#Winslow Foxworth Coltrane x Reader Oneshot

[slashingdisneypasta]

Foxy Coltrane x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: Inspired by the song ‘Somebody I Fucked Once’ (By Zolita). Basically you and Foxy fucked once. He’s really fond of you, you’re kinda shaky about him, and oh his siblings are there too. This is just me giving Foxy a try at writing for.

Warnings: This turned out a lot cuddlier than I intended, but there is much swearing- and Otis threatens to make you into a Futon once.

You thought it was odd when there was a knock at your door, at… 1 in the morning. But you got your shotgun and snuck up the door, anyway; Peering out the peep hole carefully to see who it could possibly be this early in the morning… before rolling our eyes deeply upwards and stepping back, setting your shotgun in the umbrella stand - still very much within reach, - and opening the door with a frown.

“Well, hell-o there, Y/N. Sorry… did we wake you??” What an asshole, you think as your Worst Mistake Ever, Winslow Foxworth Coltrane greets you from the porch- his own shotgun lean carelessly on his shoulder. Behind him is two others, a scrawny-santa-looking man you know to be Otis B Driftwood - though, he used to be even smaller. Prison must have fed him well over the years, - and a beautiful woman called Baby Firefly running her hands through the multicoloured metal tubes you have hanging off the roof- the melodic sound they make ringing across the dark, baron street. Her hair looks even better then the one other time you met these two, as well, and you chalk that up to prison shampoo and probably vegetable intake, too.

Because sighing would mean weakness, and weakness is not a thing to show in front of this family, you instead offer this man nothing but a hard glare. “What are you doing here, Fox?”

“Mmm… “He moans instead of answering you properly, sniffing the air before a broad grin slowly slips across his face. “You cookin’?”

“Roast.” You respond, huffing. Look, you had a midnight craving and a chicken in the fridge, and you’re an goddamn adult who knows how to cook- so what in the hell was stopping you from preparing a roast in the middle of the night?? Nothing.

You kinda wish you had just gone back to bed now, though. Then there would have been at least 50 percent chance that you didn’t hear him when he knocked on your door this night, and at least a 12 percent chance that he would have just left and taken his crazy siblings with him.

But you didn’t. You got out the chicken and the herbs and preheated the oven and now the door is wide open and he knows you’re here and there’s no going back.

“Glad to hear we didn’t wake ya.” Like his grins, his drawl is slow and deliberate, and you blame that on the Huge Mistake you made, too. Stupid old man being unnecessarily sexy. Fuck him.

Except- no- that’s how all this bullshit started; The Ginormous Mistake, in fact.

Fox turns his head to address Otis, who is staring directly into your soul, and Baby who is humming and making you equally as uncomfortable. “Guys she is a fantastic cook… Looks like we came at just the right time.”

What- “No, you didn’t. Its all for me.”

“You’re gonna eat a whole fucken roast?” Otis speaks up, trigger finger itching in the pocket of his coveralls. You can tell because he lifts the handle as far against the jeans material as he can and then taps it back against his thigh a couple of times. Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and set him very a stern look. You won’t be intimidated by a fucken necrophiliac. Ridiculous.

“Yes.”

“Mmmm!” Baby distracts you from Otis quickly, as she takes a deep breath in through her nose and sighs. “That does smell good! Agh… tummy so growly.” She hugs her tummy and pouts, and you roll your eyes again.

“There’s a 7-11 down the road you can knock-off,” You inform her, a deadpanned tone in your voice.

“Oh, come on!!”

“Now if you’ll excuse me- “You try your luck and start closing the door, but unfortunately the late hour has not affected Fox’s agility and a foot wedges itself in the way before you can click and lock it shut. Damn.

He steps in closer to you, the cap on his head damn near whacking you in the forehead. “Now, now Y/N… we’ve got history.” Yes, you do. You acknowledge that. But since that history is exactly what you’re trying to avoid repeating, bringing that up is certainly not going to help his case. Does he care? No- “Why dontcha let us in?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of 3 fugitives from the law, hangin’ out in my kitchen!” You insist, putting your foot down and attempting to stare him down too- to no avail, though, as he smirks in your face.  

