, Young Blondes, Stalked and Murdered isn't for everyone, but if you're keyed into its style, it's an extremely effective slow-burn chiller.

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And finally, we end the night with a film that feels as though its star and co-writer Jenna Kanell was working out some stuff -- but fortunately, it produced a very solid closer.

Faceless After Dark (2023)

Not rated

Score: 4 out of 5

In Faceless After Dark, Jenna Kanell, the film's co-writer who's best known as one of the stars of the 2016 slasher Terrifier, plays a scream queen who's best known for a movie about a killer clown in which she played the final girl. It's not hard to figure out that at least some of this film may be autobiographical. If it were entirely so, I might have some thoughts about Kanell's mental state, but fortunately, this is otherwise a very fun, darkly comic film that reminded me in no small part of American Psycho and Falling Down, a story about somebody pushed to the edge by work, the internet, society, and mental illness who goes off the deep end. It was a highlight of the third night of the Salem Horror Fest, and one I'd love to see succeed.

Our protagonist Bowie is an actress who's recently shot to fame as the heroine of a bloody slasher flick, which on one hand has made her rich but on the other has made her a public figure under constant scrutiny by her fans, some of whom can get downright obsessive. One night, with her girlfriend away shooting a movie, one particularly deranged fan breaks into her home while dressed as the killer clown villain of her most famous film in an attempt to scare her. Already withering under the pressure, Bowie finally snaps as a result of this encounter, and starts to head down a very dark path as she fights back.

I really don't want to say much more than that. This movie has a lot of surprises up its sleeve that the trailer did a good job of hiding, and which only really come out during the second act. Kanell is the star of the show here, playing a character who's pretty obviously based on herself and doing it well, with Bowie initially serving as somebody who plays a kick-ass horror heroine on screen being pushed into that role for real but her cool demeanor slowly but surely warping as the film goes on into a sick, deranged parody thereof. There's a lot of style on display here, especially with a series of gory kills inflicted on some very loathsome people written in such a way as to make you wonder whether or not they deserve what happens to them. And through it all, there's a sense of sick righteousness as the victims increasingly start to resemble the people you normally find online if you read the comments for more than five seconds -- gross fetishists, moral scolds, pedophiles, and everybody in between, all against the backdrop of a world that feels like it's getting worse with every passing day.

The Bottom Line

Faceless After Dark is a damn good movie filled with gory kills, a mean streak a mile wide, and a great performance by Kanell, and one that I'm looking forward to seeing again when it hits video, even if I can't really say much more without giving away all the best parts.

[ghostgirl101]

Imagine making friends with Cassidy, the young boy possessing Golden Freddy.

|| Word Count: 522 || Platonic Fluff ||

A/N: Goldie's my favourite character from the FNAF world, so I had to write a bit of something for him .-. if you want to see anything specific for any of the FNAF. movie characters then go ahead and request some stuff, as long as it's not smut, and platonic/childhood sweethearts with the missing children :)

Ever since you started working as a night guard after Mike Schmidt’s resignation, surprisingly, you aren’t attacked by the vengeful animatronics who stalk the building. If anything, they’re protective. Especially Cassidy, the quiet young boy who always seems to be watching from the shadows. He’s killed someone before who got too close to you. You’ve even seen him smile once, a massive rarity.

He lingers in the corridor and watches you from the distance with an unreadable look, a hint of a smile on his face. You glance up from the camera screens to meet his calm, but equally sharp and intense stare from across the hall, piercing through the darkness cloaking the entire building, generators always seeming to fail and leaving Freddy's in an ominous night-cloaked tone.

"Hi, Cas," you say softly into the dark room, Cassidy tilting his head ever so slightly to the side in an almost curious response. You can't help but smile slightly at that, the traces of childhood and its blissfull innocence, not completely snuffed out by the horrors that took it all away from him so many years ago. He says nothing.

"Come to keep me company?" You offer with a half-smile, reaching out a hand in his direction, slowly and steadily, ready for him to reject it in silence and step back into the blackness that he seems to so effortlessly emerge from.

Cassidy hesitates for a long moment, before taking a soundless step forward, gazing at your hand blankly, as if not entirely trusting the gesture. But then, slowly, slowly, he stretches out his arm and smaller hand to meet yours, cold dead fingers brushing against yours. You smile fully, squeezing his fingers between yours gently, comfortingly, your other hand brushing back his fine blond locks away from his eyes.

"Poor thing," you find yourself mumbling aloud to yourself. "You're freezing..."

It's a good question of if Cassidy can actually feel the chill, but it doesn't seem to bother him. The foreign positive touch is nice and soothing, and a ghost of appreciation makes his mouth twitch into an almost-smile. He rests his head against your shoulder, breathing out a small content breath from his nose, as your fingers skim the boy's hair. He looks so little and quiet and distant, and for a moment, it seems like a ridiculous idea that he could be capable of anything close to murder, though he most certainly is.

You glance back at the cameras absentmindedly... then again. A frown tugs at your brows, and you peer closer at the digital, hazy image of the abandoned party room... and an intruder, someone who had found their way into the building, or was very likely lured there, lying still and cold on its floors.

"What...?"

Your voice trails off in realisation, and you roll your eyes, half amused, before looking back to Cassidy with a brow raised, as if to say, "really?"

Cassidy, of course, blinks back up at you with unfaltering innocence, his gaze only sharpening with matching amusement and something familiarly dark and unsettling that lingers in the halls of the Pizzeria.

"He fell asleep."

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA (rape), Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ content, Stalking, Possessiveness (let me know down below if there's more to be added, please and thank you)

Word Count: 1.4k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain

A/n: Oh my gosh, I didn't think the first part would get so many hits already! Thank you so much for reading this current series! I've decided that this story is going to be my main focus and I'm putting the others on hold for now. Let me know in the comments below if you want to be added to the tag list. Also, keep in mind this story takes place in SCREAM 1996 (The Original) so some or a lot of the plot will be in it. Thank you :)

All chapter links 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 2

Monday, the first day of the week, the day that everyone dreaded. It meant the end of a great Weekend and the start of a long and exhausting forthcoming week ahead. 

You pulled into the driveway of Woodsboro High school, your ‘67 Chevy glistened in the sun’s light. You rolled the windows up, opened the door and stepped out, grabbing your bag in the process. 

Double clicking your keys’  button, your car beeped, indicating it was now locked.

The parking lot was littered with News Vans, Journalists and their Cameramen, along with police cars and Officers. You narrowed your eyes, confused, seeing all the commotion. 

“What the fu--” You uttered, cutting yourself off, seeing the auditorium sealed off. 

“(Y/n)! Over here!” You hear Tatum shout and you jerk your head in the direction.

“Hey, Tate..” You trailed, seeing Sidney next to her, “Hi, Sid..” You nodded, greeting them. “Do you two have any idea what is going on?” You asked, gesturing to everything around you.

Just as Tatum was about to answer, Gale Weathers, and her annoyingly pitched voice began talking. 

“The small town of Woodsboro, California, was devastated last night, when two young teenagers were found brutally murdered.” Gale took a breath before continuing her speech in front of her cameraman. “Authorities have yet to issue a statement, but our sources tell us that no arrest has been made, and the murderer could strike again..” 

Your head was filled with questions, who were the students that were killed? What if you were the next victim? Why hasn’t the killer been found yet? 

You gulped and your face tinted pink from nerves. 

“Do you believe this shit?” Tatum suddenly spoke, jolting both you and Sidney from your thoughts. 

“Tatum what is going on?” You and Sidney both asked in unison. 

“I was going to answer earlier, but Gale seemed to have your attention more.” Tatum licked her lips, and adjusted her bag over her shoulder. The blonde glanced at you and Sidney, “Wait, so you really don’t know?” She asked, her eyes wide. 

“Yeah, no shit, why else would I be asking?” You rolled your eyes, sarcasm evident in your voice. 

“Okay, okay…” Tatum mumbled, “Casey Becker and Steve Orth were killed last night.” 

“What?” Sidney began, “No way…” You finished Sidney’s sentence for her. 

“And we’re not just talking killed. We’re talking splatter-movie killed.” Tatum made hand motions and began walking, you and Sidney followed her lead. 

“Ripped open from end to end.” The blonde looked at you, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“Casey Becker, she sits next to me in English.” Sidney gasped.

“Her boyfriend, Steve Orth, sat next to me in Drama..” You frowned, looking at Sidney. 

“Well, not anymore…” Tatum sputtered. 

“Ugh, that’s too bad…” You sighed, rubbing the back of your head.

“It’s so sad…” Tatum looked at the ground, kicking at a stone in her way. “Her mom and dad, they found her hanging from a tree, her insides on the outside…” Tatum placed her hands behind her back, rubbing the soles of her arm. “And Steve, God, he was found bound to a chair and his stomach ripped open..” 

“Oh, my God..” You groaned, sadness lingering in your voice. “Do they know who did it?” You asked, side-eyeing Tatum.

“They have no idea. They’re fuckin’ clueless.” 

You, Tatum and Sidney walked up the school’s steps. 

“They’re interrogating the entire school…” Tatum exhaled before listing off people, “Teachers, students, janitors--”

You butted in, “They think it’s school related?” You raised a brow, gripping the side of your arm, nails digging into your flesh. The anxiety of it all, started building up in the pit of your stomach. You felt nauseous.

Tatum stopped in front of you and Sidney, “They don’t know…” Tatum glanced into your hues before looking at Sidney, “I mean, Dewey was saying this is the worst crime they’ve seen in years. Even worse then--”

“Tate…” You warned, gesturing for her to choose her words carefully when speaking to Sidney. Yes, you may not like Sidney as much, but she doesn’t deserve to be reminded of her mother’s rape and murder. 

The bell rings, signaling the start of class, making the conversation dwindle. 

Tatum sighed, jabbing her two index fingers together, out of nervousness. “Well.. It’s bad.” 

--

You tapped your pencil against your desk, staring beside you. 

Little do your friends know, Steve was also your ex-boyfriend. After you guys had a falling out, he had left you for Casey. You didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of anyone knowing you were the dumpee and not the dumper, plus, he was secretly seeing you while he was in another relationship before Becker. You didn’t want anyone to judge you for it. You felt guilty as is, but the way he was able to charm you with his words and physical touch, you couldn’t help yourself, but keep going for more. However, as far as anyone else knows, you guys were just close friends.

You moaned, letting your head droop, “Jesus…” You whispered, drumming your fingers, trying to settle the sick feeling in your gut. 

“(Y/n) (L/n), it would appear to be your turn.” The teacher said, looking at you, and the rest of the class turned their heads to meet your gaze.

You nodded, looking one last time at the empty desk next to you, where Steve used to sit. 

You grabbed your books, pencil case and water bottle, shoving them quickly into your bag. 

--

“Who’s up next?” The principal asked.

“Um, (Y/n) (l/n)..” Dewey looked over his papers.

“Wait, wasn’t she the one who found Maureen Prescott last year--” The principal began, but stopped, seeing you in the doorway. 

“Ah, (Y/n). How have you been?” He asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m okay.” You smiled half-heartedly, sitting down on the blue-cushioned chair. 

“Hi, (Y/n)..” 

“Hello, Sheriff Burke, Dewey…” You inhaled, feeling the nerves begin to rile back up. You tapped your foot off the ground, shaking your leg, feeling your hands sweat.

“Uh, that’s Deputy Riley today, (Nickname).” Dewey winked. 

“How is Everything?” Sheriff Burke looked you over, seeing how anxious you were. 

“Um, could be better…” You mumbled, looking down. 

“Huh, why’s that?” Burke leaned forward. You sank in your chair, feeling rather intimidated. 

“Look, we’re gonna keep this very brief, (Y/n), alright?” The principal placed a broad hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “The police just want to ask you a few questions, okay?” 

You nodded. 

“(Y/n), were you very close to Steve Orth?”

‘Shit..’ You thought. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I was…” You wiped your hands off your jeans, trying to dry them off.

“How close?” Burke, scribbled down on his board, awaiting your answer.

You gulped, looking at Dewey, silently praying he’d step in, seeing how apprehensive you were, but he wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t, he was doing his job.

“We dated…” You started, “Last year for a couple months…” 

“How come the relationship ended?” 

“Uh, we--, um, we had a falling out.” 

“What type?” 

“Jesus--” You groaned, rubbing your thighs with your hands, “He was seeing me behind his then girlfriend's back, we slept together a few times, okay?” You came clean, “He wanted it to end, but I didn’t, but he ended up leaving anyway, leaving for Casey. That’s it, I swear.” You teared up, “I feel so bad about the whole situation as it is, poor Brooke, she didn’t know anything, but he left both of us for Casey..” You placed your hands over your face as quiet sobs escaped your lips. “Am I in trouble?” You peaked through the creases of your fingers, a blush forming across your face. 

“For having an affair with him? No, of course not, but that does move you on top of my suspect list.” 

You whined, misery coating your mind, “Why? I didn’t kill him..” You uttered, wiping your nose with your light-blue sleeve. “I was hurt, but that doesn’t mean I’d kill him for being scorned…” You trailed, meeting Sheriff Burke's eyes. “I couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a human being…” 

“Uh, Sheriff?” Dewey stepped in, “I mean, she’s right, there’s no way she could do something like that.” Dewey glanced at you. 

The Sheriff sighed, “We just have to ask you a few extra questions, that’s it.. I didn’t mean to frighten you like that, I should’ve worded it differently. It’s only because you were close with him, you were his mistress at one point, so it’s somewhat suspicious.” He rubbed his chin, “Mistress was upset by Steve breaking relations off, so Mistress sets a plan for revenge. You catch my drift?” He looked at you, and you slouched.

“Yeah..” Was all you could muster out, you sniffled, hugging yourself, waiting for more questions to be asked. “Alright, let’s get this over with…” 

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[bangtangalicious]

nexus (m) part 4

pairing: ot7 x f-reader | smut: jimin x reader, jungkook x reader

premise: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest

summary: the murder of your best friend prompts you to team up with a vengeful detective to navigate a web of lies, betrayals and love. trust no one. people are never who they seem, and the most horrid one of all might just be the one you love most

characters: detective!jungkook, ex/bartender!yoongi, bestfriend!seokjin, ceo!namjoon, fiancee!taehyung, model!hoseok, therapist!jimin

genre: 18+ smut slow burn angst romance thriller mystery eventual yandere casino!au organizedcrime/mafia!au arrangedmarriage!au revenge!au

wordcount: 8.8k

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes, proceed with caution. public sex, dirty dancing hehe, breast play, degradation kink, some hand stuff, fingering, dubious consent, somnophilia, rough sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, obsessive, possessive, manipulative behavior & themes, allusions to gambling addiction, implied stalking behavior, mentions of psychiatric facilities, implied sexual trauma, depiction of unethical therapy, physical violence (jk beats jimin up woo), slight slut shaming, gaslighting, alcohol use, partying, themes of social class resentment, but! also! love confessions! kissing! and! reunions! but lots of angst

taglist: @raynom @gimmythatjib00ty @yoshiure @greezenini @victoryscreech61 @tbzhubrecs @namjooningelsewhere @sugarcoffeemochi @jiminie-08 @jinssexytoe @kooookie @only4sana @pinkcherrybombs @taeslarityy @natalie-rdr @mageprincess7 @hopeonysus @bibbykins @sameifnn @shadowmoon21 @juliemae80-blog @gaeguuliii @dvalitaes @satorinnie @fournia @kassandravictoria @jazmine2904 @marslena @iloverubberduckiez-blog @manchuria @btseverafter7 @jamlessstars @doublebunnykoo @you-are-my-wind @toughbook @mini-euphoria-deactivated202302 @lvrseok @n4mina @imjinvolved @rp171198 @codeinebelle @itsallabouthedetails @btseverafter7 @just-me-and-myselfs @blonde-bummer @hcneybees @babycoffeefire @totallynoanalien @seokjinkismet @itslanaanditssad @rhyperia @sporadicfuryface @azazel-nyx @hani-neko-nee-chan (rest of tags on reblog)

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“Taehyung” The name left your lips in a shudder. Shut eyes quivering, entrapping you in your nightmare.

Miles away, Taehyung stared out the window. The rolling hills hinting at a familiarity. His head ached, he felt nauseous as the vibrations of Jungkook’s car hit his core. He didn’t want to see you—not that anyone would understand. He remembered you vividly—remembered his own infatuation with you. You were a shining idol in his eyes. Someone who he looked at in awe, like he did his eldest brother.

Years locked away can change one’s perception.

Years left alone can brew resentment.

You never came for him. He was certain you didn’t even try.

A grin tugged at his lips.

The name uttered from your lips had Jimin’s eyes shooting open. Woken up from a dream—the dream where you and him were forever, and he wasn’t pretending. A world where you loved him—Park Jimin.

Your body lay curled into itself. He couldn’t help but touch you—fingers drawn to the curve of your back. Trailing down softly.  You were a troubled sleeper. He could see it in the way you flinched at his actions.

Pulling you into his warmth, he kissed the nape of your neck with a loving tenderness, ghosting up to your ear where he whispered your name sweetly.

Your name. The first words Seokjin ever said to him. He was the most complex patient he’d ever faced. One that brought meaning to his monotonous existence.

Jimin had been bored. Bored with his brilliant mind that allowed him to become a young doctor. Bored with his high profile patients who were all simply rotten with their first-world problems. He was losing his mind. Day in and day out—stuck within the four walls of his office. One brat in, another out.

Kim Seokjin was a special case. He had asked him simply—what’s on your mind?

You. You were on Jin’s mind.

It was tough to say if you had a leash on him, or he you. As Jin would ramble on about how he couldn’t rationalize his feelings for you, Jimin would bite back his smile, scribbling the word obsessed onto his notebook.

The irony.

It started as curiosity. Jimin had a reputation for being successful with all his patients, but it often required a hands on approach. In the corner of the casino, Jimin would observe you like an animal in the wild—you in your element. Throwing yourself at Jin’s elitist friends, while swindling them out of millions.

He watched you. Learned you. Studied you until he swore he could write a thesis.

And here you were.

Engaged. To be married. To be one.

Sighing deeply, he let his hand trail between your legs. Fingers prodding at your folds, smiling lazily at the way you’d twitch and shudder. Simply unphased. Deep in your sleep.

He let your wetness coat the sensitive pads of his fingers. Nose pressed against your neck, he inhaled, reveling in your scent as his fingers pushed in and out of your cunt.

The intrusion into your tight walls was slick. Yet you accepted him so well he simply had to add another. He still couldn’t believe he got to have you—got to cum inside you. Something he knew for a fact Jin never had the pleasure of doing.

Jin was an enigma and you were his doll. His plaything where he could easily manipulate your surroundings and puppet you without you realizing it. A fascinating man. Attached to you like a baby to a binkie. As if knowing you since birth gave him some right over your life.

Jin had cameras set up in your house, which he revealed in a delusional confession about how he was upset his younger brother had taken your virginity. Of course, Jimin already knew this. He hacked into them to watch you as well.

Jimin chuckled to himself. You were so naïve. Clueless. Didn’t know how badly you needed Jimin to save you. Jin was far more dangerous than Jimin could ever be.

Jimin was simply there to fill the hole in your heart. Ease the tension between your legs where he let his flushed tip prod. Cock heated with need, heavy with desire. He cursed, sliding his shaft through your folds slowly. Your body responding through subtle twitches. Cunt seeping at his touch.

His cock sunk inside you with ease, feeling you clench down violently at the intrusion. Your body shifting, coming alive, regaining consciousness, because here he was to save you from yourself. You knew not what forces bound you. Kept you from freedom. Jimin was here now. He would take care of everything, lest you worry your pretty little head.

He’d keep you safe. Away from the Kim brothers, away from the judgements of society. He would purify you. Wash out your sins with his cum, fuck you until you only knew pleasure in his name.

“Taehyung” Your lips parted, forehead furrowing as you realized your reality. He shushed you—you wouldn’t want to make him angry with that name, would you? Maybe one day he would tell you to call him Jimin. Under the guise of roleplay, or perhaps, if you had no escape.

“Good morning, princess” He could feel you shudder. He was so deep in your trenches you couldn’t move. Couldn’t run from him—his hands slipping over your breasts. Pinching at your nipples. He cooed at the warmth spreading to your cheeks. The way your eyes fluttered, euphoric in feeling. Wedging himself even further inside of you with a sharp thrust.

You yelped, a soft, gorgeous sound which he elicited with every move. Tight, rough—as he hooked your leg over his arm. The other wrapping generously around your neck. Your back arched against him, his teeth shadowing over your ear. Splashing into your waters, he rammed into you like a fever. Balls slapping against your ass, smacks echoing through the serene room. Tangled with the early morning sunrise.

He could easily lose himself in your sensation. How Jin time and time again passed up the chance, he knew not. The man had self-restraint, if nothing else. Your pussy squeezed the life out of him, making him want to give you everything he had and more. For what purpose was anything else? This is all he ever wanted—all he ever needed. Fucking into you just like this. He’d make you fall so in love you’d never want to leave. Exist pliant with his cock stuffing you as he pleased. His own princess. His virtue and his demise.

