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alastorsfuckassbob · 3 months

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We'll Meet Again

Alastorxfem!reader

Part two to "you're never fully dressed without a smile"

Plot: You're down infamously bad for Alastor. You work for a shift for Valentino and somehow you end up at everyone's favorite hell based hotel! I swear to god you will make physical contact with deal Al by chapter 3.

A/N: OH GOD THIS IS A LONG ONE, and honestly for an Alastor fic really Valentino and Angel Dust focused- but like any good story there are more than two characters so we should develop them✨

As always, minors DNI-

Somehow we got spicer and a bit more angsty so read the warnings and think critically if its something you really want to read

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-Domestic Violence, Abusive Relationships

-Swearing

-Valentino (has to be its own warning)

-Smoking and Alcohol use

-Sexual Innuendo

"Y/n"

"Y/n, please let me hear you. Your voice lights a fire within me that I cannot ignore"

The static popped, heartfelt and genuine, the phrase echoing throughout the dimly lit room and deep into the pits of your soul. It reminded you of those late nights spent at the studio with him. Of the memories you had created with him, you spent the least time mulling over your time at the station. It was just too much to handle, you would sit for hours talking about whatever fancies fit the time, swaying to the complex chords and swing of the music. No matter what mood you walked in with, it vanished the moment your frame entered his arms. Your hand grazed the edge of your cheek in the mirror imagining how his hand traced the outline of your face as it so often used to do. The show had hundreds of listeners, you were speaking to the world so it would appear, but anything and everything you said or played was made strictly for each-other.

Here you were, lost in time once again. You had missed those little moments, far more than you anticipated. You had always been one to get lost following the tracks of memory. but this..this was different, your body felt as if it was buzzing. His honey lined transatlantic accent reverberated throughout your skull. Sickeningly sweet, holding desperation but still not depravity. It lacked the typical Sadism and savagery, a commonality in your hellish experience. The wicked pair usually found itself wrapped around your arm and caught against your throat. You had become accustomed to those feelings of desperation, but somehow his was different. He hadn't said much of anything and it felt like he had bottled every sweet nothing and loving whisper he had uttered in your direction throughout your life, and poured them into his tonality all at once. The static grew heavier.

"Y/-n y-y-N"

his voice became distorted and crackled. He kept speaking but the words were mangled and malformed. You couldn't quite make out what he was attempting to get across. You couldn't lose him not another time, even if you hadn't really "had him" again.

It was enough to send you into a fit of desperation.The incoherencies faded out, only deafening static remained .

"Alastor"

your wavering voice filled with alarm. You rushed to the radio nearly falling of the counter as you did so. You feverishly tuned the knob hoping for just another moment with him, even if it was just audibly. The electricity crackles, and dark grey smoke erupts from the small box and into your face. You cough rapidly upon contact. The fire sparks, promptly melting the exterior of the radio.

"shit fuck shit fuck shit"

You rasp between coughs. Something ablaze was not entirely out of the ordinary, yet you remained panicked. you thoughtlessly unplug the radio, scalding your hands in the process. Not knowing what else to do, you throw the newly aflame radio into the tub. It wheezes out another plume of smoke before sinking down into the water.

"well that isn't..ideal"

You decide its a tomorrow issue and head off to sleep. Still slightly shaken up, you throw on a silky nightgown and plop into your bed. You wouldn't find peace in your sleep, you never did. You closed your eyes unready to face your demons but too exhausted to care.

The next day comes to pass sooner than you'd care to admit. You don't feel well rested, but you can't find it in yourself to go back to sleep. Your thoughts are still so dreadfully plagued with Alastor. The way his lips felt on your own, the soft gentle curl of his hair. Everything aspect of him was so fundamentally perfect. Even his so called flaws. He may be an attention seeking idiot, but he was your attention seeking idiot. That was all that mattered. You'd be happy to do most anything to supply him his attention fix. You looked at the clock across from your bed, it was already noon. You had told Angel you'd be at the club around one. Unhappily, you rolled out of bed grabbing another outfit from your closet to change into. You applied some simple mascara, and tied up your hair. You could finish getting read with Angel Dust like you usually did.

You arrive at the club meet Angel, you liked to arrive a few hours before your call time just to talk with each other. You had vastly different schedules but you made it work. You walk through the lobby watching other scandalously dressed demons go about their daily life. You could have sworn you saw a flick of shadow watching you from behind the other inhabitants. You shook it off, you didn't sleep well, its possible you're just seeing things.

You arrive at your dressing room, and knock at the door. Its a calm and quiet environment. The eye before the storm working tonight will plunge you both into.

"the fuck do you want, can't a guy do his eyeliner in peace"

you roll your eyes before opening the door, he glances back at you.

"oh hey toots, didn't expect you so soon- you're not late"

"Fuck off angel"

you sit down in your chair and begin brushing out your hair. Val was very particular about the image you portrayed, even if your hair was already curly he'd want it to curl differently, If it was straight, he'd want it consistent coiffed to his liking.

If you didn't have hair he'd probably get you a wig of some kind. You glance down at the black porcelain mask on the counter. It was delicately painted with small golden roses. It was the only thing between you and an army of horny fans. Angel finishes his eyeliner with a small flick of a wing.

He stands up and takes the brush from you. He combs through the ends making sure there aren't any tangles left before grabbing the curling iron. To be quite honest, you both absolutely sucked at doing your own hair, so you did each others. It was nice, and he always made you look good. You had known angel for quite some time, you felt like you knew who he was but nothing about him.

He was always rather private about the details of his life before hell. You had gathered he was Italian by his sound, and that he had been involved with the mob from small anecdotes he sometimes shared.

It didn't really matter who he used to be, he was your friend and you loved him.

"I mean this in the nicest way possible y/n, but you look like shit" He grabbed a strand of your hair wrapping it around the wand.

"oh gee thanks" you deadpan

"long night?" he asks releasing your hair from the curling wand scrunching it slightly.

"something like that, how about you, you look shockingly well rested, and i doubt its just the concealer"

"I'm staying at a new place" he continues working his way around your head.

"Val let you leave?" a hint of shock permeated your voice

"he can't dictate where i stay when i'm off the clock babe" He grabs a smaller curling want and begins with some small face framing pieces.

"does he know?" you ask hesitantly. You didn't want to upset him.

"I don't think he's caught on yet, probably figures I'm just out getting drunk and high off my ass"

"to be fair you often are"

"you're no angel either y/n" He rolls his eyes, he picks up the larger wand again and re-curls a few more of the back pieces.

"where did you move off to?"

You were lucky to have your own apartment. Most souls under contract with Valentino stayed in the complex....Your situation wasn't much better but it was enough. To be completely honest, you only lived about a ten minute walk from here. It wasn't much of a distance, but it was far enough Valentino would rather call upon some other, closer, unlucky soul outside of work hours to do his bidding. It was good enough. It was shocking to hear Angel had managed to find someplace with his cocaine habit and how little Val payed us.

"Its that rickety hotel on the edge of the Pride ring, I know it doesn't sound like much but its free" You almost visibly buffered from shock. How did he manage that? Then it hits you, he's probably sleeping there for free because he's sleeping with someone.

"who'd you have to fuck to get a room there"

"y/n" he groaned, slightly annoyed by your antics.

"No angel I'm serious, its hell people don't just give things out for free" you mused at his reaction.

"I didn't have to fuck anyone, its run by the princess, shes trying to rehabilitate souls"

"is that even possible" your mind began to swim with possibility.

"i dunno, i don't really care. It gives me a space to just exist..as myself..away from all of this"

your hand finds his way into one of his.

"i understand what you mean" your voice comes out no more than a whisper.

He continues curling your hair silently for a bit. Angel had his issues but he was a good person. He just found himself in a bad situation. Unexpectedly, he broke the silence. You two had a lot in common, including your tendencies of avoidance.

"you should live there too y/n, its free, and theres a bar, the bartender isn't too bad looking either."

You smile at the thought, it would be nice to get away from it all. Thats all it could be though, a thought. You were already on such thin ice with Val.

"Angie dear it sounds nice, but we both know I'm already Val's least favorite sinner. I shouldn't aggravate him more" you say with a defeated huff. Angel wraps another tendril of your h/c hair around the wand

"You can't let his life be your only life. I'm not stupid doll, I know you've been spending a lot more time around here." He's visibly and audibly frustrated.

He stays quiet for a minute picking up another strand of your hair.

"you're more than what you can do for Valentino okay? you were a person before you're still a person after, don't let him take everything from you." his voice becomes quiet, almost unrecognizable. Its velvety in a way, he speaks almost as if he's telling you just as much as he's telling himself Its the realest you've ever seen him be.

He quickly shakes it off

"his ugly mug cant be the only thing you see, I swear to god every time I look at him I throw up a little" He releases your hair from the curling iron stepping back to admire his work.

"now don't you look riveting" A jokingly seductive tone takes hold of his voice.

Your mind sparks with an idea, why complain about Val when you can just straight up mock him?

You stand up, rushing to the clothing rack, sift through the items before finding a long cherry red robe. Naturally its angel's. Its far too long for you, the second set of arms gets a little confusing, but eventually you slide it on. You sit back seductively on the counter mocking good ol Valentino.

"angel dust! you slut! you're fucking 20 guys before lunch! " You cross your arms dramatically before standing up on the counter. You strut across, being careful not to step on any of his things, but still maintaining the destructive energy Val usually carries.

A wild smile courses through your features, you grab the magazine Angel had been reading before you came in and throw it back into his face.

"Heres the 40 page shockingly kinky script about some kidnapping scene in France you have an hour to memorize, ignore the syntax errors and improvise!" He looks up at you baffled. I mean, you were right-He starts laughing uncontrollably,

"y/n what the fuck" he sputters out

You laugh along with him. He reaches up placing his arms around your waist, putting you onto the ground with very minimal effort. For a second you feel a bit like a house cat hopeless dragged off the counter. Angel was shockingly strong, for such a lanky guy he certainly wasn't flimsy or weak

A smug look overtakes his features

"let me show you how its really done"

He takes the robe off of your body and dawns it himself. He whips out a pair of bedazzled pink sunnies. Tilting them down, he gives you a cheeky wink. Once the knot of the belt is tied he is fully into character

"My siren! Y/n."

"oh god" you roll your eyes as angel begins his display. He walks across the room dragging you with him before twirling you into his arms. You cant help but be a little dizzy at the sudden motion.

"y/n, baby! You have made much so much money with that truly bodacious rack" He swings his arm around your waist. You both stifle a laugh as he drags his second set of hands across the shape of your body in the air in front of you.

"Angel I don't think Valentino would ever utter the phrase "bodacious rack", at least not in this existence" You form your fingers into little air quotes playfully rolling your eyes at him

"shh toots i am working on a real character here"

"Angel" you sigh

"shh" he hushes you again placing his finger against your lips.

Your collective antics go on for a little over two hours, stopping only briefly for you to style his fleecy hair. He looks at the clock before letting out an aggravated sigh. He pulls his body up from his chair.

"I gotta go doll, Val has me shootin yet another new movie before we shoot the scheduled "film", perks of being Hell's best actor" He grumbles grabbing his robe off of the floor leaving you alone in your shared dressing room.

You continued getting ready, expertly styling your newly curled hair and applying a thick coat of deep red lipstick. It wasn't too long after the door swung open. The suffocating smell of lust filling your lungs.

"My dear sweet y/n! how about we lose the mask for tonight?" Valentino burst into the room as if he owned the place. To be fair, he did. You still found it a bit off putting he didn't knock. Despite your profession, you valued privacy.

"Val-" You began, he cut you off.

"I don't believe I was asking." a smirk decorated his sly features.

"Respectfully, sir. It's not within my contract to appear as I truly am."

This shit again. Val was always on your ass about this. He always wanted more. Usually after a few minutes of arguing, he'd give up. There was nothing else he could do, so you don't think much of it. You pull out a cigarette, flicking the lighter, the small white stick begins to blaze.

You blow a cloud of hot red smoke in his direction. He rolls his eyes gritting his teeth in frustration. He takes a deep breath, sordid displays of force didn't work the best on you. You'd be frightened, but your stance would rarely change. Not unless he got physically violent, and quite honestly he was not in the mood today. You were not the most important thing to deal with. Its not that he didn't want to hurt you, he didn't want to waste his time. He tries a lighter, more manipulative approach.

"Think of how much success your beautiful little face would bring us. Sinners and Hell born alike already get off to your body, its just revealing a little bit more"

"No, I won't do it" your voice is small but resolute. He didn't have the patience for this. As soon as the word "no" left your lips Val had begun to lose it. "Wasting time" became a lot less important. Members of the Ars Goetia family would be present in tonight's audience. You had to look your best, so he could look his best.