Fox is about to say something else to you, when a hand comes out of nowhere and actually shoves him out of the way so Otis can get in your face. Well, at least he’s brushed his teeth with something other than bourbon in the last week, you think as the sent of stale toothpaste wafts unpleasantly up your nose. Baby giggles behind him, though you can’t see her. “Hey!- “

“Shut up.” Otis doesn’t even spare his irritated brother a glance, attention on you. You don’t stand down even an inch, though. “Look bitch, let us in now, or I’ll make you into a fucken futon.”

Now, you sigh Because the idea is deeply unpleasant and ruins your mood even worse than it already was- but also drag out the shotgun you has in the umbrella stand and abruptly hold it up to the man’s throat before he can even take the gun he has, out of his pocket. Then flash a forced smile and he huffs. “Sorry, what was that, Otis??”

“Fuck… “

“Back up, asshole.”

He does as told, miraculously - something to do, probably, with the likelihood of having his skull shot to pieces if he indeed stayed where he was, - and crosses his arms beside his still-putting sister. You suddenly get a really good mental image of what they must have been like as children, and almost smile. “Yeah, yeah… fucken bitch… “

“Come on Y/N… we just need a place to stay for a few hours. A place to sleep other then the van… and maybe a plate or two of your cookin’,” Fox gives a roguish grin, almost charming, as if lightening the air as he takes his place in front of you again. “Promise I’ll be on my best behaviour… and I’ll look out for these two assholes, too.”

Despite your better judgement, his attempt at being polite are wearing you down. Still, stink-face on, you adjust your grip on your shot gun and raise a brow, expectantly. “What does you best behaviour look like?”

Grin broadening once again, because the smug bastard knows he’s winning finally and you’re breaking, he straightens and up and squares his shoulders. “Why don’t you let us in and see, huh?”

Taking in a deep breath, you sigh it out and pull your shot gun away from him. “Don’t go anywhere near my room, any of you.”

“Scouts honour.”

“If you were ever actually a scout I’ll give you a thousand bucks.”

~

After dinner, or breakfast, or whatever the hell that meal was - at which these 3 literally cleaned you out. Not just the roast was eaten, but all the shit in your cupboards, too. Baby’s currently dragging a carrot through a rapidly emptying jar of peanut butter, -, you retire to the living room away from them and unpause the movie you were watching. As you’re getting comfortable, or as comfortable as you will allow yourself to be with 3 homicidal maniacs in your kitchen, Fox strolls in and plops down next to you.

You wedge a pillow between the two of you.

“Hey, what’re you watchin’? Looks good.”

“Just some black-and-white.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you turn your head to look at him. “You done cleaning me out, then??”

“Hey, I wanted to leave you the granola but Otis’ a bit stung from how you did him earlier with the shotgun.” He chuckles, the memory funny to him as he shakes his head at it.

“So, he’s in there eating my granola?”

“Dry.”

At that, you finally give in. You smile, snorting and turning back to the TV. The thought of that groan man choking down a box of dry, 5 month old granola in there is honestly hilarious.

“So she does have the ability to fucken smile.” Fox immediately comments, making you want to clam up all over again. But you don’t, you just force yourself to shake you head at it and point at the TV.

“Watch the movie.”

“… Yes Ma’am… “

~

With a groan, you push off the couch and roll your shoulders back once the movie is over, before grabbing your pillow off the couch and turning pointing sternly over it at Foxy. “Welp, I’m going to bed. Don’t break anything.”

The other two are still in the kitchen, but you can hear Otis snoring from here so you know that at least he’s asleep- if Baby’s still awake then that’s okay. As long as she doesn’t kill anyone in here, you think the house will survive. Fox was dozing beside you while the movie played but was awake enough to commentate on it every now and then in an even slower, sleep-crowded voice, but now has his eyes open, watching you. “No kiss goodnight then baby?”

