#michael distortion x reader

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Yandere Michael Distortion x Reader HC

Requested headcanon - "May you do yandere headcanons for michael distortion?"

Sorry for how long this took, but honestly being a slow writer is a personality trait at this point and I have a small pt 2 in the works that will feature a bit more yandere themes, so be warned. Let me know if I forgot to tag anything. Also comments are super appreciated i will give you a soft platonic smooch on the hand in return, criticism or fixes are totally allowed.

YANDERE FIC! This is not a healthy relationship, do not read if you are under 16 years of age. SFW. I have a part 2 ready to release soon so hold on. Michael is creepy. Also this could technically be read as platonic.

TW: Stalking, yandere behavior, kidnapping, reader is GN but likes men? or at least thinks Michael is hot. Reader is called pretty. Confusing use of pronouns bc Michael is a mess of them and I like it (he/him, they/them, it/it’s and generally calling Michael 2 people, Them is used for distortion). Repetition. Reader is called pretty. Reader has a pet, but no specific animal is named( he vaguely threatens it) . Michael watches you sleep. Michael Kills someone for you. General fuckeray with the plot at my whims, and yeah this is prob a bit out of character but its the best I can do.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

 They were following the vase held by Salesa. They didn't need to follow the vase, it had no target and it would not be hard for the Distortion to find later, the spiral things called to each other, but they followed anyway. That is when It saw you, It was not sure what drew you to them, but from the moment it saw you, they needed to know more. You were just another person on the street, not even the target of the fractals.

They weren't sure what it was that drew the Avatar to you, but it could not look away. Just a normal, unmarked human. Normal fears, nothing that gorged any power in particular but they needed to know more. So they followed you. Days passed, and Their obsession only grew. They knew where you lived, and they wanted to see you. 

It was easy to watch you, you couldn’t hide from what wasn’t there and never looked. It wasn’t the eye, and could not see through yours, but your doors were easy to manipulate, and getting into your home was child's play. Doors like that only keep out the real things, and They were not real. Your home was better than They could have expected, so full of you and Michael felt at ease when they watched you. You were peaceful when you slept, Michael and the thing that was not Michael liked that about you. 

You had a pet. A squishy thing that did not like Them at first, but They were around often enough that the creature tolerated Them eventually. They could not pet the squishy thing, nor did either beings wish for it, as Michael’s hands were sharp, so they merely ignored each other. The squishy thing never alerted you to his presence, so Michael was fine to let it live. 

A few weeks of just watching you sleep and go about your day was not enough. He enjoyed watching you when you slept, going through your phone and listening in at work, but he wanted to know more. To be closer to you. That was normal with a target (that is what he had to call you in his mind). 

Obviously he was not attached to you. Just vaguely interested, right? That is what Michael told himself when a customer was cruel to you. Words you didn't need to hear spilled from the wretched stranger, and for the first time in a long while Michael was angry. What right did that thing have to criticize you? Michael resigned himself to not act, he was not a watcher but he would just observe, that is what he said as the cruel man walked right into one of michael's conveniently placed doors. Michael fed himself on that wretch’s fear, and spat him out when nothing was left but a broken mind. Michael still watched you cry that night, and that is when he decided he needed to properly meet you. 

Your attention would be divided at work, and he wanted it all. Your job would be inconvenient, so they planned. Your phone wasn’t fully charged on Saturday when you always went to the coffee shop, courtesy of Michael unplugging it. You liked the routine so you went anyway, bringing a book you swore you would read at some point. So you sat, drinking and listening to the boring music in the cafe. Michael could not be sated by watching, he needed to have your attention on him. So he entered the shop as Michael Shelley. They would blend in there, Blonde curls on a pretty demure boy wouldn't raise any alarms, but their real form would. He took a table next to you, acquired a drink from the counter he had no capacity nor will to consume, pulled out a phone charger, and waited. 

They just had to wait for attention as you fiddled and cursed your phone for being unplugged, so Michael offered his (it was from your home, but you would never know). You moved and plugged your phone in, feeling obligated to talk to the young man who offered to help you. You asked his name. Its nature pulled it to lie, to deceive and to tell you something that was not truth. But It didn’t. “Michael,” the man said. That is all it took for you to give him your name. They already knew it, but it felt like a promise to the Thing calling itself Michael. You gave him your name, what a silly mistake. You two talked for a bit, likely less than an hour, your book left to the side as you spoke, and you left to continue with your day. 

Later that day you called a friend, you told them of the pretty boy at the coffee shop. Michael’s unnatural smile grew even larger as he heard that. They thought you were pretty too. You cursed yourself for not getting his number. He laughed, having no number or phone. They felt seen when you spoke of them, not the type of invasive seen the wretched watching one gave, but noticed. But you called him pretty, that means you saw him. You were drawn to him as he was drawn to you. 

The Distortion knew it was likely the mother of spiders was pulling the strings here. How else would they be so drawn to you? But for all the discomfort the thought of being manipulated by the spider was worth it if it meant having you. It was meant to be, the Mother of Spiders did not make mistakes, and they did not sully you by marking your flesh, so they could forgive the intervention.

The distortion was almost content with the arrangement you had, even if only They knew of it. Watching you throughout the day, feeding on some fools when needed, and standing over your bed while you slept. It even became routine to meet at your coffee shop,where he talked in riddles and listened to your laugh, you never questioned why theirs gave you a headache. He got bolder, showing up to certain places he knew you would be at, the store down the street for groceries, outside a bus stop he knew you would pass, and even went to your work once. It was almost comical, how easy it was for him to insert himself into your life in small ways without you even noticing something odd. 

It went wrong when the corruption arrived at your job. A coworker with the writhing mass of rot on their mind. It would not allow the infestation to spread, you wouldn’t know till its too late. You were in danger. You were not in danger. You would be in danger. You wouldn’t be in danger with them. The crawling rot wouldn’t taint you. They could keep you somewhere where it wouldn’t infect you. You would stay with them. The plan would take time, no more than a few days but Michael was enraged at the thought of you being hurt by the squirming mass you saw as a coworker, so Michael got rid of them. It was easy enough, the corruption would lose a thing close to becoming an avatar and you would be safe while they plan. Even though the rot was taken care of, you were not touched by powers, and you would be susceptible to their whims. It made him sick to think that you would be harmed, you weren't strong enough on your own. So he planned to take you. 

It made sense to keep you in the halls, It existed in and as the halls, you belong with it, and you weren’t safe outside of them. Maybe… if you found the center of the place that does not exist you would join them. You would be safe as a part of them. The spiral protects its own. But for now, you will open a door and will not be where you were. You would lose your mind to the fractal madness of shifting stairs and doors, but you are safe from those who would corrupt you with their power. You were too good for them, no other power deserved your fear. 

If only you hadn’t been special that day, or called them pretty. Perhaps if you hadn’t lived alone then someone could have saved you, but there is nothing to save you now. If only the door was labeled “do not open”.

#michael distortion x reader #tma micheal shelly #tma michael #tma #Yandere!Michael x reader #Yandere TMA #tma michael x reader #platonic!michael distortion x reader #michael distortion

[tma-reader-inserts]

Michael x fem spiral avatar reader

Once you went through the door, out of the twisting, static filled hallways, you collapsed and cried. Slowly and with great effort, you crawled from the door behind you as you sobbed, even as the tall figure leans halfway out and taunts you.

“Little thing…” it hisses. Not meanly, not aggravated, it hisses softly, almost lovingly if it could. “Won’t you, will you please reverse your way and twist back around?” a sharp, pointed finger of it’s trails down your back and you shudder. “The space within the walls would weep for your departure.”

With the last of your strength, you managed to launch yourself upwards and throw yourself through an already partially broken window.

You could almost hear a sigh of disappointment.

–

Sleep was a companion, a friend. You slept all the time, whenever you had time to spare. Your ground floor apartment looked more like a giant nest. It was a studio, everything in one room with the water closet door never closed (why would it be, you lived alone and never had guests). Since your escape, you clung to sleep like a drug to soothe your fears. The nightmares are incomprehensible anyway, and you hardly leave your dwelling for any reason at all save to get food and supplies. You worked from home, during the few hours you were awake, and the rest you slept.

You’ve taken to crawling out windows now, distrustful of doors and how your apartment suddenly had many more of them than they used to. Or at least you think it used to. Days blend together with the sleep. You rise not with the sun, not with the moon and stars, but to something you cannot see or know. You're exhausted when you are awake, half delirious and hungry and thirsty and something you cannot explain. Delirious and happy, giggling, mad, crying, yelling, barking laughter.

You wonder if you used to be like this, before the doors, before sleep took such a hold on you like how a lover holds you in your sleep.

You wonder if you’d sleep better with a lover, if there's something out there to love you and hold you, something heavy and warm and consuming. Something dazzling like a night light and confusing like the final thoughts before unconsciousness. Someone to wrap around you like a blanket and buzz like a sound machine to lull you into your nightmares and dreams.

You half wish you dreamed more. More of the thing from the hall, the closest thing to an ideal lover, holder, sleep partner. Sure you were scared in the halls, scared of the blond? Thing at first, how your eyes slid off of it’s features and how you couldn't focus on it at all. But then again, is that not what a dream is like? You dared anyone to accurately describe someone from a dream.

And it sees you when you sleep, you know. You hear the door creak occasionally as you drift off in your pull out bed nest, hear its static voice get muddled with you sound machine as it coos to you disturbing lullabies and sings praises of “what you will be.”

Your neighbor upstairs has been sleeping fitfully, you notice. He turns all night you hear while you're awake when it's dark out. Hear him mumble while the sound machine is off. Hear him gasp and yell occasionally.

Not a problem for you, though. You sleep just fine.

But then you don't. Then you don't sleep at all. It feels like days, or was it weeks? Days of cruel consciousness, night of horrid clarity. The doors disappear, the thing leaves.

You cannot sleep.

You miss the halls terribly now, while awake there, it felt like a dream, it felt unreal yet steady in an odd,comforting way to you. Like how in a dream everything makes sense even if it doesn't. That's what you miss.

You become desperate, nearly foaming at the mouth for the sweet, sweet, sweet fuzz of semi-consciousness. For the doors to take you back (how dare you leave), for the twisted thing to take you again.

You go to the closest wall to you and knock

#the magnus archives #tma #x reader #michael distortion

[sparklingblu]

Eroverse

Pt.1 - The Invitation

IVE Rei x Male Reader (ft. Karina)

"Harder, daddy. Harder!"

The sweet moans of the idol beneath you are music to your ears as you piston into her wet folds rapidly, a hand of yours gripping her throat and another kneading her large plentiful tits as she barely manages to stay on all fours on the bed. Her arched back is dripping with sweat and her breath is ragged. Nevertheless, she takes your pounding without complaint, like a good whore she is.

"You like it, huh? You cock hungry whore"

You ask over her mewls resonating around the room as you grip her throat even tighter, depriving her of oxygen.

"Yes...daddy...pound me"

Karina's voice comes out distorted and inaudible but it's impressive how she still manages to make a sound despite your hold on her vocal cords.

"Good girl"

You praise her and bring your palm over one of her asscheeks, which are jiggling with every one of your thrusts. The slap comes down harder than you expect, leaving a red handprint on that porcelain skin of hers. You repeat the motion again, this time on her other cheek, making it jiggle even more, marking it with your handprints as well. Maybe Karina squeals but it blends into her moans and the sound of her breath which is becoming even more shallow with how long you have been choking her.

You would have never thought you would have the chance to see Karina in real life , left alone fuck her. You have always drooled over the bounce of her huge tits and her curves as you jerk off to her fancams again and again. You would even get hard just from seeing that AI like face of her. However, these days are over as you claim her body as your own with your cock.

Karina's eyes begin to roll into the back of her head as she is cut off from the supply of her life force, oxygen, for too long. That doesn't make you decrease your pace or lessen the hold on her throat either. The only supply she needs to live right now is your cum.

As Karina's body becomes limp like a lifeless doll, you start to feel your high slowly approaching. That sensation in your stomach that travels down to your pelvis and ultimately to your shaft.

"Gonna cum, Karina, don't waste a drop"

You order as your flood gates finally open and Karina open her mouth to let out her final moan, but the sound that comes out is-

"Ring ring ring"

Your eyes flutter open as the alarm clock wakes you from your blissful dream.

"You are an idiot, Michael"

You mutter to yourself as you turn off the alarm. You? Fucking Karina? Yeah, sure, that can happen when pigs fly. You sit up in your bed, only to find yourself rock hard from that wet dream you have been having. That's a matter you should take care of later.

You slowly get off your bed and rub your eyes, the view of your messy room greeting you as usual. The tiny room is stuffed with every single one of your possessions. A shelf against the wall, taking up most of the room and a small wardrobe in the corner which is next to a table and a chair, piled with stationaries and stack of papers.

It's a dump, sure. But it can be considered a luxury for a writer like you. At least you have your own space. You have always dreamed of writing stories and hell, you even have a ten book series planned out in your mind. But in reality, you are barely scrapping by. Going from one publishing house to another to get that novel of yours released that have been sitting on the same table for years. You managed to survive with the money you get from your part time job and sometimes when luck is on your side, some of your articles and poems got featured in some magazines no one read.

"Stop whining" you remind yourself. "You just haven't found your true potential yet" An empty encouragement, yet it gets your mind off the bad stuff. You make your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth, staring at the wreckage in the mirror which is your reflection. Your eyes were ringed with dark circles and your head throbs with pain from all the shots you chugged down at the bar yesterday after running into some old friends.

You head to the shower and you are about to turn the water on when you see a bigger problem at hand than smelling like a rat dies in your hair. The boner was still there, stiff and hard as ever. That dream really takes a toll on you.

You grab the phone on the sink and scroll through the collection of hundred videos of female idols you have saved on your phone, choosing the best one to jerk off to. There's so much variety to choose from, ass? tits? face? You once heard someone say "Jerking off is not hard, finding the material to jerk off to is" It seems like the case now.

Finally, you land on the video of Rei from IVE. The busty japanese idol in a white top and a skirt. Her tits bouncing with every move she makes. Not the ideal choice but you will settle for it.

You are about to get your hands on your mamba that's ready to pounce when a notification comes up on your screen.

"Still jerking off to Idols? Why not fuck them instead?"

You are confused. What kind of notification is that? It is like someone is watching you right here, right now. Maybe someone is pulling a prank on you? That's impossible because no one knows about your guilty pleasure.

Reluctantly, you scroll down to see the source of the message. On the left side of the notification is the icon of an app, a dark heart shape and its name on top "Ero". You are pretty sure you have never installed such an app on your phone but curiosity gets the best of you. You click on the notification.

Immediately, your screen light up with a warm neon glow as the loading screen popped up, with the same dark heart shape and the name "Ero" in the centre of the screen. After a minute of waiting, you are about to give up and quit the app when the screen shifts. Now, it displays a text box at the bottom of the screen like in video games and the same black heart rotate slowly like a top above it.

The text in the textbox says,

"Welcome, chosen one. Continue to your first quest?"

Chosen one? What in the Harry Potter is happening here? And what quest? Is this some sort of game? And what does it have to do with you jerking yourself off to idols? Million questions swell in your head but of course your curiosity pushes you to click the 'yes' button under the text.

For a moment, the screen is black. Then it lights up with such a bright white light that you nearly got blinded. The light dims, leaving another text box in the middle of the screen.

"First Quest: Rei's Blowjob

Have Rei sucks you off and endure it for 30 minutes"

Your mind is one complete mess, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. This sound like some sort of porn games you play on your laptop. Main character being chosen and all. But this is very much real though you still doubt this is some kind of scam app that steals the information from your phone. Not like you have any data worth stealing though. Another reason to doubt it even more.

As your brain gets blowtorched with questions, your phone suddenly shuts off. Before your fingers can reach the screen to turn it back on, the whole bathroom goes dark. When you say dark, you are not talking "turn off the light at night" dark. Only darkness exists within your vision as if the whole room have been swallowed by the night. You are about to move forward and try to reach out desperately for something to hold onto when your whole body gets washed over by a sensation like getting dipped in icy water. Your body starts to give out, your knees turning to jelly.

"Am I gonna die?"

You think.

"Oh god, I'm gonna die"

The darkness is the last thing you see before you are greeted by it once again as your eyelids close shut.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The first thing on your mind when you regain consciousness is

"What the hell happened?"

You slowly open your eyes to see a chandelier on the ceiling above. Its yellow lights sting your eyes after seeing only the dark for so long. You slowly sit up, the fatigue in your body is gone, replaced by the lust earlier before you get dragged into this mess by an app. You are still clothless, your mamba springing up like a missel ready to launch.

You stand up, taking in your surrounding. You are in a vast room made entirely of mahogany. In the center of the room is a canopy bed with draping black curtains, opened to reveal the red bedsheets behind. On the console table in one corner rests a black vase holding a single red rose. Apart from it, the whole room is deprived of furniture, giving it a hollow incomplete feeling. The chandelier is the only light source but it is obviously not enough to illuminate the whole room as dark spots are scattered all around the room. If this is not creepy enough, the room has no doors.

Your first instinct is to try to escape but breaking out of a doorless room is easier said than done. Maybe you are dead and in heaven? Sure, if heaven is one dark ghastly room. But you doubt you will get in to heaven. You go back to the source of this problem. That stupid "Ero" app. And what did it say again? A quest, get a blowjob from Rei. But where is Rei?

