#chapter 2 the dare | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

guestgirl-soulcollector · 10 days

Text

I stand corrected...

I don't have an intro today, let's just get this over and done with

I kinda forgot to eat before visiting Death. I thought he wouldn't notice, it's just one moment.

Death: You good, kid?

Fuck.

Me: I'll be fine afterwards, I still have some ra-

Death: Oh no ya don't! You are going to the kitchen to get something to eat and I don't wanna hear you complain. You could find something in there. Wink.

Me:...Did you just fucking say wink?

Death: Language, also yeah.

Me: Death, you're a good pal, but you're as subtle as a colonoscopy with a chainsaw.

Death:...J-Just go, and be careful

So off to the kitchen I went. I didn't know who I was going to meet or why they would be in a kitchen or- Is that a candle

He looked bizarre, If I had any doubt that I was no longer in the real world, then this was what confirmed my fears. His skin was pitch black, juxtaposed by a white jacket and hat. On the top of his hat, a flame flickered energetically. blonde hair poked out of the sides of hat and drooped down, but it looked like it was bleached. A red apron was wrapped around his waist and neck. Two red eyes stared back at me, I couldn't tell if he was curious or infuriated.

Me: Uhhh, can I help you?

Nothing

Me: Hello?

Still Nothing, I was starting to get annoyed

Me: Listen here, I don't know who you are or what you're doing but if you have something to say-

Candle chef: Kaycee...You're Kaycee...Right?

He spoke, his voice was harsh and sounded more like a growl.

Me:...Yes, who are you?

Hell's Chef: Hell's...Chef...Are you...Friends...With him?

Me: Y-you mean Judgement Boy, yeah I guess we're somewhat friends.

He looked at me as if I was out of my mind. I got the message quickly, Chef didn't like Judge at the slightest

Hell's Chef: Be honest...What do...You see in him?

Me: Nothing, he's just my only chance at escaping this place.

Hell's Chef: Heh...Like that's ever...Going...To happen.

"Like that's ever going to happen." What does that mean?

Me: What do you mean by that?

Hell's Chef: Mother of Horusho, you're not very bright...You're...Like the rest of us here...Dead.

Me: Oh that makes- WHAT!? I-I'M DEAD!? No, no, no this must be some kind of joke!

Hell's Chef: Kaycee...Listen to me. You're. Dead. End of story.

Me: But that can't stop me from escaping, right?

Silence. I knew I sounded insane but it had to be true, right?

Hell's Chef: Whatever stops you from going insane, I guess...Look...I'm sorry, okay? But I'm going to get an earful If...I don't.

He raised a knife up and swung it at me. Instinctively, I bolted out the kitchen and headed in a random direction. I didn't expect for Chef to star chasing me and be apologetic about it, my guess is that someone told him to. Ahead of me was the storeroom, perfect, I could hide in there. I went into the storeroom and looked everywhere for a place to hide...

Then I realised that I broke the first rule of what to do when being chased by a threat: I didn't close the door behind me.

I thought I was about to die...Then, something else happened. The flame went out and I heard a clank as the knife fell to the floor. The fire must have been what was letting him move. He also dropped a lost soul, which I carefully grabbed. Then I heard someone approaching. I hid underneath the table as I saw two people, both I instantly Recognised when they spoke.

Haniwa: GODDAMN IT! YOU SAID HE'D KILL HER IN NO TIME, AND LOOK! SHE'S GOTTEN AWAY AGAIN!

Cactus Gunman: CÁLLATE HANIWA! Someone might hear you yelling.

Haniwa: I refused to believe that I thought that it was a good idea to listen to you. Why is he even in here in the first place!? He knows full well that he'll go out if he enters the storeroom!

Cactus Gunman: It probably was the girls fault, Haniwa, she probably got the idea from Judge-

Haniwa: Gunman. I heard what happened with Dr. Fritz. There a good chance that she abandoned JB after she found out.

Cactus Gunman: It is a possibility, si.