"You are going to out there without that fucking mask and give all of hell a good show. You won't like what happens if you don't listen." He growled through gritted teeth

"Its breaking the contract. Val" You take another lazy puff from your cigarette. He ripped the cigarette from your hand, throwing it on the ground. He was done with your shit.

"I own you. Did you forget that, I own your body and your voice. you speak only when i want you to. You fuck who I choose. The only thing you technically have a right to is your name, isn't that right my little siren?"

His voice is sleazy to say the least, the tone makes you shudder. You couldn't help but think,

...was he right? you had asked to be anonymous, you never thought to specify how. He continued before you had a real chance to observe your thoughts. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, snakelike and seductive. He was getting tired of this, tired of you.

"the mask is getting old, hell will get tired of you if you don't give them more. you won't like what happens if they deem you all washed up.."

You attempt to move away, His grasp on your arm grows tighter. You flinch slightly from the pain, but not enough for him to notice. He wants to elicit a reaction in you, perhaps if you stay calm he'll give up.

"I have some very specific clientele coming to tonights show I need you to wow them"

You could hardly believe the audacity. Sure, Valentino was always kind of a prick but this complete and total discount of your previously agreed terms was relatively new. He had suggested removing the mask before and brought it up countless times, but this level of disregard was new. Screw being calm you weren't about to be this fundamentally disrespected.

"No I won't do tha- " his hand waves cutting you off. your voice caught in your throat the sigil on your hand marking his ownership glowing a dull faded pink.

"I can do whatever I please. I've let you forget that, I've been going too easy on you. Rereading our little contract brought me the enlightenment I needed. Those who bite don't get to speak" he pauses moving away from you taking in your figure.

"it looks like you'll just be dancing tonight, and what a wonderful performance that is going to be."

The click of his shoes taps against the stark white tile as he walks towards the clothing rack in the edge of the room. He hums, picking out a dark red burlesque outfit. He exchanges it for the mask from the table and breaks it in his hand.

"I think a more revealing number will compensate more than enough for your silence..don't you?"

Your last defense had been shattered. The last ounce of your personage robbed for the sake of pleasing some sleazy unsavory high end customer. You tried to speak but the words stayed nestled inside of you. You wanted to scream or talk honestly you'd take a whisper at this point, still, nothing. The anger in your heart welled its way up into your throat and without an outlet, your frustration took root in your tears."Great" you thought, "just what i needed to look respectable, yet another crying fit."

He grabs you by your shoulders, it had never registered how small you were in comparison. You knew he was tall, but in ten years, you'd never noticed how much taller he was. Usually the moth hunched over in some way to communicate better as his eyesight is less than superior...Yet here he stood a good three or four feet taller than you, anger almost visibly steaming off of his purple fur. two of his hands grasped firmly on your newly bruised shoulder, the other on your neck, and the last raised and ready to strike you. Closing your eyes you accept your fate. the contact comes and as soon as it does you are sprawled on the floor. Unable to move, unable to run. You had never been strong enough to fight. After all you were still the same person you were in 1936 and long after that. Your nose gushes blood, splattering droplets onto the tile as he abruptly jerks you up from the floor.

"maldita cabrona! quién se cree que es?"

he tuts clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It sounds oddly like the loading of a gun. Every aspect of his body was drenched this newly violent attitude. His moth like horns lined with anticipation, twitching with every rigid breath.

Valentino had gotten rough with you before but not like this. This time, it felt more real. He leans in closer, his face directly in front of your own. From another angle perhaps the pose looked sweet,loving even. The thought made you sick.His arm rested against your shoulder, just forceful enough to cause you pain but not so harsh to send you tumbling to the ground again. The sharp talons tipping his long fingers traced the edge of your face, deep red blood madly racing after it. He would have killed you then in there if you weren't such a "valuable asset".

"Next time you'll learn to listen, I've killed fuckers for less than this shit you're giving me. If I don't have the patience with angeldust I certainly won't have it with you, even if you're named hell's favourite pequeña pecadora." He pauses glaring deep into your eyes

"I made you y/n, i can take that away and kill you myself whenever i please. try not to forget that again"

His inflection is wickedly sweet, but not sugary enough to hide his true malice.

He grunts in frustration, throwing you against the dressing room table, the back of your head shatters the mirror. An all too familiar feeling. He laughs viewing the position he's put you in, it is a dry, heartless, and dirty sound. The silence after is chilling. You close your eyes bracing for another impact that just doesn't come. He must have gotten bored with you, he usually did after a while. The door finally slams, the lights of the dressing room flicker and then click off. You slide down onto the floor, all you are left with is the small pool of blood and regret.

The performance that night felt like an eternity. Your skin practically peeling off as lustful eyes burned holes through your skin. You had drank a few more than too many cocktails. It wasn't nice to refuse a gift, and it kept you a little less than fully conscious. stumbling through the hallway you arrived once again at your dressing room. you sat down hopelessly viewing the dark purple bruises formed from your previous alteration through the shattered remnants of your mirror. So much for not "damaging the merchandise" as Val would so often say.A soft knock rattles you from your thoughts. the door creaks open and Angel Dust slides in. You silently look at each other's exhausted frame and scratched faces. Angel was the closest thing you had ever had to a friend, and just about the only person who could ever understand what you're going through. After all, your experience was modeled after his.

"Whats wrong y/n? cat got your tongue?"

Despite his exhaustion he kept up his usual performance. You didn't respond, you couldn't. The tears so expertly rimmed in your eyes threaten to fall. His expression falters and he walks up to you hugging you tightly. You didn't need to say or do anything to explain. He knew exactly what you were going through. For just a moment you relax into his arms.

A minute or so passes and you break the contact. You figure a little context wouldn't hurt. You motion to the glowing sigil on your wrist and then to your throat, hoping he understood the signal.

"You can't speak can ya doll?" He asked softly his hand ruffling your hair. You shook your head no.

"God i hate that fucking prick, he can't just play fair. Maybe if he did that sorry fuck wouldn't be making shitty porn and running washed out clubs for a living". He angrily paces around the room. As he speaks you grab an eyeliner pen and the back of some flier someone left taped to your door. It seemed like the easiest way to communicate. You messily scrawl the words

"Can I stay with you I promise its just for one night"

He takes the page from you a smile taking root.

"damn toots what happened to not mixing personal and professional life?" he joked. You sat there motionless, tears threatening to spill. He takes the hint and grabs a coat off of the rack wrapping it around your shoulders.

"I thought you'd never ask-I've been dying to hang out outside this shit hole. Let's head out, Its gonna rain soon and these boots are too hot to be messing with that acid bullshit"

He posed albeit dramatically earning a smile from you. He tilts his head towards the door and the two of you leave the messy dressing room behind. It was one of the few things you didn't have to worry about. After all, Valentino values appearances, any mess you had made would be gone in the morning. In one way or another, you could fuck up any way and make any mess, and Val would have it cleaned up. The only messes he wouldn't fix were the ones he made himself. The cuts on your body always lasted longer than your reflection in a broken mirror. Unlike you the mirror could be fixed.

Not long after you arrive at this so called "Hazbin Hotel"..you didn't have much to say other than it...seemed fitting. You walk up a few flights of carpeted stairs. His hand calmly connected to yours. He continues down the long winding hallway before reaching a large wooden door at the end. He unlocks the room, and it is exactly what you'd imagine it to be. An embodiment of everything "angel dust".

A few hours and a pack of cigarettes later, the rain starts. The acid falls from the sky burning sinners and generally..most everything in its path. The sizzle on the sidewalk almost sounds like the crackle of a record player. Leaning further back into his bed, you pull out yet another cigarette. Your hand waves, gesturing towards the box and Angel takes the last of the pack. He lights the end of yours first and then clicks the lighter again in an attempt to get his own fix. However the lighter had other plans, it pops and ticks before sputtering out completely. He strikes it a few more times to no avail

"Shit what does a guy gotta do to get a decent lighter in this shit hole"

His arms raised above his head in some odd exaggerated performance of anger. Despite the lack of necessity, you found the fake drama to be amusing. It reminded you of Alastor in some strange way. It was different than the usual drama you found yourself viewing. Hell is full of overdramatic assholes, at least Angel isn't.. cruel. You take the first hit of your newly lit cigarette. The pink smoke fizzling into your lungs, giving you a sense of calm you cant really find anywhere else.

"What you aren't gonna share?" he deadpans before he presses the edge of his previously unlit cigarette to yours.

You look at him as if to say "Angel you dumb bitch that never actually works you're just going to put mine out and then we'll both be miserable"

He rolls his eyes with his signature smug look. He presses his cigarette a bit closer to your own. Shockingly it lit up in a hot pink flame.

"Working with Val sucks but at least you learn a few useful things",

He deeply inhaled from his own newly lit cigarette, puffing the strawberry coloured smoke into your very clearly unamused face. Still. you couldn't help but laugh.. or you tried to anyway, not that it would have worked. You took another long delightful drag and sent the smoke his way. A fit of giggles ensued, at least on his part. You were just happy it worked and he didn't end up pissed off.

The action made you wonder, what if you weren't just meant to hurt others. perhaps you could light them up instead of burning them down. You sat there for about another hour, listening to Angel's sleep deprived rambles. It wasn't too much long after that your own exhaustion finally carried you safely into a well deserved slumber. It was peaceful, the most restful night you'd had since your fall into this desolate shit pit known as hell..For once you didn't "dream." You weren't haunted with his face. His shadow didn't suffocate you. The ghost of your past stayed simply that, a ghost.

The night passes swiftly. Almost as quickly as the stars had appeared they retreated deep into the hazy maroon sky and bright carmine clouds. The rain had stopped, somehow the damages caused weren't entirely discernible from the average look of things. It was then you heard radio static again.

Familiar and soothing, his gravelled voice broadcast to the denizens of hell.

"Good morning to all of you lovely listeners ! Today's broadcast is brought to you by hell's favourite sinner, what isn't to love about that little starlet. Tune on in dearest, I've been hearing so much about you."

the music started softly carried by the wind and into your ears. You felt intoxicated.

We'll meet again

Dont know where, dont know when

but I know we'll meet again some sunny day

Keep smiling through, just like you always do

til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away

It was irrevocably, unmistakably unquestionably him.

Alastor, your Alastor.. was in hell. Not to mention an overlord (shocker there). Despite that fact, you were evidently on his mind. He was speaking to you and only you. There was nothing you could do to respond.

So you listened, to his voice, the instrumentation, the melody, everything. Maybe it would somehow bring you closer to him...

Unbeknownst to the both of you, you were no more than a few rooms apart, enjoying your stay at the Hazbin Hotel.

a/n: I SWEAR I PROMISE YOU, ANGEL, AND ALASTOR ARE GONNA WRECK THAT LITTLE FUCKERS SHIT, dw

#alastor #hazbin hotel #ao3 #valentino #angel dust #valentino being a nasty fucker #im so sorry to all of the val fans i think hes rancid so the writing reflects that #alastor x reader

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1

Silently, they swap seats. It feels ridiculous, how perfectly the whole exchange goes, how no-one else stirs, how the RV glides smoothly with Eddie's hands on the wheel.

“What about, uh, the walkman?” he asks, tries to sound matter-of-fact. Time for a new plan, time to think.

“No,” Steve says. There's a finality to his tone. “Max should keep it.”

Eddie exhales. “Okay, okay. There's—here, there's a radio.” He doesn't mention the fact that he's closer; knows that his hand would shake if he tried to reach for it. “Be great if you'd develop an emotional attachment to, like, all of the Top 40 right now, Harrington.”

There's a soft sound that might almost be a laugh. Eddie listens to Steve quietly moving around then returning to his seat, hears the static of the radio being turned on—volume low, as if Steve doesn't want to wake anyone up. The thoughtfulness, even now, makes something in Eddie's chest hurt.

But there's nothing, not even a whisper of a song, and then even the static stops. Steve has turned the radio off.

One second.

“No signal,” Steve says, and even though he's not looking at him, Eddie knows he's shrugging again, like it is what it is.

The panic Eddie had briefly kept at bay while trying to strategize comes flooding back. “Jesus Christ, this—this can't be happening.” There's another long pause, and Eddie inhales shakily, remembers how he hadn't noticed when Chrissy fell silent. “Hey, man, you've gotta—keep talking to me, okay, or I'm gonna lose it.” Let me know you're still here. Please.

“Sorry,” Steve says. “Talking. Um.”