"Here"

A voice utters from one corner of the room as if answering your thoughts. Your eyes adjust to the dark as a girl emerges from the gloomy spot, emerging from the shadows. It can't be, you think. But no doubt, standing before you is Rei, the japanese member of IVE, dressed in a black low cut sweater dress as if there isn't enough darkness in here and a loose belt wrapped around her waist like she has put it on in a rush. Her dreamy eyes beneath her hazel hair trace your body, studying you and you definitely don't want to be studied while you are butt naked. She folds her arms judgmentally, accentuating the shape of her huge tits under the fabric.

"Master, what takes you so long?"

She asks and you are speechless. Master? This have to be another wet dream. You should have response with some sort of snarky remark but all you can say is

"What?"

You want to bash your head with that vase on the table. A girl is calling you master and that's your first words to her. Stupid as ever.

"Master, I have been waiting for you. What takes you so long?"

This time your response is a bit better.

"Eh, I was busy..."

"I can't wait for that huge cock of yours, I need it so bad"

She whines, gazing at your exposed cock which is hard as ever. This gets you into your mood.

"Then why don't you come and taste it?"

You order, remembering your quest, blowjob. Maybe you can choose other alternatives too but this is a start.

"As you wish master"

Rei kneels, looking up at your cock as if it's something glamorous. The fingers of her left hand close around the base of your shaft, slowly stroking it and fuck, with how smooth her palm feels, you are not sure if you can hold out for 30 minutes for that stupid quest. Her movements are fluid, not too fast or too slow, taking her time just travelling her fingers along your shaft.

"Am I doing well master?"

She asks, looking up at you with her doll eyes.

"Yes, Rei but you have to be better than this"

Rei doesn't answer. Instead, she wraps the rest of her fingers above the space over the first ones and start stroking your cock faster. The friction sending jolts after jolts of pleasure through you body. Her fingers work like magic, with just the right grip and the right motion. Meanwhile, Rei's eyes never leave your cock, focused on it entirely.

"Like this, master?"

"Yes, Rei. Fuck, don't stop"

You groans as pleasure overwhelms you if every stroke of her fingers, bringing you closer and closer to your edge until you remember the time limit. You don't know what will happen if you fail, but you don't want to find out.

You grab Rei's wrist and stop her.

"Master needs you to use that pretty little mouth"

"Mhmm.....yes, master. I want to feel that hard cock stuffed in my throat"

Rei's filthy words leave her mouth no sooner than she impales it on your cock, stuffing your whole length down her throat. Usually, you expect some foreplay. A kiss there, a lick here. But Rei either doesn't know about or care about it as she engulfs your cock in one swift motion. A groan escapes your lips, the sudden warmth and the tightness indulging you with ecstasy. She holds you in her throat, her nose presses against your pelvis.

You have had blowjobs before but Rei's is on a whole different level. Her throat constricts around you, her neck bulging with the foreign object entering it. You are starting to think she's gonna hold you forever when she pulls back, a loud gag escaping her mouth as globes of saliva drop to the ground, the remnants connecting your tip and her lips in silky strings.

You expect her to take a breather but nevertheless she immediately went down on your cock again, taking it back into her warm cavern as she devours it like a hungry beast. Her plump lips sealed around your shaft as she bobs up and down with unyielding speed. Every single movement of hers seem calculated, designed to pleasure you in every way possible. The way her tongue traces the underside of your shaft, the way she moans around your cock, the intentional gagging sounds she makes ever so often. It's like a well organized orchestra with the instruments being her lips, tongue and her throat.

Saliva escapes from the corner of her lips with every bob, dripping down to her thighs and her cleavage, staining her black dress even blacker. You hold a tight grip on her hair, tying it in a lock in your grasp. Finally, she pulls back, leaving only the tip inside her mouth as her fingers envelope you shaft once again, stroking it so fast you think it's gonna start sparking. It might have as well as your body start heating up from her masterclass of a handjob, sweat beads hanging on your temples. You throw your head back, rejoicing in the bliss of Rei's tongue swirling around your head in harmony with her fingers that twist and turn all the way to her lips and back.

You have lost the sense of time, drowned by the euphoric feeling that doesn't seem to be stopping anytime. Has it been thirty minutes? You have no idea. But you are glad you hold out for this long. Time limit or not, you don't want this to end anytime soon.

However, everything have a limit and so do you. As Rei's hand leaves your shaft, only to be swallowed up and deepthroated once again, you start feeling that familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach, unravelling bits by bits. Your cock starts throbbing in the warmth of Rei's throat constricting and relaxing around the tip, as if giving it a massage.

Rei, who's either oblivious to it or doesn't care, suddenly release your pulsing pole from her mouth. She looks up at you and gives you a sly smile, like she knows how desperate you are for release.

"Is Master gonna cum?"

She asks with a smirk and god, you just wants to grab her hair and impale her on your cock again but you don't want to end things sloppily (ironic with how sloppy it already is) but you just nod.

"Cum down my throat master, fill up your slutty whore."

She says opening her mouth, waiting for your move and you instinctively grabs her hair in a makeshift messy ponytail and starts thrusting into her mouth like it's her pussy.

Everytime your cock hits the back of her throat, you get closer and closer to the finale of this rapturous session. Rei holds her gaze to yours, pleading with her eyes to you how badly she needs your cum, how badly she needs to be filled up from the brim.

"Rei....I'm cumming"

You announce as you conclude the act by burying your cock to the hilt into her welcoming throat, unloading spurts after spurts of cum all the way down into her stomach. It seems to go on forever, the flow of cum never ending until it eventually does.

You pulls out your now spent rod from her tight cavern. Rei's mouth was still open, saliva flowing like a waterfall and forming a puddle between the red mahogany floor between her knees, which are trembling nonstop.

"Thanks master"

She mutters, her voice hoarse from being deprived of oxygen.

"Good girl"

You mutter, grinning like a madman. You are pretty sure this definitely isn't a dream. And you just use an idol like a fleshlight. And your quest. Yeah, your quest. The reason you are here. Have you completed it?

As you are reflecting yourself, you are engulfed by darkness once again.

"Shit, not again"

You cursed under your breath. Anymore exposure to darkness today and you won't be able to see colors anymore.

"Worry not, chosen one"

A voice boomed all around you as if the darkness have built in speakers.

"You performed well, I expect more from you in the future"

You are about to protest when the same cold feeling earlier wash over you again and your mind goes blank.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(My first smut and the start of a series, I hope you enjoy it)

#ive smut #rei smut #karina smut #kpop smut #male reader

[blackbleedingrose]

Long Lost Morningstar - Part Two

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing(s): Charlie x reader (platonic), Vaggie x reader (platonic), Charlie x Vaggie

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): minor cursing.

Notes: This is the second installment of LLM. This one will be going more in depth in (Y/N)'s life in Heaven and her relationship with Michael and Charlie. I will also be working on another Hazbin mini series (the one I mentioned in my last post) so part three will take a little longer - so, please, bare with me.

Words: 2215

"This is one of the reasons why I wanted to meet you in the first place. . . My full name is (Y/N) Demiurgos. Daughter of Archangel Michael Demiurgos".

(Y/N) Demiugros have lived in Heaven her entire life among the archangels, seraphims, and winners (human souls who ascended into Heaven after they died).

She, herself, was a seraphim - one with very large and beautiful wings; six in total.

Her father, Michael, was one of Heaven's archangel's and one of the Seven Virtues. He was the one who had created her from stardust.

At least, those were the stories she's been told her whole life.

Though, it was strange. . .

Her father had crafted her in his likeness and yet the two couldn't be more different.

Not to say Michael was a complete stiff or was lacking any sense of humor - in fact, all of the archangels had their own strange quirks. (Y/N) loved being around them and often shared their humor.

The problem here was. . . her curiosity.

She was a naturally curious being and would often dream of things most of Heaven would frown upon - like six-winged ducks.

As a child her curiosity would sometimes get the better of her and she would try to venture beyond the archangel's castle (where she lived with Michael and the other archangels).

Of course, Michael was always there to stop her from wandering too far.

It became evident that (Y/N)'s curiosity and wonderous spirit would only get worse if he didn't stop it right there and then.

He didn't want her to end up like her real parents.

What (Y/N) didn't know was that almost everything she has ever known was a complete lie.

Or that Michael was not her real father/parent.

That title rightfully belonged to Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar.

But, of course, no one who knew ever planned on telling her; so, instead they twisted the truth.

Michael told her all about what Lucifer and Lilith had done and how the two brought evil into humanity. An act that got them a one-way dropped elevator ride straight to Hell.

Obviously leaving out the part where Lucifer and Lilith were her real parents, and instead told her they were her estranged uncle and aunt.

He had hoped telling her this would stifle her growing curiosity and wandering enough to keep her out of trouble and from ending up exactly where his twin brother and his lover had all those years ago.

It also helped that ever since Lucifer and Lilith's trial, Heaven has been cracking down on teaching their residents obedience and the consequences of straying too far.

And for a long time it worked.

(Y/N) was one of Heaven's top students and a role model seraphim to all angels alike.

On the outside she was grace, obedience, and perfection personified - just as she was taught and just as Heaven wanted.

But on the inside, she was still that curious and wonderous spirit who would secretly write her dreams in a private journal she had to hide away in a pocket dimension with her magic.

(Y/N) yearned to venture outside of Heaven and explore all the different realms to see what they had to offer. Like the ones she's read from the books in Heaven's restricted section that she may or may not break into in the dead of night (she's a sneaky little sneaker :P).

Tales of archons, unique planets, and realms with distorted human desires would fill her head - her heart yearning to one day travel to those places herself.

But for now, her life was in Heaven as a role model seraphim whose curiosity and wandering was kept in check.

. . . Until she caught wind of the Princess of Hell's meeting by her fellow seraphim, Emily, during their weekly hangout.

(Y/N) was aware Lucifer and Lilith had a child born in Hell, but she never expected her demon cousin would ever be granted permission to enter Heaven.

She couldn't help but wonder what her cousin wanted with Heaven.

Whatever it was, it was big enough to warrant a whole trial with the Head Seraphim, Sera.

Oh, no - there goes her curiosity.

(Y/N) knew her father would frown upon her interacting with the daughter of the ones who damned humanity. . . but she couldn't help it! She really wanted to meet her cousin and see what she was like.

Maybe people in Hell weren't as bad as Heaven made them out to be.

Luckily for her, Emily was quite the chatterbox and told her all about how she and Sera were going to give a tour to the Princess of Hell and her partner, the hotel they were staying at, and the exact room number.

Before she went on her way, (Y/N) managed to get one of her doting simps friends to cover for her and her duties to avoid raising suspicion.

When Emily and Sera had finished talking to Heaven's demon guests and brought them to their hotel room, (Y/N) was hidden away in the hallway waiting until they left.

As soon as she was sure Sera and Emily were gone, (Y/N) quickly rushed to the door.

She silently psyched herself up before knocking.

Charlie and Vaggie, who were skeptical to hear a knock so fast, hesitantly opened the door.

"Uh. . . Hello?".

When Charlie opened the door she definitely wasn't expecting to see a very tall angel with long blonde hair, purple eyes, red cheek circle's, and a big smile on her pale face standing outside. For a moment Charlie could have sworn she was almost looking at her mother.

"Hello! You must be Charlie and Vaggie! Emily's told me all about you - well, the only things that she knew before meeting you. Haven't had the chance to ask her about you after meeting you, but since I'm here now I might as well as you yourselves!".

(Y/N) snapped out of her trailing thoughts and rambling, "Oh, shit! My bad! I got a little carried away and forgot to introduce myself. Sorry. My name is (Y/N). I'm a seraphim. It's so nice to finally meet you!"

Charlie and Vaggie had to recover from the whiplash of the seraphim's personality and onslaught of words. Not wanting to offend her and mess up her chance before the trial, Charlie invited (Y/N) inside. (Y/N) eagerly accepted and walked into the room admiring it - she's never been in a hotel before.

"So. . . why are you here?" Vaggie asked rather rudely suspicious of why a random seraphim would go out of their way to talk to people from Hell. "Vaggie!" Charlie whisper-yelled afraid she offended a potential high authority in Heaven.

"Oh, well, I was hoping to get a chance to meet you both. When Emily told me about how the Princess of Hell wanted a meeting in Heaven about her hotel to redeem sinners, I'll admit my curiosity was peaked and I knew I had to see who you were in person".

Charlie gasped, her eyes shining, "Does this mean you think it's possible to rehabilitate demons?!". Vaggie glared at the angelic being, "Why would a seraphim care to meet people like us?".

(Y/N) gave the two a gentle smile, "Well, I tend to be a naturally curious individual - which I'm sure you can imagine isn't something Heaven is too fond of. As for redeeming sinners - I'm not sure. Personally, I would love to see souls in Hell given the chance to be redeemed and enter Heaven. Especially the ones who truly do not deserve eternal damnation. Which is why I'm excited to see how your trial ends. Hopefully you have evidence to prove your hotel works. I mean, if the Princess of Hell is willing to vouch and put in the effort on giving sinners a better chance at an afterlife in paradise, then maybe not all demons are bad after all".

Charlie and Vaggie were awestruck. Sure, Emily was really nice but (Y/N) was the first angel to actually be willing to give them a chance. Charlie had tears in her eyes, "D-Do you really believe that?". (Y/N) smiled and laid her hand on Charlie's, "I do".

Charlie and Vaggie smiled at the seraphim. It was nice to see that there was one angel here in Heaven who wasn't going to shut them down right away - someone who genuinely supported their cause.

The three chatted some more - mainly Charlie and (Y/N) with Vaggie chiming in from time to time. Now that the three got more comfortable with each other, the conversation was going a lot smoother. Despite just meeting one another, Charlie and (Y/N) felt like they've known each other for years.

"So, what do you do here in Heaven?" Charlie asked (Y/N). "Oh! Well, I sometimes help the archangels with their duties, but I mainly work in court trials", (Y/N) answered. Charlie's eyes lit up, "Court trials?".

(Y/N) immediately caught on. She shook her head, "Oh, no. Not in the actual trials; that's for the higher seraphims. In this case, Sera and Emily. I'm just a stenographer and record keeper. I help keep and maintain the court records and sometimes record the trials in person".

Vaggie raised a brow, "A seraphim as a stenographer?". (Y/N) nodded, "It's actually a very important job. . . but, I won't lie and say it was my first choice for a job. It was my father's idea. His way of keeping me busy, entertained, and out of trouble".

Charlie blinked, "Oh! Who's your father?". (Y/N) bit her lip nervous, "This is one of the reasons why I wanted to meet you in the first place. . . My full name is (Y/N) Demiurgos. Daughter of Archangel Michael Demiurgos". Charlie and Vaggie's jaws dropped.

"Archangel Michael?! A-As in my dad's twin brother?!".

(Y/N) nodded fiddling nervously with her hands. Charlie did a double take, "Woah, woah! Wait! Then doesn't that make us-" "Cousins," (Y/N) confirmed. Charlie gasped placing her hands on her cheeks, "OMG! That's amazing!". (Y/N) smiled in relief, "Yeah. I guess it is".

"Who's your mom?" Charlie asked eagerly. "Oh, I don't have one," (Y/N) said rather casually. This made Charlie and Vaggie feel a bit bad, "Oh".

(Y/N) waved her hands, "Oh, it's not like that! I've never had one! You see most angels are typically created here in Heaven using stardust, which is how my father created me. He used his likeness and the female reference of Lilith - your mother. And thus, I was born".

"Oooh - that makes so much sense! Now, I understand why you look so familiar!" Charlie smiled at her newly found relative. She couldn't believe she had a cousin in Heaven. One so kind and beautiful.

(Y/N) was relieved at how fast Charlie accepted her. She was worried she might not be too fond of having an angelic relative.

Vaggie was a bit nervous to discover that (Y/N) was the daughter of a higher ranking angel, but it quickly went away when she saw how happy her and Charlie were talking to each other.

She's only known (Y/N) for a short while, but she truly believed the seraphim had no ill intentions towards them and genuinely wanted to get to know them.

In fact, (Y/N)'s personality reminded her a little of Charlie.

(Y/N) admired her cousin for her big heart and the confidence she had in her own dreams. She was ashamed to admit she was a little envious.

How she wished she could act on her dreams like her little cousin; but, Heaven would never allow it. Her father always had to remind her not to stray too far, or she might end up just like her uncle and aunt. . . Fallen.

This was why she had to always keep up appearances when she was in public. No one other than those closest to her knew of the dorky, cheerful, and quirky side of her personality. To everyone else she was poised, graceful, and elegant.

When Charlie had asked her about her dreams (Y/N) told her seraphims weren't allowed to dream, or at least have dreams that would go against Heaven's rules.

Despite trying to hide how much that bothered her, Charlie and Vaggie noticed the small shift in her behavior. They felt bad for her wishing Heaven could be more open minded.

(Y/N) quickly waved it off claiming she was okay and that she was used it. She understood her father just wanted to keep her safe and out of trouble.

Soon it was time for (Y/N) to go to avoid making her father suspicious of her whereabouts.

Before she left she and Charlie shared a tight loving hug. (Y/N) wished her good luck in her trial and that she would be rooting for her.

Hearing her cousin support her dream and wish her luck made Charlie feel a lot better about the trial.

Being around (Y/N) made her feel comfortable and safe. She felt familiar, which now makes sense seeing as the two were family.

Her dad couldn't be here, so it felt good knowing there was someone in her family here in Heaven who believed in her.

With those thoughts in mind, she was ready for the trial and positive she would change Heaven's mind and prove the hotel's credibility.