“Not in your dreams, Winslow.” You laugh, rolling your eyes at him as you step over his long-ass legs to get by. As you’re turning to get around the couch and towards the hall that leads to your bedroom again, though, he grabs your arm and with a sudden tug- you’re back on the couch stuck in the crevice between the arm, and him. “Fox!”

“Shh, people are fucken sleeping. Otis is sleeping, actually. And trust me when I tell ya you do not wanna wake him up. He’s a real dick in the morning.”

“Just the morning??” You ask, eyes wide and blank, making him cough out a laugh at you.

Meanwhile you try to get up and let this be a joke, but strong fingers curls around your waist and dig into your skin unwilling to let you escape. Groaning, you turn to him with a stern glare, reading let me the fuck go even as your faces are close enough to make out; A fact that does not escape your notice.

“Come on… haven’t I been well-behaved?”

“Sure, but you don’t get rewarded with sex just because you’ve been good- you get to stay here. That was the deal. Now let me go back to be- “

“Y/N… “Oh, fuck, your name in his voice and that slow, fucking drawl… So not fair.

“I was dreaming about Tom Cruise in that new Top Gun movie.” You blurt out bluntly in Fox’s face, ignoring the perturbed look, there. “I’d really like to get back to tha- “Suddenly Fox leans down, undeterred by your arguments as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You jaw drops. “Excuse me!- “

“Aghhh… “He sighs there, breathing in the smell of your body wash and shampoo. “I fucken missed this.”

“Winslow Foxworth Coltrane!- “ A big hand weaves up into your hair, rough fingertips massaging gently into the back of your scalp.

“Shhh, remember the long-haired fucker in the other room.”

Defiant as ever, you tense up on purpose and state: “I’ll call for him. This is assault.” Assault that admittedly feels really nice. Damn it.

Fox’s other arm goes around your waist and he just gathers you up against him, hugging you. Your eyes widen as your resolve slips away from you. “Missed you.”

“Ah- “Oh no. What was that? What did he say? “Fox- “You push at him, but to no avail. Plus, you weren’t really trying. You sigh, and give up. “You’re half-asleep Fox, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

His grip around you just gets a little tighter- not hurting, but… warm. All-Engulfing. “… sure… “He doesn’t sound invested, or even like he cares, but he’s holding onto you like you’re precious and important and it make you want to melt. You won’t, because for all you know he’s high, but you do allow yourself to relax in this dangerous man’s grip. “Come with us tomorrow, wontcha?”

Ha, you chuckle. “No, I won’t.”

“Damn… “Slowly he pulls back, and you see a grin on his, admittedly, handsome face. Even if it is dirty. “Gonna haveta kidnap ya, huh?”

You point a stern finger at him. “Try it, bucko.”

“I just might.”

“Euuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh,” Baby exclaims, suddenly, from behind the couch, and you both turn to find the most disgusted look on her face as she looks between you. “You two are sick! Damn- fuck or something; Get a room. Anything but this. I don’t wanna see that. Ugh.”

#Winslow Foxworth Coltrane x Reader Oneshot #Foxy Coltrane x Reader Oneshot #The Midnight Wolfman x Reader Oneshot #Winslow Foxworth Coltrane x Reader #Foxy Coltrane x Reader #The Midnight Wolfman x Reader #Winslow Foxworth Coltrane #Foxy Coltrane #The Midnight Man #Otis B Driftwood #Baby Firefly #Oneshot #Horror Villains #Horror Villains x Reader #Horror Villains x Reader Oneshot #Horror Villain #Horror Villain x Reader #Horror Villain x Reader Oneshot

[slashingdisneypasta]

Otis B Driftwood x Wife!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: *This is the same world as This oneshot (The one where you visit him in jail and find out how Foxy can break him out. There are details that are in that one that I changed for this one, though, like how exactly you and Otis got married). Anyway anyway- This is 3 times that Otis calls you. He’s truly in love with you, in one of them.