“Taehyung” Your voice muffled by lack of air. His hand so tight around your throat, constricting more when you uttered that damned name. “C-can’t breathe” You slapped his hand, as though signaling him to release you. Jimin chuckled, as if you had any say in this.

You were a puppet even before he came into your life. A puppet before he knew of your existence. Why should you ever be anything else? You didn’t know any better. Nevertheless he let you breathe, let you gasp for air because he wanted you to remember that he allowed it. He listened and he cared. Shoving you onto your stomach, he battered himself back onto you, ass cushioning his pistoning hips. You were a means to his end. He wanted to die buried inside you like this, so close to his edge his vision was red hot. The unsatisfying and addictive heat sprawling over his bare chest.

Teeth digging into his own lip, the best and worst sensation combined. He didn’t want the pleasure to stop, the tight, unwavering grip of your cunt as his cock hit you straight in your core. Over and over again, fusing your bodies together. Holding down your shoulders, keeping you in place as he pounded into you with fury.

He swore he’d never been so high in his life—no ecstasy could quite compare. The bed creaking underneath. The only sounds of your bodies clashing, your lips gasping and him—groaning deep as his cock twitched inside you. Swelling before everything snapped at once. Dozed over, cum spilling hot inside of you. He collapsed onto your back, spent for all his worth. Keeping himself nested in you even while he kissed your cheeks.

You slipped away from him, limp cock falling out as you reached for a robe. He admired the brief glimpse of his cum, sticky between your thighs.

“You awoke a beast in me” Jimin chuckled shyly, resuming his act as the whipped Kim Taehyung. “Couldn’t even help myself”

Jungkook gripped the wheel of his car with a ferocity that had his knuckles turning white. The tension in the car thick. In the rearview mirror he could see him. Kim Taehyung. The root cause of all the shit he’d ever faced. The rat that sold out his father and got him killed.

He could never forget. Never forget the eyes that watched in horror as his father was shot by an animal. Jungkook so badly wanted to blame him. To let out his anger and get his revenge on this bastard—but he couldn’t.

For your sake.

You were the centerpiece now. Caught in a web of whose design—Jungkook was still trying to figure out. Internally he battled his opportunity to avenge his father, with his duty to you as a Detective. You fucking little brat who he loathed and yet had an inexiplicable desire to shield you from all harm.

His foot lowered on the gas. Who knows what you were doing with this Park Jimin creep. Miles whizzed past as he sped up. What if you were hurt—what if he—

The Kim mansion was in sight. Jungkook parked the car, turning to face Taehyung with skepticism in his eyes. The boy had barely uttered a word in the car.

“Jimin could be armed and dangerous” Jungkook swallowed thickly, “I’ll go in first just to make sure, and I will bring Y/n to you. You guys wait here”

Taehyung looked down at his hands. He was playing with something in his palms. Finally looking up, Jungkook was taken aback.

The look in his eyes was dark. Almost terrifying.

He said nothing. After getting an uncertain nod from Yoongi, Jungkook stepped out. Making his way to the side entrance, hand glazed over the gun sheathed by his side. With a light nudge, the door opened—he stepped inside, muddy shoes staining the crystal clean marbled floor.

Silently, he slipped through the halls of the maze-like home. He could hear something—following the echoes into the kitchen. You were there. Alone. Bent over the sink while the microwave hummed behind you.

You were choking out. Gagging as if you would throw up. Only a flimsy silk robe holding you together.

Jungkook’s gut twisted.

You didn’t.

He couldn’t afford to scare you in the state you were in. If you screamed, Jimin would know he was here. Quietly, he treaded towards you, nearing until he was close enough to lick the sweat beading on the hollow of your neck.

In a swift movement, his fingers covered your mouth. You jumped in shock, eyes wide. “It’s me” Jungkook assured you as you writhed in his hold. He repeated himself until it sunk in, whispering “It’s just me. Don’t scream”

Backing away from him, you wiped your mouth on your sleeve.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered angrily.

Jungkook’s eyes dropped to the cleavage of your robe, splitting open more than you likely meant it to. The round edges of your breast vulnerable to his sight. Flustered, you tightened it around your body, ignoring the dark flash in his eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes still steady on your chest before snapping back to reality. He looked at you, serious, “Are you alright?” He glanced towards the sink which was empty. “Sick?”

You shrugged, brushing off his concern. “Why the fuck are you here, Jungkook?”

 “Did you fuck him?” You made a face. Sighing, Jungkook explained. “He’s not Kim Taehyung. He’s an imposter”

“Oh I know”

Jungkook’s lips pursed. “You know?”

Chuckling lightly, your head turned as the microwave began to beep. Grabbing what seemed to be a muffin, you casually took a bite. Jungkook squinted as your teeth sunk into the pastry, crumbs dotting the edge of your lips.

“Sure. Taehyung had a mole, it wasn’t there. This guy has the tattoo—Taehyung wasn’t there when they got it. And he won’t answer any questions about where he’s been.” You spoke while chewing, “You know but the way I knew for sure was when he began fucking me while I was asleep”

Jungkook’s jaw tensed.

“What?” He searched your eyes. Is that why you were—he looked again towards the sink.

“Yeah” Your voice was curt. He seriously questioned if you were hurting more than you let on “Maybe you and I should try it sometime. Kinda hot”

Jungkook huffed, “That’s not—”

“What?” You grinned at him, batting your eyelashes. Moving in closer as your finger hooked into the collar of his shirt, tugging playfully “You don’t wanna? Me lying all helpless while you ram your big fucking cock in,”

“Y/n” Jungkook’s voice raised sternly as he pushed your hand away.

“That’s what all you guys want anyway, to bend me over like a little brainless cocksleeve” You tossed the half of your muffin into the trash with a tantrum-like attitude.

“Tell me where he is” Jungkook heard you, took note of the subtle bitterness in your tone and to talk to you about it later, but focused on the task at hand. “He might be Jin’s killer”

You nodded, gulping down your bite. “He’s upstairs, follow me”

You led Jungkook through the halls, up the grand winding staircase of the foyer. A large, glimmering chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. So much excess wherever Jungkook looked.

This was normal for you—this was your status quo. Your silk robes and ignorance. You slept with a man who could have killed your best friend—knowingly. Jungkook tried his hardest yet he swore he couldn’t understand a thing about you.

And he’d never care to admit just how much of his headspace you consumed.

If Jimin had hurt you.

If he had taken advantage of you in someway.

Jungkook’s fists tightened.

Opening the double doors to what he could only assume to be your bedroom, Jimin sat on the bed, waiting expectantly.

“Park Jimin, you’re under arrest under suspicion for the murder of Kim Seokjin” Jungkook slid past you quickly before Jimin could try to escape. He didn’t move, allowing Jungkook to handcuff him without resistance. He simply stared at you, amusement in his eyes.

“Murder?” Jimin tilted his head, grinning “I didn’t murder him baby”

“Why would I believe a fucking word you say?” You spat at him. Jungkook watched as your eyes flashed with rage. “You lied to me. You pretended to be my Taehyung”

“You’re gonna regret this” His smile didn’t waver. “You’re gonna wish you played along like the good little doll you are. What, you think this is good for you? Oh baby, you just wait. Put me behind bars and you see what hell is going to come knocking at your door. Who’s going to look out for you hm? This fucker?” He nodded in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook ignored him, calling on his radio for backup. Pulling Jimin to stand, he dragged him out the door. Jimin dug his heels in, slowing him down.

He laughed, a dark sinister cackle. “I’m the only one who cares about you Y/n. You think Jeon Jungkook is going to help you—please,” Jungkook shot him a glare, “You don’t know what I know”

“That’s enough” Jungkook roughly pushed him forward. Suddenly he heard something shatter.

You had thrown a vase in Jimin’s direction.

“You crazy prick” Your teeth were gritting. As though this were your last straw, letting down the series of dominos do drive you over the edge. “I’m not a doll—I don’t need anyone, least of all a fucking psycho like you!”

“You love it baby” Jimin taunted, “You think Jin is any better? He allowed it, princess. This was all his doing. I was perfectly content watching the footage he’d send me of the cameras he set up in your room—”

You lunged towards him, but Jungkook stepped in your path. Hands gripping your waist, holding you back. Touch gentle, but firm.

“Y/n” Jungkook whispered, “Easy”

“Let me fucking at him. I’ll show him”

“I know” Jungkook stood, pushing back as you tried to resist him, “Let me take him in okay. He’s gonna get what he deserves. Go grab something to wear” Jungkook urged, “Meet me downstairs, yeah?”

You frowned slightly, before ultimately agreeing. Jungkook exhaled, turning back to a thoroughly entertained Jimin. He swung a punch straight into his gut, causing Jimin to buckle over. Immediately then grabbing his neck, choking him as he lifted him onto his toes.

“That’s for Y/n” Jungkook hissed, “Psycho” Jimin squirmed in his hold, but Jungkook simply tightened his fingers. Jimin’s smile grew.

“As if you wouldn’t have done the same, Detective. Like father like son”

Jungkook tossed him across the room. Crashing into the wall, Jimin let out a pained grunt. The officers had arrived. He left Jimin on the floor, knowing he’d have nowhere to run.

Downstairs you waited, a baggy shirt and sweats which likely belonged to one of the brothers. Jungkook was reminded suddenly of who was waiting in his car. Police officers rushed passed him, grabbing Jimin and escorting him out. Jungkook took you and followed, watching as they drove off with him, twisted smile steady throughout it all.

“You good?” Jungkook asked again, voice barely above a whisper. His fingers brushing against your palm as if to nudge you. The sirens screamed loud in the distance. From the corner of his eye, he could see you take a deep breath.

He hated that he noticed. The way you fought to stay afloat through it all. He much preferred his own cowardly ignorance, where you were not someone he’d destroy in his quest, but rather righteous, deserving collateral.

Reality kicked in. Taehyung was waiting to see you in the car. He wondered if maybe throwing that on you now in the state you were would be unwise.

Maybe he just didn’t want you to meet Taehyung. He wanted to talk to you. Ask about what you said before, make sure you were really alright.

Unfortunately for him, the choice was robbed.

“Namjoon?”

The look in your eyes made Namjoon’s heart crumble. You looked so hurt. So betrayed.

Namjoon looked between you at the man by your side—vaguely familiar. He glanced as his badge to see Detective Jeon roughly inscribed.

“Bold of you to show up here” The detective muttered; arms crossed over his chest.

“Hobi said you called so I came”

It was a poor excuse. Just like when his mother died, again he had ignored your needs. Disappearing wordlessly, abandoning you when you needed him most. Left you to face your grief, the pain from Jin’s death which was no doubt hitting you the hardest of all.

How could he ever explain himself? Justify himself or earn back your trust? He was never blind to your affection, but simply possessed by a battle more prominent at the time. A battle with his brother which in hindsight felt pointless. The demands of the company consumed his every waking moment.

You said nothing. Simply stared at him in shock. He longed to reach out, to hold you, and offer a shoulder to lean on. Doubt held him back.

“Are you okay? The cops outside told me what happened. About the imposter.”

Still nothing.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know, I hadn’t seen him since—”

“You killed Jin”

Your voice boomed. Echoed through the grand walls of the foyer. Seething with anger, your jaw clenched. Tears brimming at the edges of your red eyes.

The words stung. Stung because he couldn’t say you were wrong. Because you could be saying fact—and Namjoon didn’t know if he killed his brother or not.

“Y/n please”

He didn’t want to lie to you—perhaps it wasn’t lying until the trust was discovered.

“You killed him and I loved him”

Perhaps those words stung even more.

Namjoon reached for your hands. “I need you to know that I never wanted you to marry Taehyung. I never wanted to force you to do anything. You deserve to live your own life”

He fell to his knees, keeping your palms in his. Not knowing how else to beg for your forgiveness.

“I got so drunk the night he was killed. The night before your engagement because—fuck Y/n, I didn’t want to do this to you. I didn’t know how bad things were, I was so blind—I wish I could go back. Fight for you”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill him Namjoon”

Namjoon swallowed tickly, diverting his eyes.

“Tell me the fucking truth”

He kissed your hand softly. He didn’t want to hurt you any more than he already had. But perhaps it was that mentality alone that was his biggest betrayal. His family’s biggest betrayal to you—lying. Lying under the guise of your protection when all it did was dig you a deeper grave.

“I-I don’t know” He confessed, giving in. This was how it had to be. This was the only way he could even hope to repair his relationship with you. Glancing briefly at the detective, he continued “Maybe”

He stood up, “Can we go somewhere quiet and talk, please?”

“Actually um—” Jungkook interrupted, only for Namjoon to shoot him a glare.

“Don’t you have a fucking criminal to interrogate? We’re obviously pressing charges. Go to your job—I don’t pay so much fucking tax so you can harass me and my—”

He bit his tongue.

“Fine” You broke the pause. “Let’s go talk.” Turning to the detective, you gave him a reassuring nod.

“Well can you please come to the station after?”

“She’ll come when she’s ready” Namjoon snapped. The detective rolled his eyes.

Namjoon took your hand in his again, leading you upstairs. Into your room. Noticing the messy sheets. The remnants of your clothes thrown around the room. His jaw hardened.

“You slept with him” Namjoon rationalized. “The imposter”

“Yeah, and?” Huffing, you leaned against the window. “I already feel shitty enough about it so don’t you run your mouth at me”

“No I—” He moved closer to you, searching your face. Your eyes mixed with vulnerability and resilience. You were tough, he knew that. He saw that so clearly even through the years he dismissed you. “Come here”

He pulled you into his chest, hand cradling the back of your head. He hugged you—he couldn’t remember the last time he had. Probably over a decade ago. He didn’t deserve to hold you, he knew it deep down. But whatever little he could offer you now, he would do it. He would do anything for you.

“I’m so sorry” He mumbled into the top of your head. “I won’t abandon you again, I promise”

He could feel your shoulders relax, your arms wrapping around his torso.

“This is your fault” You sobbed, “Everything is your fault Joonie”

“I know” He kissed your forehead, gazing into your teary eyes. His palm cupping your face, thumb wiping away your tears. His heart twisting in his chest.

Seconds passed so incredibly slow, yet too fast for him to think.

“I love you” His eyes widened as the words left his mouth. You blinked at him in confusion.

“W-what?”

“I know you hate me, and you have every right to. But I—I love you Y/n. I always have. Jin looming over my shoulder all my life just made me not realize it”

“Are you fucking kidding me Joonie? I always wanted you” You stared at him in disbelief. “You—you used me. I still have trouble opening my heart to anyone because of what you did to me—and now you’re saying you love me??”

“I know. Okay. I know what I did and I regret it every single day. I just hated Jin so much. More than I loved you, and now that Jin’s gone I can finally let myself feel it”

“You’re the fucking reason that I was engaged to Taehyung! I had a choice—I chose you”

Namjoon blinked. “Huh?”

“Yeah and you asked me if I loved Jin and I said I didn’t, so you told your mother to set me up with Taehyung”

“That’s not what happened”

“The fuck you mean it’s not what happened Joon? I clearly remember—”

“Y/n” Namjoon held your shoulders tightly, “I didn’t even know they asked you. Jin just told me one day. I swear”

You receded in silence.

“I’m pretty sure Jin was the one who decided too. Did you know, mom never left the company for him? He tricked me. Made me promise to see your engagement through and give him Nexus shares in exchange for the casinos”

You gulped, quiet for a moment to process before speaking: “He was also apparently seeing someone. A serious relationship”

“Yeah” Namjoon gulped. He had a pretty decent idea who it was, but didn’t want to tell you anything he didn’t know for sure. He’d put you through enough today. “I heard”

You gulped. Staring into his eyes. Until your eyes dropped to his lips. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat. Rhythm rushing the blood in his veins.

“Namjoon—” You looked away, but Namjoon held your chin steady with his finger. Tilting your face up to his.

“I love you” He repeated. “I’m here now, nothing will happen to you. No one can hurt you anymore. Not even him”

He leaned in just a tad. Pausing to ensure you wanted this. He wouldn’t push you. Wouldn’t manipulate you ever again.

“Don’t”

A man’s voice came from the door.

“Please—don’t”

Jungkook rushed back to the car. Taehyung and Yoongi were clearly in the middle of some sort of intense discussion.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked, looking around. He squinted at Namjoon’s car. “Wait—is that—”

“Yeah” Jungkook exhaled, turning on the engine, “Namjoon is back” He looked to Taehyung, “You can go in if you want, but we already arrested Jimin”

Taehyung remained still. Silent. Only the sound of his shaky breath until finally his eyes rose to meet Jungkook’s.

“Yeah” Jungkook glanced at Yoongi who shrugged. “I’ll go in”

“Do you want me to come with you Taehyung?” Yoongi reached out to him. Taehyung shook his head.

“Thanks Yoongi hyung. I should be fine. They’re family”

“Tell Y/n to call me when she can okay” Yoongi called out as Taehyung exited the car. Jungkook peered at him, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Alas he had more pressing issues at the moment. He rushed back to the station.

Jimin was locked in a cell when he arrived. Grinning wide. Infuriating Jungkook.

“You father would be so disappointed in you, interfering with the fall of the Kim’s” Jimin taunted from behind bars.

“You don’t know my father” He hissed under his breath.

“I was Kim Seokjin’s therapist—I know quite a bit about your father” Jimin walked up to the bars, pressing his face in between them. “And that he deserved to die”

“Enough” Jungkook snapped, his voice dropping low. “I have a few questions, and then I’m leaving you here to rot, got it?”

Jimin clicked his tongue in amusement. “Go ahead then. Ask me what you really want to know” He grinned wide, “Like how tight Y/n’s little cunt was”

Jungkook’s fist slammed against the pole. “Haven’t I beat you enough for today? Or are you a freak who likes it?”

“You like it too I bet. Beating people. Your dad sure did”

“Say one more thing about my dad” Jungkook hissed. Jimin pursed his lips in amusement.

“Am I in here because of impersonation? Because I didn’t commit any fraud, technically. Lying isn’t a crime”

“You’re a person of interest in the murder of Kim Seokjin”

Jimin giggled, “God, you’re all fucking idiots. I didn’t kill Seokjin. I was his doctor. And you can’t ask me about him because that information is protected by law”

“I can, since he’s fucking dead, and whatever he confessed in therapy might help us find out what happened”

“How long are you going to pretend, Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin asked, “How long are you going to act like this wasn’t all you?”

“Please—don’t”

Both you and Namjoon turned towards the voice. Namjoon’s lips parted in shock, while you stood—frozen in time.

Curly black hair. Eyes that glimmered so uniquely they made you want to stare at them for hours. Soft, thin lips. Pretty lashes. The resemblance was uncanny.

Pain seared through your chest.

“Taehyung?” Namjoon’s voice shattered your flashback. “Is that really you?”

He nodded, turning to his brother. Namjoon hesitated, before awkwardly opening his arms to embrace him. Taehyung melted into him—a boy reunited with his brother. It was a heartwarming sight.

“My god, Tae” Namjoon muttered, “Where the hell have you been?”

He turned back towards you. You were still too stunned to speak. His eyes scanned you up and down—in a way that made you feel like he could see through you. Straight to your bones.

“Hi” His eyes softened, but his face remained still. “Remember me?”

He must have spoken, but you couldn’t hear anything but your heart hammering in your ears. Panic flooding your veins. Your head feeling light—dizzy. Everything shifted, everything blurred.

"Are you scared of me, princess?"

There it was. The nickname. You stiffened as he leaned forward, fingers trailing up your jaw until he held your cheek in his palm. Held you gaze in his own, eyes drifting with mystery. His voice was so incredibly soft. Sweet even. Contrasting the ever so slightly amused glint in his eye.

You exhaled, heart throbbing through your ribs, almost to the point of suffocation.

"Hyung," Taehyung shifted to look at Namjoon who was watching the scene unfold intently, lips pursed in worry. Truth be told, he had been shocked at the intimate moment he almost walked in on. He never recalled Namjoon having any affection for you—or anyone for that matter. “Can we have a minute?”

"Yeah, of course. I’ll be in my room" Namjoon stood up slowly, looking to you for some sort of affirmation that it was okay to leave. You sent him a slight nod, to which his shoulders relaxed.

Ten years. Shocking nightmares every single night. Screaming to you, if maybe you might look back. If you might spare him a second glance and save him.

Taehyung was no idiot. He wasn’t oblivious to soft glances of attraction between you and Jin, speaking through nothing but the shy glimmer in your eyes.

Year after year passed, and he wondered if you’d care enough to find him. Wondered if you’d dare to question the actions of his brother—you didn’t.

And his resentment grew like a tumor in his soul.

You stood, a ghost from the past—a figment of this twisted reality. And Taehyung could finally drink you in. Your eyes were filled with a dead numbness. There used to be a light in there.