. . . Too bad things sometimes don't go as we hoped.

Taglist:

@soobryu @kyo-kyo1 @miyako-night20 @charliecharlie65 @unknow-sama @myluckymoon @lbcreations-blog @moonchaos18

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lilith #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel reader insert #charlie x vaggie

[amomentsescape]

Eldritch monster anon here! So to answer your question, yep that image you shared is what I have in mind ^^

Slashers with Reader Who's Secretly an Eldritch Horror

Slashers x Reader

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo, & Lester

A/N: I'm not super confident I wrote Reader correctly, and I didn't go into too much depth about what they look like or everything they're capable of, so I hope you still like it! You can find the original request here.

Freddy Krueger

He can't help but fantasize of the damage you two can cause when together

He sensed something was a little different about you from the beginning

But he didn't think it would be quite this drastic

What's funny though is that he thinks you don't know that he's found out about you

He's dead wrong

But it's kind of a game to you, and you're having fun with it

He's "secretly" caught you distorting the people and things around you

And he admires that fact since he does the same thing in his Dream World

You were hoping he'd catch on sooner

But oh well

It's just more fun that way

Michael Myers

He somehow doesn't know already, and you kind of want to keep it that way

Michael has this thing with power

He knows he's unstoppable, chaotic, and deadly

And he likes it that way

If he ever found out about the things you're capable of...

It would not be good

Your partnership would go from providing to battling

He wants- needs to be the monster in the relationship

And although you have the upper hand on him, he would not go down without a fight

He knows there's a darkness brewing in you

He just doesn't know quite what it is

And let's hope it stays that way

Jason Voorhees

He honestly learns about what you are pretty early on

He didn't really assume anything was off about you, but he was so open and sweet to you that you felt comfortable enough to tell him about everything

And knowing that he's not the most dangerous being around is somewhat... nice

He really admires your power and strength

And it feels good to be able to leave for a while and not worry that something will happen to you

You are more than capable of protecting yourself, and that lifts a huge weight off of Jason's shoulders

Perhaps he's too trusting, but he doesn't worry about you turning that dark power on him

You've only showed him genuine love and care, so he feels like he has nothing to worry about

Thomas Hewitt

Perhaps he's being a little naive

The way you immediately ate his "dinner" without so much as a question

The sudden increase of people coming by the house and being captured

How you come out of the most dangerous areas unscathed

There is clearly something about you that isn't... normal

But it's not his place to question it

He loves you, and you love him

End of story

Even if he did start to question what's really going on, he wouldn't press the matter

He figures you'll open up to him whenever you're ready

And if that's never, then so be it

Bubba Sawyer

He's just a sweet, naive man

You could literally show your true colors right in front of his eyes, and he'd still have no clue

But it doesn't really matter

He loves you for you no matter what you look like or what you're capable of

As long as you still care for him like this, you can do whatever you want

He will admit that his family has had a much easier time getting "food" than ever before

And those that do come by are really easy to capture since you've been with him

But those are just coincidences, surely

You're his sweet angel

He has to protect you

Little does he know that you really can handle yourself...

Brahms Heelshire

He has found it a little odd that the food still arrives on time without so much as a word from Malcolm

And he hasn't seen a single soul since you began to staying with him

But he's very happy with all of this, so he doesn't question it

He can sense that you're a little... different than other people

But that's part of the reason he likes you so much in the first place

He only realizes the true extent to this theory when you somehow force him to bed without so much as a touch

He was completely flabbergasted at this, but he didn't dare question it

Safe to say that he has no intention on giving you a hard time again

Norman Bates

He doesn't question a thing

If anything, you're his good luck charm since all of these good things started to happen when you showed up

The motel business is booming

Any issues he was dealing with seemed to disappear in plain sight

Everything seems to be going his way for once

Mother keeps telling him there's something off about you, but he ignores her

What does she mean?

You're his sweet and perfect partner

There's nothing else to it

You want to show him the truth at some point, but he just seems so happy right now

Maybe you'll tell him later

Billy Loomis

Billy straight up demands for you to tell him what's going on

Unlike a lot of people, Billy follows his gut instinct

He's known something was up with since you two started seeing each other

His world was just too... perfect

And he swears that there's this dark aura that surrounds your head at all hours of the day

It's only after his latest kill went too well that he interrogates you

When you tell him, he asks you to prove it

The look on his face when you showed him just what you were was enough to send you into a fit of laughter

To be honest, Billy is a little bit scared of you now

Knowing that you're capable of literally taking him out of existence is intimidating to say the least

Best believe Billy is going to do his best not to get on your bad side

Stu Macher

Stu is true golden retriever energy

Meaning, he is very sweet and loving towards you, but there's not much else going on inside that brain of his

He doesn't suspect a single thing with you

You are his perfect partner, and that's about it

Sure, his killings with Billy have been going super well, and he always comes out unscathed

Yeah, that person who shushed him in the movie theater was found completely mutilated the next day

What about it?

You wouldn't have anything to do with it

Stu just thinks that you are made out of 100% innocence

And you kind of like it that way

You'll tell him when you're ready

Until then, you just appreciate Stu treating you like a person and not some powerful God

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent has been finding himself with a new sense of inspiration for his wax art

He dreams of this ethereal yet terrifying being he has never seen before

He's told you about the dreams, and you always respond with a soft smile and a "that's interesting"

Vincent as no clue that you're the creature he's been seeing

And you must say, his art is pretty damn accurate

You didn't have any intentions on telling him the truth, at least not right away

But the way he sees this version of you as his muse makes you want to say something sooner

He's basically idolizing you, and he doesn't even know it

Not that he doesn't act this way with you normally

But how fun it could be to see his reaction once you tell him the truth

Bo Sinclair

Maybe he suspects something is going on, but he doesn't say anything

Ignorance is bliss

And although he's usually one to demand what he wants to know, he doesn't quite feel comfortable doing that with you

There's something in those eyes of yours that tells him he may be better off not knowing

Plus, things for him and Ambrose have been going suspiciously well for him

He literally had some random man run up to him begging to become one of the wax figures

This is all just odd

And he knows you're hiding something by the way you smile at him

But everything is so perfect that he doesn't want to ruin it

So for now, let him be ignorant

Lester Sinclair

He's never really been in a relationship as passionate as this one before

So you best believe any single thought or doubt that goes through his head is immediately thrown out

He loves you, and you're so nice to him

There's no way you could be hiding something from him, right?

I mean, it's a little odd how you seem to appear from thin air, and your hair never has a single strand out of place

There was something that feels... not real

But that's just crazy

He probably only feels that way because of how perfect he thinks you are

Until you explicitly stand before him in your true form, he's going to just ignore these thoughts

#slashers x reader #slasher preference #slashers headcanon #slashers preference #slashers #michael myers headcanons #michael myers x reader #michael myers #jason voorhees headcanons #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire headcanon #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis headcanon #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu macher headcanons #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #freddy krueger #freddy krueger x reader

[pers1st]

painkillers - alexia putellas x reader pt 2

pt 2 of dancing with the devil

pairing: alexia putellas x singer!reader

warnings: alcohol & drug abuse

songs used: you could start a cult - niall horan, painkillers - gracie abrams

If Lois noticed the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, he didn't mention it. You turned the radio on from the control in the back, desperate to escape the whistling thoughts in your head. They were bouncing from left to right, and all you could see was Alexia's face when she'd first spotted your bags. When she'd first realized you weren't going to spend the planned two days in Barcelona to watch her and Keira play. When she'd first realized you were leaving her.

Darling, I would give up everything...

You immediately turned the music back down. At this point, a tear rolled down your cheek and you wiped it away harshly, marking the skin a tint of red, leaving it stinging.

This song - Alexia had fallen in love with it once you'd showed it to her. Niall had reached out for a collaboration, as your manager had told you, and you, as always, wanted to hear your girlfriend's opinion. It had been before the start of her tour, and the two of you had been laying, bodies tangled, in her bed, sheets draped over your glistening nude bodies.

Alexia was the first person to hear every song you wrote, no matter where on the planet you were located, no matter how grainy her vision of you was, no matter how distorted your guitar or keyboard sounded out of her phone's speaker. She had loved it. She had urged - no, begged you to sing it to her that night, and all thought you had had to look up the lyrics, of course you had. You hated singing for other people when you were away from your job, wanting more than anything to not be the singer, but you did everything Alexia wanted, unable to refuse the dimples on her cheek when she smiled at your voice.

You took a sip of your water bottle. If Lois noticed there was vodka in it, he didn't say. At this point, you didn't even pull a face anymore, accepting the burn on your throat as a mere side effect.

Today, you deserved a drink. Leaving Alexia had, despite your preparation, hurt more than you had expected it to, and if you were going to have one last drink, one last bottle of vodka disguised as water, it was going to be today.

Once you touched down in Boston for your next concert, two days earlier than planned, you would stay sober.

The plane wasn't comfortable, though it was better than a commercial flight, and you fell asleep against your window the second you sat down, your head rolling against the cold glass in your deep slumber. The alcohol made you weary, and if Lois and Michael, your security, hadn't been watching you so closely, you would've dug into your purse for the bag of white powder, disguised under lipgloss, your polaroid camera and a whole bunch of other useless stuff. Just to ease the pain. Just to jerk you awake, maybe enough for a party later.

But you hadn't, and so instead, you had finished your water bottle and spent the minutes waiting to board in silence.

Your team was, at this point, used to your mood. They spent every day with you, and had been doing so for the past three months. At first, they had joined you on your parties and adventures happily, but now they were growing more and more concerned.

Michael noticed you took too long every time you went to the bathroom, steading yourself on his arms more and more each time. He noticed how you didn't react when you'd cut your leg on a broken bottle, shrugging the injury off before he could haul you away from the dance floor. He noticed how you called Alexia less and less, and he knew, when you'd announced you would simply be stopping by to gather some things in Barcelona, that the two of you were over.

The two of you had, at one point, been close enough for him to ask you why, but he knew now that you wouldn't answer. Speaking to you was touch and go, your mood never being predictable. Sometimes, the drugs made you angry and you lashed out on him, sometimes, the booze made you clingy and you swung your arm over his much taller shoulder to tell him how much you appreciated him, sometimes, everything was too much and you didn't speak at all.

Today was one of those days. You only awoke when the plane touched down in Boston, and you were passed out in the car once more. Finally falling into your hotel suite's double bed, you reached for the phone to dial room service. One last glass of wine. The vodka had upset your stomach, and you felt sick now. Wine was good for that. It made the slight ache in your gut disappear.

By the time you woke up the next morning, you were hungover, and Keira was upset.

"You have some explaining to do", Keira yelled over the phone when she had finally called you enough times for you to awake and answer her.

With squinted eyes, you stared at your best friend.

"Keira", you groaned, putting a hand to your forehead in an attempt to drown out the dull ache.

"No, don't Keira me. You broke up with her?!"

At this, you sat up, flicking on the little lamp on your bedside table.

"Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't have to."

A gulp found its way down your throat. Alexia was never one to show her feelings during football, and although her and Keira had grown quite friendly due to your relationship and the two of them being teammates. Still, you knew Keira wasn't the one she would go to about this. The fact that Alexia had been whatever enough for Keira to notice concerned you.

"What was I supposed to do? It didn't work anymore", you shrugged. The words twisted your stomach, and you were scared that if you took a deep enough breath in, the truth would spill out like bile. Keira didn't know any of your struggles. Keira didn't know why you had ended your relationship. Keira couldn't know.

"Make it work then! You two were so happy", Keira sighed.

"No, we weren't, Kei, and you know this. When was I supposed to make it work? I'm in the US until the end of the year, I'm touring through Europe afterwards. Ale and I... It was just time", you shrugged, wiping away the tears that once more appeared in the corners of your eyes.

"If a relationship doesn't work, you make it work!"

"Oh, like how you and Lucy did?!"

Silence fell between the two of you. You knew you had overstepped a line, but it didn't matter. Keira was overstepping too.

Keira took a deep breath in. You were right. She knew it too.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"Like the next album is going to be really fucking good."

Humor was a deflection for you and Keira knew it. She stared at you with a furrowed brow, nose crinkled.

"Just.. don't sulk, okay? Enjoy your tour, don't lock yourself in your room again. I can't wait to see you on Christmas."

A faked smile found its way onto your face. It was soft, not overdoing it just to ensure Keira would believe you. There was not a single cell of your body that cooperated with the way your lips tugged upwards, but it worked nonetheless. Keira smiled back at you.

"I've got to go now, we're meeting for the game soon. I love you."

"I love you too."

Keira was the only person, along with your mother, who had ever heard those words from you. Except for Alexia. Speaking them felt like a crime, but you were a criminal already. There was no way to undo what you had done, and Keira had told you to enjoy the rest of your tour. So that was what you did. Or, well, attempted to do.

In all honesty, the drugs were the only thing keeping you afloat. The oxycodone left horrible shadows under your eyes and when you awoke, you were sweaty, nauseous, you weren't yourself. Your team noticed it as well, and so did the bassist of your tour band, who kept supplying you with what he called "his good stuff".

Party after party, drink after drink, line after line. In all honesty, it was a miracle that you made it as long as you did.

Alexia hadn't heard from you since the breakup, officially. Unofficially, however, she watched every livestream of your shows with the fake TikTok account she had dedicated to saving videos of you. Your missing phone calls afterwards didn't go unnoticed, of course, but Alexia knew that there was no use in reaching out to you. She had tried, only to find out you had blocked her number, so instead of celebrating yet another successful show of yours via the phone, she wept and wept in the bed you had once shared, not allowing the shadows underneath her eyes to be visible to her teammates, nor the tearstained cheeks.

This livestream, a week after your breakup, was far more grainy than the prior ones. She assumed that there was bad connection, as she stared at Keira's iPad from the seat behind the strawberry blonde woman, but she was quite grateful for not having to see your face in as good quality, because she needed to listen, to focus, when you announced that you'd be playing a brand new song. This was her chance - her chance at finding out what exactly had caused her breakup. She had known that while traveling with the team, she wouldn't be able to watch the show the way she usually did, and as much as she hated to admit, she had chosen the seat behind Keira and Aitana strategically.

The two were sitting, heads together, in front of Kei's screen, staring at the grainy image of you wobbling around on your stage.

"I've written this song very recently, but I want to share it with you guys."

Ale's brows furrowed as Mapi, next to her, took out her earphones.

"Es Y/N?", your ex-girlfriend's best friend asked, nudging Ale's shoulder slightly.

"Sì´", Aitana answered, nodding with her eyes still focused on the screen. Mapi lunged herself forward, blocking Ale's view entirely, but the captain didn't have it in herself to complain. All she needed was to hear. The stream was loud enough for the rest of the bus to hear, and all though she wasn't the best in English, she had sure learned since being with you.

"I don't have a title just yet", you spoke into the microphone as soft chords began echoing through the speaker.

"So you might have to wait until I release it. If I release it."

Although she couldn't see, Alexia could envision the way you sat by your piano in a sea of a crowd, in a sold out stadium, with all the eyes on you, swaying softly with the flow of your melody.

I almost liked the way you fooled me

To make me feel like this would last forever.

But twice at night, I'd wake up sweating

To sleep without you here would do me better

I called you out and labeled you a problem

I should know that it takes one to know one.

Alexia sucked in a breath at that, as did everyone else. She had never heard your voice this monotone, this void of emotion, and it worried her. Above all else, though, she was confused. You had labeled her a problem? You would be better to sleep without her?

You represent the codependence,

I was down, you wore the shining armor.

The side effect is cold resentment,

Tricked me into thinking you were stronger.

She didn't understand. You had never been codependent on Alexia. The two of you had been a clingy couple, yes, but you had done your own thing, you had your own career, as did Alexia, and the both of you blossomed in sharing it. There had never been a moment where you had depended on her. And above all, you resented her? Then why had you cried when you'd left her? Why hadn't you been angry? Why had you never told her why?

Hold me slowly,

you don't even know me.

Home now, lights out,

pictures just destroy me.

Come through late, and

tell me that you want it bad.

"Whoa, Ale, ¿qué le hiciste an ella?” (What did you do to her?) Mapi whispered into her ear as the song ended and cheers erupted, and although Alexia had a few nasty remarks in her mind at what to tell her best friend, she was frozen in place. All of her teammates had been listening, and all of them were now staring at her. Just as Aitana's head vanished to the window, she caught a glimpse of you again, standing up from your seat wobbly.

A thought crossed her mind, for merely a second - Were you drunk?

But she didn't have time to think about it any longer, plugging her earphones in again, putting her head against the window to not watch the three songs she knew were left, shutting the world, and most importantly, her team out.

The silence didn't last long. The headlines came an hour later. That's what it had taken for her to realize that you hadn't sung about her at all. By the time the final whistle went in Madrid, she learned you were fighting for your life, somewhere in New Jersey. By the time the final whistle went in Madrid, her world was shattered in a totally different way.

notes: okay there’ll be a pt3 i promise !! sped home from work to write this bc i’m in love w this plot tbh, let me know what you think <3

#woso soccer #womens football #barcelona femeni #barca x reader #barca femeni #alexiaputellas #alexia putellas x reader #alecia putellas imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #Spotify

[another-lost-mc]

More than temptation awaits you at Purgatory Hall.

MICHAEL x SIMEON x RAPHAEL x gn!Reader, 2.4k words, NSFW.