That's it for today. I...I might need a lie down

#gregory horror show #ghs #guest girl #the trial of kaycee niles #ttokn #((Chapter 3: One foot in the grave. Part 2: Dared To Cross))#((I'll give you three guesses on how she died))

5 notes · View notes

mrsaltieri-real · 8 months

Text

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri X OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter 3: Rejection

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, talks of Dahlia dying, mentions of stabbing and scarring, Mickey being an asshole, smut, p in v, jealousy, angst

Chapter 3! It isn’t as long as I initially planned but it just ended at the perfect spot I didn’t feel the need to drag it out any further. God I love this series so much it’s ridiculous but I’m really going to be putting poor Dahlia through it. Thank you to @bisexual-horror-fan for editing and beta reading this once again! My fucking star!

God, what the fuck was wrong with me?

I stood a foot or so away from the door, many people chatting and drinking away cheerfully around me in a haze of noise and blurred figures as I remained hesitating. How long have I been here? A minute? Five minutes? An hour? Time seemed to have no meaning as I listened to the bouncing music coming from inside Sid and Hallie’s dorm room, the loud laughter and shouting.

It was all uncomfortably familiar.

Suddenly the door swung open and out stumbled Hallie, evidently already plastered, who grinned eagerly when she saw me.

Hands out she exclaims with a smile, “Dahlia! You came! Randy owes me twenty bucks.”

I was immediately engulfed in a warm embrace by Hallie the minute I walked into her dorm room, unable to stop my body from automatically tensing defensively. I consciously knew she wouldn’t hurt me, but my subconscious was immediately put in self preservation mode. Hallie seemed too drunk to notice as she pulled back, an even bigger smile on her face.

“Come in, have a drink!” Hallie finally released me after what felt like an eternity and I smiled half-heartedly at her. I definitely needed a drink if I was going to get through tonight.

I hadn’t been to a party since Stu’s in Woodsbro the night everything changed. In that moment glancing at all the unfamiliar faces I felt painfully aware of that fact, half expecting some jackass in a Ghostface costume to leap out at me no matter how ridiculous that may sound.

Hallie had wandered off to greet more guests, leaving me alone to make a beeline toward the large table full of drinks, eyes scanning the array of booze for whichever would get me drunk the fastest.

“Look who actually turned up.”

I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hadn’t even been here two minutes and he’d already found me. I refused to turn and look at him, lifting a red solo cup from the stack and tapping the tops of the bottles for something that sounded at least appetising.

“May I?” His voice floods my ears and I suppress the urge to sigh. This time I did look up at him with a slightly raised brow. “You the connoisseur of cheap booze?”

Mickey laughed a little, shaking his head at me before replying, “I just have an idea of what people like. See,” My eyes followed his finger that now pointed over to Randy, who was sitting chatting to a group of people with his drink gripped in one hand as he waved his other hand around in manic gestures clearly in a deep discussion, “I made Randy a Gimlet.”

“What the fucks a Gimlet?” I muttered, toying with the cup in my hands.

Mickey laughed again, dropping his hand and looking back at me before explaining, “Simple syrup, lime juice and gin shaken over ice. He can’t handle his booze but likes to make it look like he can so it’s pretty perfect for him. Sidney-“ His eyes flickered over to where Sid was standing in the corner with Derek, laughing at something he said, “- Whiskey sour, of course. She’s complex.” I nodded my head, somehow that made perfect sense for her.

“Okay, what about Hallie?” I asked, squinting my eyes to try and make out what she had in her hand as she stood chatting to a few girls. I loosely registered the smell of rum and lime on her breath before her unwelcome embrace.

He made a move of his hand towards her direction as he said, “Hal? I made her an AMF.”

Eyebrows pinched together as I questioned him curiously, “AMF?”

“Adios Motherfucker.” He smiled slightly as he leaned closer.

I couldn’t help but smile back. That was somehow absolutely perfect for her even without context.

“And Derek?” I asked, nodding over in his direction.

“Are you kidding? Beer. He’s a frat bro, you think he’s gonna let me make him a fucking cocktail?” Mickey rolled his eyes, lifting his drink to his lips. It was hard to look away as he took a sip, his tongue darting out and licking the leftover liquid from his lips. I couldn’t help but ask, “And you? What have you got?”

He offered his drink to me and I hesitated for a moment. A soft laugh before he said flatly, “I haven’t got the fucking herp, Dahl.”