Now read through and guess which one it is.

Warnings: Otis, Baby, talk of dicks, death of canon character, gore mentions, etc.

the first time

“Hello??” Who could be calling you at this time of the night?? Why did you even pick up? You’re in no state to talk to people, its nearly bedtime! Giving a sigh, you plop down onto your bed, ankle under your butt and the other hanging just a few inches off the carpet.

“… “At first its only breathing that you hear. Heavy, gross breathing so close to the phone that you can’t help imagining the feeling of whoever’s breath directly in your ear. It’s truly an unpleasant sound, and gets your heart racing. You’re about to tell whoever-it-is that this is not funny and goodnight- when there’s a giggle.

A high, girly sound that surely does not come from the breather. You feel for sure, like the breather is a man. Besides, the giggle is muffled, and a little farther away, and it flutters over the top of the breathing- they happened at the same time. So they couldn’t be from the same person.

You’re stretching your lips downwards into a frown, deeply bothered by all this and wondering what the hell is happening- when the giggler speaks up. You can’t hear her fully, she’s too far away from the phone and too quiet, but whatever she says is lyrical… creepy. Like a fricken dolly. You manage to catch words like mama and wife but you only feel more concerned, and unnerved.

“… Hi??” You greet again, forcefully- forcing every bit of fortitude you have into your voice. You want to scare them off, make them hang up on you. After all the last thing you need is for idiot prank callers like this to think you’re an easy scare; That’s just asking for trouble. They’ll never stop fucking calling. “Didja need something???”

“Heheh… maybe, bitch. Watcha got??” The voice startles you, responding all of a sudden. And it’s certainly no kid or dumb teenager, either, which is concerning. Your heart skips a beat, thinking about how to respond.

“Uh- “

“’Uhh’- ‘uhh’- ‘uhh’,” He taunts you, letting out a nasty sounding cackle along with woman with him. “You know, you’re not great at phone calls lady.”

Your face is red, your body rigid as you’re embarrassed by the creepy phone call. “I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” You snap, fingers not holding the phone digging into the edge of your mattress.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know? All you gotta know, is I’m right outside.” … Everything slows down around you, it seems when you hear that. You carefully get up off the bed, as silently as possible, and look out the window. “And I have a gnarly fucken machete so don’t go and do anything stupid like call any pigs over- in fact, why don’t you stay on the phone, with me? Just while we find a way into your crappy little home.”

“… A-and, uh… “Still peering out the window for any sign of movement, though you’re thoroughly rattled by the strangers words, you take a deep breath and straighten your back a bit; For confidence. Because fuck, do you need it now. “… Why should I believe you? You could be a filthy liar. You’re probably sittin’ in some basement jacking off to this.”  

“Ha ha, well I aint really the lyin’ type, bitch. I’ll give you the nasty, ass-ugly truth! Like, ah, for example- “You can practically hear the big, fowl grin spread across the man’s face. “Those blue pyjama’s you got on- they’re not flattering.” As your heart sinks down to your feet like a cold, heavy stone and you touch at the bottom of your blue pyjama top in total horror, the man gives another off-putting chuckle. “… why dontcha take ‘em off? Gimmie a show, before we- what?!? No, Baby, let me the fuck go. I’m not gonna- not her, okay? Next-fucken-time, alright? Okay?? Now- “Suddenly he’s talking to whoever’s with him, and you’re terrified but you take the opportunity to leave the window - hoping that he’s looked away from it to snap at her, - and slip out of your bedroom. You manage to lock your back door while the too creeps bicker.

“You said that about the lasssst oneeee Otis! Just take this one! You know mama’ll be happy!”

“I don’t fucken care! I’m not getting’ married to this bitch!”

“Yes! You! Are, Broo!”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the boss of me. Go break into the fucken house already. Go.”