Content warnings: Canon-typical vampire behaviour (biting/blood drinking). Dub-con and dark themes including manipulative behaviour, power imbalance, mind-altering magic. Dom/sub dynamics, teasing, masturbation, oral sex, overstimulation, praise kink, corruption kink, pet name used for Reader (little lamb). gn!Reader (they/them pronouns).

more from the vampire!au

You stare at the ceiling of Simeon’s bedroom. Moonlight peeks through the curtains on the far wall; it’s the only light to chase away the evening’s shadows. When you turn your head anxiously to look at the angels surrounding you, all you can see is the unnaturally bright glow of their irises, tinged red with bloodlust. Michael’s eyes are the clearest of the three, and he sounds calm but authoritative. Trustworthy. Simeon and Raphael don’t speak much but when they do, they sound raspy as if they’re parched and dying of thirst.

They are thirsty, aren’t they?

Simeon called you earlier and you were startled by how rough his voice sounded, the faint tremor that distorted his voice as he spoke. He begged for you to come between groans of pain, and you rushed to Purgatory Hall as quickly as you could. Neither of you realized Raphael was suffering in his own room and had already called the Archangel to inform him of what was happening. By the time you arrived, all three angels were present and were exposed to the mysterious infection.

“We need to quell their bloodlust before it’s too late and they lose complete control of their senses,” Michael warned you when you arrived. You could see for yourself that Simeon and Raphael’s conditions were deteriorating rapidly, their brows furrowed and glistening with a sheen of sweat. “I am only here to help them, the same as you. Please help us.”

Of course you wanted to help—that’s why you agreed to give them what they needed, if it would spare them pain and suffering. That’s why they led you to Simeon’s room and laid you on his bed, and why they started peeling away your clothes for better access to the blood in your veins. 

“You’re so brave, little lamb.”

Michael’s voice carries to you from somewhere near the foot of the bed. Simeon and Raphael work silently on either side of you. Raphael unbuttons your shirt so the collar is loose around your neck, and he rolls up your sleeves. Simeon unbuttons your jeans and taps your hip gently; you raise yourself off the bed so he can tug them off, and he lets them fall carelessly to the floor.

It would be a shame to ruin your nice clothes.

We want you to be comfortable.

The cool air on your bare skin makes you shiver. “You won’t be cold for much longer,” the Archangel promises.

In your secret, most depraved fantasies, you wondered what it might be like to have Simeon take you to his bed. You imagined it all sorts of ways: sweet, innocent fumblings as you giggle against each other’s mouths while he tries to peel away your clothes, or the harsh, panting breaths against your neck as he grasps the back of your shirt and tears it down the middle in his haste to find bare skin.

You knew Simeon looked at you a certain way when he didn’t think you were watching. He was generous with his touches, intimate touches he thought he could get away with in public and shrug off as platonic. He brushed his hand against yours when you walked, as if tempted to lace them together but not having the nerve to. He moved his chair closer to yours at lunch so that your thighs pressed together under the table. When he leaned over to speak to you, his lips nearly brushed your ear and his warm breath tickled your skin. You stared at his eyes when he pulled away, dark and wanting while he licked his lips and smirked.

You didn’t realize until now that Raphael acted differently around you too. He lacked Simeon’s recklessness, but he was no less intense. He didn’t linger close to you like Simeon did, but his gaze was hot and heavy and no less attentive as he watched you quietly from a distance. Sometimes he did shock you with flirting, his bold declarations tempered by his dulcet voice and even softer smile. He left you stunned and stuttering a response, only to turn away and remind you he wasn’t serious or he was only teasing you.

You’ve underestimated the angels, you think as Michael rubs a warm hand up and down your bare shin soothingly. “Relax,” he coos softly as if he can sense your anxiety. “You’re giving them what they need. They’re so lucky to have a friend like you.”

Simeon and Raphael each take a seat on the edge of the bed. They lift one of your hands in theirs and run their noses along the delicate skin of your wrist. Their eyes smolder like ruby pools in the dark room when they stare down at you, filled with unrepentant longing and hunger.

They move in sync, both striking fast as snakes as they bare their gleaming fangs and bite into your skin. Your body jolts in surprise from the searing pain, but your gasp of shock and discomfort trails off as your veins are set ablaze by something else. You moan before you can stop yourself, and your face heats up in mortification when Michael chuckles nearby.

“Don’t be shy.” The mattress dips by your feet when he kneels on the bed; he nudges your legs apart so he can settle comfortably between them. He rests his hands on your knees. “We want you to feel good, little lamb. This is your reward for being so generous.”

Michael watches you squirm on the bedcovers as pleasure seeps into your body from the fangs latched onto each of your wrists. The gluttonous sounds of Simeon and Raphael sucking and slurping and licking at your skin is punctuated by your increasingly loud, breathy moans and whimpers.

The Archangel huffs with amusement when your thighs press against him in an effort to rub them together for some sort of friction. He tilts his head in consideration and moves his hands to your bare thighs, pressing them down against the bed to hold you down. “What’s wrong, little lamb? You seem restless.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to either—he can feel your body trembling with something other than fear.

Simeon and Raphael have been watching you with greedy eyes while they feed. Michael nods to them and after his silent instruction, they place their hands on your chest. They slide their hands underneath the flimsy material of your shirt and rub your skin with slow, soothing motions. Raphael scratches his nails lightly in your skin, leaving little pink indentations where he’s marked you. Simeon trails his hand up over your nipple and pinches it lightly between his fingers; he smiles against your wrist, bloody and satisfied, when it drags another moan from you.

“Does it feel good when they touch you?” Michael asks, sliding his hands slowly up your thighs. His thumbs drag up the inside of your legs. 

You tilt your head back and nod clumsily against the pillow. “Y-yeah,” you whimper, arching your back against the mattress. Raphael and Simeon continue fondling your chest as they feed. “It feels so good.”

Michael hums thoughtfully as he slides one of his hands up the inside of your thigh. His fingers brush against your arousal, hot and needy beneath your underwear. Your thighs tremble delightfully when he strokes against the damp spot you’ve made with the tiniest amount of pressure, and you buck against him in a silent plea for more. Your own voice is hoarse from the mantra of sounds falling endlessly from your lips; the venom in your veins poisons your body with overwhelming pleasure.

Michael pulls his hand away and smirks against his sticky fingers as you cry out, pained by the loss of his touch. “Tell me what you want.” The command in his voice is unmistakable, even as he licks your musky taste from his fingers.

“I don’t—” you trail off between panting breaths, “I don’t know, please—”

Michael catches Simeon’s heated gaze, and he smirks before looking down at your sweaty, flushed face. Your eyes are glossy and blown-black with lust, and unshed tears cling to your lashes. “Tell me what you fantasize about when you think of Simeon,” he suggests innocently, eyes watching with fascination as you both react simultaneously to his words: Simeon growls against your wrist, and your eyes clench shut—from pleasure or embarrassment or both, Michael’s not sure.

“His mouth,” you admit in a shaky whisper, whimpering in shame as you turn your head to face away from Simeon.

Michael slides away from you and off the mattress, walking around the bed to Simeon’s side and nudging him to trade places. Simeon wipes at his bloody mouth, but all it does is smear your blood over his chin and hand. He nearly stumbles to the foot of the bed, blood-drunk and delirious with lust, before taking Michael’s place between your legs.

Michael kneels beside you on the mattress and tilts your head back towards him; he smiles when you finally open your eyes. “What a sweet, honest creature you are,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip.

While you’re distracted by Michael, Simeon tugs your slick underwear out of the way and buries his face against you, licking at sucking at your arousal. You nearly scream at the sudden sensation of his hot mouth and tongue, wet and sticky from your blood. Simeon groans loudly against you as you slide your free hand into his hair.

It’s delightfully sinful, the chorus of sounds filling the dark room, humid with the heat of their bodies and thick with the scent of copper and musk. Raphael stops feeding and squeezes himself through his pants, eyes dark with glittering arousal as he watches Simeon’s mouth work greedily between your thighs. Curses and groans fall endlessly from your lips, and you writhe against the mattress and arch your back as Simeon’s skillful tongue pushes you towards release.

Michael reaches down and covers your hand that’s tangled in Simeon’s hair with his own. He laces your fingers together and helps you guide Simeon’s movements. “Do you want to come?” 

You’re too caught up in the ecstasy of Simeon’s mouth to realize Michael asked you a question. He squeezes your hand beneath his and grips Simeon’s hair, tugging harshly at his scalp and pulling him up from between your legs. Simeon hisses from the pain and snarls at Michael who raises an eyebrow at him before glancing back down at your face.

“Do you want to come?” Michael asks again, but his tone is sharper now, and it startles you into focus.

You whine incoherently, struggling to speak as the inferno building inside you leaves you nearly speechless. You roll your hips desperately in search of delicious friction and Michael tsks quietly. 

“You can do better than that,” Michael murmurs. “Use your words, little lamb.”

You nod your head against the pillow, subconsciously baring your throat to him that makes you look so submissive. “Please, Michael, I want him—”

Michael’s eyes flick up to Simeon’s frustrated gaze and he smirks. “Never say that the Archangel doesn’t reward obedience.” He stares pointedly at Simeon for a few moments before pushing his head back down between your legs and releasing his grip on both of you.

Within seconds of Simeon’s hot mouth against your skin, you’re riding out your release, head mouth open in a silent scream. His hips grind against the mattress and he’s fueled by a different kind of hunger now. He keeps going, mouthing desperately at your sensitive skin even as you whimper pathetically above him—it’s too much, I can’t—and ride out the aftershocks of the second orgasm he drags from your body. By the time Simeon has licked the cum and slick off you and pulled away, you’ve passed out from exhaustion and blood loss.

“You did so well, you beautiful creature.” It’s almost gentle, the way Michael wipes sweat off your brow and cups your warm, ruddy cheek with his palm. His touch lingers for a moment before he finally moves away from you.

He glances at his angels who stand near the bed on shaky legs. Their faces are both stained crimson from your blood, and they each have blooming stains in their white pants: Simeon from rutting against the mattress while he feasted between your thighs, and Raphael from fucking his fist while he watched.

Michael ignores his own aching erection tenting his robes as he reaches for your wrists. He casts simple spells to close the bite wounds until your skin is healed and unblemished once more. “I think I can finally appreciate your exceptional interest in our little lamb,” he muses.

He waves his hand and murmurs a complicated blessing that illuminates Simeon and Raphael in a bright glow of his Grace. He nods satisfactorily when he sees that the hints of the vampiric infection within both of them are gone. 

You were too worried about your friends, and too far gone with pleasure later, to notice he was never truly infected himself.

“How will we explain this tomorrow?” Raphael asks, grimacing when he runs his hand through his sweat-slicked hair. Simeon reaches for one of the discarded blankets on the floor and covers you with it.

Michael stands next to Simeon and places his hand over your eyes; it glows faintly before returning to normal. “All the others know is that they were here for a visit. If anyone asks, our friend was too sick to go home for the night. They’ll wake up with a fever tomorrow and think this was nothing but a dream, if they remember it at all.”

“Why did you do this?” Simeon asks quietly. He doesn’t sound angry or disapproving, but simply curious. There’s always a purpose for everything the Archangel does.

Michael faces Simeon and grasps his shoulders. “Is my generosity not enough? You both work so hard in the name of the Celestial Realm.” He leans closer to Simeon’s ear. “And we don’t have to fall for the things we want.”

He steps back and adjusts his robes, inwardly pleased by the contemplative expression on Simeon’s face. “Take care of our little lamb until I can arrange a formal visit for them. I trust that you can handle everything else from here.”

Simeon and Raphael lower their heads. “Yes, Michael,” they reply in unison, eyes downcast to the floor until the Archangel disappears in a golden flash of Celestial magic.

Obey Me! Masterlist

#obey me vampire au #obey me michael #obey me michael x reader #michael x reader #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #simeon x reader #obey me raphael #obey me raphael x reader #raphael x reader #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #obey me michael smut #obey me simeon smut #simeon smut #obey me raphael smut #raphael smut #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #tw dubcon #someone dropped this 🚩 #gn!reader

[diggykit-kat]

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑺𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 x Reader

𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚢

closely observes you from the shadows, always aware of your every move. leaves gifts for you, seemingly innocent at first, but each one reveals a darker 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗

The plushie is surprisingly skilled at creating makeshift traps to keep you close and under its watchful eye.

Since this bitch resembles a rabbit she is fast as hell. RUN BITCH RUN, running away from them is like running away from a crackhead smelling pancakes off you and chasing you because you told them you had no money on you.

after isolating you, she showers you with seemingly thoughtful gifts, aiming to make you feel special and loved.

“Y/N kiss me😚”

“Oh you want to kiss me? YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!”

𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚢:

𝙲𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚢𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗

My little pony, my little pony “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” imagine getting impelled by that horn (shut up). This mf could kill anything that can get penetrated (shut up.) I’m a spam of 3 seconds (SHUT THE FUCK UP)

They leave intricate *handmade* gifts, each crafted with meticulous detail to express its affection. Very very horribly designed drawings.

CraftyCorn communicates through cryptic notes and messages, showcasing their devotion in a quirky yet unsettling manner.

Despite its obsession, CraftyCorn has a peculiar charm that can be disarming, making it challenging to recognize its darker intentions. It adapts her behavior based is on your emotions, oscillating between comforting and possessive gestures to maintain control.

CraftyCorn may use its crafting abilities to fashion personalized items, but with an eerie twist that reflects its obsessive nature.

“Your so sweet I could just lock you up forever so no one will ever find you”

“👄☝️”

“Just kidding! Or am I...I am! Or am I…Nope I am! Or…”

𝙲𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚢𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗:

𝙱𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚑𝚞𝚐

This bitch is a strong as its name, using its plushy exterior to disguise a possessive and intense nature.

It seeks physical closeness, often initiating bear hugs that start as affectionate but can quickly become overwhelming. “MICHAEL HELP ME, MICHAEL, MICHAEL!” 

Bobby becomes jealous easily, reacting strongly to any perceived threats or attention given to others. She doesn’t wanna be left alone, hanging onto your leg while all your trying to do is get a drink of water

“LET GO, DAMMIT BITCH I SAID LET GO!”

“LET ME IN, LET ME INNNNNNN!”

The plushie tries to isolate you from other toys, creating situations where she can have you all to herself.

B.B. uses its huggable appearance to lure you in, creating a false sense of security before revealing its more gremlin tendencies.

Despite its unsettling behavior, Bobby may display moments of vulnerability, revealing a distorted understanding of love and connection. It’s persistent in its affections, always seeking ways to be physically close to you, even if it means resorting to forceful embraces.

“WHY DONT YOU LOVE ME?!??!”

“YOUR BROKE MY LEG BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO FIND FOOD”

“YES? And.”

𝙱𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚢:

#yandere smiling critters x reader #smiling critters x reader poppy playtime #smiling critters x reader #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime x reader #yandere poppy playtime #yandere poppy playtime x reader #bobby bearhug #hoppy hopscotch #craftycorn #yandere Bobby bearhug #yandere hoppy hopscotch #yandere craftycorn #bobby bearhug x reader #craftycorn x reader #hoppy hopscotch x reader #yandere Bobby bearhug x reader #yandere craftycorn x reader #yandere hoppy hopscotch x reader #hoppy hopscotch x reader poppy playtime #Bobby bearhug x reader poppy playtime #craftycorn x reader poppy playtime #crafty corn #yandere x reader

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Following the event of the kidnapping of his son, Thomas and the rest of the family learn you have killed a man. Confused and in a state of shock, the Shelbys debate whether or not they should accept you. But while they are debating, you are falling into a pit of anxiety. Now, it's Arthur's time to be there for you.

Words: 6K

TW: Light angst, canonical description of violence, mention of child abuse, smut, unprotected sex, mention of death and torture, trauma talk, fluff, hurt/comfort

Notes:

✞ Admittedly this part is longer than what I planned to do but it has plenty of essential moments and discussions. The next chapter wont be that long. As for the smut part, it is quite long too but it does have a purpose in the story. You can skip it if you want but you'll miss information.

✞ This chapter is complementary to the one-shot From Blood We'll Grow (but no need to read it)

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

Thomas Shelby was leaning against the kitchen counter, cigarette hanging in his lips and piercing blue eyes focused on the needle of the pocket watch he was holding in his hand. It would not be long before Arthur and John would come back, consequently he did his best to enjoy the precious quietness of the house before some family chaos. He put the watch back in the pocket of his vest and took a quick look at Polly, Ada, and Michael, who had no other choice but to wait with him. When Tommy demanded a family reunion, every one of them knew they better not missed it. The two women were sitting at the table, a smoking hot cup of tea in their hands. Polly’s dark irises were staring at an invisible spot on the wall in front of her as she lost herself in the meanders of her own thoughts. Contrary to her aunt, Ada could not stay still. She was nervously moving her leg, eyes shifting between her big brother, the clock on the wall, and her own hands.

“Where’s she?!” Arthur’s voice suddenly roared in the kitchen, alongside the loud bang the door made when he almost burst it open.

Here we go, Tommy thought even though his face remain placid. Knowing Charlie was safe at home had extinguished his anger.

“Is she okay?” John asked, sincerely worried for you. As time passed, he had grown fond of your presence more and more. He was out of breath for he had been running behind his oldest brother, trying to catch up with him. When he entered the kitchen, less than one minute after Arthur, he had leaned against one chair with his hands and tried his best not to spit his burning lungs out.