“Um,” Eddie parrots. “Wow. Didn't finishing school teach you conversation skills?”

Steve laughs again—hushed but real. “Fuck off.” He sighs, then says, “God, this might be a weird thing to say—”

“Colour me intrigued.”

“—but I'm so relieved, dude, you have no idea.”

“You're right. That's an extremely fucking weird thing to say.”

“I didn't want it to be Max,” Steve says, so heartfelt that Eddie tightens his grip on the wheel. “Didn't want it to be... anyone, you know? It's—yeah, it's better like this.”

“‘Better’ is a strong word for it.”

“Mm. Like, come on, what's the worst he could have in store for me? The summer our AC broke, that was pretty rough—”

“Don't,” Eddie says sharply, and all at once the joking tone they'd built up evaporates. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don't...” Eddie swallows. Recalls when he'd cut through the gym to get to Drama Club, how he'd glance over at Cheer Practice and think, They've all got it made, haven't they? Shiny fucking picture-perfect lives. “Don't bullshit me, all right?”

“...Okay.”

Eddie scoffs weakly, tries to regain the banter they were sharing. “Hey, if you can't be honest now, when can you?”

“Sure, that's—that's fair.” Steve shifts in his seat. “I was talking to Max, about the... when it happened to her. And she said she thought of happy memories, so. Got an idea of what to expect, at least.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, the mild tone only barely covering his anxiety. “Know what you're thinking about, then?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. He's smiling; Eddie can hear it. “Got a few things in mind.”

“Good, that's... that's good.”

The road is getting more familiar: it won't be long until they're nearing the Welcome to Hawkins sign.

“Kinda impressed with you, Munson. Was expecting you to drive like a bat out of hell.”

“Ha, ha. Special occasion, and all—”

A pained gasp cuts through the air, and Eddie's stomach lurches. “Shit, shit, Steve—”

“I'm fine,” Steve says quickly, “I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.”

“Tell me the fucking truth. Please.”

“It's just my head. Hurts a bit. Not a big deal, I've had worse.”

From the clipped way Steve is speaking, Eddie knows it's more painful than he's letting on.

He slows and brakes at a stop light before taking the chance to, finally, look over.

Steve is staring straight ahead, eyes in focus, and Eddie suppresses a sigh of relief at the sight. But then he sees how Steve's jaw is clenched.

“How's the clock?” he says cautiously. Prays for a miracle.

“Still there. It's closer. And, um...” Steve's mouth opens, closes, opens again. “I'm guessing the black widows on the dashboard aren’t actually...?”

God, he says it so easily. Eddie can't comprehend the bravery of it. “No, there’s nothing there,” he says.

“S'okay,” Steve says, “I'll just look at you.”

“I've been told I'm a sight for sore eyes,” Eddie says dryly.

“Oh, I’d believe that,” Steve returns, somehow both matching Eddie’s tone and sounding completely sincere. He turns to Eddie and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“This bit really isn’t so bad, Eddie,” Steve says gently. “Just some spooky pictures, really. That’s kids’ stuff. And you’re—you’re good company.” The light changes. Eddie looks away with reluctance, starts up the engine again. “I try my best,” he says lightly, and wonders how someone can be so close to… to… (he can’t say it; he won’t say it). So close to that, and still smile about it.

You’re incredible, Steve Harrington.

“Home sweet home,” Eddie murmurs as they pass the Welcome sign. “Hey, we made pretty good time, too.”

“I didn’t mean to be late,” Steve says nonsensically.

“What the—?”

“I didn’t, Dad, I didn’t. I’m not lying.”

There’s ice in Eddie’s veins. “No, no, no, stop—stay with me Steve,” he says, which is so fucking stupid, what, did he think he could solve this through sheer force of will? No matter how many times he begged, Chrissy never woke up.

But then Steve gasps, and it sounds like he did at Lover’s Lake, just before he got dragged back under. “Sorry, sorry. I’m still here.”

“Jesus. We’re—we’re here.” “We’re…? Right, yeah.” A deep breath. “Okay. New plan. My place first,” Steve says firmly. “We'll drop the kids off.” There's an unshakable resolve in his voice.

Eddie takes the next turning, doesn’t even enjoy the double take that Steve does at that, the fact that Eddie already knows his address. When he glances over, he sees beads of sweat on Steve’s face. Eddie speeds up.

Please, please. Just hold on.

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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lesbiandonnanoble · 6 months

Text

ranking torchwood members by how nightmarish the blunt rotation would be. number 6 ultimate least worst is gwen but only because i love drama so much and don’t mind comforting people if they cry. any smoke sesh w gwen you’d walk away knowing the funniest most insane interpersonal drama on the planet. three hits in her eyes would already be getting red and she would lean over and say “SWEAR to me you won’t repeat this to anyone, but” gwen babygirl i am all ears. i would roll for you and just sit and watch you smoke it. at #5 honorary mention for suzie. she would find the perfect music for the vibe. she would roll an immaculate joint. the conversation would be heartfelt, pleasant. real.. by the time i realize i’m slowly dying and she’s gaining strength i wouldn’t even care tbh. ideal joint-sharing experience. #4 would be owen because i know that as long as i laughed at his jokes he would smoke me up indefinitely. his delusion that he’s cool and badass would get more embarrassing and apparent when high like mac it’s always sunny levels . and you might have to suffer some hero complex stories but i just know his very cool-looking bong has crystal clear water the second he knows anyone’s coming over. #3 is easily ianto. high chances of bringing a really uncomfortable weird energy to any smoke sesh. i once met a guy who said he’d been practicing rolling joints since he was a kid with paper and pencil shavings and then rolled the joint that fucked me the hardest i’ve ever experienced and that’s what smoking ianto’s shit would be like. except he’s just sitting there looking at you with wet dog eyes the whole time. his vibe would be still weirdly too professional, like the business major who tries to network at house parties. toshiko my lady.. second worst person to smoke with in torchwood not for any awful reason. her jokes would be the funniest out of all of them. her laugh would be enchanting. but you can tell she’s so nervous and trying too hard and the vibe gets more and more awkward and you desperately want to tell her it’s fine but you worry calling attention to it might make her feel worse and you stare at her and she stares at you, takes a beautiful bong rip, and says something so self deprecating you have to look away. the #1 most nightmarish person to share a joint with in torchwood is obviously jack. he pulls out a bag of purple shit, a strain he informs you is called ‘megacock OG’, and loads it into his 23rd century fucking instant vaporizer and promises it’s “got a hell of a kick” and you blink and it’s 20 minutes later and you’re flinching nearly shitting yourself every time his stupid fucking dinosaur swoops overhead ,sweating buckets, and he’s grinning slapping the table laughing opposite you while his genuinely cringeworthy sex stories, seemingly endless, ring in your ears like churchbells.

#my personal prognosis after rewatching one season of torchwood #torchwood #doctor who #jack harkness #toshiko sato #ianto jones #owen harper #gwen cooper #my stuff

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asliceofzosan · 6 months

Text

because i woke up today still thinking of zosan's baby girl, here are some stuff about it that are now my roman empire:

none. i repeat NONE OF THESE STRAW HATS know how to hold a baby. sanji figured it out due to dormant maternal instincts alone. and more than half the time he has to yell at everyone to not hold her up by the calf or the ankles ("i'm looking at you luffy please for the love of the all blue do NOT gum gum whip her around like a toy—")

unlike both her dads, ayari is actually being extremely picky with food in the beginning. she hates certain textures and cries like its the end of the world when her baby food isn't heated to the right temperature. funnily enough, one of the few times she ate something she didn't want is if chopper is next to her eating the same thing and telling her its yummy. dw none of the baby food goes to waste. they're all re-used somehow in the week's menu. or zoro just ends up eating it.

ussop made a lil wrap around cloth for ayari so that sanji could cook while carrying her hands free. or zoro could have her strapped onto his back and nap while he does pushups.

robin could be seen reading books to ayari when both zoro and sanji are out cold and exhausted from being first time parents. one or both of them would wake up to find robin telling little ayari histories of the islands they visit, or the countries they've saved. she tones down some of the darker elements until she's old enough to grasp it. ayari grows up with auntie robin's love of wanting to know the world.

nami started doing her makeup with ayari on her lap. she shows all the different little products to her, letting her touch her brushes and everything. nami even "does ayari's makeup" too aka she just tickles her face with the brushes and pretends to put makeup on her so she feels like she's doing it too. when she's a little older, ayari asks sanji to join them and more often than not, sanji is making lunch with a full face of makeup done by ayari.

ayari's teething toy is a little plastic mouth sword. zoro is infinitely happy about it.

in the beginning, sanji tried to take up most of the parental responsibilities up until the point that he got too sick to even stand. he was stressed and exhausted beyond belief, actually pushing zoro away a lot. but when he collapses one day sporting a fever that was highly too reminiscent of when nami was sick after little garden, it scares him enough to finally seek zoro out for help.

and its not like zoro has not Tried to take the load off. its just that sanji was still fighting all his repressed feelings for zoro and this undue pressure hes put on himself to become a better parent than judge ever was to him. that he could raise this child with love and attention and devotion, completely forgetting that hes not the only parent.

zoro and sanji have a heartfelt talk about how the wish that was granted on that island was a blessing beyond belief. that theres a reason ayari looks like both of them. that she takes after both of them.

they both wished for this child in the deepest depths of their hearts. they wanted not just to be together but to have someone that grows up loved by them. cared for by them. not a restart or a replacement for a lost loved one like they first thought it was. but a child who sees them — zoro and sanji — and will one day wish to have a love like theirs.

oh also "luffy" is ayari's first word because zoro and sanji say it so often to stop their captain from doing dangerous shit while he's holding her. in line with that, her second word is "stop" so the first sentence she ever says is "luffy stop!"

the crew are hysterical over it. sanji stares into the void bc he wished for ayari's first word to be "dada"

he settles with the little joy of her fourth word being "marimo"

because her third word was "curly" (something he nearly strangled zoro for)

#niki's fics: she has your eyes #zosan #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #oc: roronoa ayari #ussop #nami #nico robin #monkey d luffy

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beowlet · 7 months

Note

Hello I SAW THE OPEN REQUESTS AND I SCROLLED UP SO FAST!! I love your work sm, you really captured the essence of the characters + talking abt the love languages was a fun bonus too. Is it fine if I request the Housewardens (or some of them) with a reader who loves to send them letters?💌 But their handwriting is very unintelligible due to it being a chicken scratch/the most extra cursive you could ever see. Either way works, thank you!! ❤️

[Omg i love this]

HOUSEWARDENS WITH A S/O WHO LOVES TO SEND THEM LETTERS, BUT THEIR HANDWRITING IS HARD TO READ.

Headcanons

Cw: Uses of you instead of pronouns, fluff, GN!Reader, NOT proofread. Again.

R. Rosehearts

I feel like Riddle's hand writing is cursive too and wouldn't have too much trouble reading it even if it was a little extra so we'll go with chicken scratch handwriting for him.

He loves that you write letters for him, he really does. He always tries to send one of his own too! But he would love it more if he could actually understand what you were saying.

He can only make out two words, his name and "love". He always writes back in hopes of having understood the letter correctly. Because if he read something wrong and you pointed it out he will die of embarrassment.

HES TRYING

LEAVE HIM ALONE OKAY

He will slowly get used to it and become a [name] translator. He would be so proud too, he finally understands your handwriting and can ACTUALLY read your heartfelt letters.

He blushes and giggles like a highschool girl all the time.

Anytime anyone has trouble reading your hand writing they will go to him. Mostly Ace and Deuce after they ask for your notes.

Wishes your handwriting was a little bit more readable, but he's happy he got the hand of it now.

L. Kingscholar

Definetly knows how to read cursive but will pull a "wtf" face at all the extra shit you put because what is this. Is this even english anymore?? He can't tell if thats an "R" "M" or "N"?? What the fuck did you write?-

Look, he appericiates the letters. But try not to make him think hes having a stroke while reading it. Please. What is this? Why? Is there anyone in the world that can read curaive like this???

Will out right just text you.

Will feel bad after he finds out it was just a letter where you were talking about how much you loved him, expect him to buy you a buqoet of your favorite flowers soon.

He feels bad.

Will soon probably understand some of your letters and thank you in text form.

You thought he would write back? Oh honey no. This man is too lazy to get up on his ass and sit down on his desk to write. He might make Ruggie do it for him tho.

However if you were mad at him thats a different story. He might write a letter... along with a few more gifts... maybe...

Anything for you to forgive him.

A. Ashengrotto

Ik this man has so fucking extra cursive writing like how and why. Why do you need that many loops for one letter IT DOESNT LOOK PRETTY IT LOOKS CURSED AZUL.