You were his princess. He was the first to say it, the first to think it, and as far as he was concerned the only one who truly had the right to call you it.

But where were you during his darkest days?

Your features softened, a mix of recognition and affection filling your gaze.

Taehyung didn’t know when he moved. Who moved first. The whole moment was a timeless blur. Wrapping his arms around you, the storm seemed to fade. All the years of separation melting away, resentment and distrust fading to dust, leaving only the warmth of your embrace.

He didn't want to hold you too tightly and yet, he couldn't bring himself to let go. Truth be told, Taehyung had never been more afraid in his entire life. Afraid of you. Afraid of his feelings for you.

Afraid of the ability you had to drive him completely and utterly insane.

“Are you real?” You looked into his eyes. “Fuck, Taehyung, I missed you so much”

Stepping away, he regarded you. Looking you up and down before his jaw hardened. The dark spells of his mind knocking on the forefront.

“You missed me?” He scoffed, tongue rolling in his cheek as he cocked his head. “You could have tried to find me, Y/n”

“Taehyung I—” His heart leapt when his name left your lips. “I don’t—I don’t even know why they sent you away”

“Did you try and find out?”

You gave him a guilty look. Reaching out for him but he flinched at your touch. “I thought about you all the time”

“Answer me” He snapped. You gulped.

“Well, Jin—”

“Don’t say his name to me” Taehyung hissed, “He did this to me, do you even know that Y/n?”

“I can’t” You shook your head rapidly, tears spilling from your eyes. Taehyung felt queasy at the sight, “I can’t deal with this. Why can’t you be happy to see me?”

“I spent ten years. Ten fucking years locked in psychiatric facilities, Y/n” He gripped your shoulders, “You were here, playing princess in my house—don’t tell me how I should fucking feel”

“I didn’t know” You pleaded, reaching for his face, “Taehyung I swear to you, I didn’t know”

“My mom is dead” He exhaled, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I didn’t even know about it—no one even fucking told me. And hyung too”

“Taehyung” You ran your fingers through his hair. He couldn’t help but croon into your touch. Muscles relaxing under the sweet sensation. “I’m so sorry”

He let his eyes flutter shut, you rested your head on his chest. He was taller than you. His hands holding your waist steady. Forehead resting against yours as tears began to drip down his face.

“I want to know everything” You spoke in hushed tones. Your voice soft, like music to his ears. He could feel your breath on his lips. “I want to make up for the time we lost, okay, I promise you”

He nodded lightly, sniffling.

“You’re so handsome, Tae” There was pride in your voice that brought a shy smile to his face. “Look at you, all grown up” He chuckled, wiping his tears away. He looked at you again, sighing deeply before resting his head back on your shoulder.

You pressed your lips to Taehyung’s cheek before stepping away from him. He gasped for air, the walls closing around him suddenly at the loss of your touch.

“Listen, I need to go to the station to give my report. I’ll be back soon, okay?” He watched, again you were leaving him. Without looking back.

He almost believed you.

Almost.

It was a lie.

A pathetic lie, but you couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing Taehyung—the real Taehyung, made it all too real.

Can we not meet at the station?

You sent the message—not knowing if Jungkook would respond.

Could use a drink. Meet me here—he sent an address. Tucked away in the inner city where no one would recognize you. None of Jin’s lackeys, or your mother’s goons. It was hardly your kind of crowd. You were surprised—pleasantly even. Jeon Jungkook didn’t come across as someone who liked to party.

“Hey” He showed. No longer in his stupid leather jacket, he looked different, simply in a white t-shirt. Chain on his neck. Hair haphazard, rather than the slick back he wore to work. “You good?”

Jungkook orders two shots at the bar, sliding one to you as you settle into the barstool next to him. Remembering the last time the two of you were like this. The first day you met.

You clink your glass against his before downing the bitter liquid. You watch Jungkook’s face scrunch with distaste, followed by a smile.

You avoid his question, asking him instead: “Did you talk to Jimin?”

Jungkook nodded, “First, I want to talk to you about this morning” He placed his elbows on the bartop, leaning forward slightly. His voice lowered, “We were in a rush, but I want to hear what you were trying to say”

You scoffed.

“Did he hurt you, Y/n?” You glared at him. “You said he fucked you in your sleep…”

You exhaled slowly, “Honestly I wouldn’t mind what he did, if we had discussed it first. But in my gut I just knew, Taehyung—would never violate me like that” Your fingers curled into your palm, “He was so rough. So insane. I just” You shook your head, disgusted by the bought of pity in Jungkook’s eyes. “I’ve grown up with men like that”

He nodded, absorbing every word.

“Wanna dance?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Detective Jeon Jungkook dances?”

He gave you a sly wink before grabbing your wrist. With a tight pull, he leads you into the crowd. Locking his eyes with yours, everything else fading to dark as his magnetic pull drew you in.

You tried to focus on the music. The familiar feeling of a loud bass, a crowd of people and booze. Even still, intrusive thoughts knocked at your mind—Namjoon was home, Taehyung was home.

Taehyung resented you. Taehyung blamed you.

“Look at me” Jungkook leaned into you, hands ghosting over your hips as they began to sway to the pulsating beat. “Don’t think about them. Only look at me”

His eyes flickered with a softness. A pain which he also was trying so desperately to escape. You reckoned that Jungkook might have been a kind, fun loving person if not for the trauma the Kim’s put him through by killing his father. Instead he was trapped in the same web as you.

Your hands slid around his neck, loosely as your fingers weaved through his hair. He guided you, shielded you from onlookers. His eyes on you and nothing else. Transfixed to you like a curse.

It was ironic. Dangerous even. Everything about Jungkook made you distrust him. And you had no doubt he didn’t trust you either. Within the walls the two of you built, you had somehow grown closer. You couldn’t even pinpoint when. Somewhere along the way you began to see him clearly, or let him see you.

His touch is tender as he pulls your ass in, pressing your chest up against him so he can grind into you. His bulge gratifying, easing the tension throbbing between your legs. Stroking your ego, making you feel desired without the ugly aftertaste that often came with it. His large hands feel so good on you, you never want him to let go.

Your eyes flutter shut, surrendering completely to him. He turns you around so he can trace your neck with his nose. His fingers light fires across your sides, and you want to feel more but he doesn’t push it.

He stops suddenly, gazing at you with the colors of the flashing lights reflecting through his wide doe eyes. A glow on his face that you weren’t sure was real, or if it was simply the tone of his stare.

He looked as though he wanted to say something. And you desperately wanted to hear him. His mouth opened slightly, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.

The space between you vanishing.

Inch by inch.

Until you swore you could taste him.

Your phone vibrated suddenly. Jungkook flinched, stepping back. With a guilty look, you excused yourself, slipping into a quiet corner of the club.

“Mazel tov” The snarky voice echoed through, “The prodigal son returns”

“Where the fuck have you been?” You snapped. “How could you let this happen? How did you not know?”

“Relax darling, I’ve been caught up entertaining your lover boy. Glad to finally have him out of my hair, truly. He’s bad for my cortisol”

“Well did you get a confession?”

“He doesn’t remember. Which is good for us. I can easily plant evidence for your Detective”

“Good. Do it soon. Jungkook wants the murderer to be Namjoon so it’s likely he will believe anything he gets. Not sure what to do about this Park Jimin fellow”

“Well darling, like I said last time. You say the word, and I’ll clean up your mess”

Rolling your eyes, you hung up the phone. Turning back around, Jungkook stood where you left him, bewildered.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the sea of dancers. You didn’t know why—you didn’t care. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than that Jungkook’s hands all over you. His lips on yours. You wanted his snarky little comments, his profound advice. To learn his every scar. Every crevice. And show him yours. You wanted to run away with him and never look back.

“Kiss me Jeon Jungkook” You hooked his shirt, dragging his face down to yours. Catching his lips in a desperate kiss.

The heat was overwhelming. Shamelessly, you kissed him in the middle of the crowd. Music numbing out into the sounds of two pounding hearts. His hands finding the small of your back.

You’d kissed him before but this was different. Even in the fire of the moment, you could feel how much he wanted you. How much he craved your lips, just like you craved his. He was water, and you were dying of thirst. He was air, and you were drowning.

He cupped your face, deepening the kiss as he pulled you impossibly closer. Finding breaths through your parted lips, you dared not pull away.

“Car” He breathed into your mouth. Voice raspy, feverish.

Grabbing his wrist, you led him out of the club. The fresh outdoor air hitting you with a sharp coldness. Loss of the bodies around you.

Jungkook slammed you against the hood of his car, pinning you down before sucking into your neck. You moaned loudly, his thigh slotting between your legs giving you barely any friction. You bucked your hips desperately as his lips moved down.

You were still wearing Namjoon’s clothes. Jungkook hissed, grabbing the hem of the hoodie and yanking it off of you. There was nothing underneath. Your nipples hardening in the cold as Jungkook smirked, rolling his thumb over one. Watching you writhe and twitch under him.

“You’re so fucking hot” He hissed, latching his teeth onto your tit and sucking lightly. Tongue darting out, flicking the sensitive flesh as your back arched. Looking down at him, as much as you wanted to look away. The pleasure unbearable.

He moved onto the other breast, taking his time as if the two of you weren’t in public. As if someone couldn’t just walk up and see how Jungkook shamelessly sucked your tits. Pulling away, you could see a string of drool land on your chest as he smacked his lips.

“Tell me what you want” He ordered, fingers gripping around your neck. Not tight enough to impact your breathing, but enough to make sure you knew who was in charge.

You were speechless. Irritated, Jungkook slid his thumb into your mouth and watched you suck it obscenely.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked again, replacing his thumb with his tongue, tangling it with yours into another kiss.

“You” You gasped, loving the weight of his strong body on yours. “I want you, Jungkook”

You could feel his lips curve into a grin. “For the record” He whispered, teeth grazing your lips, tugging at them. “I still hate you”

You nodded. Awestruck as he pulled his cock out, not letting you look anywhere but his eyes.

“I hate how entitled you are” He tugged your sweats down to press his heavy tip against your clit, “I hate how you’re so bratty”

He pressed his cock in, sliding into your folds just a bit. “Full of fucking attitude, think you’re fucking invincible.”

You gulped, recalling Taehyung’s similar words.

“I hate all these men in your life. You’re complicated. You’re messy. You’re manipulative, and I can see it” With every word he pressed in a little more until he bottomed out. Hissing sharply, he met your eyes again. “Playing victim, but you’re just as bad as the rest of them”

“So why the fuck” His lips were tight against yours, hardly kissing but more just breathing into one another, “Do I want you so much?” He thrust into you slowly, rolling his hips. You kissed his neck, moving your hands through his hair and onto his back as he found a steady rhythm.

Your legs caressed his back, moving up and down against him with every thrust. It was filthy. Your naked body against the cool metal of his car. Desperately throwing yourself at this man.

And yet, you held onto him as tight as you could, crying out as he pistoned in and out of you.

His hands moving under your thighs, nails gripping into them painfully as he lifted you up. You forgot how strong he was—effortlessly he carried you, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Face burying into your neck, lapping up the skin with open-mouthed kisses.

“You think you’re a princess do you?” Jungkook grabbed your neck, setting you back to lie on the car.  Stilling for a moment he watched your fucked out eyes. “I’m thinking you’re more like a little desperate slut”

“I am” You exhaled, nodding dumbly, “I’m a slut for you. Wanna do whatever you want Jungkook please f-fuck”

He rammed back into you. Cock hitting you deep. You walls clenching around him, leaking to which Jungkook growled under his breath. His fingers finding your clit, working it expertly, causing your eyes to roll back as pleasure seized you.

Twitching all over, shocks of lust pouring through your veins. Jungkook coerced your orgasm as his cock sheathed into you. Your folds fluttering around his length, tightening it’s visceral grip.

“They can’t make you cum like I do baby” Jungkook pulled out, stroking himself against your thigh. “Get on your fucking knees”

You obeyed. Sliding down the car until your bare knees were on the parking lot. Jungkook’s cock stood proud in your face. You watched, eyes blasted and needy, before placing your own hands in place of his.

He watched as you stroked him. As your lips pressed against his tip before you let him sink down your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, you gave him everything you possibly could. Bobbing your head up and down, the noises bringing shame to your cheeks.

“Show me your pretty tits baby” Jungkook grabbed a fistful of your hair, “Want to cum on your tits”

You gasped, releasing him with a pop of your lips. Immediately pressing your tits together so Jungkook could slide his heavy cock between them. It felt good. Him rubbing up against you like this. Your heart against his pulsing need. You pulled him closer, wanting to feel him more. He licked his lips, watching you intently.

You stared up at him. Eyes gleaming. Jungkook spurted all over you, cum landing on your chest. Your heart sunk, knowing the moment would end. Reality was waiting for you at home. Your escape had ended.

Jungkook’s eyes softened, as he helped you up. You kissed him again, urging him for more. Urging him to fill you up again. To fuck you senseless all night long. Moaning into his mouth, you rolled your body against him.

“Fuck baby” Jungkook gripped your waist, stilling your movements, “You need me that bad huh?” You nodded, biting your lip as he teased you, “Yeah? You want more huh?”

You turned around, bending over so your ass was on display. Jungkook cursed under his breath as you spread your legs. An open invitation. Every man’s dream.

Licking his fingers, he ran them through your folds, spreading them out and pushing through the wetness. You gushed over him. Whimpering. He kept rubbing you, his movements strong but not rushed. Lips grazing your bare back.

His other hand slid between you and the car, gripping your breast hard. He pumped his fingers inside you, chest pressed against your back. You could feel his breath against your nape, riling you up even more. Heat pooling all over you.

He chuckled. The vibrations of which hit you right in the core. You were so turned on you couldn’t help it. You leaked all over, squirting into you palm. Jungkook laughed more as you came. Your fingers digging into your palms as you screamed.

“Already? You’re so fucking desperate”

“I don’t wanna go home” You confessed. Jungkook paused.

He turned you around, palm resting against your cheek.

“I know” He stiffened, “I’m sorry, for what you’re going through”

Jungkook pulled you up, grabbing your clothes from the ground. He led you to the backseat of the car where he let you tear his clothes off of him.

Settling onto his strong lap, he let you grind your wet pussy against him. Naked bodies fused together. You clawed at the back of his head, moaning at the top of your lungs as you sunk down on Jungkook’s cock again.

He watched you, amazed. Your eyes shut, bouncing up and down on him. Rutting desperately.

You’re not sure when you stopped. The two of you like hormonal teenagers, touching kissing and fucking until your limbs were sore. Jungkook, surprisingly, ever the giver, made you cum more times than you ever had in one night. And even when you were too sensitive for anything more, you still couldn’t find the will to leave.

Until you remembered the look in Taehyung’s eyes.

Jungkook held you. Lightly kissing your back as you cuddled into him. Again, another position you never thought you’d find yourself in with Jeon Jungkook.

“You should go” Jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper. You gave him a hurt look, “I know, I know. You’ll be okay”

Sitting upright, you began to put your clothes on. Jungkook watched before speaking again,

“Jung Hoseok”

You stilled.

“Jin was seeing Jung Hoseok. The two of them were dating. I had a suspicion and Jimin confirmed it earlier.”

Shit.

“You acted like you didn’t know”

You looked at him. To see if he was actually hurt by your lying, or used to your games.

“I don’t know anyone named Jung Hoseok”

Jungkook stared at you before scoffing.

“Not only do you know Jung Hoseok, but I know that you called him many times before Jin’s death. I have evidence that both he and Namjoon were with you at some point that night,”

You remained silent, fuming.

“He was the one who called you earlier, wasn’t he?”

You swallowed.

“I’m not the one unwilling to be on the same side” Jungkook sighed, “I told you before, we can help each other out. You’re hiding so much from me, and have the audacity to think of yourself as a victim. All you need to do is tell me what happened that night, and I can help you figure this out”

“Fuck you Jeon. This was a mistake” You snapped, “Take me home”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, “Right. Home to your Kim boys. To your palace”

⟵|| previous || next ||⟶

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[shakemelikeasnowglobe]

F1 driver duos and the booktropes I associate with them

Max and checo: not a booktrope but you know those oscar bait movies about a person pursuing something to his own destruction being the best but also being doomed like I,Tonya yep those movies both of them are those movies

Lewis and george: gay book writen by a white woman who was raised on yaoi and tumblr shiping 2014, Its painfully British and might be a larry stylinson fanfic has a cute dog and the author is eventually canceled on Twitter for the age gap.

Carlos and Charles: not a book again but telenovela romantic pairs, Charles is the good boy the protagonist will end with carlos the second evil boyfriend who will eventually team up with the vilaness to break them apart.

Oscar and Lando: just heartstoper core mindless teen fluff who will win the GlAAD award of unburied happy coming of age gays

Lance and Fernando: all the daddy Dom mafia millionaire boss ceo booktok brainrot but somehow in both ends of the relationship.

Yuki and Daniel : like early 2010s young adult pre teen emotional coming if age Novel writen by someone trying so hard to be John green it will include some profound analysis about life and meaning tumblr would love for the quotable phrases then Hate it because they eventually realize the characters did some fucked up shit.

Bottass and Zhou: that one book your very obnoxious book friend will recommend saying it's very good but it's just a soft thriller from 1980 about a teenage boy obsessing and stalking his low key weird neighbor and about 300 pages of heavy handed love and murder metaphors involving deers bears and bunnies by the end you really don't understand what is about but the subtext it's actually good

Pierre and Ocon: both are secondary love interests on a book that once was a wattpad original they only exist so the actual main love interest looks good so they are an inch above absolutely dreadful still main love interest is so bad they are considered good by the haters.

Logan and Alex: both are wattpad Born lover boys in different books Logan it's the secondary love interest who was actually the good option but he is against a tatoo covered dark haired asshole so he loses meanwhile Alex is in those quirky mindless fluff books that it's almost all pining he id basically a manic pixie dream boy.

Hulkenberg and kmag: weird mommy erotica you will find in that old single aunt room about vikings and pirates or both hallmark style holydays books about finding love for the ripped blond lumberjack in a small town, or a gay erotica actually written by a gay man who skips the fluff and its mostly about hot ripped blondes getting down to business.

[spectrerie]

Would you let me go? Even if I asked you to

Simon Ghost Riley x Fem!Reader.

Requested by my awesome mutual @lululandd

Part One. ~ 3k words.

Simon meets a young woman on a night out with the 141 ft. Los Vaqueros. He's drawn to protect her and when she needs him, he makes a promise he's not sure he can keep. With one war over another begins, and his task: Protecting you, no matter what it takes.

POV alternates between Ghost and the Reader.

this is a stalker fic where Ghost watches over the reader and discovers that he's not the only one doing so. Eliminate the hostiles and fulfil his mission. Easy. Right?

TW: Stalking, kidnapping, murder, extreme depictions of violence, swearing and foul language, threats, minor character death. Possessive!Simon, Toxic!Simon

Additional parts to come, with additional warnings. This is just a general TW for the whole fic

“I swear lads, I swear I thought I was gonna die of laughter if he didn’t kill me first!” Drinks sloshed and laughter rang out around them as Gaz recounted some sage, albeit dodgy, advice Price had given him. 

A night out with the 141 and two of the friends they’d made along the way was long overdue. The weeks of blood, sweat, and smoke had taken its toll on them. Killing came with a a cost, and they paid it gladly. For their countries, for the world. For themselves. 

Life in battle was easy, everything came down to friend or foe. Friends were hard to make, and the latter easy to dispose of. Usually. Killing could be easy, if they let it be. If that made them bad people so be it, they’d be bad to keep the balance. But not tonight. 

Tonight donned in their civvies they occupied a corner booth of a hole in the wall pub, a town away from the barracks. It was their last night all together, one of their first nights all safe. Before the Cowboys went back home to fight another day. Before Soap went back to Scotland to see the country he missed dearly. And before Ghost and Gaz went back to their corners of England. Before Ghost crawled back to the barracks, to the only life he knew how to live. 

“Ah, will ye fuck off, ‘e didnae say that!  ‘ E’s been up te his oxters in work.” Soap barked out as he clutched his sides. The group waited with baited breath, stifling peals of laughter as they waited for Ghost’s response. 

“Christ, Johnny. In English?” The stoic blonde said from across the table. 

“Eh? D’ye no ken what I’m sayin’ L.t? That was bloody English.”  Soap whined back as he closed his bleary eyes. The first of the laughs began to eek out. When he opened them the blonde Lieutenant was staring back at him with his dark eyes. “Gaun'ae no dae that? That was bloody English! Fine. ’Oh emm gee, he did not say that. He has like totally been up to his armpits with work!’ THERE!” Johnny shouted back in a mock American accent. 

The group fell about themselves with laughter as Simon shook his head slowly. 

They needed this. This release. There’d been other nights for tears, for recalling the horrors they’d seen over the months, but not tonight. Tonight was only for good things. For accents coming out  too thick, for drinking too much knowing you were in safe company, for friendship. 