“Calm down, Arthur.” Tommy issued with a neutral voice, looking at Arthur’s face which was distorted with both worry and rage.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Tom! Where the FOOK is she?” At first, Tommy thought his brother was just agitated, but when he saw Arthur coming at him with teeth bared and darkened eyes he understood it was not a simple tantrum. It was fury — the same fury that had pushed him to almost killed the man who had tried to murder Thomas at the horse race, to the point they had to choke him until he almost blacked out just to calm him. Tommy did not falter though and remained motionless.

Witnessing how enraged the oldest sibling was, Polly got up from her chair and grabbed him by the arm.

“She’s fine! I’ve taken care of her myself. She is fine.” Polly repeated louder, hoping her words would overcome her nephew’s terrifying fit. She had barely finished her sentence when Arthur turned his head to her in one vivid movement and growled like an animal. However, his facial expression relaxed a little despite his brows still furrowed and his eyes shooting bullets at everyone he was looking at. Anger was boiling in his veins, fueling his heart that was pumping to the rhythm of his growing anxiety. Breath hitching, teeth still slightly bared, Polly knew his nephew could snap at any moment. She knew he was like a jerrican of gasoline, whose slightest spark could turn into a destructive wildfire, “Arthur, please. She needs you lucid,” She paused and gently tightened her hands around his arm, “She just needs you.”

Arthur closed his eyes for a few seconds and inhaled. The gulp of fresh air managed to set his ideas straight — or was it simply because your well-being was more significant than anything else in the world? When he reopened his lids, he gathered all his strength to remain in control of his wild spirit. Another growl escaped from his lips.

“Where is she ?” These were the only words he could utter. Polly took a quick glance at Tommy and sighed. The whole family knew that Arthur, as stubborn as a dog refusing to give its stick, would not let it go. He would remain deaf to any of their explanations as long as he was not informed where his angel was.

“I’ve brought her to your house. I’ve helped her clean the blood from her skin. She was curled up in your bed when I left. See? She’s at home, safe and sound.”

“Hm.” He mumbled with his jaw clenched, right before starting to pace back and forth in the room like a caged lion under Tommy’s undisrupted eyes. The latter cleared his voice to get everyone’s attention.

“I want to know what happened in every detail. Michael?” Tommy’s voice was collected. So controlled and cold his breath almost turned the whole room into a castle of ice and frost. Michael shook his head. The latest events were still stuck on replay in his troubled mind: the sensation of Hughes's skin against his hands made him nauseous each time he thought about it. Even though he took the life of the monster who had robbed him of his innocence, the threatening shadow of the priest still floated above him, waiting for Michael to fall asleep to fill his nightmare with unspeakable and excruciating memories. Hughes was gone, but the wounds were still there, vey much opened. He lowered his head, unable to bear the weight of the family’s eyes staring at him.

“I’ve killed Hughes,” He started his left hand nervously scratching the back of his right one until his skin turned red, “I wanted to grab Charles and bring him home but he was not in there. That’s when I heard a kid screaming and a big thud. When I entered the other room Heaven was—“ He stopped, for he felt the burn of the ravaging fire that was blazing in Arthur’s eyes. The unspoken threat was clear enough for him to understand: he better be careful with the next words that were about to come from his mouth if he did not want the beast to tear him apart.

“She was?” Tommy’s authoritative and slightly impatient tone captured his attention again.

“She was covered with blood, Charles in her arms. She had killed the man who wanted to hurt your son by stabbing him with a pair of scissors. If Heaven had not been there, Hughes’ colleague would have shot me and Charlie down. I saw a gun a few inches from the corpse.”

No one dared to speak now that the facts had been spit, leaving no doubt on your implication in the whole mission. Tommy brought his hands to his face and rubbed it in an attempt to process all the information he had just learned. A part of him could not believe it: how could you so easily kill a man who was almost twice your height and weight? After all, you were such a frail and small creature he had trouble imagining you going feral and butchering someone with the sole strength of your tiny hands. Yet, he knew about the dead you left on your trail when you left France. Five men, his informants told him. Five men were found dead in the forest surrounding the village. The authorities who had reported the crime called it “inhumane”. When Tommy read the case file, his jaw almost dropped at the description of the bodies — these men had not only been murdered, they had been hunted down like animals. While he first doubt the veracity of the reports, today’s events made him realize they were not exaggerated. You were dangerous. As dangerous as unpredictable. And Tommy hated what he could not predict nor control.

“Heaven… killed him?” Arthur asked, thus breaking the silence. He had frozen, turned to an ice statue by Michael’s words. He could not believe it either. How could you, his sweet and holy angel, do such a thing? He swallowed, left utterly speechless and confused.

“She did!” Michael insisted when he saw the doubt on Arthur’s face. Then, he turned to Tommy once again, “I’d be fucking dead if she hadn’t been there. And Charles too.”

Tommy let out a loud sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to kill his dawning headache.

“There was so much blood on her Tommy.”

So much blood, Arthur thought. His mind drifted away from the conversation as he tried to recreate the scene in his head. He imagined you, entering the office bathed in the pale moonlight, crimson ink bringing a frightening touch of color to your snow-white hair and skin. It felt surreal — and exciting.

“I’ve told you she was a fucking curse but no one listened to me. What am I supposed to do for people to fucking listen to me eh? Hear me Arthur?” Tommy’s chilling gaze looked upon his oldest brother.

“You know what? Fuck you, Tom. I’m done.” Arthur’s gruff voice was underlined with an unexpected and astounding calm. He had reached his breaking point, “What are ye gonna do now, eh? Wait, lemme guess. You’re gonna come at me and stand with your bossy demeanor, telling me I need to leave me angel because she’s some kind of psychotic freak to you. Then you’re gonna pat my back and tell me to forget her and that I’ll find a better woman. Maybe buy me a whore. Yes, that sounds like Tommy Shelby.” Arthur shook his head, a sarcastic chuckle coming from his lips, “You tried to make me suspect her, eh. Can't fucking believe it.” He chuckled again, far more nervously this time. “Wanna pull everyone down in your fall, that's what you want. If you can’t be happy no one around you shall be, right?“

“You don’t seem to realize what she did. And she told me to keep an eye on my son. Everyone would have suspected her.” Tommy retorted, blizzard coating his words.

“But she saved him.” Everyone turned to Polly, whose remark caused Thomas Shelby to grit his teeth. The unpleasant truth felt like nails scratching a board. Except the board was his own bones and the nails his Aunt’s words.

“She risked her own life to save your son even though you had insulted her.”

“Polly, I do like her. But I understand Tommy. She killed someone. You get it? This is not a trivial way to resolve a problem.” Ada intervened, her fingers tapping the varnished wood of the table.

“That’s what we always do, Ada. That’s what I did too.” Polly spoke with indisputable sorrow in her voice, “Whether you like it or not this company’s license is written in blood, and its foundations are made with dead bodies. We are all standing on an empire of silent hearts and maimed flesh.” A fresh nightly breeze went through the open window, caressing Polly’s face and making her short curly hair dance in the wind. The power of her soliloquy tamed Ada’s fierce spirit, “Arthur and John have been killing for this family for years. I murdered Campbell. Regarding Michael — Michael put Hughes down. And you, Tommy, when did you lose count of the men you put to sleep?”

“Fucking right.” Arthur mumbled.

Thomas looked at his aunt with a neutral face, the only detail that betrayed him was the spark of interest shining in his piercing blue eyes.

“Think ‘bout it Tommy. She foresaw Charles’ abduction. And when her powers reached her limits, she had not been afraid to dive her own hands in shit to help us. Don’t you think she has proven her loyalty to this family?”

“She isn’t loyal to us, she is to Arthur.” He corrected.

“It makes little to no difference,” Arthur responded, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, then.” Tommy cut them all off, clapping his hands to close the debate. He had heard enough, “Since we all have different opinions about Arthur’s angel — the sarcasm in his voice was undeniable — we’re going to vote. Arthur?”

“A vote? ‘Bout me bloody life decisions? Go to Hell, Tom!” He roared in response, driven crazy by the fact you were all alone at home, aching and terrified, and that he was not here for you, “She’s the woman I’ll marry. The other half of my soul. You can go all fook off if you don’t accept her in the family.”

“Predictable. Ada?”

“I don’t know. She had been quite extreme and Finn is scared of her. “

“Gonna take this for a negative answer along with Finn’s opinion. I already know Esme’s thoughts on the topic so there are three people opposed to her joining this family and one rooting for it. John?”

John remained silent for a while, his sky-blue eyes staring at Tommy with palpable irritation, “How can you all even discuss the topic? She has done more to take care of Arthur than anyone here in this room.” He walked to his oldest brother and put one hand on his shoulder as a sign of support, “I like her, and she deserves a place in this fucking family, even though she'll soon understand she ain't the curse but this family name is.”

“Michael?” Tommy went on, unmoved.

“I did not really care until now. Don’t really trust the girl but she saved me so… “

“I’ll take that as a yes. And Polly?”

“I know I haven’t been easy with her but it was because I could not sense her intentions. I was afraid she would bring evil forces upon us but she has the gift of healing. My grandmother used to have it, you know, and it runs only through the veins of exceptionally gifted witches. She could be useful, you know. We could benefits from her powers. And tonight…” She took a deep breath, “She saved my son.” The way to a mother’s heart often was her children, and Polly Gray was no exception.

“Three against four. Seems like this whole debate is over, Tom. Now I think I’ve been patient enough with your bullshit. Stop wasting my time while my place is beside her.” Arthur took one last look at his family, fury blazing in his eyes, and left the house, making the whole building shake when he slammed the door close.

“Heaven!”

When Arthur stormed into your bedroom, he was welcomed with the sight of your quivering silhouette standing in front of the window and hugging itself. It felt like a stab in his heart as he was reminded that you had to face the latest events all alone. Worst than this, one of the last things he had expressed to you was a slight doubt about your involvement in Charles’ kidnapping. He had not only been absent, he had also been awful, and God knew how ashamed it made him feel.

“Are you okay?” It did not take more than one second for Arthur to rush toward you and cup your face between his large hands, “Fookin’ hell, angel I’m so so sorry!”

You did not reply but instead stared at his guilty blue eyes with an unfathomable expression on your face. Your silence convinced him you were mad at him.

“They told me what happened and — “

Arthur could not finish his sentence, for your small and cold fists grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in a ferocious kiss. Your lips crashed against his like a rogue wave breaking on the shore and destroying everything in his path.

You pulled away from the kiss, leaving his mouth hanging a few inches from yours.

Arthur, running out of breath, did not move except for his steel blue eyes that looked down at your body. You were wearing nothing but his white shirt adorned with stripes. The garment covered you down your thighs for it was far too large for your tiny being. “Christ,” He whispered to himself, struck by how the vision of you wearing his shirt as only clothes turned him on. His whiskey breath melted with yours, almost intoxicating you in the process as if you had drunk the whole bottle by yourself. But it was not alcohol that was making your head spin, but the instant relief the eldest Shelby gave you by his sole presence. Arthur’s tongue grazed your swollen lips with its tip, desperately hungry for more. He had been waiting to come back to you for countless hours, your face haunting his mind even when he had sent men to Hell in one big explosion. “Kiss me again, please.” He said in a soft but slightly impatient voice. He needed you to kiss him again. He needed to feel you did not hate him for doubting, nor for not having been there to protect you.

But you did not bless him with a second kiss despite the undeniable supplications in his fair eyes and the caress his feverish sighs left on your skin. You stood still, your irises firmly anchored in his for what seemed to be an eternity. Your lips remained sealed but one crystal tear rolled down your cheek.

“Hey. I’m here, love. I'm so sorry for everything you had to do…” Arthur said softly when he noticed you were crying.

No reply came from your tantalizing mouth. You kept staring at him, battling against the flood of emotions that was invading you now that your mind slowly but surely came to realize what happened last night. The blood — there had been so much blood.

“Heaven, talk to me.” He pressed one of his hands on your cheek, the cold silver of his rings alleviating your panic. And then it happened. You snapped out of your torpor all of a sudden and pushed him onto the bed. Arthur’s body fell on the soft mattress, leaving him both speechless and surprised by such unexpected reaction. Eyes wide opened, lips parted, he wondered what would you do such a thing. Did you — reject him?

“I need to forget this awful night.” Your voice was merely a whisper, but the power your words held shook him to his very soul. It was not anger nor resentment that coated your tone but lust. Without shifting your eyes from him, you brought your hands to the large shirt you were wearing and undid the first button, “I have to get it out of my goddamn head.” The way your French accent melted on your words like butter got him all fuzzy and weak.

“You sure, love?” He asked still surprised, taking a deep inhale through his nostrils.

“You have to erase it from my mind.” Your sentence broke up his core.

Arthur bit the flesh of his lower lip in anticipation as he understood what you wanted from him. Somehow, he got it: the blood, the adrenaline, the thrill of the kill… You had to find a way to release the tension. That was what he did with you in the shower last time he bashed someone’s head with his bare fists. Not only he got it, but he was ready to be your cure. His pale irises devoured your silhouette, desire burning within as you started to strip in front of him. You popped the second button with your frail fingers — and he flickered like a candle flame. Arthur’s fists closed on the bedsheet as frustration grew stronger at your languorous movements… And yet, that was the most exquisite form of torture he had ever experienced. He grunted, almost like an animal. If he had genuinely enjoyed the sight of you wearing his shirt, all he wanted now was to tear that bloody thing off you and exposed your naked body for him to see. When you finally popped the last button, a shiver of desire ran down his spine as if someone had just brushed him with the sharp tip of a knife.

The shirt was now open, showcasing more of your appetizing porcelain flesh. With one languid gesture, you let it fall on the floor and disclosed your whole being to Arthur’s starving eyes. The way the pale light of the sun coming through the window’s blinds drew patterns on your silky skin captivated him.

“Oh fuck — love,” His gruff voice said, carried away with a moan. The sensual sight made his whole body react, to the point he was now feeling far too tight in his trousers, and that was getting uncomfortable. Usually, he would not have waited so long for touching you, but today he could not help but admire your wildness. Petrified by a far too eery arousal, Arthur had the impression invisible ropes were wrapped around his body and pinned him to the mattress. He could not move and barely breathe. All he was able to do was to watch you with complete fascination. What stirred such a dizzying and strong effect was not only your angelic beauty, but also the dangerous energy that was radiating off you. This, combined with the few dried blood stains that were still adorning your skin from here and there left him feral. You stepped towards the bed, your hips swinging to the rhythm of your graceful walk. Arthur, hypnotized, swallowed the lump in his throat, his mouth dry and his heart racing in his chest. You hopped on the mattress and straddled him. How could such a tiny creature like you hold so much power? He thought. Hell, he could have broken your frail bones so easily with his own hands but here you were, riding him. You. The sweet angel he had met at church.

But you had a twisted something.

And it made him fall even harder.

A twisted something Linda never had nor understood.

Arthur inhaled sharply and growled, realizing you had literally taken his breath away.

“I want you. ” You said with teary eyes.

“So what are you waiting for, love?” His words managed to reach his mouth despite the awe you instilled in him. As he said so, your hands boldly began to explore his chest. The friction of your palms and his shirt’s fabric against his skin unleashed a wave of warmth within. Arthur shivered and watched you, still enraptured, while he let you take control of him. To hell with Tommy’s doubts and the family’s fear, you could pull his strings he would not mind as long as you belonged to him. After you had opened his shirt and exposed his chest, scattered with millions of freckles you often liked to kiss, your fingers made their way down his boiling skin and left frost in their wake. Another gruff moan — you were giving him fever.

Once you reached his waist, you took his suspenders off and threw them somewhere in the bedroom. Arthur replied to your boldness by grabbing your hips with his large and calloused hands — scarred from murder — and by giving them a bruising squeeze. That simple touch, combined with the feeling of his hard shaft pressing between your legs, sent surges of electricity through your entire being.

“Let your man take care of you, eh,” The gravel in his voice made your cheeks burn. He wiped your golden tears with his thumb— as beautiful as they were, he just hated to see them on your pretty face. Somehow, Arthur was well aware he was a high-maintenance man and he could not thank you enough for everything you were doing for him. How many times Linda had told him he wasn’t worth her help? He wasn’t worth saving? He had lost count after a while, but you never did. Unable to wait any longer for your bodies to unite, he then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, those noises bringing goosebumps all over your skin, “there, love.” He softly uttered before pulling his pants down just enough to free his erection. You moved your hips in response, guiding his cock between your wet folds without further ado. Welcomed by your wet warmth, he let out a long sigh of pure delight. Nothing could have prepared him to the all-consuming, almost suffocating desire you stirred in him. Sometimes he wondered if you had cast a spell on him, for no other woman had such an irresistible effect upon him. Each time you touched him, even for the simplest and most innocent interaction, desire and love hit him like a bullet.

“Arthur…” You sighed, as he started to roll his hips under you and push against your entrance with the glistening head of his cock. It was too much for him to wait anymore: all he wanted now was to dive into your flesh and conquer the wild territory of your soul. You gritted your teeth, almost hissing with excitation at the hurricane of sensations that was tearing you apart. You could not wait either, because he was the one who could fill the void. That excruciating and gaping void, as painful as a sucking wound, that had first opened a few years ago when you killed these five men. Oh, don’t get it wrong, they deserved it as much as the priest, but it had left you empty since then— so empty it hurt. But Arthur found you one night, and everything changed. You were his savior, but he was your cure.