As you’re just reaching for the front door to make sure its already locked, the two stop their arguing on the other end of the line. It makes you feel cold, and worried. Straightening up and holding the phone to your ear with both hands, you take a look around you- hoping to god that they aren’t inside already.

Your heart’s pumping in your ears and suddenly the phone clicks in your ear- he hung up. As you continue to peer around your immediate person, just waiting for something to be out of place- for one of them to jump out at you- you dumbly forget to arm yourself. So when a gangly feral man with long, scraggly hair and a damp red flannel rushes at you and grabs you, you just scream.

You try to throw the phone hard in his face but he catches your wrist and yanks both arms behind your back; wrapping one hand around both your wrists. “Sto- “

“It’s too late for that, cutie-pie!~ “ A woman appears next- pretty as hell but with eyes so utterly crazy that they actually make you wanna shrivel back into the man. “But don’t worry!!~ You get to live, you lucky duck!… actually you get to be part of the family! How great’s that right??”

Then a grizzly-looking machete with dried blood on it and who-knows-what else, too, caresses the delicate skin of your throat- the man’s horrible, hot breath really in your ear, now. “… scream, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Trust me, I’m itching to use this thing on you- so don’t fucken test me.”

“… we’re gonna be sisters, babe!~ I never had me a sister, before~~ “ The girl wrenches your attention away again from the man, picking up a piece of your hair and twisting it around her finger. She flashes you the most childlike, bright-eyed smile you’ve ever seen on a grown woman and holds up her other hand in front of your face- the pointer finger and the index finger curled around eachother. “We’re gonna be like this.”

What… the fuck… is she talking about? Suddenly the man whirls you around to face him and you get to focus on all his… gross-ness, in full-focus. When he gives a grin doubly as fowl as you imagined he would have and rears in close enough for you to smell him utter horror at what’s happening, what the girl means, dawns on you. She called him her brother- she was saying their mama wanted him to find a wife- you and her are going to be sisters-

He grabs your face; long strong, grubby fingers tight on your jaw to hold your head still and close.

His terrifying eyes, devils’ eyes you think, leer at you from head to foot and it actually feels as if he’s taking his nasty, diseased tongue and running it all over you. Over your skin and your clothes- everywhere. “… yeah. I guess you’ll fucken do.”

the second time

Your phone rings while you’re going through all your books one night, deciding which to keep and which to send to away to the op shops and it’s a really terrible and heartbreaking process, so you pick up the phone- any excuse to put off deciding which books to get rid of is a good one.

Though… when you immediately recognise the voice on the other end of the line you do give thought to hanging up and getting on with it. Surely throwing out some books will be less painful than a conversation with the husband you just helped break out of prison. He can only be calling to give you grief, you think, considering all the things he could have to say. ‘He’s been caught and they’re coming for me’, or ‘He needs a place to hide out so he’s bringing his crazy siblings and himself to stay at my place’, or something equally as unacceptable.

Sighing though instead of hanging up, you pick up a few books you know you don’t want anymore and put them away neatly in the big cardboard box you swiped from work and wrote ‘Op Shop’ on. “… how’s freedom treating you, sweetheart?”

The word comes out sickly sweet off your tongue, and it makes him chuckle- the sound rough and asthmatic, now. It’s been a long time since you heard the ghastly thing for the first time, and he has not taken care of himself or his lungs since then.

Though… he did look good in prison. Or- better. Better! Better than usual, you mean. Which really isn’t saying much! … Considering he usually looks like a Templeton the Rat kinnie after several decades held in Azkaban prison, typically.

“Aww, pretty good honey, pretty good… thanks for that, by the way.”

Oh no- “Thanks for nothing. “You snap immediately, tucking away some more books into the box a little too roughly. “I didn’t do a damn thing. That was all Foxy. In fact- I have no idea what you mean, who you are, or that this conversation ever happened. Kapeesh?” A.K.A- Plausible deniability- kapeesh??