I felt my cheeks heat up at his nickname, quickly taking his drink so I could hide my face in it only to be taken by surprise at the overwhelming but delicious taste and aroma of mint, “A Mojito?”

“You look surprised. What, a man can’t enjoy a cocktail?” His hand rose to his chest in mock offence and I couldn’t help but smile again, handing him his cup back.

“You think you can make me one then?” I asked curiously before pressing on further, “You hardly know me.”

He sounded confident as he asserted, “I’m intuitive, I’m sure I can work out what you like even with our limited interaction. Unless of course you want me to get to know you better first?”

Was he flirting with me?

I looked at him blankly for a second before diverting my eyes down. He didn’t miss a beat, immediately changing the subject back to the drink, “You know what a Paloma is?” As he spoke, he took the cup from my hands, his warm fingers touching mine for just a second making my hand jolt back, an action he seemingly chose to ignore, “Tequila, lime juice, grapefruit soda,” With every ingredient he listened he free poured them into the cup until the drink was prepared, handing it to me with a flourish, “Can't exactly salt the rim but here.”

I took the drink from his hand, sniffing it suspiciously before taking a small sip, only to be surprised at how delicious it was.

“Wow.” I mumbled, taking a larger sip.

“Easy,” He chuckled, moving to make himself another drink, “I’m already gonna have to end up carrying Randy to bed. I don't want to have to carry you too.”

I paused for a second before forcing myself to look up at him and meet his eyes, asking with sudden bold curiosity, “What did you mean earlier?”

He looked genuinely surprised at my question, his hands pausing over the bottles as he glanced at me before asking, “What?“

I explained, “Earlier today, you said I’m not going to be able to stay away from you. What did you mean?”

He was quiet for a moment, returning to assemble his drink before walking to the free couch next to the table, raising his hand to the side for me to sit beside him to which I did so.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, just that we’re in the same social circle. I admit to being an ass when we first met, so I do apologise for that. It was just… interesting to meet you.”

I didn’t miss the emphasis he put on the word “Interesting.” It made me pause, eyeing him suspiciously. He wasn’t looking at me, his eyes set into the corner of the room as though I wasn’t even there. “What do you mean interesting?”

He blinked, drink rising up to his lips again as I waited impatiently for his reply only to wish I never asked, “Not everyday I meet someone like you.” He responded simply with a subtle curve of his lips.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Mickey leaned back on the couch, hand resting on his knee as he turned his head to look at me, eyes doing that stupid once over on me that I was growing to hate. Then he said it. “Someone who's supposed to be dead.”

My mouth fell open with a plop at how candidly he said it, staring at him in disbelief. Just when I thought he could be sweet.

“I’m sorry, supposed to be dead? The fact I fucking died is interesting to you?“ I snapped, the alcohol making me bolder than I usually would be.

Or was it the alcohol? Or was it yet again Mickey somehow awakening the parts of me I thought would never see the light of day again? The anger bubbling in my stomach was distantly familiar and honestly, it felt really fucking good.

Mickey groaned, head falling back against the back of the couch. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. Fucking hell you’re so sensitive Dahl. Bit of a lightweight, no?”

“Dahlia.” I wanted to shout at him, not appreciating the new nickname he seemed to have branded me with.

“Jesus, fine. Dahlia.” He said my name dripping with sarcasm before he quickly finished his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing, “You’ve gotta stop being so damn oversensitive about shit. Your little broken bird act is kind of getting old to be honest.”

“Oh God, Mickey! I’m so sorry that I’m not living up to your fucking expectations. What do you want from me? Your fascination with the fact I died is really fucking creepy.” I couldn’t help but spit the words out at him. I was only slightly aware that people were beginning to look at us but for once, I didn’t care. I knew he was just trying to get a rise out of me and fuck, it was working.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, a real laugh, raising his palms up, “You walk around campus like a ghost, you hardly speak to anybody except Sid and Randy, why?”

What was the use in trying to argue with this guy? I sighed, slouching back on the couch and closing my eyes, anger lessening, something more akin to sadness overtakes while I answered him, “They’re the only ones who understand.” I said quietly.

I felt him move to sit back next to me, feeling his eyes on my face although I refused to open them. He stayed quiet for once, waiting for me to continue.