“Look at me, Heaven. “ He said, his tone candy-coated with tenderness, for you had lowered your gaze ashamed of your tears. You obeyed and dared to look, your aquamarine eyes shining like precious stones. “The first night you saw me killed a man you told me I was pretty with blood all over my face. I could not fookin’ believe it,” He left his sentence hanging and pushed inside you, his thick cock stretching your walls. You moaned, throwing your head back and closing your eyes at the delightful mix of pain and pleasure.

“Arthur!” You whined, a louder lament escaping from your quivering lips, “I— I remember… ” You managed to answer between two sighs. Speaking became a real struggle as he worked you open, causing heat to pool in your abdomen and blood to rush to your pale cheeks. Arthur gave another thrust, and another, until your hips met and every last inch of his cock was buried deep inside you. Fire spread within his soul and yours when you finally made one — like you were meant to be. “Arthur!“ You repeated in a desperate cry, glistening love juice dripping from your pussy as he started with a quick pace from the get-go. You took a sudden deep breath and opened your eyes wide as if you had suddenly come back to life — because that was the kind of effect he had on you: he made you feel alive. With each push and pull of his cock, he fogged your mind and let you forget all the bad memories.

“F-Fuck!“ Sucking in a sharp breath, he shattered at the way you chanted his name. Head spinning, heart drumming, Arthur could not help but enjoy your beauty — How magnificent you were with your back arching and blissed out. “Well, I see you right now, and lemme tell you…” He panted, forced to make short pauses between his words to let out hoarse growls of pleasure, “You don’t look pretty,” He straightened back up to sit on the edge of the bed and wrapped your waist with his long arms while his hips kept fucking you in a rough pace. The corner of his lips curled in a fierce grin now that he could watch the emotions on your face from far closer, “You look divine with blood stains all over you and my dick deep inside that tight holy pussy of yours.” His words, carried by the gravel of his voice, chased away the sorrow and brought a smile to your swollen lips. As a reply, you kissed him with hunger. Dancing tongues left him breathless, “And now I’m gonna fuck away the pain and fill you with something else than sadness…” He whispered against your mouth before abandoning it only to lay a myriad of enamored kisses on your throat. The way his mustache tickled your skin only strengthened the coiling tension that had formed a knot in your stomach. “Tonight, I’m the one who saves you, angel.”

His thrusts grew faster and rougher as he spoke. To the point you were now bouncing on his lap, the sound of snapping flesh echoing in the whole bedroom alongside your erratic breath, his hoarse moans, and your enchanting cries of pleasure. You felt full and he did his best to keep you so. In fact, he barely pulled his hips back — rather wanting to remain as deep as he could in your oh-so tight pussy, “You’re a good girl, yes you are. The prettiest little murderous thing ever created eh. The fookin’ perfection …” He purred in your neck, and each of his praises made your very soul quiver. His pace soon became frenzied, for he could barely contain himself at the delightful feeling of your fragile walls pulsing all around his cock and the way you almost growled like an animal when he left small bites on your skin. Pleasure was escalating, rattling your bones so violently your nails dug into the freckled skin of his back. Little crimson drops of blood beaded from the kitten scratches your nails left in their wake. The pleasant pain caused him to give you one meaner thrust in response along with a snarl — Fuck, he liked it. His cock twitched inside you, feeling climax building. Clenching his jaws, Arthur reopened his eyes he had closed a few seconds, backed up a little bit from your neck, and stared at you. Yes, he wanted to watch you. His steel blue eyes burnt with a gleam of madness and blazing love, “You’re so fookin’ beautiful eh. Me little angel. Me future wife.” The spectacle of you bouncing on his lap, covered with a thin layer of sweat glistening on your porcelain skin, and your wild ivory mane all messed up was the most magnificent view he had ever seen. Arthur dived one last time inside of you, all the muscles of his body tensing, and he fell apart. He spilled himself in your pussy with a long raspy moan, his half-closed eyes staring at you during his whole orgasm.

“Please don’t stop, don’t stop!” You yelled.

“Such a hungry little angel, eh. Yell louder.” He teased, still high from his little death. His hips jerked, and he released another rope of thick cum, “Come for your Arthur.”

The sensation of his warm semen filling you was the end of you. Your pleasure finally reached its peak as well. Your thighs trembled on either side of Arthur as his hips slowly roll to accompany your climax. Almost blacking out because of the intensity of your orgasm, you let out one final scream and collapsed in his arms, your body limp. Arthur’s hands gently stroked your back. You hugged him tighter in reply, your breasts crushed against his chest, and stars still dancing behind your eyelids. Locked up in a tight embrace, you were both catching your breath and savoring this moment of pure tenderness. How long did you stay here, firmly gripping each other, sweaty and panting, as if your life depended on it? None of you could tell, for you had both lost the notion of time. After a while, Arthur’s back fell on the mattress again and he pulled you with him. You put your head on his chest, closed your eyes, and smiled.

“Feels better, love?” He inquired, concerned about your well-being. His long fingers grazed your back in a lovely caress. Despite you having both come, Arthur stayed deep inside you for he just loved the sensation of your two bodies making one in the most intimate way possible.

“Definitely… “ You sighed in relief, lulled by his presence under, around, and inside you.

“You know, “ He started, “Maybe you would feel even better if you talked to me about that troubled past of yours. We’ve been together for a while so you know I won’t judge, eh.”

You crossed your arms on his chest and raised your head a little to plunge your eyes into his, “Nosey little gangster.”

“Little? Fook me, yer the little one here.” He teased, one brow raised, “You tiny brat.”

You stuck your tongue out as a reply, which made him laugh. Yeah, you were definitely the brattiest angel God ever created.

“I’ll let you keep my shirt if ya tell me. Sounds like a deal, eh?”

“Deal. You’ve won.” You replied, "I like your shirt too much to say no," Truth be told, what motivated you was not really the shirt itself but the fact you were done bearing the weight of your past all alone. In addition, Arthur had always been completely sincere with you from the day you met. He had been true about his demons, his fear, his flaws. About everything. You definitely owed him the truth, “ Alright… I was living a happy little life in the French Alps when Hughes came.” Your smile vanished from your face at the simple mention of his name, as if you had bitten into a pill of cyanide, “He replaced the town’s priest for a few months. We thought it wouldn’t make much difference but we were wrong. No one saw it coming you know? His words were so smooth that almost everyone was hanging onto his sermons. He was the one who spread the rumors witches were hidden among us. And weeks after weeks, the whole town slipped into insanity. Superstition and fear drove them all to accuse friends, family, or neighbors of concerting with the Devil.” You paused and swallowed the lump in your throat.

Arthur gently slipped one of your ivory strands of hair behind your ear, listening to you carefully.

“Five men came into our home one night, and they assaulted my mom, my dad, and my little sister who was sleeping in their bed. It’s true my mom was a witch, but she used her power to heal the ill and the wounded. No one knew the extent of her abilities, they just believed she was a brilliant herbalist… I was in my own bedroom when it happened so the noise woke me up. I wanted to help them but what could a thirteen years old girl could do against all those strong men?” You bit your lip.

“Take your time, love.” Arthur’s fingers lose themselves in your hair in a tender sign of affection and support.

“I escaped by my bedroom’s windows and hid in a bush. They were looking for me, calling me awful names and… Laughing. Yeah, they laughed as if they were having a fucking hunting party, except I was the bloody prey.” You clenched your jaw and frowned, hatred burning in your sanctified eyes, “They took my family away. I followed them discreetly, in hopes of helping them to escape. But I couldn't.” Fighting against your tears, you buried your face in Arthur’s neck. His arms tightened around your frail body in response. He wanted you to know he was there, “They’ve hung my dad. And they sent many women including, my mom and my sister, to the pyre. She was eight. She was just a fucking kid, Arthur.”

“Bloody hell…” Words were at loss at such awful revelations. He hugged you tighter in a reflex, his instincts wanting to protect that poor frightened little girl who was still crying somewhere in your mind. The little girl who never had a chance to heal.

“I still hear her screams at night. So full of agony that it was hard to believe they came from a human being. Her screams haunt me, along with villagers' chants around the bonfires,"

"Their chants?"

"Burn witch, burn witch, burn." You whispered, shaking like a leaf.

“How did you manage to escape?” His gruff and comforting voice asked. You snuggled a bit more in his arms in response.

“I knew the woods by heart. I walked for days to the village that was at the foot of the mountains and knocked on the first door I saw. An old woman used to live there. She took care of me. But as I grew up, I could not heal from that terrifying night. My mind kept replaying the screams, the laughter, and the chants, to the point it almost drove me crazy. I had to do something to soothe the anger that was burning within. So I waited and waited until the time to avenge my family came. I tracked down the five men that broke into our house and took my family. I hunted them like animals for weeks, instilling fear in them, as they did when they were looking for me. And when they finally died, I left France and tried to build a new life here, in Birmingham. Regarding the rest of the story, I think you already know it. I fell for a gangster and here I am. In your arms.”

“Which is exactly where you belong” He corrected. One of Arthur's hand grabbed your chin and gently forced you to look at him, “I am so sorry, love. So fookin’ sorry. But don’t feel bad for the men you killed… They deserved it — just like Hughes and his colleague. An eye of an eye,” His lips kissed your head with indescribable sweetness, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again eh. God forgive but I’ll make this city fucking bleed if someone dares to lay a finger upon you ever again,” His other hand stroke the curve of your hips, “I know no one will replace nor bring back your family. But… You have me,” He said awkwardly. As he did, he very lightly rolled his hips under you, causing you to sigh with pleasure for you had kept him warm and loved between your legs during the whole conversation. “You have me for-fucking-ever. And I’ll do my best to heal the pain and save you from your demons.”

You smiled at him, utterly touched by what he had just said. His promise was like a soothing balm on the gaping wound of your heart, “Am I not the one supposed to save you? ”

“We save each other, love.” He whispered, his lips collapsing with yours in a kiss filled with unspoken promises and undying love.

“I love you.” You mumbled between two eager kisses, barely finishing your sentence when Arthur’s lips captured yours again.

“Not as much as I do, love” He mumbled against the corner of your mouth, his mustache grazing your cheek when he did, because he refused to stop devouring your lips even for one second. The whisky taste of his tongue intoxicated you, making you so dizzy you did not understand how he flipped you on your back. Nor how you ended up gently pinned to the bed, the weight of his body on top of you. But it did not matter. All that mattered was the moment. The soft moans and sloppy kisses. The creaking bed and the endless sighs. You made love again— but this time it was more slow and sensual than earlier.

And late at night, when you finally fell asleep in his loving arms, you did not hear the screams anymore. Nor the evil laughter lurking in the shadows. Quite the contrary, you dozed off with a smile on your face and shooting stars filling your head, lulled by the soothing rhythm of Arthur’s heartbeat. His fire was the only one you would let consume you skin to bones.

He was the gasoline.

You were the match.

And if you both burnt,

The whole world would burn with you.

✞ gif by the talented @alicent-targaryen

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Normally, each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone but not this one. It's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife

#Peaky blinders imagine #Arthur shelby x reader #Arthur shelby #Peaky blinders x reader #Tommy shelby fanfic #Arthur shelby x oc #Arthur shelby x ofc #peaky blinders #Tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #Peaky blinder fanfic #Heaven Shelby #John Shelby #Michael Gray #John Shelby x reader #Polly Gray #Arthur shelby imagine #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x oc #Paul Anderson #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc

[yellowbunnydreams]

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 6) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~100% totally not using this darker fic to vent my frustrations over a paper....totally not...~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 50's), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Graphic description of injuries. The suit stays ON

The car ride back was predominantly silent, and you were glad that there was nobody on the roads as you tried your best to navigate using William's car. He'd simply chucked the keys at you and grunted shortly after the incident at the pizzeria, assuming you knew how to drive. It was lucky that you knew some of basics, but you tried to avoid moving or adjusting things like the seats in case it angered him that you were messing this with stuff. Michael had also climbed into the back-seat, clearly intending to come with the pair of you.

William had clearly gotten off lighter, somewhat thanks to the suit you suspected, you could already make out where the skin had turned pink and started to knit back together painfully slowly. Whereas Michael had clearly taken William's wrath full throttle, shuddering as he poked his tongue through a hole that had been torn into his cheek, exposing his molars in the glow of the streetlamps as you passed them. You weren't even sure both of his eyes were intact, his face too bloody and distorted from being hit by the older man to tell. Something told you that you didn't want to know.

"Left here." Afton growled, his tongue moving to where the tooth had been ripped from his gum as you quietly complied, turning down the long gravel drive and through the trees towards his home. You heard shuffling in the back, making you glance quickly through the seats before focusing on the road again.

"All this time, and you come crawling back here." Michael chuckled, if you could call the gurgling, wet sound emerging from his distorted mouth a laugh. You could almost hear the eye roll from William in return.

"I could say the same about you. After what you did."

"You're one to talk, dad." Michael flipped off William, who responded in kind, a sickly grin on his face as the car pulled up to a stop and you climbed out. Opening the door for William and feeling him roughly bumping into your shoulder as he headed for the house, allowing you to move around to Michael's side and open the door for him. He gave you a bloodied smile before he reached into his pocket, pulling out a black cloth mask and pulling it on over his ears, hiding the gruesome sight from you. He grunted as he tried to stand, his legs giving out slightly and you reached out to catch him, slinging one of his arms over your shoulder.

"Leave him, he's only gone and done it to himself." William called to you, standing impatiently in the doorway, arms folded across his chest as he observed you trying to shoulder some of Michael's weight and help him walk towards the house.

"Do you want him bleeding all over your gravel or do you want him inside?" You snapped back, earning a huff of annoyance and watching as William disappeared inside, slamming the door loud enough to make you flinch, even from across the drive.

"Thanks....You don't have to help me if you don't...don't want." Michael panted, groaning as he shifted against you and tried to keep his weight off of you whilst allowing you to help him.

"He's a prick, and you're in bad shape."

Michael gave another wet sounding laugh at that, finally making it to the porch and letting his weight slump down against the wood. Making you yelp as you were dragged with him, his arm shot out to catch you and prevent your body slamming down however. You were surprised at how strong he seemed to be, even as his body shook gently, clearly in pain and struggling to function as normal. Turning his body in a few slow careful movements, looking out into the emerging dawn and sighing as he tried to run his fingers through his matted hair.

"So why are you with him, if he's such a prick?." He asked, glancing at you from the side with his one good eye. You noticed in the light how they were a more greenish grey compared to William's blue-grey, but you could see some of the resemblance in the face he had left.

"You think I put myself through this all voluntarily?" You scoffed, pointing to the red mark on your neck, the bruising on your jaw and pulling down the shoulder of your top to reveal the bandages there, as well as lifting the leg of your shorts to show the other one there. Michael's eyes flickered to each, but didn't remain long, as if he was afraid of what he would see if he did.

"I did wonder why you were wearing those clothes despite the fact it's freezing out here." He chuckled, sighing again and leaning forwards on his elbows, looking at his knuckles and studying the damage done to his hands. Brow furrowing as he noticed a few of his fingers bending at an unnatural angle, reaching for them and grunting as he grabbed them and pulled. The faint sound of bones grinding against each other hitting your ears and making you grit your teeth as they moved into a more normal position, watching as he wiggled his fingers to test how they moved afterwards.

Carefully, Michael took off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders, the size swallowing you up and your cheeks heating up as he did it, revealing a now extremely bloody white t-shirt beneath it. You opened your mouth to protest, feeling how wet and sticky some parts of the fabric were against you, but Michael waved his hand dismissively as if sensing your protests.

"I don't need it at the moment, but you definitely need the heat." He nodded to you, his eyes crinkling slightly as you assumed he smiled beneath the mask.

"He really....I knew he was cruel but..." You couldn't find the words to express it, and Michael laughed bitterly. His shoulders shaking slightly as he turned his head towards you, tilting it slightly.

"Do I look that bad?"

"I mean... Surely you saw in the rear-view o-or the mirrors on the car." Trying to be polite with him, but raising an eyebrow as he shook his head, chuckling again before it devolved into a small coughing fit. Seeming to take a few deep breaths to recover from the effort before he spoke again.

"Can't see myself in mirrors. He can't either if that's some solace about the narcissist. I'm guessing you've not been here long."

"About a week. Wait, you guys can't see yourselves in mirrors?" Taken by surprise at the thought that they couldn't, but thinking about it, you had never seen William in a reflective surface, or a mirror during the time you had been at his house. And you never bothered to look in the rear-view during the drive back.

"A week and you've not noticed? Guess he's just been avoiding them. Yeah, we can't see ourselves in mirrors, which sucks sometimes when you need to try and make sure you look human and presentable. I was surprised you didn't use the rear-view and check on us."

"I'm too short for how he has his seat set."

There was a pause and another laugh, Michael slapped his knee and began to cough as he took it in. Your cheeks heating up more as you fought back the urge to smile at it. You felt somewhat relaxed around him, although there was still a lingering sense of unease from the pizzeria and the back-room as well as your mind constantly whispering that he was a predator still.

"Head on inside kiddo. I'm going to stay out here for a bit, and you should get warm. Would you mind chucking my jacket in the wash when you have a chance? I think it may need it." You nodded in response and your hand rested on his shoulder lightly as you stood up, smiling at him as he looked up at you. The faint morning light illuminating just the amount of damage that William had done to him. His own son.

"Goodnight Michael."

"Good morning kiddo." He joked back, turning his attention back to the woods as you opened the door and slipped inside. The house eerily quiet and no sign of William immediately, though you placed Michael's jacket on the counter and headed upstairs, watching the shadows carefully for any sign of Afton lurking for you to wander past.