“Yeah, yeah, I got ya… listen,” Good, he gets it. But you dread to know what he wants to tell you, now.

“… Oh god, is it another woman?” A little smirk flickers at the corners of your lips. It’s so easy to tease him when he’s not within your general vicinity holding a knife, and you love it. It’s definitely dumb, and cowardly, but… you were forced to marry the lovechild of a sewer rat and a garden gnome- you’ll take what you can get. It’s like therapy. “If so… well, it’ll be hard, but… I guess I release you from our marriage. I’ll cry for weeks, but, your happiness is the most important thing to m-”

“I’m standin’ right outside your ugly fucken house, bitch.”

That wipes the smugness right off your cheeks and you look up and around, to the nearest window. “What?” … a trickling of evil cackling through the phone alerts you to the fact that he was lying, and your heart beats loudly in your chest as you calm back down. “… damnit… “

“Ahh… You are gullible! But no. I’m far, far away right now, which has gotta suck for you- we all know how much you like choking on my wrinkly old dick. Aanyway- “Eugh, the thought of Otis’ ‘wrinkly old dick’ in any context makes you stick your tongue out and shake your head - especially when you hear Foxy laugh and say ‘She does like that’ in the background, - as you get back to organising the books while you listen. “I’m just callin’ to let ya know I’m gonna be outta the country for a while. Gonna be in Mexico til the heat dies down.”

“Uh… “Surprised at this, you pause with a couple of books halfway to the bottom of the box. Why is he telling you this? He’s never told you anything before about what he’s doing or where he’s going to be. This… is uncharacteristically considerate. “Good thinking?... “Well, not for Mexico… but… what else can you say back to this?

“Yeah, I just thought my little wife should know where I am~ Just in case she misses me and needs a quick fix any time… my fat cock’s gonna be just a quick hop over the border, after all.”

“Uhuh,” Now you roll your eyes, setting the books down before straightening up on your knees with an obviously fake, drawn-out sigh full of despair. “… I think I’ll survive.”

You can hear the grin in his voice again. “If you say so.”

"Okay." He always has to have the last word, you think, rolling your eyes. “Bye, freak.”

The phone clicks, leaving you alone again. “Goodbye, Otis. It was nice talking to you.” You say to empty air, shaking your head and putting down the phone. What an asshole.

the last time- Otis POV

“Uhh- uh- fuck, that’s a lotta blood, man.”

“He’ll be fine! We’ve been through worse!”

“I don’t think so, Baby, he’s got a pipe through his fucken chest. I don’t think he’s makin’ it outta this one.”

“Shut the fuck up, he’s got to!”

“Can you both shut your goddamn faces and hand me my fucken phone?... “ Otis actually speaking, surprises both Foxy and Baby. They thought he was unconscious, what with his eyes being so heavily closed and his breathing so very shallow… Foxy takes off his hat, running a hand stressfully through his hair as Baby drops to her knees beside her bloody mess of a brother.

“You’re okay!”

“No, I’m not fucken okay.” His eyes are still closed, in fact his face barely moves except to grimace at the pain- but his voice is plenty emotive. “I’m a fucking shish kabob. I’m dying right now. So gimmie my dying wish damnit- find me my damn phone.”

A crestfallen look slips onto Baby’s face, and she doesn’t move, but Foxy gets to work quickly- searching through al the mess scattered all over the crappy motel room floor. It was messy before, but after those fucken robbers came in and shot up the place, leaving only the sharp tube they ripped off the wall in the bathroom stuck in Otis’ chest and the rubbish on the ground, the place looks more like a bomb went off than ever.  Otis manages to crack his eyes open, and finds the strength in him to roll his eyes at the sight of Baby just staring at him. “… yeah. Great. Take your time… not like I’m dying or anything… “Here, he coughs- and blood spurts out down in his chin and his beard and the front of his grotty yellow shirt. Some even sprays onto Baby’s face, but she does not move. She looks frozen solid. “Aghh… “

“Aha! Here it is. Otis- ” Foxy finally locates the crappy burner, a flip phone of all things in this day and age, after a few moments of frantic search, and hands it down to Otis who very weakly reaches up to take it.