I'm kidding it def looks pretty... so for Azul we're going with chicken scratch!

He would be so confused if he saw a letter just hanging around in his office, and it's a letter that he cant even read. He'll just be confused standing in his office trying to read it. Not even realising that you signed it, he was still trying to read the first word.

After a while he just gave up and called for Floyd, knowing his handwriting wasn't any better and assumed he could read it.

"Dear, Azul. I know I don't have to write a letter because I can literally just text you but I thought it would be fun to write a letter where I explained how much I lo-" "NO OKAY GIVE ME THAT BACK-"

Floyd is telling Jade so they can both bully Azul for being so stupid and not being able to read his own lover's hand writing.

He wants to know what it says so he can write back a letter... but he doesn't know anyone that would be able to read it without teasing him.

Spends a night trying to read it and writes back a letter.

Is about to sob when you send him another one, HE LOVES YOU BUT HE CAN'T READ YOUR LETTERS SPARE HIM PLEASE.

K. Al-asim

He would love the idea of sending eachother letters! He thinks its romantic and even if it's a little silly you write to eachother even though you could visit eachother any time of the day he doesn't care. It's cute. Very.

I don't think he can read cursive... he knows he has to learn but he's struggling. A lot.

I also don't think Kalim has very neat or very chaotic handwriting that nobody can read it but I think it can definetly get a little messy in his notebooks sometimes. So, cursive with extra stuff for Kalim!

He would explode with happines when he finds a love letter sitting on his desk with your name on it. He's over the moon.

As soon as he sees it he runs over, picks it up and opens it to read it. Only to be met with a page full of loops. A lot of them... an awful lot that Kalim thought you just scribbled the page for a momment.

First he's determined to read what you've wrote without asking for any help from Jamil!

Yeah that lasts like 15 minutes he goes to Jamil a little quicker than he would like to.

He tried! That's what matters... right?

Jamil spends about 15 minutes trying to read the first few sentences before FINALLY understanding the letters and reading it to Kalim. Kalim just sits there with a love-struck stupidly cute smile as he listens to Jamil readint the letter.

Is definetly writing back a reponse and making this a thing between you two.

Jamil has to suffer through your sappy letters as Kalim makes him read all of them.

Help my boy he isn't exactly happy.

V. Schoenheit

He can read really any handwriting perfectly no matter how extra or "awful" it is. But if it's just a page filled with random lines and so called letters mixed together I'm very sure he'll pull a "wtf" face :D Chicken scratch for Vil!!

He appericiates the thought! He really does! He's increidbly happy to recieve a letter from you! But why. Why does your handwriting have to be this way? Why like just why?

Do you need help? He can definetly give you writing lessons on how to improve your handwriting. He can pay for it if you think it would be embarrassing to do it with him, he can find online course-

He would think all of this but never mention any of it. He doesn't wanna break your heart.

But I think he'd def have a lot of fun trying to read your handwriting when he's bored. He would sit down and try to figure out what was written like it was some sort of puzzle and would just smile happily everytime he got a full sentence.

He would give you a kiss for every love letter he recieves <33

Would he write back? Not all the time but would write once in a while about how deep his feelings are for you.

M. Draconia

Homeboy here has been alive for a bit over a hundred years I think he's capable of reading many different types of handwriting. But imagine his shock when he finds a one he actually can't read.

Malleus is a little old compared to humans we all know that, this man has seen lots of different types of handwriting but he's definetly used to different types of and extra cursive handwritings. So we'll go for chicken scratch for him!

I feel like he'd be the first one to ever send a letter in your relationship honestly! When he recieves back a letter our fae boy is smiling happily as he excitedly opens the letter only to pause and... try to read whatever language that is.

Will go to Lilia. Like, immediately. He is definetly going to make fun of you after that. No way Lilia is letting something like that slide especially when Malleus came to him all confused.

Nobody can tell me Lilia isn't used to terrible handwritings and can just zoom through what seems like gibberish.

Malleus will listen as Lilia reads the letter for him and he can just feel himself falling deeper and deeper for you.

He wants to see you afterwards immediatelly. He is now clingy, wants hugs, kisses and every kind of physical affection you can give him.

So what if he teleported to your dorm and is currently towering over your bed? Give him the love he deserves!

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princessedesfleursss · 22 days

Text

CL16E1

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!girlfriend!reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: sex, making out, mentions of cheating, sad/ happy ending (upto your interpretation)

This was the end.

The last race that you’d ever be cheering for him and being on the sidelines for him. You’d no longer come to these race tracks to stand inside the Ferrari garage, wear the headset, catch a glimpse of yourself in the TV or even find yourself running over to hug him at the end of every race.

For the very last time you watched Charles race along the tracks as you prayed that he won. Austrian GP was looking positive for him and it was towards the very last laps that had you clasping your hands together until your knuckles turned white for him to win the race. Your relationship was out of the question. No one was aware that this was the last time you’d be in this garage. Earlier that morning Charles and you had come to a decision. A decision that will leave you wrecked for the hours to come but one that you had tucked deep down your heart- somewhere no one would see it.

At least until after the race.

So when Charles secured P1 and enjoyed his victory up on the podium in front of the entire world to see you hadn’t expected him to come down and pull you in for a heartfelt kiss. You neither resisted nor gave in, just standing there in surprise.

“Mon amour forgive me,” he begged, his eyes boring into yours with silent pleas.

You looked back for a second, and to the cameras that flashed around you. Leaning in to leave a kiss on his cheek you whispered with a smile, “Let’s talk about this later.”

Charles didn’t fight back instead he nodded, placed a haste kiss on your forehead and continued celebrating his win. You simply took in the congratulations that were being passed at you with a small smile that adorned your lips. Thanking everyone, you made your way to the hotel wanting an early night.

You had nothing to prepare. Your suitcase had been packed before the race. You had booked a flight back to where you lived. Once Charles came back to his place you just needed to remind yourself to get your things from his place.

Unbeknownst to you, back at the tracks, Charles was frantically winding up his interviews and searching for you around the paddock. Asking every single person he set his sight across for you until he finally got a response from Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, that you went back to the hotel since you had wanted an early night. Deep down he knew the truth. He knew why you had gone back to the hotel room. He knew he was at wrong- that you were behaving like this because of him. He couldn’t help but want to take back all the shit he had told you this morning.

Just as you opened the door to leave, Charles pushed in. A frantic face, widened blue eyes and an out of breath body.

“Please listen to me mon chéri,” he said as he tried holding your hand, “Listen to me just this one time. I’m at wrong I know.”

Weakly, you let him hold onto your hands. Chanting inside that this was the last time and that you wanted to be nice to him before this closure- despite all what he did to you.

Leaning his forehead against yours and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, gently, Charles continued his apology, “I cheated. I am at wrong. And I know. I know no matter how many time I say sorry it will never erase the mistake that I did.”

“I’m so sorry and… and… j’espére que tu me pardonnes (I hope you forgive me).”

You silently held back your tears, letting his words sink in. But you couldn’t get your hands to move his hands away from you.

Even when he moved his forehead from yours and tilted your head with ease, to intertwine your lips for a slow and saddening kiss, you still wasn’t able to move him away from you. All under the pretense that this would soon end. You would move away from him. You would never stay with him after all that he had done to you.

You swallowed every single sorry that fled Charles’s lips as he locked in your lips with his. His hands that were holding onto your arms were now around your waist and the other holding your face as if it were fragile. And when he trailed his lips down from your lips to your cheek and onto your neck, you let him. You let him mark reddish bruises onto your neck, a symbol of your pain out for everyone to see. Marks you’d never wear around your neck again from him.

Yet through all of this making out, you stayed still. No emotion at all. Charles didn’t press on the fact that you weren’t reciprocating his feelings. He knew he wasn’t at a position to do so. Not after what he had done to break your heart.

Even when Charles, with a more than hopeful mind of mending your already broken relationship, which he wasn’t aware of, led you to the bed, his lips never leaving your face or neck, you let him.

You let him lay you on the bed for one last time.

You let him undress you for one last time.

You let him feel you for one last time.

All of this, under the pretense that you would leave him after this. You would put an end to having him use you like this even after what he had done after all of this love making.

This time around there wasn’t any foreplay. He was desperate to feel that spark that you both had when you had sex. He knew you were wet from just the making out. There wasn’t any doubt about it and when he teased you down there he could feel the wetness glide over his fingers. With skilled fingers he unclasped your bra, letting your erected mounds free. Without hesitation he took in one at a time, pleasing you to the maximum. You let out light moans letting him know you were feeling good. Although you hated to admit it he knew your body so well. He knew the nooks and crannies in your body that could get you coiled up in seconds. So when he rubbed his fingers against your folds and pushed them deep into you- curling them into your velvety walls you let out a cry of pleasure. A light smile formed in his face. Charles continued sending in fast strokes making sure to get you closer to your high but not right to the point where you’d feel your high come washing down.

Instead, when he felt you were close, he freed his throbbing shaft from his briefs and with a few strokes pushed into you. A familiar wave of nostalgia rushed over to you when you arched your back over to his chest just like you had done countless times in different beds but always with him.

Charles found his rhythm with you as he pushed in deep and soft strokes, cradling your head between his arms. Treating you like a fragile piece of art that would break if he pushed too hard. But you were barely holding on. You were on the verge of tears but you didn’t want him to see that. You were like a wine glass that had been taped together temporarily just until the fancy dinner finished. Although, unknown to the others, the wine was starting to seep through the cracks and it would only be a matter on minutes before it went trickling down the glass and onto the table, ruining the clothe.

When you reached your climax alongside him, Charles signaled you to let go and you did. He kissed you deeply, with unspoken words that passed onto you, asking you for forgiveness. He rolled off of you. Slipping into the sheets next to you he held your body that was turned back to him, closer to him. So close that it was too close, as if he was making sure you wouldn’t leave him.

“I love you, mon amour.”

Your silence spoke volumes like it hadn’t before. Charles was aware but he ignored it hoping you would forgive him when the morning came.

Unfortunately for him, in a couple of hours when he was fast asleep still holding onto you dearly, you would slip out of the soft sheets of the hotel bed, put on a fresh pair of clothes and walk out the door not once looking back but only tears of relief & closure slipping down your face.

But before you left, and for the first time since he came into the hotel room searching for forgiveness from you, you caressed his cheek one last time and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, too,” you whispered the desperate closure you needed both of you to have.

This was it for you & Charles.

This is the end.

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fear-is-truth · 2 months

Text

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑨𝑳𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑩𝑬𝑻 ── austin sommers ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

⇢ 𝐓ags - 18+/nsfw ． fem!reader

⇢𝓐/n- got a little carried away with this, heh.

𝐀 = 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱)

❥┆austin often experiences a rush of inspiration after an orgasm, so he keeps a notepad and pencil within reach. he pops a black pill and goes straight to writing, which kind of kills the mood. after jotting down a rough outline so brilliant that even shakespeare would envy, he makes up by showering you with kisses and cuddles, repeatedly thanking you and telling you that you're his greatest muse and his one true love, etc. you can always count on receiving princess treatment.

——————————————————————————————

𝐁 = 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫’𝐬)

❥┆ he's fixated on your neck and wrists. loves to nuzzle against the crook of your neck and feel the blood pulsing through your veins beneath the thin layer of skin. he has the same obsession with your wrists, too, bringing them to his lips and kissing them.

✶ a/n: picture gomez addams doing that to morticia. sort of creepy, possessive and romantic. the best combo tbh.

——————————————————————————————

𝐂 = 𝐂𝐮𝐦 (𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐦, 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)

❥┆ he loves to cum deep inside you, or in your mouth. makes you swallow it, too. he hates to make a mess on his yves delorme bedsheets. not like he can’t afford to replace them, he simply doesn’t see the need to do extra work.

——————————————————————————————

𝐃 = 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 (𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬)

❥┆he wants to have a threesome with you, including another man.

✶ a/n: *cough* harry gardener-

——————————————————————————————

𝐄 = 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?)

❥┆ austin is very experienced. and with both genders, for that matter.

——————————————————————————————

𝐅 = 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠)

❥┆ missionary - all about the eye contact and the intimacy. sex is like a form of art.

❥┆ cowgirl - he gets to lie back and gather his thoughts while admiring the sight of you bouncing on his cock. what more can he ask for?

✶ a/n: also, he likes to fuck you in front of a mirror.

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𝐆 = 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

❥┆ one moment, he's murmuring sweet words into your ear as he makes tender love to you, the words so heartfelt and oh so romantic that they bring tears to your eyes. the next, he's saying random shit and cracking jokes.