Ghost stood and pulled his dark cap lower, casting a shadow over his face. “Same orders, yeah?” He asked the group and he walked out of the booth. He had to good sense to leave the mask at home. Or so they thought. He had it folded in the inner pocket of his jacket, his armour against the world.

“I’ll have a Dom Perignon if you’re buying, whole bottle please.” Called out Gaz as Alejandro poured him another shot of earthy Tequila. 

Ghost shook his head and huffed out a low laugh, chasing tequila with pints. They were clever chaps, weren’t they?

As he made his way across the bar, the din of dozens of conversations hushed as he walked by, the packed room parting in his wake. He cut an intimidating figure. Six foot two, almost six four in this heavy dark boots. A myriad of faded scars dusting his jaw and hands, the only part of him easily visible. The brightest thing about him was his blonde hair, neatly tucked away from prying eyes. He didn’t need the mask tonight. His crew knew his face, and no one in the pub could bring themselves to look at it, averting their eyes sheepishly as he moved by them. At most people glance up at the top of his head in awe, surveying the space he took up with his sheer bulk and height. He didn’t need to be Ghost. Not here.

He placed a hand on the bar and slid in, eliciting no complaints from the other patrons. What could they have said? Move? That’d be the day. 

— — — 

“So you’re not going crack a smile, baby? I thought that was a pretty good one.” The drunken lout beside you laughed in your face, the smell of hops, stale cigarettes and chips blowing at you. 

“Ha. Ha.” You said dryly. Turning your attention to the bartender trying to get drinks for you and your ever-late friend. You felt an overly warm, sticky hand slide around your waist, tugging you back towards him. “Alright then, you tell me a joke, if I’m no good at ‘em.” 

“I’d rather not, sorry.” You said with a terse smile, eyes drifting back to the bartender hoping to catch his eye. 

“Okay, okay, let’s play a new game if you don’t like jokes. If I guess your name you buy me a pint,  but if you tell me now I’ll buy you one.” He winked at you, or rather he tried to. 

“How about I tell you and you go away?” You asked, before barking out your name and turning away, though his grip on you tightened.  

“Oi, mate. Two Coronas, three lagers. Whatever’s easy, yeah?” 

A low voice beside you called out to the bartender you’d been playing a one sided game of cat and mouse with. 

“Is Carling alright?” The bartender’s attention went straight to the owner of the voice beside you, as did yours. You were about to tell him you’d been here first, as you looked up and you were met  not with a face, but the middle of a wide set of shoulders. Was this a man or a mountain?

“Excuse m-“ craning your neck up you caught a glimpse of a face and your protests died on your lips. The giant was handsome. In a rugged, cold sort of way, but handsome nonetheless. He cast a glance in your direction that turned cold quickly. All the heat of your body pooled at the bottom of your stomach, you didn’t even notice the arm around your waist had dropped immediately. 

“Hmm?” He grumbled in way of a prompt. 

“Uhh, I was— I was just going to say I’ve been waiting.” 

“I don’t know you.” He said curtly. A normal person would ask ‘do I know you?’, or rather a normal person would understand basic bar etiquette. Though it seemed this man had no need for niceties. 

“Well no, I was waiting to order my drinks. Didn’t anyone teach you any manners?” You said, letting go of your decorum. Two could play at this game. You’d had enough of men thinking they could have whatever they wanted.

“What?” He said, turning away from the bartender. Your bravado dissipated as quickly as you’d found it. You felt your eyes grow round in shock and a heat creep up your neck to your face. 

“I just-“ your sentence was cut off by a low laugh from him as he said “What, as in what were you going to order?” 

“Ah… just two ciders, sorry.” Fuck. Where had all your confidence gone, he wasn’t going to hit you for teaching him manners. 

His gaze grew cold again, well maybe he was. 

“You let your girl do all the talking, do you?” He said, seemingly to the man who’d been pestering you for the better part of your evening thus far. 

“I’m not his anything.” You said before the man behind you had a chance to speak. 

The handsome one turned away from you again, “And two ciders, cheers.” He said to the bartender. When the man behind the bar asked what sort he angled himself back to you again, you sheepishly pointed to the tap of your choosing and said your thanks quietly. 

You heard your name from the pest behind you and ignored it, watching the bartender pull your pints along with those of the only person at the bar you had any interest in. 

“Fine then, be a bitch.” The man huffed and walked away, you only knew because your new companion’s eyes watched him closely as he left. Tracking him through the crowd. Something about him made your skin tingle. Made the hairs on your body stand. There was an edge to him that scared you.

“Sorry about him” you said at the same time, eliciting a laugh from you both. 

“So, you planning on neckin’ two pints or are you waiting on someone?”  He asked as he slid his card over to the barman. 

“Oh, no you don’t have to pay for these. Please, let me ge-“ 

“Think of them as payment, for tonight's lesson. Anyway, are you alone?” 

“Oh, I’m just waiting on a friend.” You shook you head, confused. “Wait. What lesson?” 

He laughed, tucking his card back into his pocket, arranging his three pint glasses into a triangle, then balancing the two bottles on their rims. He’d never be able to carry these back to his table, at least not without spilling half their contents.

“In manners,” he said with a wink before grasping the drinks in his big hands and slipping back into the flow of the crowd, disappearing like a ghost. 

— — — 

“Bloody took you long enough, L.t” Gaz crowed, clearly they’d need less pints and a few glasses of water to offset all the tequila they’d drunk in Simon’s absence. 

“Did you go to brew la cheve, Ghost?” Rudy chimed in, emboldened by the alcohol. 

Ghost huffed and set the full drinks down deftly. “Shut up and drink.” He didn’t have to tell them twice. 

The conversation and alcohol flowed easily as the boys cleansed themselves of the stresses of war. Minutes rolled into hours and their raucous laughs drew a few sidelong glances to their table, they couldn’t care less. 

“Right,” Garrick said as he stood, clapping his hands together and rubbing them mischievously. “I’d murder a kebab right now. Have you lads had kebabs before?” He asked their Mexican companions. Soap stood and stretched, the promise of a trip to the chippers rousing him from his stupor. “Not a kebab on a stick, like… with lamb and cabbage and sauce, y’know. A kebab.” he chimed in, clapping Gaz on the back for his enlightened suggestion. Alejandro and Rudy shook their heads with a laugh, “teach us the British way, amigos. Where do we get this ‘kebab’?” Rudy asked as he and the other two men stood from the table. 

The pros and cons of a kebab after a night out were being discussed as though life’s meaning could be deciphered after one drunken bite. As Soap and Gaz evangelised a groggy ‘no!’ caught Simon’s attention. The quiet pleads were mixed with a name that was new, yet familiar. 

“One second, lads,” he said as he moved ahead of the group, instinctively making his way towards the source of the disquieting feeling growing in his chest. Something was wrong, very very wrong. 

“No, I don’t— I want to go. I don’t— I’m too tired. I want—no,” the girl from the bar was pulling against the grip of the man who’d ran with his tail between his legs at the first sign of confrontation. Simon didn’t have to listen to the young woman’s garbled sentences to know this shouldn’t be happening. She didn’t know him. She didn’t trust him. Neither did he. The would be assailant kept muttering her name and steering her towards the door as she shook her head and kept glancing behind her. 

“Oi. Is there a problem, mate?” Simon asked, as his friends caught up with him. The man blanched as he looked up at Simon, growing quiet as the girl's protests got louder, drawing the attention of the few patrons left in the pub. 

“She’s wasted, I’m just trying to get her home,” a shaky laugh punctuated the lie. 

“I’m sure. But she doesn’t know you.” Simon pushed the mans shoulder, sending him two steps back and giving the girl the chance to shake him off. 

“She… her friend knows me, he told me to get her home. Right? David,” he reached out to the girl in an attempt to get her attention. The look in Simon’s eyes told him that wasn’t a smart move. “Hey, tell them that David told me to-” before the sentence could end Soap spoke up, putting himself between Simon and the man, as Simon stepped closer. Whether this David existed or not didn’t matter, the Lieutenant was ready to separate the man’s lying head from his body. A scene was ill advised, especially if the police ended up getting involved. 

“Alright,” Soap said, he reigned in his brogue as best he could, “let’s not put words in anyone’s mouth.” He began trying to deescalate the situation, much to Simon’s irritation. The girl looked up at him and he watched as she took in his face and something dawned on her. 

“Ah, manners,” she said, mumbling to herself as she drew nearer to him. Simon couldn’t help but soften at that, pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her protectively. She’s been full of fire at the bar, a small part of him felt more sad than angry at the situation she found herself in. Maybe he should have stayed with her, at least until her friend came. 

“Yeah, that’s me. Can you tell me your friends name, or what they look like? Maybe we can find-”

“The ghost with manners” she said weakly as she pressed her head against his chest, body going slack, knees buckling beneath her. Simon’s arms reached around her, his grip like a vice pressing her closer to him. The Ghost. 

Ghost. How could she know that name?

He clung to her weak frame like a raft on a rocky sea. His fingers digging into the soft flesh of her as they both spiralled. 

— — — 

Weak pleads and careful promises swirled behind you, you couldn't hear them. Not really. Every fibre of your being was fixed on the man holding you up. The ghost from the bar with the big hands and scary eyes. But he wasn’t scary now, not anymore. Not to you. 

“Hey,” his deep voice rang out above the world around you, though he spoke to you gently. A whisper that contained the roar of a distant sea. Who? Who was he? 

“Simon, my name’s Simon.” 

Shit. Had you said that out loud? Why couldn’t you tell? Why couldn’t you stand? You tried to take a shaky step back, to get free. To get a better look at this ‘Simon’, but your legs wouldn’t work, the muscles felt heavy and useless. How were you still standing, why couldn’t you remember how you’d gotten here? 

You and David had been drinking, laughing. He’d gone to the bathroom. Said he’s meet you at the door and you’d get a taxi home together. Then the room began to slip away.  A tide pulled you to the door. Sticky hands, a shake voice, and your name over and over again as you were pulled away.  You’d wanted to fight but your body wouldn’t let you. You wanted to scream but your voice wouldn’t work right, your words didn’t fit together. The last few minutes became a puzzle somehow, and it terrified you.

Then Simon. 

Like some vengeful angel, he appeared from nowhere. Pulling you close, holding you up though you felt as heavy as a star. 

“Please, Simon… Simon,” you muttered, not sure whether he could hear you or if you were speaking in your mind again. Though a part of you felt like he could hear everything in there too. 

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’ve got you.” 

Suddenly you were warm and weightless, drifting through the cold air. Fear beat in your chest, thumping against your ribs like a molten ball. You were going to die. You were certain. Your stomach rolled at the realisation. 

“You’re not going to die, pet. You’re just a bit poorly now. But I’ve got you.” 

His voice was closer now, warm lips pressed against your ear as he spoke into your mind. You wanted to believe him, so badly. You wanted to believe it was true. 

“It is. I won’t let you die. I swear.” 

“Don’t you let— don’t let me down. Are you gonna drop me?” please don't, Simon. Please. 

“No, never.”

Simon.  

Your ghostly Simon. The word shone bright in your foggy mind. “Never— don't hurt me.” 

Something deep in you told you he couldn't.

— — — 

The nurse at the desk was asking all the wrong questions. Simon could guess the answers she wanted, he could form a loose timeline in his mind. A version of events that made sense. But one thing was certain, he’d have to embellish the truth to get the right result. Civilian life was easier in someways, harder in others. 

He gave her a name, gave an approximation of an age but he wouldn’t be allowed to stay with you unless he started filling in the blank spaces. He’d made a promise to you, and he’d keep it. 

“I need a surname for the intake form, sir. Do you actually know this young lady?” 

He sighed. He wasn’t the villain here. He knew how it looked, five men bringing a clearly intoxicated girl into the ER was dodgy. But he wasn’t the villain. 

“Yeah, I already said that. Look, she needs help, and I have to stay with her, she’ll be looking for me when she wakes up.” 

“I understand that sir, but only family are allowed to stay with patients overnight. And you still haven’t given me her—“

Surname and relationship to him. Yeah, because he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had to be here, all night if it took that long. He had to be there when you woke up, so he could fulfil his promise. So you'd know you were safe.

“Riley. It’s Riley.” 

“And you’re family?” 

Was he?

“Yes, of course.” 

Now he was.

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Real Cowboys Don’t Run

Natasha Romanoff x female!OC

“I ain’t tellin’ you shit, eyepatch.”

“I think you’ll find yourself talking in no time, cowgirl.”

She smirked, feeling the dried blood on her face crack with the motion. The pain was excruciating but she’d never show it. She’s been through worse interrogations. Torture that not even SHIELD—corrupted as they are—could match.

“How about we start with a name?”

She merely yawns, looking around the dark concrete room.

“No? Alright then. You like steak? Lobster? Been a while since you ate.”

“I could go for some Mac n cheese. The box kind.” She says blankly.

“Really? You are not kidding right now?” She merely shrugs. “Fine then.”

He leaves the room and she’s left alone with nothing but silence and the metal cuffs digging into her skin. She breathes slowly, ensuring no aspect of her body language changes. She knows they’re watching.

2 hours and 43 minutes later—she counts each second that passes—a redhead woman stalks into the room. She sits carefully in the metal chair across from her. She does nothing but stare for 57 seconds. “Who are you?” The redhead finally asks. The blonde offers no response. Not even a twitch. “How about a name? Doesn’t even have to be a real one.” Absolutely nothing.

Natasha doesn’t show it, but she’s unnerved by the steely exterior. Never before had she been unable to read someone. She had perfected the art of body language at a disturbingly young age. Interrogations were her forte.

The stare down continues, neither party giving an inch.

“Look, I don’t know who you are. I don’t care. I just want to know why you were sneaking around that facility. If you pose no threat, you’ll be free to go.”

The blonde knows that’s a lie. They would never just let her go. But she won’t show it. Never give them anything, because a good interrogator will use anything and everything against you.

“Well since you’re feeling a bit shy, I’ll carry this conversation for the both of us. We tried to run prints but they’ve been burned off. Likely hydrochloric acid, according to forensics. Was it forced? Or did you do it willingly? Made killing a little easier, did it? One less thing to worry about?”

People usually jostle when she brings up the subject of murder, but the woman doesn’t move an inch. Natasha is having fun with this, though she knows she shouldn’t be.

“And then there’s the fact that you simply don’t exist. We ran facial recognition, DNA, toe prints, everything. Searched millions of records for something that might resemble you. Absolutely nothing. So tell me, where did you come from?” She leans forward.

The blonde woman smiles. “A farm.”

“Ah, yes. The cowgirl. I like the hat. And the belt buckle. It’s a cute touch,” she gestures to the silver buckle at the woman’s waist. “Tell me about this farm. Are we talking a normal farm? Or a place that breeds serial killers and mercenaries?”

“Cows. Potatoes.”

“Cows and potatoes. Nice. No serial killers?” The woman shakes her head in denial. “So why talk now? Why tell me this and not the goons who spent hours trying to beat it out to you?” The blonde offers no response. “C’mon, just tell me. Weak spot for beautiful women?”

The woman smiles slightly at that. It’s calculated, Natasha thinks. “Because no matter how much I tell you, Natalia Romanova, you will never get what you want. You caught me because I let you. You will never know who I am because I am no one. I am a ghost. Merely a puppet in the shadows. I cannot be broken. Believe me when I say many have tried and failed. I will tell you this much: I am not HYDRA, but I am not on your side. There are no sides in this game, Agent. I do what I need to. It has nothing to do with you. Never has, never will.”

Just like that, she leans back in her chair, her face set in stone once more. Natasha nods and leaves, refusing to show the anxiety she feels about the fact that the woman knows her name. Her real name.

One hour and twelve minutes later, several agents enter the interrogation room. They unchain her from the chair, leaving the cuffs on her wrists. After a bag is placed over her head, she’s escorted to another room. This one is a cell. With a toilet and even a blanket. There are no windows, but it’s an improvement. The cuffs arw removed and she is left alone in the cell.

Eventually a tray of Mac N cheese and a bottle of water is slid through a slot in the thick metal door. She eats it without worrying about poison, knowing they would’ve killed her by now if that’s what they wanted to do.

~

Tucked in the corner of the cell, she breathed deep and slow as she let her body sink to the floor before pushing through her pinky fingers, raising her body back up. Her feet remained still and straight in the air as she went through the exercise, determined to stay in shape throughout her captivity.

She slowly moves into a planche, loving the way her muscles strain with the movement. When the door beeps and clicks and the redhead enters, she doesn’t flinch. Agent Romanoff leans against a wall and watches.

The blonde woman moves into a tuck planche before sitting on the ground and taking a swig of water. “You like watching, do you?” Agent Romanoff says nothing but smirks. The blonde stands and wipes her face with a towel, leaving the rest of her body sweaty in her black sports bra and sweatpants. She watches Romanoff’s eyes as they move down her body, taking in the tattoos and scars.

“That’s a lot of scars for a cowboy.”

“I’ve been in my fair share of rodeos.”

“Touché. Do the tats mean anything?”

“They mean everything. But you’d never be able to figure it out.”

“I know. You’re an enigma. I’ve learned that by now.” She unlocks a door, revealing a basic shower. “Get cleaned up. You stink.”

When the blonde emerges from the shower—feeling much better, though she’d never admit it—there’s a fresh pair of sweatpants, underwear, and a t-shirt waiting for her. She gets changed and takes a seat on the concrete floor.

“Get up, we have places to be,” Natasha says as she enters the cell.

The blonde doesn’t budge. “Were you standing out there watching me change? That’s a bit creepy, Agent Romanoff.”

“You’re a prisoner. You’re being watched 24/7.” The woman’s smirk tells Natasha that she already knew that.

She stands and follows the agent out the cell door. “No cuffs?” The blonde asks.

“No cuffs. Don’t make me regret it.”

The woman chooses to remain silent, following Natasha through the maze of white hallways. They arrive at a conference room, a familiar man inside.

“Eyepatch! Nice to see you again.”

“Cowboy. Wish I could say the same.”

“Why did you drag me out of the comfort of my cell?”

“Well, glad to know you’ve settled in nicely. We’re done with these games, cowboy. We’re gonna sit down and talk like adults.” He gestures to a seat across from him and the woman takes it, showing no signs of nervousness.

“How may I be of assistance to you, Director Nick Fury?”

“You are very good. I will give you that. But I am better, Hallyn Chase.” He tries to shock her with the knowledge of her name, just as she’s done to them.

Hallyn remains stoic for several seconds before bursting into laughter. “That’s it? Seriously? I’ve been here for two weeks and all you’ve got is my name? That’s cute.”

“Your name is all I needed. Now we can have an actual, civil conversation. So tell me, Hallyn, why were you at the facility?”

Hallyn sighs, shaking her head with a click of the tongue. “I needed information. A friend of mine went MIA a while back. Just trying to find him.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

“Well, yes, he’s not an animal,” she states obviously.

“You’re not gonna tell me his name, are you?”

“No, no I am not, Eyepatch.”

“Well I appreciate the honesty. Moving on. You’re very skilled. What’s your background?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t you?”

“You know I can’t. And I won’t.”

“I gotta say, my first impression of you was military. But there’s no record of you. So special ops maybe? CIA even?” He asks the question even though he’s already fairly certain of the answer. He slides a picture across the table to her. Three MARSOC uniforms stand side by side, weapons in hand. Every face and name is blurred out. Hallyn merely raises a brow. “That’s you in the middle, is it not?”

“At one point that was me. Not anymore.”

“That’s what I thought. So you enlist in the marines, go into special forces, and kick ass. You get promoted to a team that’s so secretive, even I don’t know the name. Maybe you still work for them, maybe you’ve gone rogue. I don’t know. I don’t care. What I do wanna know is if you are a threat to me and my organization.”

“Nick Fury, the only threat to your organization is the one that’s already penetrated it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you know. I think you’ve suspected it for a while but didn’t want to believe it. But Steve Rogers cut off one head. Another one was bound to grow back.” His one good eye goes wide as Hallyn leans back in her seat. “May I go home now?”

“Does someone like you have a home?” Romanoff asks.

“No,” she answers honestly.

“You can stay here for the time being. Under close surveillance. Play this smart, and you just might find that I can be a useful ally.”

“I don’t need an ally.”

“Maybe not. But I guess we’ll see.” He nods at Romanoff and she grabs Hallyn’s arm, signaling her to stand. Hallyn gives Fury a nod before following the redhead.

Natasha leads Hallyn to a different floor in silence. They end up in a basic bedroom with a small attached bathroom. The walls and bedspread are white, much like a hotel.

“This will be your room for the time being. There are cameras in the bedroom and directly outside the door. None in the bathroom, don’t worry. You will be heavily monitored, but behave yourself and you just might earn a bit of leeway.”

“Really? That’s it? You guys snatch me up, beat the shit out of me, lock me in a cell, and then give me a bedroom and freedom?”

“Yes. Because for some reason, Directory Fury seems to trust you. Frankly I’m not sure what he sees.”