“Oookay… what was Y/N’s fucken number again??... 107… 834… somethin’… “

“107~ 834~ 522~ “ Baby wakes up, slightly, turning her head a little to look at Otis in the face again as he looks at her- eyebrows raised, like, are you sure? She nods. “That’s her number.”

“Thanks.” Foxy’s eyes widen, turning to look down at Baby. Did Otis just thank you?? Fuck, he’s really dying. Slowly, struggling, Otis puts in the numbers and then sighs; Holding the phone to his ear and closing his eyes again. Just waiting. “… I swear, if this bitch doesn’t pick up her fucken phone right now… “

*Click* “Otis? I’m assuming this is you. What the hell do you want?”

“… hi, baby.”

“Hi. Now- what do you want?”

“Now, now… “Another cough. “Who says I want something?”

He can picture you rolling your eyes right then, leaning against your kitchen counter maybe, or on the couch with your TV remote in your free hand. He hears you sigh gently on the other end, and he grins. “Alright- what’s up then?... It’s been a while since your last call.” Yeah, where he asked you to send him some food and alcohol- a year and a half ago. He can see why you think he might be up to something. “Are you okay?”

“Yeahhh, I’m fine… Just wanted to hear your voice~”

He knew you would take it as a tease, but he had to say it. And the sound of your scoff slash laugh is a good one, so who cares if you believe him or not. “Ookay… “ He hears you take a deep breath, then, and he knows what’s coming. It’s definitely part of why he hasn’t called you in so long. Because he cant force you to be with him so far away and he cant go back into the US- and you’re smart, so you know that. “Look, Otis, I think this should be your last call to me.”

“Oh… you do, huh?” He’s just humouring you, his voice weak though you don’t seem to notice. He’s going to die in a couple of minutes, so why not? It doesn’t matter to him if you go on thinkin’ you’re a couple- or whatever you’ve been. He just don’t want you to know he’s dying. Or he’s dead. He doesn’t want any sentimental crap out of you. Not now. He thinks he’d die faster having to hear you pull a fucken I’ll miss you, out of your cute ass.

“Yes. I do. Our marriage, if you wanna call it that, was a mess from the start. Now it’s a phone call or an email every 6 months, and I- I wanna see someone.” That makes him wince. He wants to tell you to fuck off and die, but he wouldn’t mean it and to be fucking honest- he doesn’t want those to be his last words to you. “Someone nice.” Ugh… that gives him chest pain that has nothing to do with the pipe rammed in there.

“Heh… so, a fucken dimwit?... Someone with a tiny little needle pecker?”

You groan. “Otis!- “

“Fine. Go ahead. You’ve got my fucken blessing, or whatever.” Despite the curse, his voice is gentle- unresisting. You must be shocked because you don’t respond for a couple of minutes, and it makes him chuckle. “You still there Y/N?”

“… thank you.”

“No problem.” You have no idea. It really is no problem. After a few minutes, he aunt gonna be here. And its not like he’s gonna have to watch over you and see this shit, or anything. He’s made damn sure he’s going the other direction.

“So this is goodbye… “

“Yep.” … Okay. He’s starting to feel it. That fucken grim reaper is coming for him- right now.

“Okay… Goodbye, Otis.” Your voice is sweet, but he’s gotta go. “… I lov- “

“Bye.”

Then the phone slips out of his hand, covered in blood, and smashes on the ground.

#Otis B Driftwood x Reader Oneshot #Otis B Driftwood x Reader #Oneshot #Otis B Driftwood #Horror Villains #Slashers #Slashers x Reader #Horror Villains x Reader #Baby Firefly #Foxy Coltrane #Winslow Foxworth Coltrane