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𝐇 = 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

❥┆ pretty sparse down there already, but still nicely trimmed.

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𝐈 = 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭)

❥┆ a hopeless romantic with the soul of a whore. he'll light up candles, burn incense, and scatter rose petals— the whole schmear. also a glass of wine and background music to help set the mood.

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𝐉 = 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 (𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

❥┆ austin detests pornography; absolutely hates it. he considers it vulgar and devoid of any artistic value. however, he occasionally indulges in reading erotica while jacking off, but he prefers to fuck you personally.

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𝐊 = 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬)

❥┆ he’s into rough kinky shit. very open about it, too— he’s into blood play, bdsm, threesomes, choking, and roleplay.

❥┆blood play: very obvious one, i know. he wears his “normal teeth” when he’s licking the blood off your skin.

❥┆bdsm: plays the dom role most of the time, but he’s willing to play the (super bratty) sub, too.

❥┆roleplay: very invested in the “theatrical and artistic aspects”, to the point where he writes out entire scripts.

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𝐋 = 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐝)

❥┆ you two have christened the house by making love in every room and on every available surface. austin insists it imbues his “creative sanctum” with the perfect writing atmosphere. whatever the hell that means. his second favourite spot is the back seat of his rolls royce.

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𝐌 = 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧)

❥┆ he gets very horny after a few glasses of wine. or a few pints of fresh blood– same thing. you could literally breathe in his direction and boom he gets a hard-on.

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𝐍 = 𝐍𝐨 (𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬)

❥┆golden showers and gun play. the former is plain disgusting and the latter is too risky, even for him.

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𝐎 = 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

❥┆ austin definitely prefers receiving over giving, perhaps it's a side effect of the black pill. he can be rather selfish in this aspect. when you’re on you’re period.. let’s just say that the tables are turned.

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𝐏 = 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥?)

❥┆ either he's making slow, sensual love to you, like he’s playing a musical instrument with precision and finesse, or he's straight up fucking you like an animal. no in-between with this guy.

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𝐐 = 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

❥┆ austin dislikes quickies in general; he prefers the intimacy and connection of “making love”. to him, quickies are anticlimactic and boring.

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𝐑 = 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬? 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

❥┆yes. he’s totally game for something new. takes a lot of creativity to even faze him because he’s seen it all.

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𝐒 = 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫? 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭?)

❥┆ austin has an unnaturally high stamina; it’s fucking insane. he can last for hours before finally tapping out.

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𝐓 = 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬 (𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦? 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬?)

❥┆ he owns a bunch of toys, but most of them are either unused or used only once. he has a few favourite ones that he uses on you. oh and he likes to wear cockrings. that too.

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𝐔 = 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞)

to build up tension and dramatic effect? hell yes, he’ll edge you for hours. pretends to get annoyed when you do the exact same thing to him. (he loves it)

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𝐕 = 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

❥┆ really talkative during sex, you can’t get him to shut up. occasional grunts and groans, but mostly it’s sweet talk laced with filthy innuendos. when you're topping him, then oh my god he’s all whines and whimpers.

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𝐖 = 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 (𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫)

❥┆sometimes he brags about your sexy time to belle noir. and in vivid detail, too. later, she used it in her latest steamy novel, which was an award-winning bestseller, obviously. when you read the book yourself, you were hit by an instant sense of deja vu. he confessed when you confronted him, shrugging and saying that your love is now permanently engraved in the form of literature. and really, you couldn’t stay mad at him after that.

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𝐗 = 𝐗-𝐫𝐚𝐲 (𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬)

❥┆ seven inches. pretty veiny, too.

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𝐘 = 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞?)

❥┆ when you tease him for his ridiculously high sex drive, he counters you with “now sexual obsessions are the basis of artistic creation. accumulated frustration leads to what freud calls the process of sublimation. anything that does not take place erotically sublimates itself in the work of art” in other words, boy is horny and pretentious 24/7.

✶a/n: that’s a quote from dali and i think it’s pretty cool.

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𝐙 = 𝐙𝐳𝐳 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬)

❥┆his mind is buzzing with new inspiration, so he usually stays up and write. rarely falls asleep unless he’s already had a good amount of alcohol in him.

TAGLIST: @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @officerballs @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @stveharringtn @kai-slut @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @taintandviolent @babygorewhore @newwavesylviaplath + send an ask to be added

#american horror story #ahs #austin sommers #evan peters #ahs double feature #ahs red tide #austin sommers x reader #austin sommers x y/n #ahs fandom

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entitled-fangirl · 1 month

Text

Two idiots in love. (P13)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: The trio finally finds the Fireflies. Well... the Fireflies find them.

Warnings: blood, death, cursing, guns, murder, talk of suicide. Joel being Joel and Ellie being Ellie.

Author's note: Sorry for the long pause! I wrote the final parts which will all be up tonight!

Masterlist

Part 1 and 14

............................................

She was beginning to come back to him.

Her skin was no longer that horrid pale, and she slowly regained the color under her eyes.

Her quick wit came back on occasion, but she still held that same look in her eye. That dullness that used to be sparkle.

Joel noticed how jumpy she continued to be.

But even he knew the road to recovery wouldn't be easy.

…

The three walked through another abandoned town, their eyes sweeping over each building carefully.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed, "Was this a FEDRA thing?"

Joel shook his head, "No. Army." He continued to look around as he spoke. "They put these places up all around, beginning of the outbreak. Emergency medical camps… obviously they didn't last. They had me in one just like this."

"With Sarah?"

Joel shook his head quickly, "No, she was gone already."

"Oh." Ellie nodded, "So, what was wrong with you?"

"It was for this." He pointed at his ear.

Ellie smiled slightly as she looked over to Y/N, who held just the smallest fragment of a smile. "From Y/N almost shooting you? Figured that would've happened later."

Y/N got a strange look on her face. Her voice was small, but it was there. She pulled on his sleeve, "But… Joel?"

He turned to her, bending down slightly to hear her better, "What, sweetheart?"

"I… I thought I shot your left side?"

He paused with a sigh. "Yeah. You're right."

She reached up to his left ear, running a hand over the small nick in his ear from her bullet.

Ellie scoffed, "Who shot you then?"

He stiffened, "it was me."

Y/N pulled her hand away and Ellie's mouth opened in slight shock.

Joel sat down on a nearby rock and sighed as Ellie sat next to him, "There's no story. Sarah died, and I couldn't see the point anymore. Simple as that."

Y/N approached the two, standing in front of Joel.

He continued, "And I wasn't scared either. I was ready." His voice dropped to a whisper, "I couldn't have been more ready."

The other two said nothing, giving him time to think of what to say.

"When I…" he paused, "When I… went to pull the trigger, I flinched. Still don't know why."

He finally snapped out of his thoughts to the feeling of Y/N's fingers running through his hair sweetly.

"Anyway, the reason I'm telling you all this-"

Ellie interrupted, "-I know why you're telling me all this."

"Yes, I reckon you do."

The silence that fell between the three was in thought, slightly awkward, but relaxing none the less.

"So," Ellie chimed in, "Time heals all wounds, I guess."

Joel's voice faltered, "It wasn't time that did it."

The man and girl exchanged heartfelt glances to each other as they read the other's mind.

"Well, I'm glad that didn't work out." Ellie finally nodded.

"Well… we should probably get going…"

"Yeah…"

The three began to walk again.

Joel smiled, "You know what I'm in the mood for?"

"What?" Ellie wondered.

"Shitty puns."

As Ellie began to serenade them with puns from her joke book, Joel slowly grabbed Y/N's hand to pull her next to him. He studied her face carefully, going back and forth between studying her and giving Ellie shit on the really stupid jokes.

But that ended as quickly as it had started when a grenade was thrown at their feet.

Joel shoved the girls to the ground.

The ringing in their ears was unbearable as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

He looked up to see the figure of Ellie being dragged away. Her screams pulled him up further as he tried to reach for her.

He felt Y/N's hand on his arm, gripping his bicep with such force he thought it would bruise.

The butt of a gun hit the back of his head, the last thing he saw being Y/N's worried gaze.

…

Joel opened his eyes slowly as he tried to see what was around him.

"Welcome to the fireflies."

He pushed himself onto his back quickly, but the quick action made his head spin.

"Easy," Marlene chastised. "You got his pretty hard. Patrol didn't know who you were."

He took a deep breath before finally coming to his senses, "Where are they?"

"They're fine." She said, "Ellie's not hurt. Not even a scratch. She was mostly worried about you. Y/N is alright. Her hearing is a little messed up, but she's fine, too."

Joel sat up and rubbed his eyes, "Where are they?"

Marlene ignored his question again. "We lost half our crew crossing the country. I had five men whose only job was to protect me. I still almost got killed. So, how'd you do it?"

Joel shook his head, "It was them. Ellie… she fought like hell to get here."

Marlene scoffed, "she would've been dead on day one." When he said nothing, she continued, "You are the one person I never wanted to be in debt to. But I owe you. We all owe you-"

"-Just take me to her."

Marlene sighed, "I can't. She's being prepped for surgery."

Joel looked confused, "What surgery?"

Marlene's face turned to stone, "Our doctor, he thinks that the Cordyceps in Ellie has grown with her since birth."

"So, why is she in surgery?"

"I produces a kind of chemical messenger. It makes normal Cordyceps think that she's Cordyceps. It's why she's immune. He's gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab, produce those chemical messengers, and then we can give it to everyone. He thinks it could be a cure, Joel."

He sits in thought for a while before sitting up more, "Cordyceps grows inside the brain…"

Marlene nodded, "It does."

Joel's voice became low, "Find someone else."

"There is no one else. We didn't tell her, we didn't cause her any fear, there won't be any pain…"

Joel shook his head frantically, "no, no, no, no. You take me to her." He stood up quickly with a shout, "You take me to her RIGHT NOW!"

The guard next to Marlene sent a punch right into Joel's gut, making him tumble to the floor with a grunt.

He slowly calmed down as he stared at the floor. His voice became quiet and pleading, "Please, you don't understand."

Marlene nodded, "I do. I was there when she was born, Joel. I promised her mother that I would save her child. I promised. So, I do understand. I'm sorry. I have no other choice."

Joel looked up with a furious look in his eye as his murderous look returned, "I do."

Marlene had the hint of a smile at his foolishness, "Walk him out to the highway, leave him there with his pack. He tries anything," she says to the guard, "shoot him."

The guard pulls Joel up as he continues to glare at Marlene. The guard pushes his towards the doorway, but Joel stops inches from Marlene, "Where is Y/N?"

Marlene shrugs, "Doesn't matter. I'll get her back to her family. Her son. She'll trust me, Joel. Can't say the same for you."

Joel's jaw clenches as he's pushed through every hallway, memorizing his steps carefully.

The stairway was dimly lit and dirty. Joel's mind was on overdrive in thought. The occasional shoves from the guards was starting to piss him off, and he would get his revenge.

He was determined to not let himself go down without a fight.

One guard pushes him, "The fuck you doing, stopping? I said keep walk—"

He was cut off by Joel turning around and elbowing him in the face, knocking the man to the ground. Joel grabbed his gun and shot the other guard easily.

He pointed his gun to the first guard, threatening him. "Where are they?"

The guard spit blood, "Fuck you."

"I don't have time for this."

And shot the man with no remorse.

.............................................................

Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje, @ashleyfilm, @darling-imobsessed @yomiyasxx @gigistorm @klwrites @harriedandharassed @mthealy @picketniffler @brinleighsstuff @daybleedsintonightfa11 @pedr0swh0r3 @treblebeth @missladym1981 @sarahhxx03 @asexyladie @swiggityswoody52

#joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel miller #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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stealingyourbones · 1 year

Note

Hey Bones, I saw your thing about a Bat family member becoming a ghost and it reminded me of a very heart breaking au a friend and I came up with a while back that I don't remember if I submitted or not. Either way, be prepared to have your heart broken.

Tim is dead. He's been dead for a while actually. But No one seems to have noticed. He looks and feels just as solid as he did before he died, even if he's got a lower body temperature and doesn't seem to get hurt on patrol beyond bumps and bruises. Never anything that would land him in med Bay, never anything that would make his family check on him.

No one has noticed the way he doesn't eat anymore, or the fact he doesn't sleep. He's extended his patrol hours and cut back on time at Wayne Enterprises. He's pretty sure not even Alfred noticed. He knows the Kryptonians aren't worried about him not having a heart beat and they have no reason to tell anyone. They know he has a special device that can hide him from their senses and tests it on Kon a lot to make him focus on spacial awareness beyond his hearing. He used it a lot before he died. They just think he hasn't turned it off in a while.