“Me neither. But I will not betray you, Agent Romanoff. You are not my mission.”

“What is your mission?”

“I’m not quite sure anymore.”

She hesitates for a moment. “What happened to you?”

“That’s a conversation for another day.” Hallyn answers vaguely.

Series Masterlist

[6lostgirl6]

yandere best friend ted logan with fem!s/o and he gets jealous :))

The Jealous Kind

Pairing: Yandere!Ted Theodore Logan x Fem!Reader

TW: General Yandere Themes, Obsessive behavior, Jealous Ted, Mentions of Stalking, Kidnapping, Murder, Details of Drowning, Recorded Murder.

Word Count: 1.6k

Gif Credits: @weirdlandtv @mrbeniciodeltoro @r-hipatiasblog

Since you two were young children, when you moved into the neighborhood at the tender age of seven, he has been your closest friend. He was the loveliest boy, making sure you were always happy and including you in his activities with Bill. He was the kind of best friend that anyone would want—he never teased you or made fun of you because you were the only girl in the trio.

You were never aware of his other side, which lay dormant for the duration of your friendship. He might be a touch dense, but he was cautious, at least to the extent that was necessary.

The numerous drawings that seven-year-old Ted used to produce were never revealed to you. Your hands holding one another's with a large heart over your heads, in childlike scribbles. Not even the names he would scribble down in a fit of rage for the other local kids in the neighborhood. When they interacted with you, he wished for the demise of those boys.

The childlike doodles changed into photographs as he grew older. Ted has always loved cameras and you; why not combine his two loves into one? He would pose as an innocent by snapping pictures of you and hiding them among the other images in his closet. Some images were only of you, while others showed both of you and him. Bill was the only one he would allow around you since he was confident that Bill didn't harbor any feelings for you. Plus, he already made it perfectly clear to him years ago that you were off-limits with a dopey smile on his face.

Although others would describe it as obsession or infatuation, he knew in his heart that he was merely in love.

Ted was now a senior and was standing in front of his unlocked locker. The school's hallways were bustling with students making their way to their own lockers and friend groups. Ted wasn't concerned about the rowdy students passing him, though. Standing in front of your own locker at the other end of the hallway, you caught his attention.

Along with your new friend.

As you spoke with Eric, a new student who had just moved to San Dimas a few days earlier, Ted's eyes were fixated attentively on you and the blonde-haired boy. He couldn't stand the way that jerk decided to stand so close to you and try to get your attention. It almost made Ted sick to his stomach.

Your apparent enjoyment of his attention only made matters worse. His fingers grasping the locker door tightened as he attempted to control the mounting fear in his body, as the mere notion of it caused tears to fill up in his eyes.

He has always loved you. Why didn't you just acknowledge his feelings already?

Ted was too preoccupied with watching you to hear the bell that indicated it was time to leave for class. His eyes followed you as you and Eric moved in the opposite direction.

"Hey, dude!"

Bill, his other best friend, was standing there grinning as Ted flinched, drawing his attention to him. The raven haired boy felt some relief from the anxiety that had been roiling inside him.

"Hey, dude." Ted responded, sounding a little dejected as he closed his locker.

Bill pinched his brows; he wasn't used to seeing Ted seem so discouraged that the taller boy couldn't look at him. He was worried, and he would go to any length to make his best friend feel better.

"What's wrong, Ted?" He inquired gently, his earlier amusement fading. "Did something happen?"

Ted rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, his gaze fixed on the tile floor. He didn't know what to say, or even how to express what he was feeling. All he knew was that he was enraged and that he needed to take action. 

What should he do about Eric?

Ted came to a standstill, his nervous scratching coming to a halt, his focus on the tile floor shifting slightly. Ted wasn't the brightest tool in the shed, but he understood what to do when it came to his emotions and an act of love. The love that was being threatened by Eric Straumer.

"Bill, my most excellent friend…" Ted began to speak, his brown eyes finally shifting to face his closest friend. "Can you help me with something after school?"

It was late at night when Bill and Ted arrived at their destination, an open field near a lake, located a distance away outside of San Dimas. The cool air conditioning in the car caused goosebumps on their skin. Ted, on the other hand, was shivering for a completely different reason.

The two boys stepped out of the car after turning off the engine, and Bill gave the car a troubled look, his brows furrowed.

"Do you think Missy-Mom will notice...?" Bill asked nervously, pointing towards a noticeable scratch in the door's paint.

It was an obvious reason why the boys didn't have their licenses and needed Missy to drive them around.

Ted walked around to look at the car door before delivering his trademark dopey smile as he slung his backpack straps over his shoulders. "Nope!" He replied, before walking towards the trunk.

He didn't seem too concerned that they had essentially stolen Missy's car and driven it into an open field with just the night sky to keep them company.

You, um... totally tightened the ropes, right?" Bill questioned as he followed him to the trunk and stood beside him. Before Ted could respond, Bill unlocked the trunk using Missy's keys.

"Yeah! I double-knotted too!" Ted exclaimed, smiling, before lifting the trunk lid and inspecting the contents.

Inside the trunk was an unconscious Eric, his wrists and ankles poorly tied with cheap rope, and his mouth clumsily taped shut. The blood from his head wound ran down his temple and cheek.

Ted's smile evaporated instantly as he remembered what had happened earlier that day. His brown eyes hardened as he grabbed Eric's shirt collar, attempting to remove his body from the trunk. Bill sprang into action, grabbing Eric's ankles and pulling him from the trunk.

His body was thrown into the soil carelessly, a tortured cry from the unconscious His body, however, remained motionless as Bill and Ted grabbed his bound ankles and dragged him deeper into the field, closer and closer to the shore of the lake.

The two lazily dropped Eric's ankles and looked down at his pitiful form as they panted. Ted, on the other hand, could only feel a tinge of pride, his pulse racing in his chest from the thrill.

While panting, Bill placed his hand on the taller boy's shoulder and smiled sympathetically. "I'll...wait in the car." He muttered softly before beginning to make his way back.

"Thanks, dude..." Ted returned softly, watching him walk away before pulling off his backpack. He paused when his best friend called his attention once more.

"How did you even think of this idea, dude?" Bill asked, his eyes filled with astonishment.

Ted chuckled and looked down at the ground before responding, his gaze meeting Bill's once more. "I saw it in a movie once."

"Excellent." Bill said, his smile widening as he walked away, not looking back.

The camera was rolling, perfectly positioned on a giant rock to record the picture. There was nothing but the peaceful surface of the lake and, in the distance, Eric Straumer's motionless legs, the rest of his body out of frame. 

The sound of approaching steps could be heard until Ted emerged in front of the camera lens, stooping down to smile brightly.

"Sup, dudes!" He greeted enthusiastically, his eyes twinkling with boyish delight as he continued conversing with a nonexistent audience. "My name's Ted, and tonight I'm going to do something I should have done a long time ago!"

He cast a glance behind him, taking in the sight of the unconscious boy, before turning to face the camera. "See, someone tried stealing someone I love deeply...and I can't allow that." The smile on his face was slowly sinking.

The distant sound of groaning was heard as Eric began to stir, his poor restraints keeping him immobile. Eric's mind began to absorb the situation quickly, and his muffled screaming could be heard.

"Let's get started, dudes!"

Ted's smile reappeared before he stood up and walked up to the screaming youngster. The camera documented Ted grabbing the distressed Eric and pulling him to the water's edge while Eric effortlessly resisted. Ted was panting as he fought to restrain his struggling victim.

Ted threw Eric face first into the freezing water, his clothes getting soaked as Eric furiously struggled to adjust himself to get some air. The bindings around his wrists and ankles kept him submerged.

Ted gave the camera a malicious smirk before leaping onto Eric's back, his hands grasping the boy's hair and keeping his head under water. Eric was writhing like a fish, attempting to knock Ted off balance, but Ted was much stronger despite his stature. He ignored the cold water soaking him as he continued keeping him submerged.

Eric's struggling ceased after only a few minutes, and his form was utterly limp, his body sinking slightly due to the lack of air within him. Ted paused before cautiously releasing Eric's hair and stumbling to his feet.

Ted walked towards the camera, the frigid air making his soaked form shiver. He crouched down in front of the camera once more and proceeded to address it.

"Babe..." He panted and looked down at the ground, trying to catch his breath. He smiled sweetly at the camera once more. "If you ever see this...just know how much I love you."

"I'll see you at school, babe." He whispered softly before flinging his hands up, his fingers bending to create a heart as he continued to smile. He hurriedly rose up and approached the camera.

Everything went black.

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @leiasolo77 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @rynsfandomsfun

[shizukateal]

Grimm Variations - Episode Two Review: Little Red Riding Hood

A blonde, blue-eyed woman in a red dress gets picked up by a man while they are in some form of virtually-enhanced reality saloon. She's nervous at first, not just because of the date but because she's clearly not used to the fine establishments. But she starts to have fun with her new sexy partner for a moment... until, of course, the man brutally murders her when she drops her guard. Obviously he was going to be the the Big Bad Wolf in this story. He rips everything away from her, her dress, her tongue, and the technology hiding the fact that she's actually old. Granny gets eaten with no repercussions for the Wolf or "Mr. Gray" -first name not confirmed to be Christian- as he's called here. After all, he is truly rich and young and handsome, not just holographically pretending to be; and more importantly he is part of a club of other wolves like him who get each others' backs to make sure they don't get the heat for their actions.

We learn that in this futuristic setting, society is stepping further away from reality each day. Transhumanism has succeeded in uploading human consciousness into servers although, again, there's a way to interact in virtually enhanced reality through some special eyedrops. However people keep abandoning their bodies and uploading themselves into computers, probably because resources are so scarce there's hardly any real food at all.

It makes a certain sense, then, that our Patrick Bateman-like protagonist has developed an actual bloodlust. The man practically starves himself with a vegetarian diet because he does not want to eat the fake meat they serve him. Surprisingly for how gory the episode is they never explicitly show him eating the meat of his victims, though? Although he does explicitly like the smell of blood. In any case, Mr. Gray has an all-around comfortable arrangement with his fellow Wolves of Wall Street where he gets a safe space to butcher as many women as he can get his hands into 👍

But it's not enough. At some point the arrangement stops feeling like a proper hunt and more like shooting fish in a barrel. So Mr. Gray starts acting out the safety of his kennel. Before he can get far, however, he is stopped by his pack-pal, Mr. Brown, who gives him an address for a place to arrange another, more outdoorsy and risqué hunt. Mr. Gray goes to a slum still in his clean, tailored suit, where he meets Charlotte (once again, the little red haired girl from the promotional poster) acting as an old madam pimp. And so, she orchestrates a meeting between him and our Little Red Riding Hood: Scarlet.

(Boy can you tell the CLAMPs preferred designing her over the other characters in the story. They love themselves some short, straight-haired ladies)

This time, Mr. Gray goes to a rave in the slums wearing a leather jacket that also does fuckall to conceal the fact that he's some rich dipshit nepobaby. It's like watching Marty Mcfly in his ridiculous cowboy costume from the third Back to the Future. He follows Scarlet and helps her knock out some rape-y looser that was bothering her and the two go to her house. Mr. Gray acts just as demure and shy as the first woman we see him kill, as he has a hard time swallowing the fluorescent booze Scarlet offers him. She teases him about this. That's real alcohol after all, just like everything else in the room is real, outside the purview of the curated cyber-enhanced-world. Mr. Brown had offered him an authentic bottle of wine earlier, and he drank that easily, but in a sense the clearly artificial alcohol is the real deal because that's the everyday beverage of the people who actually live there.

He downs the rest of the glass and the atmosphere is almost sweetly romantic if you ignore the fact that this grown man paid to stalk a girl so he could kill her with no repercussions from the law...

And then Mr. Gray wakes up and finds himself tied to a dissection table. Turns out Red Riding Hood is already a much more vicious and experienced hunter than she was at the end of the Grimm's version of the story (for context, Perrault's version, which came earlier, simply ended with her death) and the hunt between them was always a battle between eating and being eaten. The Big Bad Wolf of Wall Street learns the hard way that, on an uncultivated forest away from his pack, he's prey to even a little rabbit. For all his pretensions of the reality of pain and suffering in blood and gore, at the end of the day he still lives a perfectly manicured life in his white silicon valley palace, so how was he to win against someone who is actually willing to get hurt and die for the sake of the hunt? What's the use of him having a perfect body with 8-pack abs, perfect eyes, and manicured nails if he's not willing to withstand the pain he causes others?

Scarlet faces no repercussions, of course. After all, if the Wolf decided to stray from the territory of his pack, then no one can go avenge him, as Charlotte informs Mr. Brown. Hearing this, Mr. Brown decides to upload himself to a computer. Might as well, replies Charlotte. The real world -even in this dystopic setting- has too many temptations.

All in all, I'd say this episode is better than the last one, in part because it's not a subversion, but it still has a bit of the same pitfalls that prevents it from reaching greatness. "Cinderella" suffered because it turned its protagonist into the antagonist in a way that ultimately proved to be shallow, and it undercut the genuinely interesting commentary the story was otherwise doing. Scarlet doesn't do that here since, again, the Grimms themselves turned Red Riding Hood into a hunter; however I also think that there's a lack in depth of flavor to the episode for not getting us into Scarlet's mind as intimately as we get to know Gray. The probably felt like it would take away some of the punch from the twist if they showed her "hunting" before, but I think that could have simply been avoided by simply getting to know the setting a bit more through her eyes and allowing that to also be an opportunity for characterization. You know, add to the reveal a little by making it seem like a more personal tragedy about sending a lamb to slaughter and then pull the rug from under our feet.

There's also this similar problem between the two episodes in that the post-climax reveals are kind of confusing because they are not all that well set-up. What I mean is that since Mr. Brown was the one who suggested Gray to go to this place after he acted out of line, he might have been deliberately trying to set him up to die, but the ending reveals that this is not the case and it implies that he's genuinely so upset about his friend dying that he decides to escape reality so that he doesn't end like him. Mind you, I'm not complaining that that's the truth of the matter, since it still fits the story thematically. It's just that it left me wondering why would Mr. Brown suggest this risk at all if killing him wasn't his intention. A nitpick, perhaps, but still a discordant note in an otherwise solid script.

Other than that, I'd like to talk about what the series as a whole might be building up to. These two episodes so far have shared caged bird imagery. First Makiko and Sawako in a gilded cage with two birds that are set free when they escape de Otawara house, and now Charlotte freeing another bird from its cage to let it fend for itself in the wilderness.

The next episode is going to be Hansel and Gretel, so that's one big juicy opportunity for that as well, and it makes me wonder if the prevalence of the symbol ties into whatever is going on with Charlotte and the Grimm Brother's in the background. We don't get much about that in this episode either, but I am interested in one of their dialogue exchanges. Charlotte says that the aspect of the story that worries her the most about the story is not the Wolf on its own, but that there may be more of them out there. William, however (the one with the glasses) laughs it off and says that there's only one wolf eating little girls and grannies, which is... patently untrue in the story? The original and this one? However given the tone of the series at large, and that a similar statement was made in the previous episode, its easy to take it as a deliberate contrast. I mean this episode does make a point that the wolves are an organized club, but the theme about the upper class joining forces to prey on the vulnerable with no consequence feels just a tad too secondary to everything else; and given the thematic fumbling in the previous episode I am afraid that the writers might not have any plans for all this commentary they're making and instead the focus will ultimately fall on making the good guys bad for the shock factor.

But we can still be cautiously optimistic since at least this episode has raised the quality a bit. See you next week!

[fedcrypt]

ahh!! thank you so much for the angel/angelus hcs! you mentioned you could explain some more in another post? if you did i would absolutely love that!! almost no one writes for btvs especially angel/angelus so i’ve been rereading the same fics over and over again 😭 you’re so incredibly talented. your hcs had me kicking my feet. thank you so much and i hope you’re having an amazing day/week. stay safe & i’m sending you so much love. thank you again. <3

XOXO, MAMA LU — YOU’RE KICKING AND GIGGLING YOUR FEET?! IM DOING THE SAME!! literally nobody loves angel and angelus like i do 😭😭 and i’m so glad you’re like me! also the compliment ohmygoodness 🙈 i’m crying i love you sm! thank you my lil crow <3

WRITING WARNINGS : mentions of abuse (his father &. his relationship with darla), dark / evil thoughts, stalking and delusional behavior, hallucinations, sexist thoughts (as he’s a vampire 200+ years old so like come on he was around that time- he eventually learns his lesson), physically assault as in like fighting terms, and i think that’s it? idunno tell me if there’s more and i missed them!

okay so i headcanon that back when he was human — back as liam, he had those murderous thoughts that angelus later acted upon. especially with how cruel his father was to his mother, he wanted to absolutely murder his father for the way he acted towards her. liam was a total mama’s boy, in fact, i have so many headcanons about her too plus i named her in my mind but y’all don’t wanna hear about that 😭🫶🏻! but liam was so much of a mama’s boy that he took on the name, angelus, when he had been re-born as a vampire solely because that had been the name that his mother originally wanted to name him but his father had chosen liam.

the reason why liam was so bad and terrible to those when he was human, happened to be due to the fact that his mother had died when he was young. which had left him with his utterly cruel father and so he built up walls to protect himself, turning himself worse than his own father to the point where his father hated him as much as he hated his own late wife. he learned from his father that women were simply objections of his own pleasure and so he, in more modern terms, became a fuckboy.

liam had been so desperate to constantly have a woman in his bed that he began stalking the women that worked at the brothels whenever they would go home. he had believed they were his and his only to mess with, to break and claim. the women who worked at the brothels seemed to love it when it came from him only, considering how heavenly handsome he was born. that was one of the many topics of which he had physically fought his father upon — quickly having his left shoulder broken by his old man for being caught stalking women.

only a few months later after that, he had found darla. the pretty little blonde whom found him at a brothel one night and decided that he shall be hers. so darla had followed him as he followed the women around to their homes, watching as he saw them undress themselves and mutter remarks about how the women were his.

darla then later tricked him into that alleyway under the disguise that she had seen that his women were being manhandled by someone other than him which had him murderous. he began speaking quite loudly and sounded delusional as he told darla all of which he would do to the women who had betrayed him, how he would tear them apart piece by piece and watch as their blood would cascade down the brick of the alleyway. not realizing in his anger how once they had gotten to the alleyway that the women weren’t there and darla had him pressed against the brick, quick to drink his own blood and give him her own as well before his heart gave out on him.

upon waking up from his grave with darla by his side, he had long forgotten his human name already as his soul had already morphed yet he had a form of hallucination when he had awoke for the first time, crawling out of his grave before he had seen darla near him. he had envisioned a pretty woman with a motherly figure and soft yet firm eyes gently smiling down at him with a soft call of angelus. which had lead the vampire to believing that was his name and the only memories that he vaguely had of his human life was how cruel he was to women and his father’s abuse — leading his first kill to be his very own father.

as he had sunk his teeth into his father and drank him dry, while hearing his heart slowly stop beating, he had simultaneously heard a soft call from the same woman who had given him the name of which he goes by claiming that she was proud of him. that had pushed him further into killing his father and then his father’s friends who had blissfully unaware walked into his childhood home ready to pull his father away for a round of drinks.

angelus later on began playing those mental games with his victims due to his own auditory hallucinations of that woman’s voice that played her own games with his mind. something that angel would learn very much later on happened to be his own mother from beyond the grave. again i could do so many headcanons on her and lowkey wanna add her to this blog ohmygoodness 😭

when angelus had gone away and gotten his soul back, his human memories and vampire memories had collided, they mashed and came rushing back to him sending him crumbling down as the gypsy escaped for her dear life after cursing him. while he was figuring out his surroundings before darla would come back to find him after the gypsy woman fled, he had seen the same older woman that he did when he died. oh angel my dear boy the woman would claim as she moved towards him and held his face in her hands seeming like she was trying to help eliminate his pain that settled in his brain. though before he could reply or do anything else, darla had returned and we all know what happened with that.

angel would then spend years, before finding buffy, holding on for dear life and trying to do his best to save others but still had that stupid mindset of having barriers built up around him leading him to what had occurred at the hotel. the reason that he kept to himself in the 50s was because he wasn’t alone. the more he kept drinking the blood in those little vials, the more he would keep hallucinating his own mother who would watch out for him and she was the only reason he got out of the hotel.

okay once again gonna stop because i feel like ima make a whole ass novella out of these headcanons and i feel like it’ll be ✨insane✨for me to do it 🤭

[jazzafayesworld]

Welcome to Nowhere...

Summary: Based off the prompt I snagged from @writing-prompt-s: You run a café on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.

CW/TW: mentions of death/near death experiences, mentions of blood and broken bones. Swearing.

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: I've never written anything before, so please bear with me and be kind 😭

"Welcome to Nowhere!" is heard as a few new faces float in around the cafe's doors. A jingle of the bell atop the door sounds as the door closes behind the young man as he enters. The cafe is surprisingly bigger inside compared to its smaller seeming exterior. He mulls to himself while wondering where he is and why he is suddenly in a cafe. As if pulled by some kind of mystical gravitation, the man queues himself in the line. As a young waitress comes around to check on a table she just served coffee to, you look up from the register to greet the newest arrival. 