~~

The day was bright outside once you woke up. No Afton licking at you like a barely contained dog at a steak. No more aches and pains than you had become accustomed to in the past few days. You were almost suspicious of how peaceful the day had started out.

Padding down the stairs, you could smell something delicious cooking. William was a good cook, but he seemed to ignore a majority of seasonings for a reason you couldn't define, putting it down to enjoying your misery a little more each day. But coming into the kitchen, you found an unfamiliar back to you at the stove.

"Michael?" You called softly, watching as he spun around. Reaching for the mask he had clearly washed and placed at the side for when you came down. Your eyes widening as you took a look at him in the light from the window.

Whereas you would have put William into older and handsome, despite being a cruel, vindictive bastard. Michael had clearly inherited the sharp features and strong jaw of his father, but with a youthful roundness still in his face. Thinner brows and lighter brown hair that had a slight wave to it framed his face, and you could see how tall he was too. Not as tall as William, but certainly he would have met or exceeded it one day, although unlike Afton's broad, muscular frame; Michael was lithe and slender.

"Good morning sleepyhead!" He said, struggling to put the mask on over his ears. The hole in his cheek still present, although judging from the dampness in his hair, he'd at least had a shower. The eye had had been damaged still red and puffy, bloodshot, but you could see it moving around and looking now rather than just a bloody mess.

"You've....improved?" You said tentatively, making him pause and blink as he looked at you for a second. Laughing, you felt your own smile coming through at the sound, it wasn't dark and foreboding like William's laugh, but it sounded like what you imagined a big brother would laugh at his kid brother falling over or doing something adorable.

"Well, thank you. I mean, I can feel my face is a little less ground-meat this morning, but it's always nice to have the confirmation." Winking at you, he turned back to the stove and put something on the plate, walking it over to the island and putting it down.

"You can cook?"

"Call it the one thing my dad did right."

You headed for the cupboards, intending to find cereal but Michael's hands settled onto your shoulders, directing you to sit infront of the massive stack of pancakes he'd cooked up, watching as he easily opened cupboards and found out syrup and butter for you.

"T-These are for me?" You ask incredulously, thinking back to the cereal and peanutbutter jelly sandwiches you'd had for breakfast for the past week. Your stomach growling in anticipation.

"Well, I didn't make them to look pretty now!" He laughed again, taking a seat opposite you and watching your expression as you picked up a fork. Digging in and your eyes widening at the taste. You weren't sure how William had made sandwiches and cereal taste bland, but the sugar was an overwhelmingly welcome taste.

"Can you even eat?" You ask between bites, letting your curiosity come through as Michael raised an eyebrow, picking up a spare fork from the counter, taking a stab at the edge of the pancake and popping the piece into his mouth. Covering his open cheek with one hand consciously. Chewing and then opening his mouth, sticking out his tongue to show he'd swallowed it.

"Yep. Well....It's a kinda complex answer. Long and short? Yeah, we can eat, but it doesn't taste like anything unless it's super salty, or heavy in certain things like iron. I can just about taste a blue steak, but it's more like you've just swallowed it and are getting the aftertaste?" He tried to explain, putting one elbow on the counter and resting his chin on his hand.

"So...People?"

"Yeah, that's the fucking awful part. Blood has taste to it, it varies from donor to donor, but it all factors into that person's lifestyle, diet ect." Scrunching his nose and then looking at you curiously. Humming in consideration. "Guessing you're anaemic?"

"How'd you know?" You almost choked on your food, deciding to eat more slowly whilst you talked so you didn't end up choking to death from the syrupy goodness. Michael carefully pushed over a water with his free hand, thanks falling from your lips as you took a sip.

"My father is....a preferential hunter. I would say picky bastard, but at least they have standards. I'm sure you got the same four page long health questionnaire that I did when you applied to Freddy's."

"I always thought that was for the insurance." Michael scoffed at your explanation, rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue. Shaking his head slightly and looking down at the counter, brow furrowed as he lost himself in thought for a few moments. "So...weird question then."

"We're talking about vampirism, and how people have taste whilst my face is half open. I don't think weird quite covers it."

"If blood has taste then it must have a smell too right? So...what do I smell like?"

Michael blinked as you asked the question, scanning your face for any signs that you were joking. You tried to keep it serious as he looked at you, sucking on his teeth for a second before his larger hand gently took yours, pulling it towards him, frowning as he saw the bite marks on your skin before he wiped his hand over them. Wincing as one of the scabs came off and a single dot of red appeared against you, watching as he leaned in close and the way his nose crinkled. Shuddering as his cool breath moved against your skin as he exhaled. His turn crumpling further as he let go of your wrist and allowed you to pull it back.

"Honestly, I can't make out you at the moment. You just smell like my dad. Have you gotten any of your own stuff since you arrived?" Sighing as you shake your head and he stands up, throwing the dishes in the sink with a slight clatter as he grabs a hoodie you hadn't noticed on the chair and pulls it on.

"Come on, we'll get you something better than his ratty shit to wear, and when you get back, you're having a shower."

~~

The bright lights of the supermarket had clearly bothered Michael throughout the trip out, wearing thick sunglasses and the face-mask to hide his still slightly gruesome appearance from the public. Watching as he rubbed his temples and his eyes from time to time, like he was trying to dispel a growing migraine. Pushing the cart infront of you, you had tried to pick some clothes that were comfortable and easy to put on. T-shirts, some jeans, a couple of skirts. Underwear. You still weren't sure what had happened to the set that you'd taken off for your first bath in the house, but something told you that William would deny anything had happened if you asked him.

"Where is he today?" You ask as you looked at body wash, trying to find your usual scent and opening the caps carefully to sniff before placing them back. Michael shuffled behind you quietly, the loud environment and lights taking a toll on him physically and mentally as it took him a moment to respond.

"Probably cleaning the place up. Oh, and 'food' run." He air-quoted food, giving you an idea of what he might be up to. Swallowing dryly before you picked out your necessary toiletries, feeling conscious of how much it was all going to cost, and you weren't even sure where your card was to pay for it all. Michael had already leant you a pair of his jeans from when he was a teenager, and they had been a tight fit. Realising that he's always been a lanky man was somewhat comforting, but you did wonder how long ago that had been for him.

Finishing up quickly, Michael gently bumped you out of the way to pay, much to your protests and especially to your protests as he grabbed the heavy bags filled with various snacks, drinks, clothes and toiletries. Carrying them as if they were nothing to him, although his shoulders visibly relaxed as you both stepped outside into the cooler air, the light much more soft and natural.

"Thank you Michael."

"For the love of god woman, you can call me Mike. But, I do have a question for you." He asked, and even though he was wearing sunglasses, you could tell he was looking at you.

"Alright, that seems a little unfair on you, but ask away."

"Back in the pizzeria, how did you know my name?"

You froze up as he asked, thinking back to the darkness. The bear staring at you from around the shelf with hollowed out eyes, the soft whispering, cold air moving against you like some living, breathing thing.

"Can you please help my brother?"

"There was...I don't know how to say it without sounding utterly crazy." You laughed, swallowing and furrowing your brows as you both walked along the side of the road, Mike standing next to the road and keeping you away from it. Looking at your borrowed shoes before you took a deep breath and talked slowly. "There was..a bear.."

"Freddy, yeah he's kinda the face of the whole thing."

"No, like a yellow one." You watched as Mike paused, stopped dead in his tracks as he tilted his head to look at you, studying your features before nudging you down a slightly worn path towards the woods. He clearly wanted to be away from the road.

"Go on..."

"And there were like...these whispers. I thought I was going crazy, but one of them.. they told me your name, they asked me to help you." You explained, watching the woods draw closer as you heard the bags rustling and suddenly Michael took your hand, squeezing it tightly as he didn't look at you. His head keeping up despite the fact you could feel his hand shaking, your brow furrowing as he kept walking, not saying anything for a few moments before he spoke in a shaking voice.

"Can you do me a favour? If you go back...can you ask them if they can forgive me?" He asked, swallowing softly as he slowed his walking as you approached the wooded area. You gave his hand a squeeze back, confused as to what he would need to be forgiven for, but noticing how whatever it was affected him in ways he wasn't willing to talk about.

"Of course."

"And please don't mention it to my dad."

The rest of the walk was silent, but the coolness of Mike's hand against yours as he clung desperately to you like a scared child was enough to speak to you both.

You were both going home to your own monsters.

#steve raglan #william afton #springtrap #william afton x reader #fnaf movie #springtrap x reader #steve raglan x reader #william afton smut #william afton x you #fnaf x reader #vampire william afton

[lorimnnn]

Mine pt. 2 (Michael Myers x AFAB!Reader)

summary: before Michael was ever ‘The Shape’ of Haddonfield, he was just a boy. he was a boy in love with the girl across the road, his sister’s best friend--- the only girl to show him kindness, love and warmth. you.

Basically, Michael falls in love with his sister’s best friend at 6, who sometimes played emergency babysitter especially when Judith was fooling around with her bf. He clings to those memories growing up in the asylum until the day he breaks out, where he decides the first thing he wants to do is find you and keep you, your sunshine only for him. Reader is super girly and feminine, which just fuels michael’s possessiveness.

cw: gore, violence, kidnapping, obsession, manhandling, possessiveness, non-con themes

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

welcome back @xprettyqueenx @bitchyglitterfox @ameliachastain  @agustdeeyaa @fanlovedlt @valen-yamyam16 @looseratinthegarage @quixscentsposts @sunshinexxmoonlight @sunshinexxmoonlight @hxrzvf  @poisonjoke @singingpianowings @babybooday @serryjailor @bdudette @blackholegladiator @imobsessedreader @cluelessyasmin​ @kittenfrostt @tooprettytoofeelshitty @alexsworldsstuff  @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @abadnamee  @gremlinfuck @aromess @radioactive-mocha

~

Your breath shutters in your chest, and a violent tremor seizes at your hands. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes. They sting. They smell like fear. 

You know that whatever you do, you can’t let them fall. 

But you can’t help yourself. “Mikey?”

The last time you saw Michael Myers, you were 17, at the height of your senior year, and honestly with a few better things to do than cover for Judith when she decided to slack off with Danny. 

Not that you minded that precious little boy. 

Could you still call him precious?

You don’t dare to turn around. You don’t know what will happen if you do--- what will you see? What will it matter? A part of you needlessly clings to who he used to be. A part of you is certain that if you don’t turn around, you can still pretend a little while longer that nothing’s changed. 

Here’s little Mikey, inviting himself into your home because Judith is ‘having her own fun’, as you’d so eloquently put it in the beginning. You’re 17 all over again. You’re squeezed into a tackily patterned pink dress, lips swabbed with a glossy sheen, eyes defined the way everyone used to define them, cancelling on more plans because Judith couldn’t care less that other people lived other lives that could co-exist with hers, if she were considerate enough to open her eyes and find balance. He’s six, with floppy blonde hair and wide, seeing blue eyes. 

Your breathing comes faster, a heavy, wet whisper that stimulates your heart into painful, frantic pounding. Fuck. You’re so fucked. Who are you kidding?

You’re 32 and he’s 21 and he’s a serial killer and he’s standing behind you. Why he hasn’t made his move yet is beyond you, but even so--- do you want to know the answer?

A heavy hand curls over your shoulder. There is nothing gentle about it. Nothing familiar, but you don’t know what you’re supposed to be accepting after fifteen years. He’s demanding and impatient as he squeezes, almost enough for you to wince. 

You understand what he’s saying. Turn around. 

You do. Slowly, you do, and fuck. There he is. 

Staring at you with that expressionless latex mask, his features distorted, one eye peeking back at you through the hole. He’s huge. Broad shouldered and long-legged and built like a fractured god. 

The chills swamp you in seconds. 

“Michael,” you correct yourself. Because this isn’t Mikey. No. 

This is Michael Myers. 

And you’re going to die tonight. 

You eye the knife at his side, then glance back at the hand still clutching your shoulder. 

“Well?” you say. “Get it over and done with, then. Have at least enough respect to do it quickly.”

If he’s stunned, he says nothing. Either that or he’s really good at hiding it. He says stiff. Rigid, even. But what reason would the notorious Michael Myers have to be rigid around you?

Well, you have balls, for one. But that’s nothing new. It’s been so long since you’ve had to give a shit or cared to even pretend to, there’s no reason to start.

No time like the end to make the most of it, right?

You tilt your head back. “Go on. Do it.”

You wait. You wait and wait and wait. 

It seems like forever until he can show he’s processed your words at all. But the knife doesn’t move from his side. Neither does his hand move from your shoulder. He doesn’t even try step closer to you. 

Instead he just... Tilts his head at you. 

Confused. 

Any curiosity you have in return is quickly snuffed out the second he shoves you against the wall, his hand moving to your neck and collaring it in a harsh, iron grip. You choke. You sputter at the unexpected intrusion of your space. He’s not even squeezing hard, which makes it even more disorienting. You feel like you should be dying. You delude yourself into thinking you are, that your body is in denial, which is the only reason you can keep your eyes open. 

Michael Myers doesn’t speak. 

You don’t even know if he recognises you at all. Then again, why else is he in your house, and why else is he hesitating?

You don’t know what’s worse. Him knowing your or not knowing you at all.  “Michael?” His hand lingers a little longer before he releases you all together, your knees buckling when your feet hit the floor. You’re oversensitive. Everything feels like too much, your fear amplifying your senses as you wrestle between flight or fight.  “Don’t come any closer,” you warn. “You’re the one who changed your mind.” It’s obvious that he’s not used to following orders. Or maybe he is and is actively choosing not to--- all those years in the Sanitarium must’ve added up to something, if not some submissive trauma. You hate the rush of sympathy that seizes you when you think of it, only resolved by the bitter tang of horror as you remember why that little boy was sent to the asylum in the first place. 

You’re more scared now that you can’t predict him. It was easy enough when you were sure he was going to kill you, because that was what he did to everyone. But now?

Now you don’t know. 

You swear sharply when Michael lunges, seemingly not fast or agile enough to dodge him as he slams you into the wall, his body pressing against yours. You don’t even both fighting him, arms squished between you where you’d thrown them protectively in front of yourself. His face is so close to yours. That unsettlingly emotionless mask is too close. You can smell the silicone. The sweat. 

You can see his eyes through the holes. Icy, stark and blue. Pupils dilated as his gaze holds yours, as his breathing comes heavier, more laboured. You quickly realise why. 

His hands roam your sides. They grip. They grope. You hold in your scream as his fingers sink into your hips --- not enough to hurt, but enough to make his intention clear. You try squirm, you try shove him away. Nothing works. 

You can feel him against your belly. Hot. Hard, Probing. 

Where was the little boy you used to care for? Did he even exist? Did he exist at all now, somewhere deep inside this monstrous creature, hulking in size and ineffably superior, dominant, a symbol of fear? Did he know what he was doing when he was touching you like this, or were the hands that were touching you the hands of a stranger consumed by rage and blood thirst? 

You gag. You want to vomit. This is so wrong. Every part of you screams to escape, but he won’t let you. 

You clench your eyes shut. “No. No, no, no.”

He pushes harder against you, and you begin to tremble. 

You’ve never heard of Michael Myer’s victims being raped. It just wasn’t his thing. It wasn’t supposed to be his thing. 

Why start?

Why the fuck start with you?

“No, no, no.” You start to scream. “No! Fucking no!”

You shove him hard, even if it does nothing. 

“Get the fuck off me, you disgusting, deranged bitch!”

You shove him again, and this time he stumbles back three steps. They’re all hesitant, like he’s hurt or something. Good. 

“Fuck you,’ you spit. “Get out of here.”

He gives you one, last look. His eyes are eclipsed in the shadows, the distance making them hard to see. But you know he’s looking at you. Intently. Deliberately. 

Darkly. 

And then he’s gone. Just like that. 

When you open your eyes, the room is empty. The door is wide open, and the wind slips into the house, submerging it in a chill you can’t differ from your disgust and horror. 

On your porch is the corpse of the man you slept with last night. He’s mutilated, body angled in ways that make you sick. 

You don’t know anything. You know nothing, and you’re scared. 

But one thing remains clear. 

He’ll be back. 

__

Michael’s heart throbs in his chest. It is the most life it has had since he was a child, since he was watching cartoons on your sofa or watching you examine your reflection in the mirror. 

He’d stepped into the room, and it had beat. It had beaten so loudly, it’d sounded like thunder in his head. 

Mine, mine, mine. 

You were his. 

He’d touched you. Felt you. You were older but you were the same, and you were real. How he imagined you couldn’t compare to how you were now. 

Fuck. 

And to think someone had touched you that wasn’t him. 

Nobody would ever do that again. 

comment or follow to be tagged in pt.3!

#michael myers #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #michael myers x y/n #slasher #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #halloween #halloween kills

[thesightstoshowyou]

🩸BLOODFEST🩸

Week 2

Prompts: Found Footage. Gore. Corruption. Monster

Keywords: Nightmare. Ravenous.

Glass

Michael Myers x GN Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Noncon, breaking and entering, knife “play”, blood, gore, torture, creampie

~~

Misting rain coats your face, clings to your hair in little droplets as you hurry from your car, shopping bags in hand. You shift your groceries onto one arm, fumble with the keys in your pocket. Hunched, eyes squinting against the droplets hanging from your eyelashes, you finally manage to shoulder your way inside.

Your elbow finds the light switch, illuminating the entryway of your darkened home. A quick glance to your feet finds damp foliage clinging to the soles of your boots. You stomp, scrub, wiggle, but the sticky leaves refuse to budge. Groaning in annoyance, you kick off your boots and hurry to the kitchen. Groceries plonk onto the counter and you heave a relieved sigh when your arms are freed of their burden.