Tim remembers how he died. Not fully, but there are pieces. He remembers he was fighting someone on a bridge and he didn't call for back up because he thought he could handle it. He doesn't remember who he thought he could handle. He remembers something stinging his arm. A bug? No a bug couldn't bite through Kevlar, it was a needle. Then everything started going dark and he was stumbling back. His back hit something hard and he tiped over it. He thought he could land on the other side. He remembers wondering why his suit felt so damp and heavy as the world went black around him.

Tim's body is still at the bottom of the bay where it will likely stay forever with so, so many other bodies. It makes Tim wonder, why him? Why not everyone else who ended up down there? Why not everyone who has died in Gothem? Did he come back like Jason did, is it something to do with being a vigilante? Tim checks his own pulse again while he's alone. Yep. Still dead. He continues on his patrol and tries to shove those thoughts away.

So what if Tim's dead? He's still here and he still has work to do. His family is full of detectives. If they can't figure out that something as important as death has happened to one of their own? Well then Tim thinks they need to pay more attention. He ignores the pain that curls in the back of his mind at that thought.

It's been 6 months. Why hasn't anyone noticed? Tim can't help but wonder if they ever will.

Howdy its me @bonebrokebuddy answering. I'm Twone's (twin bones) twin who is helping answer asks because this fucker has like, over 100 of them in her ask box and I help her with making prompt ideas frequently so she trusts me to not horribly fuck up her account.

This is my first answer for her I've written because I had my screen on low brightness and on darkmode, so your profile jump scared the shit out of me when I scrolled past it. Therefore im answering this one first.

Anywho, from my chronic inability to write angst here goes: Tim died, came back and none of the Bats seemed to care. So what? It's not like his best friends hadn't done the same thing. And he was tired and sick of the Bats thinking his entire life revolved around them.

So he packed up his bags and headed to Kansas.

The Bats might not be worried but neither was Kon or Bart. They're actually thrilled after getting over their initial grief that Tim now has also personally experienced death and came back. The funeral was a rather small, breif, and quiet afar. Kon made sure to help locate Tim's corpse and Bart helped with the eulogy (surprisingly heartfelt and moved them all to tears.)

Sure, they're sad that Tim died but he's right in front of them, it's a little more difficult to morn when you've been laughing at said dead guy who got stuck halfway through phasing out of the wall. And now Tim can keep track with them!

Kon is a little pissed that Tim can now go intangible and escape his TTK so he can't take away Tim's coffee anymore. But it's kinda worth it. The first time he took Rob on his favorite flight path, he's never wanted anything else than to hear Tim's breathless laugh and see his frighteningly perfect smile again. They now often go on flights together, high above the clouds with no-one else but them for thousands of miles around. (it almost felt like a date)

Bart knew this would happen one day. He was from the future, of course he knew that Tim Drake, formerly Red Robin, died at age 19 and changed his alias to The Grey Ghost. It doesn't mean that Bart doesn't morn the passing of his friend. Tim means a lot to him and the brief guilt that he did not stop Tim's death also quickly passes. He can finally show Tim that hiding space in the walls that no one else can get to without phasing through the wall! One other thing. Bart is unsure if Kon has noticed yet, which he knows Kon isn't the most observant of the old young justice crew but he has to have noticed it by now. Ever since Tim left Gotham he's developed an insane appetite despite claiming that he didn't need to eat while in Gotham and also being dead so why does he need to eat? (Unknown to Bart, Kansas doesn't have as much ambient ectoplasm as Gotham and Tim is starting to experience the withdraw symptoms. If the trio don't realize how to fix Tim's worsening symptoms soon, Tim might actually die for good this time.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #seersnake #ones replies #twones replies #bones replies #dont worry ill make the tagging system confusing quICK #I POSTED IT BEFORE IT WAS DONE FUCK #okay fixed it.

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hamsterclaw · 8 months

Text

hookup

Your big dumb goon's changed his hair again. Part of the Freak on a bike AU - read the rest here.

Pairing: RM x afab reader

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, big dick Joon

You have another job at the weekends, the bar girl at some swanky new club uptown.

There’s no uniform apart from skin and black satin, a bow tie if the table’s especially corny.

You’re pretty good at keeping your flammable clothes from setting alight, especially with all the cheap sparklers you bring out for the big spenders.

You step out for a breather after you’ve served your latest table, your lungs grateful for the respite from musk and sandalwood cologne, Lynx body spray.

There’s a commotion by the back door you’ve just stepped out of, you watch, amused, as two of the bouncers escort some nouveau-riche city asshole out.

Wait.

You’d know the back of that neck anywhere.

Your big dumb goon’s had a haircut since you last saw him, close-cropped to his head so you can see exactly how his hair grows out of his scalp, no extra length to weigh it down.

He looks like the fat boys you went to school with, you think you like it.

He turns, spots you braced against the wall opposite.

‘Nice suit,’ he says, smiling all over his big dumb face, easing you out of your reflex snarl so easily it’s ridiculous.

‘Nice hair,’ you say, eyeing him the way he’s eyeing you.

He runs a hand over it, leans down like he’s inviting you to touch.

You pat him on the head. His hair is softer than it looks. You try to get enough of it in your fingers to pull but you can’t.

He’s all dimples and round head, and you’re endeared.

He’s still looking at you, more than a hint of hope in his eyes, the horny motherfucker.

‘You’re too cute to fuck now,’ you say, turning up your nose at him to head back inside.

He just laughs as he follows you back in, when the hell did this dumb goon become so cocky?

***

You usually get changed after work, who the hell wants to be walking around the nightclub district at 3am in a satin choker and stripper heels, but you’ve been thinking about him all night.

His stupid new haircut and how you want it between your legs.

You wander casually round the front to say goodbye to Yugyeom the bartender, look around.

Your big dumb goon doesn’t let you down.

His hands are shoved in the pockets of his suit pants, head hung so you don’t have to look up so much to see him.

‘Wanna ride?’ he asks, tongue in his literal cheek, making his dimple pop.

‘Yeah.’

You want to ride everything about him.

***

His car’s parked three streets over next to the underpass where you first met.

‘Where’s your bike?’ you ask, a tease in your voice.

‘I got my license, remember?’

He slides into the driver seat, reaches over to open your door, his pants stretched over his thighs, tight.

He catches you looking, you weren’t trying to hide it anyway.

‘You can ride,’ he says, manspreading a bit, now who’s the tease.

‘You got bigger,’ you say.

‘I’ll make it fit,’ he assures you.

You can’t see his face clearly in the dark, but you can hear him snicker, low.

Then he starts the car, gets going.

***

He parks up outside your block, turns to you.

Looks hard at how you’ve unbuttoned the top two buttons of your satiny waistcoat.

‘Eyes up here,’ you murmur.

He smirks a little, this big dumb guy, and his gaze drops even more, centering on the flash of pale pink panties between your legs.

‘I got a roommate,’ you tell him.

He takes that in his stride.

‘I got a backseat,’ he offers.

You roll your eyes. ‘Kiss me.’

He likes kissing, he’s big and clumsy but so fucking endearing. He kisses you like he’s sneaking kisses at prom, hungry and like he wants to put a corsage on you or some shit.

You part your lips, let him slip you his tongue because you know he likes it sloppy and wet.

When you pull away he’s breathing hard.

You both look down at your hand touching him over his pants.

‘I missed you,’ he says, a declaration, heartfelt, sweet.

Your own heart skips.

‘That you or your dick talking, pretty boy?’ you ask.

You don’t give him a chance to answer, unzip your skirt so you can climb into his lap.

He’s getting his pants down, he’s not that dumb, not when it comes to this.

He’s as big as you remember, maybe even bigger, the way he’s holding himself up.

You start to lower yourself down on his fat cock, hissing a little at the sting, when movement outside his window distracts you.

Shit it’s not that the outside is moving, it’s that the goddamn car is moving.

‘The brakes, fuck,’ you moan, mad with frustration and that he’s still only halfway in.

He yanks up the handbrake, bucks his hips up into you so hard your head hits the roof of the car.

You don’t feel it, don’t feel anything but his cock splitting you open all the way.

Shit, he feels good.

He reaches into your top, scoops your breast out and sucks at your tit.

You know he’s trying to distract you from being mad at him for not parking the car properly.

You know it’s working.

He’s panting now, flushed and pretty, skin gleaming as he helps you ride him.

‘Can’t hold it,’ he warns, words muffled by your tits right in his face.

‘Let me have it, baby,’ you soothe, because you know he’s going to make you come, he’s always been good at it.

He grunts, fucks harder, makes you squeal on his cock and squirt all over him.

Fuck.

Fuck!

You can feel him tense and hard inside, feel the groan in his chest as he spills, face buried between your tits.

You put your hand on his head, stroke his almost buzz cut, silky and soft, until he stops groaning your name.

***

You realise in his haste to get to your tits he’d pulled off three buttons on your three button waistcoat, the big goon.

He shucks his shirt to give you willingly enough, and for some dumb reason hands you his sunglasses too even though it’s 4am and dark as fuck.

You slip them on anyway.

‘I’m working tonight, want me to pick you up?’ he offers.

With the sunglasses on you can look at him as much as you like without him getting the wrong fucking idea.

That you care about him or some shit.

‘Sure,’ you say, nonchalant.

He smiles so brightly it’s like he’s just won the lottery and your heart feels like it’s free falling.

You turn away deliberately, open the door to let yourself out.

‘Hey,’ you say.

His dimples should be illegal, a big goon like him’s got no business being so goddamn cute.

What’s he so goddamn cute for?

‘I missed you too,’ you tell him. You try to sound sour but it comes out sweet, kind of like his smile.

#bts smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon imagine #bts rm #freak on a bike

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gay4abby · 5 months

Note

hey baby, can i request a jealous jordan li x reader? ❤️

Green Eyed Monster !!

masterlist. requested, yes. warnings, slightly sexual(?). pairings, jordan li x reader. i hope u like this 😭 i wrote this at like 5am

As a Libra, you can’t help it that your charisma is through the roof. It’s what got Jordan snagged up by you in the first place and the exact reason why it’s the bane of their existence. Everybody wants you. Even the ones who don’t even realise it until they meet you. And it’s…not necessarily your fault. It’s not something you can easily turn off and the fact that it puts you in some sticky situations can make you look like an asshole. But, to be clear, telling someone straight forward is your forte. Some people just tend to not listen. Unfortunately for you this time, Jordan was there to see.

The gala was in the middle of its most active period. You were off to the side by the bar, shimmering with silver underneath the light. You were oblivious to your surroundings, nursing a drink that certainly wasn’t appropriate for your drinking age, (you were one year from the big one two, who gives a shit?) but didn’t have a care in the world. Jordan wasn’t feeling the best (fucking parents, am I right?) and he decided to find you so you both can get the hell out of there. It was getting boring anyway. They searched for you, knowing little about where you went off to. And they were getting impatient.

Your drink was about to finish, so you waved your hand for the bartender to give you a refill when you felt someone slide in next to you. At first you didn’t pay any mind, but then you felt as though they were getting a little to close. “Can I help you?” You ask with a light tone. You turned slightly to give them some semblance of eye contact and attention when in reality all you wanted to do was get out of there. It was only a matter of time before you and Jordan were able to do that. “You can help me in more ways than one actually.”

Oh, brother. You rolled your eyes, hoping it wouldn’t be seen by the man trying so desperately to appear slick. On the other side of the room, Jordan had walked away from Marie and Cate after having an almost heartfelt conversation (trauma dump royalty at its finest). They wanted nothing more than to have their hands on you, away from the world after enduring a two hour long engagement with his parents. They always managed to hit the one nerve that Jordan knows will never be accepted, no matter how much therapy they go to as a family.

“Hm, is that so? Why don’t you go ‘head and name ‘em for me,” you sounded bored, but to the guy invading your personal space didn’t seem to catch on. Aloof pest. You drowned out what he had to say after hearing ‘make me feel good,’ not knowing that Jordan had set eyes on you, watching the whole thing unfold. He was seething, their big brown eyes blown as it settled on the man reaching over to place his arm on your chair. Near you. In your space, breathing your air. No, that can’t just do! Long legs began striding towards the pair of you, breathing getting rougher with each step.

The man was about to be in for a very rude awakening. “What do you say we get outta here?”

“And what do you say about me beating the living shit out of you, huh?” Jordan’s voice was stern that it made even you jump a little. It broke through your trance, realising the man was still around and now has to endure the wrath of Jordan Li. The man was taken aback just a bit as his eyes laid on Jordan. They were the same height, but Jordan’s demeanour was as intimidating as they come. Oozing out an authority that required to not be messed with. His jaw ticked, crazed eyes never leaving the man that didn’t seem to get the message of moving away from you.