“I don’t like you but I’ll be honest with you-“ I heard him let out a stifled laugh before I continued, “- I’m assuming you know Billy Loomis was Sidney’s boyfriend. Well, it’s lesser known who his accomplice was to me. We don’t share a last name and hell, we look absolutely nothing alike, but Stu Macher was my cousin. I loved him like a brother so when he just stood by and watched that stupid asshole drive a knife into my stomach-“ My fingers automatically touched the healed over wound over the material of my shirt and I winced, not in pain but at the memory before I continued, “- And I died, I’m pretty sure the part where I can… Feel went with me.”

Mickey was silent as he intently listened to me speak before I felt his hand clasp over mine that was still tracing my scar through my shirt, making my eyes snap open and look at him as I asked him in an undeniably self conscious tone, “What?”

“Nothing, I just think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since I’ve known you.”

His face was close to mine, slightly tilted back as his head rested on the cushions behind him and mine did the same.

Now this feeling was new.

I saw his eyes drop to my lips for a brief moment before looking back into mine. Did I want this? Did I want him?

My mind started to race and my heart began to thud unsteadily in my chest as I watched his tongue swipe his bottom lip as he leaned forward. I could feel the pulse in my ears as I froze in place, unable to make my body move.

Fight or flight, fight or flight?

In a second, I made a decision.

I shot to my feet, dropping my empty cup to the floor and stumbling back a little, my eyes wide and his shown surprise. For the first time I saw a flash of an emotion that wasn’t sarcastic or pissed but I couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what it was.

“Dahlia?” He asked, looking slightly concerned.

“You can’t just do that!” I hissed, hands shaking a little as my eyes flickered around my surroundings. Thank God, nobody was looking.

He leaned forward, his posture significantly less relaxed as he questioned, “Jesus, do what?”

You rushed out, “Lean forward and try to… Kiss me like that!”

Mickey looked at me blankly for a moment before his head fell back and he let out a loud, obnoxious laugh before managing to get out, “Are you fucking kidding me? You thought I was trying to kiss you? We were just having a conversation, Dahlia. How self involved are you?”

Of course, I know now Mickey isn’t used to not getting what he wants. He had grown accustomed to girls tripping over themselves to fuck him and the fact I didn’t, the fact I went out of my way to get away from him? He hates it. I could tell in that moment with the way he laughed but his eyes were blazing that he had an edge to him. I suppose that should’ve been one of many red flags.

Instead I scoffed at him, grabbing a random bottle of booze from the table before stalking off to go drink in peace.

I settled down on a chair in what I guess was supposed to be the communal living room, crossing my legs and eagerly knocking back the rum in my hand straight from the bottle.

“Jesus, Dahlia.”

I glanced up and saw a tipsy Randy flop down beside me, his drink spilling over the side of his cup as he did so but he didn’t seem to notice, eyes on me as he spoke, “Going hard, huh? What’s up?”

“Mickey.” I muttered simply.

“Ah.” Randy was quiet for a moment, looking at me thoughtfully.

Randy and I had what you would call and sandbox friendship. We met in kindergarten when he’d attempted to snatch a toy from my hand and I’d smacked him over the head with it in retaliation. I can’t really remember what led to it, but after that we became inseparable. We got “married” at recess with Sid and Tatum officiating but it was just childish fun and games. I of course loved him, but it was never romantic in any way.

During my time in the hospital, he visited every single day. During this time I wasn’t talking much so we just watched movies until visiting hours were up, he’d go home and then come back the next day to do it all over again. Never horror. He knew me well enough to know that after everything with Billy and Stu, for me at least real life was scary enough.

“Is he giving you a hard time?” Randy asked, rolling his head to look at me, he said in a more serious tone, “Ignore him, okay? Mickey can be an ass.”

“Oh, I know.” I muttered, bringing the bottle to my lips once more, “Such a fucking ass.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Randy’s eyebrows shoot up and I sighed, “What?”

He shrugged, “Nothing. It’s just I haven’t heard you speak with venom like that in… Fuck, forever. It’s disconcerting.”

I looked at Randy, a deep frown on my face as I asked, “What do you mean?”

“No, I don’t mean anything by it. I don’t know what Mickey did or said but I’ve gotta say, he really brings the fire out in you, you know?”