"Welcome to Nowhere. My name is Y/n! What can I get started for you?" You say with a smile.

"Huh?" He says. The poor blonde looks confused, You think. "Where the fuck am I?" You respond, still smiling,

 "You're at Nowhere. It's okay. This happens alot. Would you like something to ease your mind while you decide?" He frowns.

"The fuck do you mean this happens alot? Where the fuck am I?" You quickly glance past him to make sure he's the only one in line before answering.

"As I've already explained, Mr. Bakugo, you're in Nowhere. I'd be happy to give you something to ease your mind while you make a decision and offer you a seat, or I can get you something to go so you can continue your journey. You're free to gloss over our menu items in the meantime." You extend a menu out for him to take, which he does, snatching it away from you. "How the hell do you know my name?" He scowls as he scans over the menu.

"I know everyone who sets foot in my doors, Mr. Bakugo. Or do you prefer Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight?" You say with a small smirk. His scowl deepens. "Bakugo's fine." He replies gruffly "an' a medium black coffee."

"Sure thing!" You chirp. "Will you be deciding or continuing your journey?"

"The fuck's that mean?" He snaps. You chuckle softly.

"Newbie. I forgot. Will you, as the humans say, be dining in, or is this to go?" Bakugo looks at you quizzically before answering. "Dinin' in or decidin', whatever the fuck ya said."

"Alright then. Just find a place, and I'll have it right out." Bakugo stalks over to the nearest empty seat and plops down as he waits for you to make his drink.

You come over a few minutes later and gingerly set the mug down in front of the hulking man. "Here you are, Mr. Bakugo. Is there anything else I can get you? A snack? A meal? Advice?" You glance over his face noting how handsome he is with his chiseled jaw peppered with light stubble, only to be met with his piercing red stare that shook you from your thoughts.

"Oi, dumbass-" "Y/n." you interrupted. "Whatever," He scowls, making frown lines prominent on his otherwise pretty face. "I asked ya if you could tell me what I'm doin' here." You glance back at Chiyoko who is now at the register greeting some new guests before sitting down across from the stoic man.

"As I've stated before, you are in Nowhere. Many peoples and cultures call us by different names- Purgatory, Limbo, etc. I just call it Nowhere because it is exactly where you are." Bakugo looks over your lithe frame skeptically while he takes a sip of his coffee. “Uh huh…”

“Nowhere is the place Souls come when they are temporarily misplaced whether it's astral projection,a trance, a coma, or a brush with death, well, Shinigami in your case.” You continue as his fingers tighten their grip on the opaque mug. 

“She was quite upset that the Number One hero got caught in her crosshairs. However, she granted mercy as Midoriya and Kirishima were able to get you medical help in time.” 

Bakugo slams his mug down in frustration, nearly breaking it. “Oi, ya mean to tell me Shitty Hair and the fuckin' Nerd saved my ass?! I'm the Number One hero! I’m supposed to do the savin', not be the one saved like a fuckin' damsel in distress!”

You simply shrug. “I’m just telling you what I know.” Bakugo stills for the first time since his arrival. “....How do I leave…?” You can hear the uncertainty in his voice at the prospect of not returning home.

“Simple, you make a choice. Do you want to go back to living as the Number One hero or would you rather cement your legacy as the Number One hero and move on? Should you wish to return to the Above, take the front door back out to continue deciding. If you wish to move onto Infinity, take the door off to the side to continue your journey.” 

“Y/n! You’re needed at the counter!” Chiyoko calls out as she rushes past the pair of you, behind Bakugo, carrying a tray of various coffees. 

You nod at her then look back at Bakugo. “Take all the time you need. Call me if you need me or you’ve made a decision.” You walk away, greeting the newest addition into the cafe. 

Bakugo stares into the almost empty mug, deliberating his choices. Do I wanna go back to being Number One? I love being the best, but I miss my dad. If I stay here, I could see my old man. What about Deku and Kiri? Would they be okay if I'm gone? He gets startled from his thoughts, and with clenched fists prepared to swing, he looks over at the supposed aggressor when his eyes widen like saucers. 

“AllMight?”

“Hello young Bakugo. Well, I suppose you’re an adult now, aren’t you?” He claps a large hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, making the blonde feel sixteen again.

“Why-How…What the fuck?” He asks bewildered. AllMight laughs heartily.

“It’s a little difficult to explain, however, I am glad to see you as well, young Bakugo.” AllMight sits on the seat to the right of Bakugo. “How is life back home?” Home.

“Still full of villains but I kick their asses. I surpassed you as Number One like I fuckin’ said I would. You and the shitty Nerd.” AllMight shakes his head with the laugh crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less form you, young Bakugo. How is young Midoriya and the others?” He shrugs as Chiyoko swings by with a pot of coffee for his refill.

“Izuku’s fine. Happily married with a brat on the way. Ei and I started our own agency. Blew IcyHot’s out the fuckin’ water. Won a bunch of awards and shit.” He says with a smirk making AllMight grin with fondness for the pro hero.

“I am proud of you. Proud of all of you.”

Bakugo and AllMight talk for what seems like hours about different topics in the young hero’s life. “How the hell are ya even here? Aren’t ya s’posed to be in Paradise or some shit?”

“I help Y/n with the Souls that arrive to Nowhere. It’s easier for some if they see a familiar face like the Symbol of Peace.” Bakugo grunts in understanding as he takes a swig of the steaming roast. “So,” AllMight begins, “have you chosen if you are deciding or if you are going to continue here?”

Bakugo pauses for a second. “I have.” AllMight stands giving a smile.

“I’m glad you made the right choice for you. You have become a remarkable hero, young Bakugo. I am proud of you.” He pulls Bakugo into a hug. “I’ll be on my way to be a Symbol of Peace for another. Goodbye, young Katsuki.”

“See you around, AllMight.” Bakugo stands from his seat and heads toward you at the counter to pay for his coffee.

“No need. It’s on the house.” You say with a wink. “‘S a shitty business practice, Spooks.”

“Spooks?” You look puzzled at the nickname. “Spooks. Ya look like a damn ghost.” You chuckle and it makes the corner of Bakugo’s mouth quirk upwards. He walks towards the door. “Safe travels, Bakugo.”

“Katsuki. Call me Katsuki.” You smile at him.

“Safe travels, Katsuki.” The chime of the doorbell cries out.

~~~~~

“Call the doctor! He’s waking up!” Doctors and nurses scramble around checking on the pro hero. A week has gone by since Bakugo woke up, and Kirishima filled him in on his condition. During the battle with a villain with a liquid nitrogen gauntlet quirk, the building Bakugo was launched in had a fault in the foundation, causing the building he was in to rapidly collapse.

“You been in a coma for 2 weeks. Ya got caught in the fallin’ debris when the bastard hit you with his quirk one last time. Midoriya was the one to find and dig ya out while I arrest the villain. Doc said you’d broke yer leg, a few ribs, collapsed a lung, an’ damn near shattered your left arm completely. Luckily, they were able to save it but ya might have trouble using your quirk in that hand.”

Rubbing his uninjured hand over his face as he takes in the news, Bakugo sighs. “Fuck. How long am I out?”

“Doc said a few months. Commission said they’ll handle medical expenses since yer injuries are extensive and the faulty building was their fault.” Kirishima comments. A buzz of the phone in his pocket pulls Kirishima away from his conversation. “Gotta go. Time for my shift on patrol. I’ll swing back by with katsudon later, k?” He waves as he leaves.

Bakugo carefully turns up the volume on the news with his uninjured hand to continue watching the news footage of the attack. Film footage of the attack showed the building collapsing on the outside, then cutting to Deku carrying a mangled and bloodied Dynamight out of the building and placing him quickly into an ambulance that was on standby. 

Breaking News! Pro Hero Dynamight, who was in critical condition, woke up from his two week coma. After fighting the notorious villain, CryoStone, Pro Hero Dynamight was caught in the rubble of a collapsing building. Reporter Hatsumi Saisei is on the scene. Hatsumi Saisei reports,”Here we are outside of Central Hospital where we just received confirmation that Dynamight has woken up from his coma. Sources say that he has sustained substantial injuries and will be taking leave for an extensive recovery period. From all of us in Tokyo, and Juzo News, Dynamite, we wish you a speedy and healthy recovery.” 

~~~~

Months later, a jingle of the bell atop the door sounds as the door closes.

"Katsuki, Welcome to Nowhere!"

[ravenzeppeli]

Claimed

Chapter 40 - History Finds Itself Repeating|Formaggio + Illuso x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong/vulgar language, cheating, stalking, physical abuse, verbal abuse, noncon threat, choking [murder attempt], extremely dark chapter. MA.

2 Months Later

Formaggios POV

"Thanks," Formaggio muttered, tossing two 50s on the ground next to the random blonde that just finished sucking him off. "Make sure to keep your fucking mouth shut. Last bitch told my girl, she don't need to know this shit." He turned to the side, sliding the condom filled with cum off of his cock, letting it fall to the ground. The condom made a plop on the ground, his sticky white cum spilling out all over the alleyway floor.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," the girl muttered, snatching the money off of the ground. "Your cock is like, so amazing. I wish that you would be my boyfriend. You're so handsome."

A laugh escaped his lips, his eyes rolling. "You don't gotta compliment me for more money, honey. You did okay, I'll give you a little tip." He slid a 20 out of his pocket, this time handing it to the young woman on her knees in front of him. "My girl never fucking compliments me."

"I'm sorry," she replied, taking the 20 and shoving it in her bra, along with the two 50s. "If you're ever looking for a girlfriend, I would compliment you every day. A strong man like you deserves to be loved."

Money was a little tight, as it always is. The boss hardly paid him shit, but this little honey was feeding into his ego hard. Being complimented by a woman felt so nice. Why couldn't you compliment him like this? It'd be nice to hear how sexy and strong he was from the woman he loved instead of some random honey.

"Just take the rest of the night off, honey," he replied, slipping a 50 out of his pocket and handing it to her. "Buy yourself something pretty. And remember, if you run into my girl, walk the other way immediately. I don't wanna hear her pretty little mouth bitching me out for having fun." Fun, it was just harmless fun. Harmless fun that you wouldn't find out about again.

💜🧡💜🧡💜

Formaggio never felt bad about his personal affairs. What a man did in their private business was their business alone. He took good care of you, and he made sure that you were happy. Sharing you with six other men also made him feel less guilty about getting his dick sucked. It's not like he was fucking these girls and spending time with them. It was just a way to relax after a hard day. What's the harm in that?

He planned to approach you as soon as he entered the base, but you were already outside as he walked over to the front entrance. Illuso was standing directly beside you, his hand having an iron grip on your waist.

"I'm going to tell him what you've been doing," Illuso immediately snapped at you, unwrapping his arm from around you, his eyes locking onto Formaggio. "Are you fucking clueless? Am I fucking clueless?" He questioned, red eyes filled with a mix of panic and anger.

A feeling of anger quickly washed over Formaggio, looking past Illuso to land his glare directly on you. "What the fuck did you do?" He had no fucking clue what you could have possibly done, considering you were a pretty low maintenance and well behaved girlfriend. Never did he have to do much of anything with you unless he wanted too. He couldn't even recall a time where you've ever asked him for anything.

"I didn't do anything," you muttered, eyes dropping to the ground. "Just drop it, Illuso. You don't need to bring Formaggio or anyone else into this. We've all done bad things here, and my thing is less bad."

"Shut your fucking mouth," Illuso snapped at you, turning back to look at you. "It doesn't matter what the fuck we do! You mind your goddamn business like we mind ours when it comes to you! You fucked up, you crossed a goddamn line!"

"Fucks going on?" Formaggio questioned, stepping forward, feeling completely fucking clueless. What could you have possibly done that was so fucking bad? That would actually cause him to give the slightest fuck? "You cheating on us? That what it is?" A scoff escaped your lips, his eyebrows immediately shooting up in surprise. "Illuso, what did she do?" He didn't take his eyes off of you.

Illuso walked past Formaggio, hand reaching forward as he grabbed your jaw, his fingers tucking under your chin as he yanked your head up, forcing you to look at Formaggio, "She's been fucking following us. Watching us. For goddamn three months."

"What?" Formaggio questioned, more shocked than angry. How did he not know that you were watching him? This had to be a misunderstanding. You weren't capable of anything. For fucks sake, he never even let you use your stand, he just made you drive them around while they did the heavy lifting. All you were was just their pretty little girlfriend, you weren't capable of successful stalking anyone. Suddenly, he laughed, shaking his head. "If you caught her doing it once then it doesn't mean that she's done it before." Fuck, Illuso was an idiot.

At times, you were a little sneaky. He'll give you that. During the night, you always seemed to slip out of his bed before he woke up. It's been months since he's woken up, and you've been next to him. Even when he clings to you, you still find a way to sneak out of his bed and go sit on the couch or in the dining room. Maybe you were just good at walking on your toes, he didn't fucking know.

Illuso let out a dry laugh, "She's been paying the girls that have been sucking our dicks." His grip seemed to tighten as the amusement suddenly draining from Formaggios face. "Wanna know how I found out? It was pure fucking luck, all because I mark the money that I give Y/N." His eyes immediately cut over to you. "You think you're so fucking smart, don't you? Think you're smart enough to embarrass us and never get caught?"

"You only got caught because you do what he does," you spoke calmly, giving your shoulders a gentle shrug. "It's more complex than that."

Formaggio felt as if his heart was about to explode out of his chest. With disbelief, he stared at you, shocked that you actually did all of this without getting caught. "How did you catch her?" He muttered, not taking his glare off of you as he stepped closer, leaning down slightly so that he was in your face. "More complex?" He felt like a goddamn idiot. How could he not have realized you were watching him? How did he not know that you were aware of his cheating? Goddamnit!

"I went to get my dick sucked this morning. Asked the girl for change, and she pulled out a bunch of 20s," Illuso spoke, shaking his head. "When I give Y/N money, I mark the right hand corner with a small red x to see if she ever uses the money I give her. When I threatened to blow the girls brains out, she spilled the beans and told me everything. Says our little girlfriend approached her and some other girls, paying them to give us longer and better blow jobs."

"Why the fuck would you want us to cheat on you?" Formaggio snapped, his hands balling into fists. "Y/N, what the fuck?"

You said nothing, your eyes dropping to avoid his glare. Visibly, you were stiff, uncomfortable with how close he was. How close they both were. Nearly 8 months together, and still you couldn't stand him. Still you made him fuck you with a condom on as if he had a fucking disease. All this was starting to really get under his skin, and he had a feeling that Illuso felt the same way as him.

"She's trying to get us to fall in love with another girl," Illuso muttered, his hands dropping to your throat, jaw locking. "That fucking bitch told me everything Y/N. How you approached them and were paying them, telling them be extra nice to us and compliment us. I was wondering why all these random cunts were saying my dicks amazing and I'm fucking attractive. You fucking little.. you.. you fucking..." He seemed to be struggling to find the words, his hand grasping tighter at your throat. "How dare you humiliate me!"

Formaggio stepped back a little, not being able to take his eyes off of you. This was insane. He had no idea that you were capable of doing something like this for months without getting caught. On top of that, all these random women now think that his girl hates him! This was a tricky situation because both Illuso and him did tell you that they wouldn't cheat on you. So your lie was just a reflection of their lie, so what the fucks he supposed to do?

"Can't we just be coworkers?" You questioned softly, that getting you an instant slap across the face from Illuso. "Is that a yes? We can just coexist together. You can do your thing, guys, and it'll be fine. I just feel like it would be better if you both broke up with me." The slap didn't even make you flinch, the red handprint mark staining the side of your cheek, your head remaining in place.

"You're gonna get a beating," Illuso snapped, raising his hand, Formaggio immediately noticing that it was a fist. Quickly, he grabbed Illusos fist, dragging him away from you. "Man, what are you doing!? We need to beat her ass! She's been doing crazy shit all because she wants us to dump her!"

Beating you was something that Formaggio so badly wanted to do. Of course, he wanted to punch you in the face and bend you over his lap. So badly, did he want to scream at you and threaten you for stalking him, scare you so badly that you throw up all over yourself like you did last time. When you acted up, you deserved a good beating. That's just what happened when you crossed lines. But a different idea suddenly crossed his mind.

"You know, a lot of times you've stalked Illuso and I, it's been at night," Formaggio added in, causing Illuso to immediately freeze. "Doesn't Ghiaccio have a certain rule that forbids you from going out at night all alone? One that will get you in trouble with him?" You weren't the only one that fucking knew things.

Dread washed over your face, a smirk quickly spreading over Illusos. "I think I should give Ghiaccio a call and tell him," Illuso added in. "I bet he would be so fucking pissed at you. It would probably ruin your relationship with him."

Formaggio let Illuso go, staring into your eyes and finally seeing that you were nervous. This was his chance. "We aren't going to be leaving you. In fact, I think it's time you tell us something very important." He placed his hands on your shoulders, forcing you down to your kness. "Get on your knees you stalking cunt, don't say shit or I'll call Ghiaccio."

You let him force you to your kness, a smug look appearing on Illusos' face as he stepped forward. "Look up at us." Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he leaned down, he snatched your head back, forcing you to look at them. "You're so smart, aren't you? We'll turn you into a dumb bitch."

"Don't hurt me," you muttered, "I didn't do anything wrong. If anything, I was helping you both out. I don't love either of you, I want you to spend more time with those other girls. The less I see you both the better." How are you still not fucking scared of them? You should be begging not to get beat, not pushing them further!

"You disobedient bitch," snapped Illuso, but his grip loosened on your hair. "I love you, you clueless fucking cunt! I fucking love you! That was the first time in two months that I cheated!"

Formaggio smacked Illusos' arm. "It's not cheating if it's condom blow jobs! It's not cheating if we fucking pay for it!" He raised his hand again, wanting to slap Illuso, but that was mainly due to his frustration with you. "Illuso, fuck this bitch. Fuck her. She doesn't love us. She never will. She's just pussy, that's all she'll ever be in this family."

"I'm a part of this team, and you'll never be able to get rid of me," you spat out, your blank face turning dark. A glare that he found more cute than threatening spread across your face, your eyes locking onto Formaggio. "You are a garbage excuse for a man. I hate you, and I hate you more than I hate Illuso. Laying down next to you at night makes me feel sick. I hate when you fucking touch me. I'll never care about you cheating, it just makes you look like a jackass. Enjoy never being cared about by me, I can't stand you bitch. Call Ghiaccio and tell him. I don't give a fuck."

A man can only take so much before they snap. Fuck it, he didn’t give a fuck. Fuck holding back and not hitting you. With all of his force he raised his fist, cracking it into the side of your skull. He didn't care about damaging you brain. In this moment he found himself wanting to fucking rip you apart. If only he was allowed to use his stand on you. He would shrink you and finally make you feel fear. Risotto knew all of them so well, it was smart that he forbid the men from using their stands on you. If he didn't respect and secretly fear Risotto then he would break that rule, but he wouldn't dare cross his capo.

Your head roughly jerked to the side, blood beginning to pour from the side of your skull. If it wasn't for the grip that Illuso had on your hair, then you would have probably collapsed. Illuso immediately let go of your hair, your back leaning against the brick wall as your head limply hung. Silence came from you, your body still as a rock despite the drops of blood that puddled in front of you.

"You want me as an enemy, you fucking bitch!?" Formaggio yelled at you, pushing back Illuso roughly as he tried to grab him. "You got one now. We are done, just like you want. You aren't my girl anymore, and now that I have no reason to protect you I'm going to make your life a living hell! I'm going to break you, I'm going to destroy you!" He dropped to his kness in front of you, hands tightly grasping around your throat, forcing you to look at him. Forcing you to show fear. "CRY! YOU FUCKING CUNT, CRY!"

With speed, you spit in his face, coating his face with your bloody spit. A forced smile suddenly spread across your lips, and that smile was meant to taunt him. "I'm free from you. Why cry?"

"If we fuck her up too bad then we're fucked," Illuso quickly added in just as Formaggios hands tightly locked around your throat. "Let go of her throat man, you're going too far." He felt Illusos hand on his shoulder, attempting to pull him back.

Just as he was about to let go, you said something that completely stunned him. "You drove your family to suicide," you gasped out, your voice hoarse. "You're a curse!"

The consequences were clear and laid out in front of him. If you died because of him, then his death would follow. Hell, even Illuso might end up dying. Killing you would be him outright betraying his entire team as well as the little bit of love he had for you. He did love you, in his own sick and twisted way, but he didn't have self-control right now. Not after what you just fucking said to him. Today.. all three of them were going to die and he didn't care. He wasn't afraid of death. Fuck this. Fuck everything. How dare you bring up his mom and sister.