You turned in your chair, hand immediately meeting the Supe’s forearm and squeezing it as you tried to grab their attention. “Hey, baby. I was wondering where you were,” you said softly, pushing the intruder away from you to stand in front of Jordan. You can tell he was livid and honestly? Nothing turned you on more, but first you must stop them from tearing the persistent man apart.

“Is he bothering you, love?” He spoke without so much as taking his eyes off the offender. Jordan’s body figure was rigid and no amount of force you added was going to make them move. “We were just talking actually, until you interrupted us.” Oh, brave one then? “Is that so? I fucking interrupted you guys? That’s funny. You hear that, babe? I interrupted your fucking conversation.”

You had to deescalate the situation before it got out of hand. “Yeah, haha, that’s so funny. Hey, listen–”

“You think you can just walk up to any random unsuspecting person and think you’re entitled to their time? What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?” Jordan’s eyebrows furrowed, feeling them move closer to the man. “Dude, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Well that’s unfortunate ‘cause I wanna give you trouble!” Jordan yelled, almost knocking you over. You know he probably didn’t mean to, but fuck was he strong. And quite frankly, you’ve had enough. “I think we should–” you were cut off before you could finish, the man squaring his chest and stepping to Jordan. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, you knowing he wouldn’t last point three seconds in a fight with your partner.

Jordan moved you swiftly to the side before swinging at the man, not even hitting the ground yet before he knocked out. “Jordan!” You exclaimed, pulling them by their arm as they switched to their female form. It was easier to pull her out of the ball room and out of the building as a whole. You were furious, but you couldn’t deny that was really hot. “Jordan, what the fuck!”

“What the fuck? He was flirting with you! I couldn’t just stand there and let that happen!”

“I was barely paying him any mind. As soon as I saw you did I not have my full attention on you?!” You screamed at the top of your lungs you were sure that the passer-by’s were to look in your direction with a crazed look. But it didn’t matter, Jordan just punched someone! “Yes, but that doesn’t matter! He was doing too much I couldn’t let that slide!”

“That’s besides the point, you punched him! You knocked him out!”

“And I’d do it again.” She said sternly. If it didn't make your legs clench, you would've been pissed. More pissed than you are now. Your anger was slowly diminishing, your eyes becoming softer as you look at Jordan. No matter how hard she tried to look tough, their eyes told the whole story to you. It was hard for Jordan to hide their true feelings to you and it was both amazing and annoying at the same time for them. You slowly reached out to grasp at her tiny hands, squeezing them ever so lightly before pulling her closer to you, noses almost touching.

Jordan smiled small, "I know you will, that's the problem," you said with a huge smile on your lips as well. It made you want to eat her right up. You both stood there for awhile not caring about the world around you. Hands intertwined and lips ghost meeting each other every once in awhile. Jordan squeezed your hands back, lifting their head. "Let's go back to my dorm, yeah?" Your eager nod alone had her quickly pulling you away.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li x you #jordan li x gn!reader #gen v x reader #‹𝟥 requests

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neteyamssyulang · 6 months

Text

Threesome

Day 19

Pairing: Neteyam aged up x Fem omaticaya reader x So’lek

Adult neteyam picture made by @cinetrix <3

Summary: You had two of the most finest mates in all of pandora, what more could you ask for?

Warnings: Sub reader, Dom Neteyam, Dom So’lek, Oral (M receiving), Semi bratty reader, Ass slapping, P in V.

Word count: 1207

Translation(s): Syulang -> Flower, Yawne -> Beloved.

A/N: Wow first So’lek fic and with none other than Neteyam, Not sure if I like this or not but Enjoy <3

Tags: @teyamsatan @pandoraslxna

Today was so boring, the olo’eyktan had instructed you and your mates along with a few others to decorate and put food out for tonight’s ceremony.

Neteyam and So’lek were in charge of setting the food along the wooden tables while you and Makeyo were doing the banner. Makeyo was a good warrior, he wasn’t as great as Neteyam but he still got plenty of women.

All of except for you, he was furious when you chose Neteyam and So’lek as your mates instead of him. Naturally he got over it but he still longed to have you sometimes.

“Y/n are you done? I’m already finished with this side” he shouts towards you. “Yes yes I’m done” annoyed you climb down from the tree and step back to look at your work. The banner is tied in the middle between two trees saying “Congratulations Entok and Kakalu”

Tonight’s ceremony was about them and you felt happy for Kakalu since you grew up alongside her. She was like a sister to you, you did everything together.

Sighing you glance around trying to find your mates but you don’t see them, confused you walk around calling their names but to no luck.

Giving up you decided to just go home till the ceremony started, as you were walking your ears suddenly perked up at the sound of laughter coming from Kakalu’s hut.

Curiosity consumes you as you make your way over there crouching behind a large bush. The flap was open so you could see directly inside but what you saw only hurt.

Kakalu was there but so were your mates.. they were in a circle drinking some coconut water while Kakalu was laughing but that wasn’t the reason why this hurt. The reason was that Kakalu had her hand on Neteyams thigh and he didn’t even move it.

Huffing you back away walking off, two can play at that game.

Once the ceremony had begun you made your way to sit next to Makeyo who was shocked that you weren’t sitting by your mates. Originally you were supposed to match with your men but still angry from earlier you went with your favorite blue beaded top that hung loosely around you along with a tewng that matched.

“You don’t mind if I sit here right?” Looking at the man innocently, he gulped and you could see a faint pink blush on his cheeks “No of course not, though shouldn’t you be with your mates?”

Don’t get him wrong he was happy you chose to sit with him but normally at these ceremonies your supposed to sit with your mate(s) if you have one.

Shrugging you turn to face where the olo’eyktan was “I’m not speaking with them at the moment.” Makeyo just nodded not really caring for the reason only caring that your letting him be this close to you when usually you’d push or shove him.

You feel both your mates gaze on you from across the way, smirking you take Makeyo’s hand and place it on your thigh feeling him gently squeeze it. Before your mates can get up though the ceremony starts.

Kakalu and Entok walk down the pathway towards Jake before standing infront of him, they say a few heartfelt vows before sharing a drink out of this large cup.

Everyone erupts with joy clapping and wishing good things for the couple. The feast begins shortly after and you stand up leaving Makeyo to walk back to your hut.

As your walking you swear you can hear footsteps approaching but as your turn there’s no one. Ugh why did you have to go the long way home, too caught up in cursing yourself you don’t notice the figure infront of you till you bump into their chest.

“Shit I’m so sorry I wasn’t lo-” you break into a full on sprint after seeing who it was, you don’t get far as now your tackled to the ground with your arms behind your back.

The figure tsks before ripping your loincloth off as well as your top, the cool breeze against your bare cunt makes you shiver. Another figure walks infront of you crouching down by your head, he lifts your face and you see it’s So’lek, so Neteyam is the one behind you.

“Oh yawne, you know the rules..” he says brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear, meanwhile you can feel Neteyam line his tip with your entrance. “Fuck both of you! I didn’t say anything when Kakalu had her hand on Neteyams thigh especially when he didn’t remove it!” You seeth squirming.

A harsh slap comes down on your ass making you yelp “You didn’t see the full thing syulang” Neteyam huffs slamming himself inside you. “I did push her hand off me, every *thrust* single *thrust* time *thrust*”

So’lek moved back to untie his loincloth throwing it next to yours, as he moved back him and Neteyam shared a glance before Neteyam grabbed you by your hair forcing you up enough for So’lek to rub the tip of his cock along your lips.

Your lips parted allowing him entry which he gladly took, his cock slid into your mouth eventually hitting the back of your throat “Good girl” he purrs.

So’lek took control now replacing Neteyams hands with his own, Neteyam moved his hands back to yours holding them tightly as he fucked into you harshly now. His movements pushing you forward and forcing you to take more of So’leks cock down your throat.

Muffled whimpers could be heard from you but your mates didn’t care, not after what they saw. Neteyam hissed as he set a pace that made you clench tightly.

So’lek threw his head back feeling your throat constricting around him, he began thrusting into your mouth matching Neteyams pace.

“You wanna act like a slut we’ll treat you like one yawne” So’lek murmured feeling his orgasm approaching, it was cute actually. Whenever you gave him head he wouldn’t last long.

Neteyam could also feel his but held back wanting to still teach you a lesson. His balls slapped against your clit making you scream around So’leks cock. The vibrations going through him making him whimper “Ah! Sh-shit!” He held your head pulling your face flush against his pelvis as he came down your throat. “You better swallow all of it baby.”

Obeying you gulped down his sweet warm cum, So’lek hummed as he pulled out of your mouth with a pop. He then sat back and watched as Neteyam kept pounding into you.

“Ma’Teyamur please..” you mewl raspy from So’lek fucking your throat raw. “No, now shut up and take this dick syulang” he smacks your ass again leaving a handprint.

Slowly So’lek started pumping his once again hardened cock watching his mates. You move your gaze to him “Ma’Lek..” almost pleading for him to help you.

He chuckles “You got yourself into this yawne, I can not help you.” Not being able to hold back anymore Neteyam pulls out of your dripping pussy groaning as his cum spills on your ass.

Before you have a chance to ask he answers almost reading your mind “Only good girls get to be filled syulang.”

#adult neteyam #avatar the way of water #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #james cameron avatar #neteyamssyulang #avatar pandora #neteyam smut #follow #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #loak x omatikaya!reader #loak smut #lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan #like #comments really appreciated #lunaskinktober2023 #avatar kinktober #so’lek smut #So’lek x fem!omaticayareader

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yournecessaryevil · 2 months

Text

🥀 Scream For Me 🥀

💀GHOSTFACE! CHRIS X READER ONESHOT💀

He's the one with the dark secret you were never meant to discover. And you're the one who almost got away....

• smut; language; TW dark themes of death, violence, blood/gore, and a knifeplay kink

You were never meant to find out.

He'd worked so hard to keep all of it from you, everything. And now, here you both were.

Him, towering over you, his anxiety and nerves and all that stress concealed ever so easily behind that familiar mask, his blade at your throat.

And you, lying prone and helpless beneath him, those eyes wide with fear.

He hated it, hated himself.

How had things become such a fucking mess?

"You guys leave to come home soon, right?"

You stared down at the sleeves of your sweater, your fingers toying with the edges of the fabric as you waited for Chris's response.

Him and his bandmates had gone on their tour about four to five months ago, and while you knew they were due to come home soon, it still wouldn't be soon enough.

Why, exactly?

About a month or so before Chris and his band were supposed to go on tour, there had been headlines in the news of a sudden string of murders a few cities away, with the location of each murder growing closer and closer still, up until the most recent one.

That one had occurred only within a two hour's drive away from the city you lived in. A month or so had passed without any news after that, everything seeming to calm down a little.

But while you were trying to remain positive, deep down, you knew it would only be a matter of time before the one responsible for the murders would strike again, maybe this time choosing your own hometown as their next target.

"Baby, I promise, we only have one week left, and then we're home," Chris's voice cut through your thoughts, startling you. Your wide eyes locked with his as you nodded, though the traces of a frown still marred your face.

Almost like he knew where your thoughts lay, Chris spoke up again.

"Y/N, sweetheart. I know you're worried about what's been happening in the news, but I promise, I'm gonna be home so soon, and then I can keep you safe," he tried to assure you.

"They got really close before you left, Chris," you mumbled, your gaze dropping to land once more on your sweater. "They won't this time, don't worry," he immediately answered.

There seemed to be something almost unintentionally dark about the way he said it, like he somehow knew. Then again, maybe you were just imagining it.

"Hey, so I know Halloween's coming up soon..." Chris began, trying subtly to change the subject. You couldn't help the smile that slowly made its way onto your face.

He knew, he always did.

Ever since the two of you had started dating and he'd learned that Halloween was a favorite holiday of yours, he'd made it his personal mission to go all out for you, every single year.

And each year somehow seemed to top the last, if that was even possible.

You nodded, grinning as your fingers began to toy with the edges of your sleeve again.

"Only one more week," you echoed his earlier statement.

"Any plans? Just- please, don't do any of the haunted fairs or anything without me. I want to be there to do that with you," Chris said with a grin.

"Nah, she's gonna go get possessed in a haunted house or some shit!" you heard Vinny chime in from the background.

You were unable to keep from laughing as you nodded, answering with a "Yeah, just for you, buddy," much to Chris's disapproval.

"You guys are the worst," he grumbled.