I dropped my eyes to the bottle in my hand, fingernails tapping lightly on the glass. I knew Randy was right. Whenever I was around Mickey he just revived me somehow. As annoying and infuriatingly difficult he was, there was no way I could dispute that fact.

In the space of a month I’d felt more irritation and fire than I’d probably felt in my entire life. Honestly, I never thought I’d feel anything again.

What was it about him?

I lifted my head as I heard footsteps approaching Randy and I and looked up to see Sidney hastily walking over to us.

“Dahlia, Mickey’s looking for you. He’s in my room, said he wanted to find you to apologise or something?” She shrugged a little, hand waving down the hall and toward hers and Hallie’s shared room.

I frowned, my grip on the bottle tightening which Randy seemed to notice as he asked, “You want me to come with?”

“No, no.” I mumbled, starting to stand up before the room spun a little. I blinked, feeling myself fall back on the couch and Randy quickly gripped my arm with a small, nervous laugh. “How much of that have you had?”

I shook my head as I mumbled, “I’m fine.”

Sidney looked at me, soulful brown eyes doubtful. “We all know you’re a lightweight Dahlia. Maybe Randy and I should take you back to your dorm.”

“I’m okay, honest.” In truth, I really just wanted to hear Mickey apologise to me. Who knew he was capable? “What number is your dorm?”

Sidney told me her dorm room number and I felt both her and Randy watching me cautiously as I slowly walked away, trying my best to walk in a straight line. Fuck, I really was a lightweight. Was it down to Mickey’s strong ass cocktail or the straight rum? Probably the straight rum.

My hands both rested on the walls as I walked down the corridor, eyes blurring as I blinked unseeingly at the number of the doors until I found Sidney’s.

I heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the door and infringed a little, hand hesitating on the door knob. Even hammered, something felt off. I didn’t know Mickey that well, but I did know he wasn’t one to apologise.

Fuck it.

I turned the door handle and pushed the door open, eyes widening and mouth falling open and the sight before me.

A blonde girl was lying face down, ass up on what I assumed to be Sidney’s bed without a stitch of clothing on her. She was gasping and moaning into the mattress beneath her, and who else would be behind her? Mickey.

He had her arms behind her back, one of his hands circling her wrists and the other gripping her hip, pulling her back as he thrusted into her. His head was back, groaning softly before it fell forward and he released her wrists, moving his hand up her back until it found her hair and twisting it around his fist, yanking it back so she was sat up, her head leaning on his shoulder as she gasped out, “Oh my fucking God Mickey, please don’t stop!“ with her eyes screwed up tight and her chest heaving. I saw her face and for some reason it seemed to bother me to see how attractive the girl was.

His eyes opened and met mine from over her shoulder, quickly roaming over my stunned form before he smiled.

He fucking smiled, a sick and almost depraved smile directly at me, a slight upturn of his shoulders before he mouthed, “Fuck you” to me as he pushed the writhing, moaning girl down on her stomach. His fingers kneeding the soft flesh of her ass as he continued fucking her, his eyes now never leaving mine as I remained frozen at the door.

Walk away, walk away! Why the fuck are you stood watching this shit?

The voice in my head was screaming at me until she was finally loud enough for me to listen. I turned on my heel, quickly slamming the door behind me.

What the fuck?

Why would he tell Sid he wanted to apologise to me if he was busy fucking some slut in her bed? Why would he want me to see that?

I was clearly drunk because I could feel tears burning my eyes, and I wasn’t sure if they were out of anger or something else. I shook out my head, hands coming up to tap on my cheeks lightly in an attempt to snap myself out of it as I heard Mickey let out another loud laugh and the girl let out an even louder cry of what I could only assume to be pleasure.

Guess this is how he acts when he gets rejected.

What a fucking asshole.

Chapter Four HERE

#here’s chapter 3 #I dare say it’s the best one yet #really fucking proud of this tbh #mickey remains an asshole #but i love him #and so does Dahlia she just doesn’t know it yet #mickey altieri #mickey altieri x dahlia levine #scream #scream 2 #dahlia levine #mickey altieri x oc!character #slasher #mickey altieri smut #his perfect victim

17 notes · View notes