Bags rustle as you move about the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers to stow your purchases. As you pass the stove, a jar on the counter catches your eye. Apples in hand, brows furrowing, you pause.

Had you left the peanut butter out?

Maybe, but you’d never leave it sitting on the counter with no lid. Puzzled, you place the apples in the fridge before returning the errant jar—lid now on tight—to the pantry.

The last items—an autumn bouquet of sunflowers, mums, and orange roses—go into a glass vase. You set the arrangement on your dining room table, a quiet think disturbing the hush of your home.

As you fuss with the flowers, a glimmer of light near the back door catches your eye. Again, you frown in confusion. Water speckles the floor here and there, the kitchen lights illuminating each little pool. Wet leaves litter the floor as well, haphazardly trailed inside….

After being brought in on damp boots.

Your heart stutters, then vaults into your throat when you’re suddenly and startlingly seized by the back of the neck and shoved forward. The vase you’re still holding shatters under the force of the push, glass smashing and skittering across the table.

Screams spring from your mouth when the vase shards pierce your hands and forearms. Shifting and thrashing only jars them more, burning pain burrowing into your flesh. You freeze to minimize the agony just as another dirty hand clamps down around your mouth to silence your cries of anguish.

Wildly, you blink away tears and twist your neck, craning to see who pins you to the table. Your eyes grow wide, horror crushing your panting lungs when you spot the dingy mask.

You’d recognize this monster anywhere.

Michael wastes no time. Hand leaving your mouth, he retrieves the blood-soaked knife from his pocket. It’s brought to your face, close enough to see your terrified reflection in ruby-coated steel. You get the message.

Shaking from head to toe, you nod, a silent agreement not to scream. He doesn’t withdraw the knife.

Instead, the hand on the back of your neck slides down your spine, grips hold of the waistband of your jeans and twists. Fabric rips as Michael tears your pants away, the shreds left hanging off your hips, your ass now bared to him. The knife hovering near your face is the only thing preventing you from shrieking in protest, from flailing and pleading.

It wouldn’t do you any good, anyway. Your nightmare is this monster’s nirvana.

Zipping reaches your ears and you clench your eyes shut, flinching when hot, hard flesh brushes your rear. Behind the mask, Michael breathes long and slow, each exhale muffled and distorted. Is he wheezing…?

Pressure at your entrance derails your train of thought and you snap your mouth closed. It’s gonna hurt, it always hurts, brace for it, don’t scream—

Michael surges forward, thick cock parting tense, unprepared muscles and jarring the glass embedded in your limbs. Your anguished cry is choked by your own willpower, the sound barely contained by gritted teeth.

You wince when the knife shifts, but it’s just Michael moving behind you, his free hand returning to your neck, the cheek of the mask coming to rest on the back of your head as he curls over you.

With the Shape now so close, you finally notice the smell: Pungent smoke, like there’s a campfire burning in your kitchen, singed hair, burnt flesh, charred plastic. Your mind buzzes, too many thoughts, too much pain to process before you could even begin to understand why Michael smells like he’d just come from a bonfire.

Then, the fingers on your neck flex and push. You’re not ready for it, not prepared to have your cheek smashed into a pile of glass. You snap your eyes shut on instinct as shards pierce your face. It’s agony, burning, stabbing pain erupting deep in your flesh. Blood fills your mouth, metallic and sharp.

It is by the grace of whatever deity watches over you that you don’t scream. You can’t, shock stilling your lungs, rooting you to the spot in frozen torment. Crimson drips onto the table, pooling under your cheek, aiding in the slide as Michael gives an experimental thrust.

Now, you must clench your teeth again. Movement amplifies your pain, unfreezes your muscles. Your eyelids crack open and your half-formed scream lodges in your throat when you find the knife tip centimeters away from your eye. The Shape bucks his hips, nudges your head with his masked cheek.

Through near blinding agony, you realize it’s a dare: Do it. Scream. My blade is ravenous. I will show you levels of pain you can only imagine.

So begins the quiet battle; Michael ruts into you, shoves your face into glass, jostles the shards in your arms and hands while you muster all your remaining strength to stay quiet. The Shape’s gasping breaths hiss in your ear, fill your head with images of a rasping beast, teeth bared, poised to devour.

Please, please pass out. You can’t take it anymore….

Michael’s hips stutter. He grunts, nails biting into your neck, cock twitching within you. You sob and suck in a breath that reeks of fire and gore as he marks your insides.

Finally, blessedly, he releases you. Michael stands, pushes away. Without his weight, you slip from the table and collapse in a bloody pile, glass raining down around your trembling body. You whimper as quietly as you can manage and cradle your ruined arms to your chest.

Vision blurring, you opt to listen instead. Michael moves around the kitchen, opening cupboards, rustling through your new groceries. More stomping of boots. The hinges of the back door squeal. You jerk and groan when the door slams. Then silence. Merciful silence.

You’re alive. You must convince yourself this is a good thing.

Tumultuous thoughts turn to survival; stop this bleeding. You have to move. Get up. Get up!

Through haggard gasps, sniveling, and uncontrollable quaking, you work your way to your feet. Everything aches, everything burns. You cannot see out of one eye. Slick leaks down your thighs as you stumble, adding insult to injury. Dark pools drip around you with every step.

Staggering into the kitchen, your bleary gaze falls to the counter.

Michael left the peanut butter out again.

#sfbf23 #halloween kills #halloween #michael myers #michael myers x reader #the shape #the shape x reader #peepaw myers #thesightstoshowyou #bloodfest #writing prompts

[tma-reader-inserts]

I WAS going to request something the moment you opened the inbox, but I was busy. BUT NOW I'M NOT.

Give me Mr. Yaoi Hands x reader or I will replace your bones with water

(No but srsly, mr. Michael Distortion has invaded my mind lmao- probably the reader ending up going through the door unknowingly, tho I have no specific ideas. All im here to do is beg for Michael lolol-)

Two birds one stone check the latest fic *kisses*

Enjoy

[maximwtf]

A Masterlist

-♥︎-  All works from different fandoms listed and linked here! -♥︎-

♥︎ - You’ll find the characters and fandoms I write for linked at the bottom !

♥︎ - Some rules for requests are there too.

Kirikaze beloved

♡ Genshin Impact

Beidou x Reader (platonic, action/fluff-ish)

Baizhu x Reader (hurt/comfort)

Baizhu x Reader (hurt/comfort)

Kamisato Ayato x Reader (angst/comfort)

Xianyun x Reader (chronic pain/comfort)

♡ Our Flag Means Death

Izzy Hands x Reader (injury)

Izzy Hands x Reader (chronic pain)

Izzy Hands x Reader (Injury/death)

Izzy Hands x Reader (hidden relationship)

Izzy Hands x Reader (love letters)

Izzy Hands x Reader (hurt/comfort-ish)

Izzy Hands x Reader (sword fighting)

Izzy Hands x Reader (whip scarring, hurt/comfort)

Izzy Hands x Reader (angst/comfort)

Izzy Hands x Reader (Fluff, re-blossoming love)

Stede Bonnet x Reader (comfort)

Stede Bonnet x Reader (fluff)

♡ The Magnus Archives

Jonathan Sims x Reader (worm bite)

Elias Bouchard x Reader (a burn)

Helen Distortion x Reader (Hurt/Comfort)

♡ The Arcane

Silco x Injured reader (death/gore)

Viktor x reader (comfort)

Viktor x reader (injury/comfort)

Heimerdinger x Sick Reader (comfort)

Dying Viktor x reader (death)

♡ Obey me

Simeon x reader

Asmodeus x reader (anxiety attack/comfort)

Lucifer x stressed reader (comfort)

♡ The Arcana

Julian Devorak x Sick! Reader (Red Plague/Death)

♡ Lord of the rings / The hobbit

Legolas x Male Elven Reader (Death/comfort)

Legolas x reader (injury) (1)

Legolas x reader (Injury/comfort) (2)

Legolas x Elven reader (Injury/Death)

Legolas x reader (Frostbite/fluff?)

Legolas x reader (Hair braiding/fluff)

Legolas x reader (Angst/no comfort)

Elrond x Elven warrior reader (injury)

Elrond x Injured reader (Dragon fire burn)

Elrond x Reader (Hurt/no comfort)

Thranduil x Elven warrior reader (Dragon fire scar)

Thranduil x Elven reader (grief)

Lindir x warrior reader (injury)

Aragorn x reader (Injury/death)

Kili x reader (injury/comfort)

♡ Steven universe 

Pearl x Gem Reader (hurt/comfort)

Pearl x Gem Reader (poofed/comfort?)

Pearl x reader (fluff)

Peridot x gem reader (limb enhancers)

Peridot x Sapphire! Reader / Pt.1

Peridot x Sapphire! Reader / Pt.2

Jasper x gem reader 

♡ Pokémon

Captain Ilima x injured reader

♡ Bbc Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes (Mycroft Holmes) x Sister reader

Mycroft Holmes x reader (overdose)

Mycroft Holmes x reader (trauma response/comfort)

Mycroft Holmes x reader (nightmares/comfort)

♡ Pirates of the Caribbean

Jack Sparrow x pirate reader

♡ Squid Game

Sang-woo x dying reader

The Front Man x reader

♡ Lucifer

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel reader (Trauma/comfort)

Lucifer Morningstar X Angel Reader (Injury/preening)

Lucifer morningstar x Deity reader

Lucifer Morningstar x reader (injury/comfort)

Michael x Angel Reader (Injury)

♡ Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them

Newt Scamander X Witch reader

Newt Scamander x Animagus Reader (1)

Newt Scamander x Animagus Reader (2)

Platonic! Newt Scamander x Animagus! Reader

♡ Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby x Injured Reader (death)

Thomas Shelby (Ada, Polly) x Depressed Reader

♡ Inside Job

Myc x Reader (Hurt/comfort?)

♡ Cookie Run Kingdom

Almond x injured reader

Mango x reader (injured/comfort)

Pure Vanilla x injured reader (gore)

♡ Mystic Messenger

Jaehee Kang x dizzy Reader

♡ Undertale

Grillby x child reader (Injured/comfort)

! Characters and Fandoms I write for !

Keep in mind, I don’t write full blown smut. 

Platonic and romantic requests for everyone are fine.

Angst and hurt requests are always first priority, those are the easiest for me to write!

-♥︎-That’s it, love yall! -♥︎-

[reallyintoscience]

20 questions for fic writers!

tagged by @valeriianz like agggges ago <3

20 questions is looong so you get a cut

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

89

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

191,620

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm pretty monofannish outside of exchanges, so right now just Sandman TV. Previously The Magnus Archives, Fullmetal Alchemist and Lucifer TV. Otherwise, I write whatever I've been assigned in a fic exchange recently.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

And Feeding (TMA, pre-Jon/Martin, Gen, which ironically I do not ship), Scheherazade (TMA, Jon/Distortion!Michael, Explicit, which I very much do ship), shark smile blues (FMA, adult!Ed/Roy, Explicit), When in Rome (Lucifer, Chloe/Lucifer, Explicit), If Only Grant a Name (Sandman, Dreamling, Explicit)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

In bursts with vast swathes of time in between. The fic only exists to me when I've just finished writing it and I only remember again when I'm answering comments for another fic and start going through my inbox. Object permanence!! So yes, I do, but it might literally be a year. Or seconds. It depends. If you ask me a question, you'll activate my insatiable need to provide information and I'm much more likely to respond quickly.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't write angst, at least not since my very very first teen songfics. That's Bower, in which I killed Dorian from From Eroica With Love, a VampChron fic in which I killed Armand, and and X-Files fic in which I killed Alex, and they're no longer online. Oh, and I guess all the world for love is pretty angsty, but that's The Last Unicorn for you. Apparently the only mode of angst I have is mourning a dead lover.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think they're all happy, but not everyone agrees that turning into monsters or going off with them forever is a great ending so mileage may vary. Traditionally happy? In which many loose ends are gathered together, Howl/Sophie, bookverse Howl's Moving Castle, Gen. Or Pink Slip, Sandy/Rizzo, Grease, Gen.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not often at all in 25 years.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell yeah I do. All kinds, what are you looking for? Mostly m/m. In this house, though we love and respect those who do, we do not fade to black.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not often. I'm fond of the Star Trek TOS crew meeting the G1 Transformers in Meeting of Minds, but the craziest is probably young Jessica Fletcher from Murder, She Wrote encountering the world of The Neverending Story in The Next Part of Your Story. Which, I now recall, were for the same exchange recip who's open to crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a couple of times.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I don't have the temperament for it.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Whoever I'm obsessing over at any given moment. But I've never fallen out of love with Kirk/Spock, Buffy/Spike or Tony/Loki.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I exist in a state of optimism where I fully believe I will finish the few Sandman WIPs I have going.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Matching the feel of the canon, porn, and bending canon to my will.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

God I hate dialogue. Also I can't plot to save my life, I'm one of those 'press play on the mind movie and transcribe, gasping in surprise constantly' sort of writers.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Avoid, unless my POV character also doesn't understand the language. My goal is that my reader understands the story, not perfect authenticity. I'm looking at you, Charlotte Bronte and Villette. It benefits no one to be flipping and clicking all over the place to find out what the characters are saying.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Vampire Chronicles

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Is Scheherazade (TMA, Jon/Distortion!Michael, explicit, so much blood kink). I'm really proud of It Came From Outer Space, which is my own little episode of Northern Exposure. And I'm also proud of City Of, which before If Only Grant a Name came and plonked its 20k+ into my life, was the longest thing I'd written. Sci-fi/horror, Stargate Atlantis, pre-McShep.

Tagging...look I bet you've all done this by now, this was going around so long ago and my brain is pudding. But! @ml-nolan, @beholdme, @beholdingthegaytimes, @beatnikfreakiswriting, @notallsandmen, @issylra, @chaosheadspace

#my writing #tag games

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

Tell me about your dynamic with Elias! I’d love to hear about it

Ah, that's kinda like... Half the problem, I suppose.

There isn't a whole ton to hear about?

I've seen a lot of other self shippers, and I haven't heard anyone openly talk about this? So I'm assuming out of one of my many disorders, I am having a Prime Time Symptom. Either way: I have a really hard time just writing a ship.

This is normally fine? I just end up getting really into conceptualizing the lead-up to the ship, and that's fun itself! The other component to this is that I have a really hard time changing what's already been written, unless I honest to god hate it. I think Scenecore Mad Max's Adventures only transitioned so well into something else, because there was genuine lore development in F94G's (note for the unaware: my main madcom s/i) lore that needed addressing. The core dynamic did shift some, but it was to account for that.

That's really been the only time I've been able to do all that, and then go back and change it. (I promise that this is going somewhere.) S/I is made, backstory is established, things are written/drawn, ect. Oroboros eating its... Ship? It's the repeat of how my ships develop.

This is context for the fact that Elias and Sanya don't really have... A dynamic. Exactly.

What ships get based off of is kinda random. Sometimes its a projection ship from the same fandom, a trope I saw in passing that my brain hooked onto, y'know. Something outside of myself. I'm not super good at conceptualizing ship dynamics otherwise.

Sanya and Elias were originally based off JonElias (note: I tried to cram them into being JonElias for ease of access.) Needless to say, it didn't stick. My projection character of choice (Michael Distortion) doesn't really interact with Elias... Ever? Nor is he shipped with him, not even as a crack ship. Those like 2 or 3 fics of it on a03 are all by me. (Unless?? I started something??)

But even beyond that it has taken me about a year or two to even have a stable s/i. I have ran through so many for TMA in general, let alone the ship canon where Sanya is specifically with Elias. I went through concepts related to myself in-system (I'm a Bakeneko mythic,) concepts related to things in the show I latched onto (a Leitner was a recurring feature for a long time,) to sometimes just throwing darts at random concepts and praying my brain stuck with it (usually "what if Sanya was avatar of [x], with [x] changing every now and again.)

Needless to say, that process might not actually be over, because I don't know how much I like the current concept either. TMA has been particularly challenging to self-insert into. I compare it to carving a place out with a small shovel, to plant myself among the other characters. TMA feels like all its roots are too close together, and its hard to find a pleasing place to even poke my spade at.

(The current concept is someone touched by each entity, but instead of ascending to a terrible-no-good-godhood like Jon later does... Fae is just in an avatar limbo, unaware fae is even supernatural (despite being like... around Jonah's age.) It's a meta commentary on how much development hell Sanya has gone through in TMA, and I thought that was funny.)

All of this in mind: Elias (or really any other TMA f/o) has been... Difficult. Oddly enough, though, Elias has been the most difficult. Between all the people screaming from the heavens that he's unrepentant garbage and "why do people like him," and all the people who begrudgingly include him in their content JUST to make fun of him... Somewhere in all the discourse, it was even harder to stab a shovel into anywhere to clear room for myself.

I think it's kinda warped my perception of what the ship could even be, because the closest I can come to conceptualizing a dynamic between Sanya and Elias is one pursuing the other, but the other being lividly, meanly not into the other. It's genuinely like distressing as fuck.

Hence the seeking of reader content I can enjoy, I kinda hoped that I could try to use that to correct my perception of a Sanya/Elias dynamic. I only read smutt though, and basically all of it is afab in some fashion. So I can't read it.

So anyway sorry for dumping pandora's box on your lap, but you've caught me at a stressful time and inadvertently asked about a stressful ship.

#anon #vent #asks