"I LOVED MY MOM AND SISTER!" He screamed, beginning to squeeze as tightly as he could, watching the life drain from your eyes. Good. Die. "Die, die you fucking cunt! I hope you burn in fucking hell bitch!"

"Formaggio, no!" Illusos fist suddenly cracked into the side of Formaggios face, his nose immediately leaking blood as he let go of your throat, his nose making a weird popping sound. "She's my girlfriend too! You can't fucking kill her! Want us all to die!?"

"FUCK HER!" Formaggio snapped, quickly getting off at you, ignoring your low gasps for air. He grabbed his nose, giving your stomach a rough kick as he got up, a satisfied hum escaping his lips as you finally yelped in pain. "Look at you now.. pathetic as you were the last time I beat the fuck out of you!"

Temporarily, he let his anger turn towards Illuso. He raised his hand to punch Illuso, freezing when he felt your hands suddenly wrap around his ankles, weakly attempting to pull his leg back. What the fuck?! You should be crying in pain and begging for his mercy!

"P-pussy," you spat out, voice hoarse and weak. "I.. would have.. finished the job!"

Formaggio reached for his gun, Illuso grabbing his hand, stopping him from blowing your brains out. "Let's just fucking leave. She's supposed to be spending the night with me. We'll just leave her at the base. Fuck it," Illuso told him, keeping his eyes on him. "Please don't fucking kill her. Just chill man."

You let go of his ankle, your hand grasping the brick wall as you began to slowly rise to your feet, your face completely hidden from him. From a gap in your hair, he saw a dark bruise on your neck, a pool of blood surrounding you. "Just.. fuck off.. let me be.. alone," you whispered, slowly moving towards the door. "Both of you.. no more.. relationship. Break up forever." You were hardly making any sense, but he could get what you were trying to say.

"I didn't break up with you," Illuso snapped at you. "And I never will! You are my girl, and you are a Formaggios girl, whether you like it or not! Go be a good girl and clean yourself up and go lay the fuck down!"

"Scum," you spat at him, a sigh immediately escaping his lips as he reached past you, opening the base of the front door with one agressive twist and push. "Bitch."

"Go to bed," Illuso commanded, pointing inside of the base. "We love you. Don't you fucking forget that. Families fight but they stick together."

"Neither one of you are my family," you muttered, this coming out more clear as you shuffled into the house. "Dumb fucks."

The insults were pissing Formaggio off, making him want to attack, but he was holding his composition. You were too far for him to successfully be able to prick your finger and shrink you without Illuso striking, and maybe killing you was a bad idea. In so many ways, you provided them with love and comfort. That was something that he didn't want to let go of despite almost taking your life. Fuck.. he made a mistake.

"You're still my girl bitch," Formaggio called out, keeping his eyes on you as you vanished into the base. "And I'll be coming back here expecting an apology real soon! Straighten yourself out cunt, I can do what I want with you! I'll fuck you up while I fuck you! I could fuck you right now if I wanted too!"

"Don't threaten to rape her man," Illuso snapped, his eyes going wide. "Fuck, you need to take a break from her! Stop talking to her, and you shut the fuck up too Y/N!"

Formaggio assumed it was over until he heard your footsteps immediately running back, something immediately crashing into the side of his skull. "Goddamnit!" He screamed as he heard something shatter, his hand immediately raising to the side of his face. Blood leaked from the left side of his face, his eyes trailing down to a broken glass ashtray in front of him. No way. No goddamn way did you actually come back and throw something at him. He was stunned, completely stunned that you dared to throw something at him.

"How about I fuck you!?" You screamed, rushing towards him. "I'll fuck you up! Want me to rape you!? I'll do it, I'll be the one that ends you before you end me!"

Illuso launched at you before you could get to Formaggio, lifting you up. "Y/N, relax! Nobody is raping anyone, for fucks sake! Formaggio, just leave, I'm staying with her!" He dragged you into the base, slamming the door shut. "Hey, do not fucking hit me! Stop it right now Y/N, I'm in no mood to have a fist fight with you!"

Formaggio stood stunned, his eyes wide, actual tears filling his eyes as he realized that he made a big mistake. It didn't matter if Little Feet made no appearance. With his bare hands, he almost murdered you. If Illuso hadn't cracked him in the nose, then he probably would have killed you. Fuck. This was very bad.

The blood pouring from his head and nose indicated that he probably needed to go get looked at. The pain he felt throughout his entire body was sharp, a low ringing beginning form in his ears. Almost killing you should have broken you, but from the banging and yelling that he heard from Illuso inside indicated he might have awoken something very bad in you. This was too far. All you did was stalk them and pay some girls to compliment them. Why does he instantly lose his cool? He just couldn't help it. The fact that you still didn't love him and made him wear a condom to fuck you.. it really bothers him.

Going in there and helping Illuso with you would be a bad idea, considering that you were attempting to fucking attack him. Hopefully he could convince you to keep your mouth shut or come up with a good lie. Fuck, he needed to convince you to keep being his girl too. Thank God Melone and Ghiaccio were out of town for a few days, and Pesci didn't fucking intimidate him. You just could not tell Risotto. Now that he was starting to calm down this wasn't worth dying for, and he might just end up getting fucking killed for what he did to you.

[halfbit]

you said you were taking vampire prompts so:

big scary vampire doing something nice for a newer vampire hunter AGAHGAHHGHAGHGHAHGAH

ehhehehHehhehehheheheHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEH

ahem.

cw: blood, guns, violence, gore, murder

---

"Shit. shit. shit." Each click affirmed his incoming death, the chamber was empty, and his hands were shaking. A busted vambrace dangled from his right arm, where the skin underneath was harshly scraped and seeping blood.

Back against a wall, his communicator buzzed to life, "Fitz, you need— KRRSH— get out of there, now." Buzzing voices. "Two approaching— KRRS-" He tried to muffle the sound with his hand, squeezing tight, as his heartbeat thudded in his ears.

This was nothing but a last call. To show pity for the dead, and save face for the survivors. They already knew he couldn't escape. A rookie didn't stand a chance against one, and absolutely not two. And especially not a rookie who’d lost both his tag and bullets. In this abandoned warzone, he was going to die, and die as prey.

He heard the creatures in their stampede— not a slow and stalking hunt, for whatever reason, they were a force of violence in the sun's burning light. Every little silence took a few more of his years, and his breath would seize whenever a crash and shriek echoed in the distance. Each time, that distance grew smaller, and the screeches louder.

How had he even got into this situation? He was only sent here for a practice sweep, and now he was going to die before he could even complete his training. Why were they even active during the day right now? Why were they here? Why hadn't they given him more bullets? Why was every possible thing going wrong for him?

Fitz heard a wall not far from him blast apart, as something was hurled through it. Dust bloomed around the destruction, heavily obscuring the details of the violence from whatever fatal curiosity he might be called to. However, it did not let him escape the allure.

Humans are weak to the essence of vampires, do not trust their illusions.

Though he did not see the victim of the blast, as the dust parted, he lay witness to its perpetrator. Sun and sky bounced off his crowning hair, a colorless white plumage that mocked angels, flowing through the air with an elegance that denied its owner's brutish attacks. Beautiful, like flowering hemlock, yet too unfamiliar to easily put to name.

His coat, a similar crisp white, seemed untouched even in the clouds of dust and debris, and in his off hand, giving him a striking sillhouette, was a white parasol. It shielded him from the sun and yet was weld with an effortless appeal, as though it was mere happenstance that he held it.

A groan drew Fitz’s gaze aside, though it hurt to pull away from the blinding figure, to finally glimpse the victim. A man, young in appearance, whose face had clearly struck the ground several times before. Cuts and bruises battered his face and mixed with smears of dirt and blood, and both substances stained his blonde and disheveled hair. The wall he had collided with was cracked as though a cannon shell had struck it, and he rolled over onto himself, arms shaking like he was unsure of whether to shield his head or his stomach.

Ultimately, he gave up, and painfully tried to drag his body back up, though he could only manage a haphazard kneel. Only then did Fitz realize it wasn’t human. Blood was working its way back up into its flesh in a defiance of gravity and injury, slowly resewing itself into ragged completion. A property only held by vampiric blood. These two strangers, no, these creatures, were fighting, not hunting.

And Fitz had found himself between them.

And, more than anything, he knew the one he needed to fear was the one behind him. It stood with ease, like it had never broke a sweat in the midst of this harsh day, let alone exerted itself in the act of viciously assaulting another vampire. For something to so readily dispense violence, and yet remain untouched by it in turn, that was a terrifying sight.

The other was baring its teeth, limbs still quaking but slowly becoming more sure-footed. Its tearducts had begun to drip red blood, and it had raised itself to its feet, its stance was staggered, and one of its arms still hung down at its side, barely curling its fingertips in. It was prioritizing its blood instead of fully recovering.

It would only do that if it didn’t think it could get away.

Although Fitz didn’t seem to be its target, he still felt the inescapable fear of being within its sight. His gun, empty, would only be useful in terms of blunt-force, which would be nothing at all to a vampire at the end of its line. Still, he clutched it like his life depended on it, as it surely did, which bemused one of his monstrous witnesses.

“Careful,” the parasol-wielding vampire said, in a voice that was having a bit too much fun, “That one bites.”

That one was quivering in place, face twisted like it was smelling something unpleasant. Its lips curved back into a pained snarl, fingertips twitching. “Why are you after me, man?” It was halfway between rage and desperation. “I kept my deal with the Strix, just leave me alone.” It choked on its own words, pressing a hand back against its side, “Fuck.” Its hand came back red.

“Leave me alone, whatever… urgh-” It staggered again, falling back down to one knee with a pained grunt. A rasping voice barely cut the air, “that thing… I don’t… have it.”

Fitz flinched at the sound of a cheerful laugh. “I already know you don’t have it.”

The vampire had pulled out a silver pocket watch on a chain, and was observing the time with glee. It glanced over towards Fitz and he shrunk back instinctively. It smirked.

“Then why!?”

The pocket watch hit 12.

Fitz’s breath caught as he realized the white-haired vampire now loomed over him, he saw the fangs in its smile. “Did I interrupt your hunt, stranger?”

He shook his head frantically, compelled to stay alive. Fitz understood the fear mice must face when they’re batted about by a cat.

"They ship you with some new kit these days, hm?" The imposing figure held up a silver bullet Fitz recognized between gloved fingers, "These used to only work on werewolves."

Vampires lose control at the scent of blood.

Strands of bone white hair fell forward as the monster leaned down, its hand resting atop the gun in Fitz's hands. His forearm was still leaking blood from where his vambrace had come undone, and the strands that brushed against it soaked up the liquid, staining themselves red.

The vampire smiled, "Sorry about that, but could I borrow this?"

Fitz’ grip weakened on the gun, and it was plucked free from his hands. His eyes nervously traced the scratched metal and he flinched as the vampire loaded the single bullet and then clicked it shut. The chamber was loaded.

And the other vampire was seething, it had taken on an inhuman stance, and Fitz’s blood turned to oil. It was going to go out raging.

Its fingers, clawed, had flushed red with such a deep concentration that the very tips were black, and it dug them into the ground in animalistic form. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you.” It snarled, globs of blood dangled from its mouth, among them strings of its flesh from biting into its own gums.

“Go ahead,” It cooed, “let’s see you try.”

It bolted forward. Blood sprayed through dust in its wake from where one of its nails had tore off from the force of its self-propulsion. The vampire raised Fitz’ gun. Time creeped forward, Fitz saw fangs, and bleeding eyes, it pulled the trigger.

The air shattered with a bang.

As the bullet fired, the murderer tipped his parasol to cover the hunter. If one had blinked, they would have thought the charging vampire had simply vanished. Red mist fell. And then viscera. It splashed onto the monster’s pristine coat and dripped down from once-white hair. An entire being, now painted in blood.

6V Sangsilver bullets— the most effective bullet yet against vampires, all it takes is a drop of blood, and the rest of them explodes into mist.

Usually, getting them to bleed without sustaining fatal injuries as the hunter, that was the hard part.

“Wow!” That thing’s face turned with a cheshire grin, snickering to itself, “That’s a lotta damage!”

Fitz could only stare up at him, stuck to the spot, and try to mask his fear. ‘I’m next.’ Wind tugged at the parasol, and a stray droplet of blood dripped down as it tilted, drawing itself down his cheek like a scarlet tear.

Its eyes followed the trail, but its smile didn’t break, simply outstretching a hand to wick the drop away from his chin, and Fitz’s blood thrummed in his ears at the minute point of contact.

“What’s your name, hunter?”

“You aren’t going to kill me?”

The vampire shrugged, “I might if you don’t answer.”

“…Fitz.”

“Attaboy.” His skin crawled, as though there were invisible tripwires all around him, no sudden moves, no wrong moves, only the right words.

It looked down at Fitz, and he felt its gaze shift to linger on the gun it still held, then, unexpectedly, it crouched down. For the first time, he looked into its eyes, and they were uncomfortably human. Brown, like wet clay, with a hint of the sun, and only a few shades lighter than his. Its skin, though light, was not unusually so, and he could see patches of redness, as though it had been burned in the heat of the sun. It looked too much like a person, but its actions, its strength, those didn’t belong to any person he knew.

It looked like them, but it was not one of them. It was a wolf that had grown wooly fur so it could freely pick off the sheep. That white hair, its greatest oddity, was the warning sign. Do not trust it. It is not our kin.

“Tell you what, since you were so kind as to lend me your bullet, I’ll let you have this kill as a treat.”

“This… what?”

“Mhm.” It hummed, “Just don’t let it slip that you saw me, alright?” These words, gentle on the surface, were a threat. “You wouldn’t look good in stitches.” A fanged grin. “Lucky for you, it was your gun and your bullet that did the job. Isn’t that right, Fitz?”

His throat bobbed, and his mouth was dry from the dust. ‘Don’t set it off. Just let it play with you.’ “Yeah, I— it was a lucky shot.”

Its eyes crinkled in wicked delight, “Always good to see someone with a good head on their shoulders. Well then,” It twirled its parasol, sending blood flying, “I’ll be off.”

‘Really?’ He wanted to say, ‘Am I really surviving like this?’ His face felt numb somehow, and he didn’t want to think about how much blood was on him, even though it was pitiful in comparison to what had drenched the vampire.

As if to remind him, the white-haired beast peered back over its shoulder, “Stay vigilant, hunter, if you want to keep your head.”

Fitz silently found the strength to meet its eyes for a moment. They looked red from afar. He nodded, his goal was to stay alive. And he’d gladly stay out of this business if he could.

At last, the strange and bloody vampire disappeared from his sight.

--

wrings hands together sweatily

s-so what if… gay vampire sci-fi western… and they’re a little fucked up….

anyway seriously idk how i feel about this? i'm glad i finally completed it but it just feels a bit rough augh. well it's better than nothing. aaaaaaaa

[adventures-tamriel]

Tamrielic Characters of mine based on three separate but sometimes entwining stories.

Runnar Grimsvalk of Falkreath.

Born in the lands of Falkreath Hold, Runnar is the second born of fraternal twins, born a mere minute after his brother, Gunnar. It seems a minute was all it took. As Runnar grew, it was clear that he had inherented less than his brother. Gunnar was more charismatic, stronger and was generally well regarded by the people of Falkreath. Runnar had raven black hair and a pallid complexion while Gunnar was the spitting image of their father, blonde and tanned. As brothers are prone to do, Gunnar picked on his dark twin, usually calling him Draugr-Twin. Gunnar would eventually regret this name.

When both boys were 12, their father was called to war by the Empire, the war versus the Aldmeri Dominion. Their father never returned from that war instead an imperial of commendation arrived. The twins were raised by their mother but, as Gunnar looked so much Ike his father, their mother gave most of her attention to the blonde twin. More and more resentment grew like a plague in Runnar's heart.

Five years passed and the Stormcloak rebellion had been going on for a few years now. The family had lived on the border between Falkreath and the Rift, in the shadow of the Throat of the World. Stormcloak patrols had been seen coming from the Rift, burning farms and houses of any Nord that was loyal to the Empire. Runnar and Gunnar, both on the cusp of manhood, had just returned from hunting deer. Dark smoke rose from their home and the brothers ran. As they arrived, they found a Stormcloak patrol stood over their slain mother. Their mother still clutched their father's imperial medallion. The twins ran, the patrol of seven men chasing after the boys. During the run, the young men became separated.

Runnar ran until his chest burned, seeking shelter in what he thought was an old ruin. Runnar crouched in the archway, gulping down pockets of air. The rotten wood under his feet gave way and plunged the young man into darkness. Having lost the patrol and his brother, Runnar hid as he found he was the only one alive, but he was not alone. Draugr stalked the halls. Runner hid and watched. Three long weeks past as he hid, watching the dead men. Fear turned to curiosity and then to admiration. As Runnar hid along the tomb, he found a terrible tome. Empowered but the tome and his own desire to live, Runnar found his way out of the tomb. He found his eyes had changed, glowing blue like the undead he admired.

Runnar did not return home. Instead, using murder, he acquired a suit of armor and sword and began his life as a sellsword and explorer. Runnar searched the tombs of Skyrim, searching for more necromantic power. Eventually, he came together with a beautiful necromancer. As the two sought a strange power, necrotic fire, they were brought into conflict with a man, a thane of Whiterun. It was there the twins saw each other again. It was there that their rivalry became deadly.

[cc-tinslebee]

Me and The Devil

Chapter 2: Hello Satan

a snapshot of Mickey’s life before becoming Ghostface and the resurgence of a murder victim that is not his

This was not how he expected his Wednesday night to go. Just an easy kill, a quick buck before he went home, that’s all he asked for. Now he had to hunt down the idiot who was in the woods after midnight.

Of those to come before and after, Mickey was the most prolific, he was the most qualified. He had knocked off seventeen people since he was fifteen, and he had gotten away with every single one.

         Billy Loomis eat your heart out.

He rushes through the forest. His eyes dart all over, searching, scanning.

He wasn't an amateur.

And just when pounding fear's about to set in, their movement crosses into his line of sight again. His Peeping Tom makes a run for the clearing the forest fades into. He's holding onto the hope that getting closer to civility will save him.

His stalker glances behind him as Mickey emerges from the shadows of the forest, closer than before. He lets out a terrible, horrified yelp and he collides into the shoulder of a young woman, knocking him onto his ass.

He crawls backwards, chest heaving violently as his focus darts between them. He scrambles upright, almost barely catching himself before slipping again. "Please, miss," he pleads, knowing how easily Mickey could kill her too, "He's-" But it's no use; he's a jumbled mess. Neither of them can make out his pleas.

When the girl's eyes finally drift up to him, there's nothing recognizable in her eyes, not fear, not curiosity. She doesn't move an inch, not even as Mickey's boots hit the pine needle-matted ground hard as he stalks forward. The moonlight rains down on her, her ghostly, perfectly pale features bathing in it. He can tell that her blonde bob is supposed to be perfectly straight and tidy, but it's not. Her hair is frayed with dirt and bits of leaves sticking out, like she had just crawled out from the earth.

If it weren't for all those files his college benefactor sent him, he might say he almost recognized her from somewhere.

         Now, if you're anything like me, you're probably thinking, "This girl was on the news. For getting murdered. In California."

 But then again, if you're anything like me, you probably have more important things than a pretty dead girl in the woods.

continue reading here

[msookyspooky]

You're All Dead: Sneak Peek

My upcoming book I'm working on that is HEAVILY based off of the Set Up series and pays homeage to 90's Horror. If you liked Set Up, maybe give it a read because it's a retelling of it with new dialog and twist and turns 🔪 wordcount: 3,267

Intro:

There's Always an Opening Kill

   "Come out, motherfucker!" The young man yelled out into the darkness; slamming his back door as the storm door rattled from the force. He breathed heavily, eyes wide and darting around. He yelled out again, metal baseball bat in hand. "I said, come out!!" 

…Silence. Nothing in the desolate cornfield but the rustling of the remaining stalks cut down recently for harvest.

He hesitated before sucking in through his nostril and racing off his back porch. Adrenaline pumping as he swung the metal bat against a trash can. Knocking it over as the neighborhood dogs carried on at the loud noise.

"That's what I thought! Too pussy!" He yelled, his dirty blonde hair falling in his face as he marched to the edge of the field. "Well?! You only got balls to do this shit over the phone?!" He bellowed against the Autumn wind…He lowered his bat, chest heaving as he stared out into the darkness…Just crinkling of corn husks, a wind, and a few dogs barking.

He stared a moment longer before just speaking into the night. "...I know who you are."

Silence before he huffed out. "You fuckin' freaks. You're dead when I see you. I'll make what happened to Mr. Pierce look tame compared to what I'll do to you tomorrow. " He huffed and slowly turned around. "Stay away from my girlfriend you fu-" His sentence cut off in sharp gasp as a sharp pain went through his stomach. His blue eyes were huge and his mouth hung open as he looked down at his stomach…A pitchfork stabbed right through his gut. He slowly looked up to see a figure standing there holding the pitchfork…Some mask covering their face as they tilted their head. 

Even stabbed, the young man raised the metal bat and swung at his attacker's leg as the pitchfork was painfully jerked out. He released a strangled scream as he tried hobbling to the house, clutching his stomach as blood seeped over his fingers through his shirt.

If he could just get to the phone…He just needed to get to the phone!

He screamed, teeth clenched and face scrunched in pain as that pitchfork was driven deep into the back of his leg. He collapsed, turning on his back to swing at his attacker. He got a few hits but nothing to do real damage as he was dragged to the field by the pitchfork still in his leg like he was nothing but a piece of meat…His screams and the howling of the upset neighborhood dogs was all that was heard by the time anyone came outside too late

✦

Chapter One:

Everyone is a Suspect

The funeral was yesterday. It felt like a bizarre dream. He had a close casket. It's not like his family had much of a choice…Considering…

You sighed, looking to the ground as all eyes were on you. Everyone constantly asking you how you were or whispering amongst each other the second they saw you or even giving you judgmental stares as you walked by. You were the girlfriend of the victim. You should be so distraught that you can't even think straight. Sobbing, unable to eat, unable to go on or whatever. And yet, you weren't…You were numb.

The school had been buzzing all day. First Jessica and her boyfriend Freddy were found murdered in Jessica's home last week; now your boyfriend James was found mutilated in a field behind his house. Principal Craven announced there would be no school after today after parents complained out of fear for their kids safety.  Everyone was either over the moon and playing this off like it was no big deal or completely terrified. You were the latter.

You were getting into your locker, ready to end the day when you saw your locker neighbors come by. 

"Hey..." Sarah gave a soft smile your way and you forced a smile back that fell as quickly as it came. 

She had been your best friend this year. The new girl in town wasn't always liked but Sarah made you feel welcomed since the first day you met. You'd describe her brown eyes as the kindest eyes you ever saw. She was the type of girl you could talk to about anything and she'd be there for support. She brushed a piece of her short brown hair behind her ear as she opened her locker.

"Hey. Sorry I didn't see you guys at lunch. I had mine outside." You mumbled as a reply.

"Alone?" Torri asked with a raised eyebrow, walking behind Sarah as you simply nodded. 

Torri was who introduced you to Sarah. In fact, Torri became the first true friend you had here. She was definitely the trendsetter of this sleepy midwestern town. Wearing clothes that got her warnings with The Cavaliers Dress Code to outrageous stares from the older folks around town when she strutted out in a lime green mini skirt and matching platform heels. Her petite but busty figure didn't help. She was the type of girl that would listen to you vent and want to carve her keys in the person's car afterwards…It didn't exactly go over well with her older sister who was a teacher at the school and the exact opposite of her little sister Torri.

Sarah's gaze softened at the admission you ate lunch alone.  "That's okay but you know you can talk to us whenever, right?" 

You nodded again, "Yeah, totally. I know you guys are always here for me. I just…You know. Needed to clear my head, that's all." 

Torri got into her locker before asking. "...I hate to be the hundredth person to probably ask you this today but how are you holding up?" 

You cringed with a heavy sigh. "Not great, Tor."

Torri frowned deeply. "Yeah stupid question, I know. I mean, how the hell are you supposed to feel with your boyfriend being a victim? Seriously. We were shocked you even came to school today..." 

You put a book away and replied. "Yeah but I just don't want to be home alone with my thoughts. Besides, the police have already questioned me twice. As soon as I got here actually. Might be more questioning if I stayed home." 

Torri scoffed, "Was it Richie? He's been a real prick since Darlene dumped his ass. He was prick before that too…" 

"No, it wasn't Deputy Richard. It was the Sheriff and some Detective they brought in from a bigger city. I want to say he's from Davenport but I don't know for sure." 

Sarah scrunched her brows. "Why? You already told them what they needed to know when it happened just like the rest of us." 

A scruffy looking, thin teen boy leaned on your locker. He was proud of the stupid looking mustache he just started growing out that was so scarce and thin but he wore it anyways. His dark auburn hair is longer than it was last year. He had on a simple t-shirt and faded tore up jeans as he eyed you. "Hey Buffy. So…" 

You groaned softly. That nickname given to you stuck so much that it was used more than your actual name, even by family. 

"I'm fine, Ray. Really." 

Ray leaned against your locker, giving a skeptical raise of his brows. He showed up with Tim trailing behind him and Vince tagging along with his hands in his pockets.

 Tim and Vince were best friends. Complete opposites with Tim being a loud, crude, flirty, popular rich boy. He was cute and charming. One of the tallest guy in Senior year being 6 '4 and he always had a playful smirk on his lips and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. His Dad was a big time landowner that owned most of the fields around town as well as a lot of the buildings he leased to small businesses. And Vince was quiet, reserved, observant and too emotionally mature to get along with a majority of the teen boys at school. His Dad was a lawyer that traveled to a nearby city for his work. Vince must have looked like his Mom because the one time you did meet his Dad; you just couldn't see it. The boy had looks that could kill; hands down one of the most attractive boys in town. With his dark brown eyes and pushed back dark hair framing a slender face. He had this brooding thing going on that all the girls in town just ate right up…Too bad for them; he was dating your best friend Sarah while Tim dated Torri. You reasoned that was why they became friends through their mutual girlfriends being childhood friends because you couldn't imagine any other reason. And Ray was a childhood friend of Sarah; both their Mom's being friends clear back to when they went to this school…And you were the new meat that moved in last year and lucky enough to have Torri dragging you along to meet Sarah and through Sarah you met everyone else. 

Vince eyed Sarah but she looked away…The relationship was on the rocks to say the least. You all complained about the tension in the group. Tim and Vince were friends, Torri and Sarah were friends, Dating... It got complicated. Even more so when there was a huge argument between a couple…And this one was a little more than just an argument…A day before James was killed, Sarah got a disturbing phone call and was attacked in her own home when her Mom was out grocery shopping. And who just so happened to be outside her bedroom window to comfort her once the killer was done terrorizing her?....None other than her strange boyfriend Vince with a cellphone in his pocket…A teen boy having a cell phone for 1994? You knew his Dad was rich but you had to admit that was suspicious. 

After Vince was held for being a suspect in Jessica's death and his phone examined by police; Sarah and him weren't speaking to each other. Vince stood off to the sidelines as you all spoke.

"So…Do the police have any leads on who killed James?" Ray asked.

You shook your head. "No. They're just questioning everyone. Shit, they questioned me twice." 

"...Huh." Ray mumbled.

"...What?" You asked as Ray shrugged.

"That's just interesting and kind of strange, is all." 

Tim walked over and wrapped an arm around his girlfriend. "What's interesting, Ray?" 

"Nothing, just curious about why they're interrogating Buffy again. I mean, they aren't gonna do that unless they..." He trailed off, looking away. 

 "...What? Spit it out." 

He rolled his lips. "...Buffy, didn't you say James called you?" 

You shut your locker with a perplexed expression. "I mean, yeah, but that was obviously before he got killed." 

"And…The police think a phone call lured him out to the field. Right?" 

"...Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with it-" 

"Buffy, why are the police questioning you so much?" 

You scoffed. "The fuck should I know, Ray? I'm the girlfriend! Apparently, I'm a suspect because of it! And the phone call and our rocky relationship and-" 

"The way you showed up to school not too upset?" He blurted out.

Torri repeatedly blinked her eyes and Tim cringed with a hiss at the comment.

You stared in surprise as Sarah spoke up for you. "Ray, I'm sure Buffy is just trying to get through it all. She's processing her boyfriend's death crying out loud. Sometimes people go numb at first…" 

"I get that, okay, I do but why not ask questions like who did it or why?"

"Ray, are you serious? I see you for the first time in days and this is what you're accusing me of? Of course I'm not yelling out conspiracy theories of who did it!" 

He dramatically shrugged. "I don't know! I just know that your boyfriend is dead a week after two of our classmates died and for some reason; the cops are grilling you hard on it…So, unless you can give us someone that had a valid reason for killing him…You're kind of the main suspect here…Sorry Buff." He gave with a grimace. 

"I..." You muttered, "I can't think of anyone that wanted him dead. But..." You trailed off. Subconsciously touching your neck.

Ray's gaze darted to your hand then back up to meet your eyes "But someone who was hurt by him. A lot. Someone who wanted revenge or maybe self defense that got too carried away…If it was self defense or a way out…I can understand but it would be less convincing with two murders last week too." 

You fully turned to him. "What are you trying to say?" 

He mumbled. "Connecting the dots? Or at least trying to." 

Torri rolled her eyes. "Oh god, here we go…Everybody get on your tinfoil hats." She mumbled to herself and looked up at Tim who raised his brows up and down at her. She rolled her eyes at him as well..

Ray scoffed and pointed at her. "Hey, that crop circle years ago in old man Leslie's field was fuckin' real, Victoria."

She glared. "I told you don't call me that, Raymond Wimer." 

Tim chuckled and added. "Weiner, Whiner, W-" 

"Okay, shut up!" Ray snapped at them both. "This isn't a conspiracy theory; it's a survival manual! How to survive a horror movie which we are clearly in right now!" He turned to you. "First rule is everyone can be the killer so why not first question the person that had not only a direct tie to the victim but a motive too."

"Which is?" You deadpanned with an unamused glare.

"Tired of dating an asshole." 

"Wouldn't you be?" You scoffed.

"I mean sure but there's also you and Jessica hating each other..." 

"I didn't hate Jessica! She had a problem with me!" 

Ray continued, "Sure. But come on, even you would be suspicious of one of us! " 

"I would not." You argued with an eye roll.

Torri scowled at Ray. "God, would you get a grip?" 

"Seriously, people grieve differently. Buffy had a confusing relationship anyways and no evidence points to her." Sarah interjected.

"Yes it is! Even in a weird roundabout way! But your own boyfriend is murdered and you don't hardly react? That's not strange to anyone else?" 

"No stranger than you." Torri mumbled as she put her books away and shut her locker. 

You sighed and gave him a pleading stare. "Ray, I am not in the mood for this." 

"I'm just ruling out suspects." 

Everyone cringed as you slammed your locker door shut. Releasing a humorless laugh and staring up at the ceiling before staring at him. "Ooohhh, so I'm a suspect now?" 

"I don't know for sure; Obviously! But someone is! It's someone at this school." 

"And what the hell makes you think it's me?" You sneered at him. 

Ray sighed. "...You're gonna make me say it, huh?" 

Vince gave him an intense glare. "Maybe that's a sign from the Universe to not say it? Ever think of that? Ever think, Ray?"

You noticed how he seemed extremely on edge today. Then again; everyone was. His girlfriend wasn't speaking to him, he was considered a suspect by police at least once already, and a murderer was on the loose. Who the hell wouldn't be?

Ray hesitated but opened his mouth regardless. "Okay...Girlfriend was abused by the wrong side of the tracks asshole and got revenge. Or a lover got tired of sharing and wanted to get rid of the competition..." His eyes darted around to everyone around you as if he was looking for a specific guy.

You let out a bark of laughter in anger and shock. "WOW, you have COMPLETELY lost your mind."

Torri agreed. "God, do you hear yourself? You're accusing a victim's girlfriend of being a cheater and the reason for her man's murder! This isn't what happened last year-..." She clamped her mouth shut as she saw Sarah frown. Vince raised his eyebrows in surprise and Tim clenched his teeth but had mild amusement in his eyes as he simply watched you all go back and forth. 

"Uh, I mean not like that but like...Buffy couldn't even hardly talk to us towards the end because of James. You actually think there was time for two boytoys?" She corrected herself.

"Okay, even a crush. A family member sick of him and his bullshit. Or Buffy..." Ray gave. 

Tim lost the humor in his gaze at that. "Hey man, he was a giant dick. There was probably a whole lot of people that had him on their shit list." 

"Not good enough. He had his face peeled off and his guts around his neck. That's as personal as it gets!" 

Sarah looked away with a nauseated face. Vince had his eyes on Ray the entire time.

You stared at Ray with wide eyes. "You actually think I would do that to my boyfriend?! Ray, I know you're obsessed with those cheap horror movies or those weird articles like 'I married bigfoot and now he pays child support' and what not but you're crossing a fucking line here." 

Ray threw up his hands. "I just know we are being picked off like flies! Jessica and Freddy last week. Now, James this week. Who knows who else is next!" 

You stared at him. "You do realize if I was the killer; you exposing me would be a death wish, right?" 

Ray pointed. "Ah, that's where you're wrong. See,  If I showed up dead especially after this exchange; you would out yourself as the killer." 

"Damn, guess I can't kill you till the climax. You know, the plot twist that exposes me as the killer ALL ALONG!" You mocked before flipping him off.

Tim snorted at that. Torri looked annoyed and ready to lead you by the shoulders away from it all at any moment. Sarah seemed uncomfortable with the entire discussion and ready to leave as well. Vince just watched. His dark eyes boring into Ray.

Torri mumbled. "Remind me why he's in the group again?" 

Tim smirked. "Free movies and good grass." 

"Hey, this is serious!" Ray exclaimed. "Three people dead in a little over a week. We're like sheep led to slaughter here and sending us home is even worse! At least here we have numbers! So excuse me for saying what everyone is thinking and trying to figure out the killer before we're all dead." 

Torri shook her head. "We are not being picked off one by one, you insensitive ass." 

"How is it insensitive to look at the girlfriend looking for an escape or revenge as a suspect? Or someone that likes her and is defending what's theirs? Didn't she spread that rumor about you Buffy? Okay, fuck! You have a motive for killing every single victim so far!" 

You ducked your head in embarrassment at the memory. 

Torri scowled. "Jessica was a bitch. It's hard to tell who wanted her dead other than half the school. Besides, she ran her mouth about everyone because she was mad Freddy fucked every girl that gave him an ounce of attention so how the hell is Buffy that much of suspect?" 

"Ray, stop. I didn't kill my boyfriend, alright?" You harshly gave with a raise of your hand as you looked away.

Ray pointed at you, his face lit up as the idea turned in his mind. "No, no. You're right! You couldn't have done it alone; you're not strong enough. But someone else could have. Someone close... A guy." 

Torri scoffed. "Oh, here we go again. Sexist much?" 

Tim chewed a piece of gum obnoxiously and muttered. "Babe. We've been over this, girls just don't have the stomach for that." 

Torri rolled her eyes. "What is this? A movie from 1954? Am I gonna faint at the sight of blood when I change my maxi later?" 

Tim gagged with a grin. "Ugh, you're on the rag? Is that why you wouldn't do it last night-" 

Ray snapped his finger to get everyone's attention. "Focus people! Someone's killing for Buffy or in relation to Buffy and we'll all be next and maybe even her if we don't solve this pronto." 

"Okay genius, who would that be?" Tim mocked. 

"I don't know...Someone that cared about Buffy." 

Torri scoffed. "That could have been anyone. Buffy is just a sweetie pie." She mocked in a goofy high pitched voice as she went to pinch your cheek and you smacked her hand away with an annoyed huff. 

Ray shook his head. "Well someone must think so too. Buffy was clearly involved, even unintentionally." 

You released a long insufferable groan, practically begging him to just drop it. "Ray... Please. I can discuss these murders any other time but not when it's someone I cared about and my first day back to school." 

"...Did you really care about him?" 

And just like that, he dropped the biggest bomb possible. You jerked your head back to his direction in shock at what he said. Your mouth hung open and you didn't know WHAT to say. You should. You should have been crying. You should have been livid.

But you weren't. You were speechless. Cause deep down inside, you had to ask yourself that same question.

"Ray, what the hell?" Sarah groaned as she picked up her bag, ready to leave this entire exchange. 

Ray got flustered as he tried defending his argument he knew went too far. "I'm just stating a very obvious question! He hurt you and was shitty! Did you really care about him or were you only with him because you had to be and someone helped you get rid of him?" 

He received glares and threw his hands up. 

"Oh, so we can talk about Jessica being hung out to dry last week just like Sarah's Dad was but not James' face being torn off?..." He saw the wide eyed look on Sarah's face and his own dropped. "O-Oh…Oh, shit, Sarah sorry-" 

Sarah looked away rolling her lips as everyone else glared at Ray. Torri put her arm around Sarah to lead her away.

You looked away at the mental image burning in your mind. Ray had a tight lipped frown on his face as he gave you an earnest look. 

"Look...I'm sorry, Buffy. I know I'm coming off as a jerk. I don't want to think you did it but somehow you are involved even by association. If we figure it out; it could save you if you're not involved."

You didn't look at him. Just getting your bag and getting ready to bolt.

"Oh, come on! I'm being the bad guy for wanting to connect dots and save lives here?

You snapped as everyone was starting to walk away from him. "There are no fucking dots, Ray! Jessica and her boyfriend were just another pair of classmates we barely talked to! James was my fucking boyfriend!" 

Tim scoffed as his girlfriend started leading Sarah away. "Man, lay off would ya? He was just some random victim." 

Ray was emotionally backed into a corner after speaking without thinking. He was clearly growing frustrated with you all. Tension in your friend group was thick anyways and this was making it 10 times worse.

"No he wasn't, can't you all see that?!" Ray exclaimed, "If YN wasn't sicking someone on him then anyone that cared seeing bruises the size of golfballs on her neck would have -" 

"HEY!" Vince released a yell that made you all jump and Sarah and Torri turn back around. You didn't think you ever saw him that mad or use that tone as he got up into Ray's face. "When are you going to take a fucking hint that YN doesn't want to talk about it and neither does anyone else?!"

Ray swallowed hard. "...I'm just sayin-" 

Vince grabbed Ray by his shirt as you heard Ray's head hit the locker. "You're always saying. When do you shut the fuck up? You're pointing an awful lot of fingers at other people. How do we know you're not the one doing it?" 

"Vince, stop!" Sarah exclaimed and ran back to the scene as Tim got between them and tried discreetly breaking it up before Vince swung on Ray. 

Tim cringed at Vince with an anxious laugh. "Heh, Jeez! Down boy. No need to go all Rottweiler on him." 

Vince backed away as he continued to glare at Ray who looked petrified. You didn't understand why. Sure, Vince seemed pissed but they all grew up together and talked daily…Was this anxiety and murders really hurting your group that much? 

"You need to read the room, douchebag." Vince growled out. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye before looking away. 

Sarah replied, "You need to calm down, there's no reason-" 

Vince interrupted her, "I thought you weren't talking to me?" He scowled, "Let me guess. Me sticking up for your friend Is just evidence I'm sick and probably the killer, right?" 

She scoffed as her voice rose in anger. "I would never say that!"

"But that's what you still think, isn't it? That I'm involved." 

Tim tried getting their attention by clearing his throat. His head jerked to the end of the hall with a tense expression. They all glanced to see Principal Craven watching them like a hawk near his office door.

You saw Miss Ryan come out of her classroom at the same time the Principal came from his office. She quickly went over to all of you, waving a hand at the Principal that she had it under control as she glared at Torri and then everyone else.

"What's going on here?" She demanded, looking between all of you. 

Vince bit his lip anxiously, staring intently back at Ray before shaking his head. "Nothing Miss Ryan...See ya Buffy, Tim...Sarah." He frowned at the mention of her name before leaving. 

Sarah sighed, watching him leave with her own sad expression.

Torri rolled her eyes and hissed out low to her older sister. "Nothing, Dar." 

"Yeah, well it doesn't look like nothin' so how about you do us both a favor and stop getting yourself into trouble? Especially with certain…People." Darlene Ryan gave a distasteful look Tim's way as he grinned at her.

"You look damn good today, Darlene! Seriously, is that a new perfume I smell?" 

"You call me Ms. Ryan on school grounds, Mr. Harris." She cooly gave with an annoyed look. Her youthful face made her look not much older than all of you if it wasn't for her conservative teacher-esque outfit she wore.

Tim gave a mock sad face. "Aw, but we're practically family here! Wedding bells might be chimin'." Torri smiled up at him at that.

Darlene gave him an insufferable look. "Torri, get your boyfriend and friends out of here and don't get in any more trouble, you hear me? My job is on the line everytime I intervene." 

Torri gave her sister a smartass expression. "Then stop intervening. I'm a big girl, I can handle myself. I don't need my sis to come to the rescue." 

Torri started walking away with Sarah and Tim as Darlene called out. "Now what did Mom say?! When you're at school; I'm your teacher and you treat me with respect!" 

Torri ignored her and you looked at Ms. Ryan. Giving her a frown. "Sorry, Ms. Ryan…" Before looking at Ray one last time and leaving too. 

You hurried down the hall. A few students looked at you as you passed. 

You specifically heard a guy whisper, "She got James killed. This town is filled with skanks." 

"She hangs out with Sarah Pierce, what do you expect?" Another guy replied.

You ran down the hall after that. The walls felt too close, too many people, your head spun. You passed a newspaper article on the bulletin board.

"Local Woodsboro teen James Fedrick Davis was found mutilated in a field near his home. Suspected Homicide. Does Deadwood have a serial killer?"