You grinned at him, offering an apologetic "I love you?"

He stuck his tongue out at you, before calling you a brat and returning your heartfelt sentiments.

"Also, to answer your earlier question, yes, I do in fact have plans. Might catch up on the Scream franchise," you said with a grin.

Chris raised an eyebrow at you, shaking his head. "Those old movies? Haven't you seen all of them already, babe?"

You shrugged in response.

"I dunno, can't beat the classics. It's like you with the entire Halloween franchise," you pointed out.

Chris shook his head, making a face of disgust. "Nope, not all of em. Halloween H²O was the worst one of the franchise, and everyone knows it," he countered.

"Agree to disagree. Anyway, you know why I like watching all those horror movies," you said with a smirk.

Chris did indeed know why you liked horror movies so much.

There was just something about the fear and the adrenaline that kind of got you going, and when he'd found out your little secret, he'd been more than happy to indulge and explore in it with you.

If you were being honest with yourself, it had led to some of the dirtiest, (and sometimes borderline dangerous) sex you and Chris had ever had.

You could feel your thighs clench together now as your thoughts drifted back to some of those nights, when he'd had you trapped beneath him during sessions involving knifeplay...

The way you'd been so willing for him, craving his touch and the touch of the blade, the way Chris was always so careful and his intentions nothing short of pure, even if the act itself definitely said otherwise...

"Pretty baby, penny for those thoughts?" Chris teased you, startling you out of your brief daydreams.

The smallest of gasps slid from between your lips as you met his eyes, noting the way a smirk now rested on his perfect face, making him very much resemble the cat that ate the canary.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you stared back at him, unable to form words. His smirk only grew as he stared back at you, those warm brown eyes seeming to darken a shade or two.

"Oh, I bet I know where my pretty little baby's thoughts went..." he said with a wink, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth for a second before letting it go.

Your eyes locked onto the minute little movement, and you swear, you could feel your heart stop for a second or two.

"O-only a week left before y-you get home?" you asked him, your words stumbling over one another in their rush to get out.

Chris nodded, a familiar look settling in his eyes. It was a look you knew well, one that never failed to excite you.

"One more week, baby, and then I'm coming home to have my way with you," he confirmed.

"O-okay," you breathed, your thighs clenching together once more. One week, that wouldn't be so bad, right? Still...

Your mind once again started to conjure up the images you'd seen in the news, crime scenes and death tolls and pure horror...

Shaking your head, you bit back a frown, quickly masking it with a smile that you hoped would fool even Chris himself. And by some miracle, it seemed to work.

"Hey, Y/N, baby, I gotta go. We have to start getting ready soon, but I'll text you the minute we get back in that break room, okay?"

You nodded, exchanging farewells with Chris and the rest of his bandmates, before the video call ended, leaving you sitting there in silence.

One week...

Why did that suddenly feel like an eternity?

Only two more days.

He could make it that long, right?

Part of him felt incredibly guilty for not texting you to let you know him and his bandmates were already back in LA, had been for the past three days, actually.

But right now, there was an entirely different emotion taking over everything else, a much darker emotion, one he had grown quite familiar with.

There was just something so thrilling about all of it, about the fact that nobody, not even LAPD's finest themselves, had caught onto it yet, had caught onto him yet.

Not even his bandmates knew, although he could have sworn that his guitarist and closest friend, Rick, was slowly starting to suspect.

But how could he?

He'd been incredibly careful, very meticulous with the way he'd gone about it, never leaving any evidence to suggest that he'd been the one to commit such horrendous acts.

No blood, no foul, right?

Except there'd been plenty of blood, exactly the kind of thing you just couldn't seem to avoid with these types of situations.

The faintest of smirks pulled at the corner of Chris's mouth as he recalled the most recent of atrocities he'd committed.

The way the light had slowly left the man's eyes, the way he'd begged and pleaded before he'd been slaughtered like an animal...

It was always one of the best parts, hearing them beg, seeing the fear in their eyes when they realized that no, in fact, it wasn't a game, it wasn't just a movie, it was actually happening.

It was kind of ironic, really.

His sweet, adorable little Y/N wasn't the only one who got off on horror...

And now, as he donned that familiar mask, another smirk crossed his features, concealed by that ever silent, eternally screaming face he wore so proudly.

Tonight was gonna be such a fucking scream...

Tomorrow.

Chris and his bandmates would be coming home tomorrow, and then you'd have him home with you for another several months, maybe even a year, before he'd have to leave again.

The thought made you smile, although unbeknownst to you, your good mood wouldn't last. Your phone pinged on the bedside table, and in a hurry, you snatched it up, expecting to see a message from Chris.

But what you were most definitely not expecting was a panicked text from his bandmate and closest friend, Rick Olson.

'Y/N. News channel, now. You need to see this, it's... bad.'

With a frown passing across your features, you slowly reached for the TV remote, switching the set on and flipping to the local news station.

And as you sat there watching, your heart slowly sank, an odd sort of cold settling deep within your bones.

Splashed across the bottom of the screen, a single news headline: 'DEATH TOLL RISES AS LA LOCAL IS FOUND MURDERED'.

You sat there, listening with an anxious sort of desperation, your heart thundering in your chest. LA, that was... here. Had it finally come to this, had the person responsible for the slaughter finally made their way to your hometown?

You continued to watch the ongoing news with rapt attention, until something the news anchor said caught your attention, something about how they had given the suspect a new moniker, "the Ghostface killer".

No... this had to be a joke, right?

It had to be a mistake, right?

Surely there wasn't actually some sick fuck out there taking inspiration from a movie franchise... right?

Your phone pinged once more in your hand, startling you, and as you glanced down at the text, your heart dropped as far as it could possibly go.

'There's something else. Chris is gone. He left an hour ago and hasn't been back since. And he's been acting... weird... lately.'

What exactly was Rick implying here?

Wait a minute... was he assuming Chris had something to do with all of this?

You typed out a response, your fingers working quickly, almost in desperation.

'Are you saying you think Chris has something to do with the murders?'

Almost immediately, Rick's reply came through.

'I don't know yet. But something isn't right. I think- I think I know what's going on, but I really hope I'm wrong...'

You were about to respond when there was a muffled clatter from downstairs, sending your heart into a frantic staccato within your ribcage.

Phone in hand, you slowly got up off the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. You stopped near the bedroom door, glancing down to send a quick text to Chris.

'Babe, when do you guys get in tomorrow? Are you able to come home early tonight?'

You waited anxiously, but five minutes went by without a reply, so you sent another text.

'Please, I really need you right now... 😰'

Another five minutes went by, and still no response from him. Rick was right earlier, something was very wrong about all of this...

Slowly opening the door, you crept out and down the hall as silently as you could, your breath trembling as you carefully leaned over the banister to sneak a look downstairs.

Several seconds went by, until you heard footsteps, accompanied a moment later by a dark shadow cast on the floor.

You scrambled back from the railing, your heart pounding, each beat sounding rather loud in the silence of that dark hallway.

Back pressed against the wall, you stood there, waiting, hoping anxiously that your little intruder would give up and leave.

But to your horror, you heard footsteps ascending the stairs.

Trying not to panic, you made a beeline for your bedroom, and that's when you heard those footsteps behind you, growing louder before they suddenly stopped.

You cast an anxious look over your shoulder, immediately wishing you hadn't.

Behind you, standing at the end of the hall, was a black-cloaked figure, their face concealed by none other than... a Ghostface mask.

Fuck, they were here-!

You stood frozen in fear, watching as the figure stared at you, their head slowly tilting first to the left and then the right, almost like a hunter regarding their prey.

And then they were running towards you, before you had time to react.

A cry of fear left your mouth as you turned and ran into the bedroom, trying desperately to close the door, a struggle ensuing between you and the intruder.

Your phone clattered to the ground as you pushed against the door with all your strength, trying hard to get it to latch shut so you could lock it.

There was a loud thump from the other side of the door, and you staggered back a little, another cry leaving your mouth.

Abandoning the door, you ran over to the window, trying desperately to throw it open so you could escape, but you had only gotten it up maybe an inch or so before you felt strong arms close around your waist, yanking you away from the window.

Several pleading screams clawed their way up your throat, echoing off the walls of the bedroom, and you kicked your legs, fighting as hard as you could to get free.

Tears streamed down your face as you were slammed down onto the bed, your breath nearly knocked out of you. As gasping sobs slipped free from your parted lips, you stared up at the masked killer with wide eyes, your body numb with fear.

Is this really how it would end for you, dying at the hands of a masked murderer-?

Fuck-!

He had made sure to be as quiet as possible, and it still hadn't been enough.

Y/N...

You'd heard him.

As he made his way towards the stairs, he cast a glance upwards, and he could have sworn he saw you for a second, leaning over the railing.

But when he'd started ascending those stairs, all hell had broken loose.

You'd ran from him, actually ran from him-!

Why the fuck did they always have to run??

He stood there at the end of the hallway, staring you down, noting the fear in your eyes.

And you'd stood there, staring back at him like a little deer caught in the headlights.

His little deer...

In that moment, he wanted so badly to unmask and show you that it was okay, it was just him, nothing and nobody would ever hurt you.

He wanted to stand there and scream at you to move, fucking run, do something-

But it was too late. That familiar look of fear had already settled in your eyes, and Chris needed this, as sick as it sounded.

He needed you to feel that fear, he needed you scared for him, his frightened little bunny.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he took a running start towards you, and that's when you'd finally moved, running into the bedroom and throwing the door closed.

Or you'd tried, at least. He was faster.

He leaned heavily against the door, trying to push it open, to get inside and get to you, but you fought back, pushing harder against the door.

Under any other circumstances, he'd have been impressed, even a little proud of you.

You were fighting back so well for him, such a good girl. He'd have to reward you for that later.

But right now, all he felt was irritation.

If you'd just let him in, let him explain himself-!

Gritting his teeth, he threw all of his weight against the door, hearing you cry out in response, the noise igniting something deep within him.

God, you were so fucking good-!

But once more, the irritation flared up, drowning out any other emotion he may have felt in that moment. Jaw clenching, he slammed his weight against the door one more time, the wood easily giving way beneath him.

For a moment, he stood there in stunned silence, watching as you tried desperately to open a window, to get away from him.

That wouldn't do, he couldn't have you ruining everything for him just like that-

In three large strides, he was behind you, arms circling around your waist and yanking you away from that damned window, your screams echoing out into the night.

Again, something ignited deep within him, and he was unable to keep the tiny smirk from making its way onto his face.

Little Y/N.... you'd always been quite the screamer for him, hadn't you?

A soft groan left his mouth, too quiet for the voice modifier hidden within his mask to pick up on.

He threw you down onto the bed, leaning over you and pinning both of your wrists beneath one gloved hand.

You opened your mouth to call out for help, but before even he knew what was happening, he had drawn his knife, the blade toying with the delicate skin of your throat, your cries dying out into silence.

And as he stared down at you, taking in everything about you, his former irritation and arousal was slowly replaced by something more potent... a shred of remorse, perhaps.

Fuck.... what was he doing??

You weren't supposed to find out, it wasn't supposed to end like this. Something in your eyes made Chris briefly suspect that perhaps you already knew it was him beneath that mask, and that's why you were so terrified.

Because you'd trusted him and he'd gone and done terrible things in return.

He'd worked so hard to keep all of it from you, everything. And now, here you both were.

Him, towering over you, his anxiety and nerves and all that stress concealed ever so easily behind that familiar mask, his blade at your throat.

And you, lying prone and helpless beneath him, those eyes wide with fear.

He hated it, hated himself.

He hated how sick he'd become, getting off on this, getting off on you like this.

How had things become such a fucking mess??

Chris swallowed hard, staring down at you, and before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth, modified to sound exactly like the character he'd been masking behind this entire time.

"Hello, Y/N... This horror enough for you?"

The answering look in your eyes, the way you swallowed nervously beneath his blade, the way you clenched your eyes shut tight, tears streaming down your face as you just lay there...

It was like you were giving up, accepting the possibility that you might die tonight.

He hated that.

Where was your fight from earlier, where was his feral little thing from a few minutes ago?

It's like all the fight had gone out of you the minute he'd had you pinned beneath him.

"Y/N..." he breathed, leaning closer, his face inches from yours.

You stared up at him, unresponsive and numb with fear. This wouldn't do at all, he missed the excitement and the way you'd look at him when he'd play on your fear during all those knifeplay sessions, times that now seemed to be a millennia ago.

"Little mouse, pretty baby..." he tried again, his nicknames for you a last-ditch effort to get through to you.

And at last, his words triggered a response.

"Little mouse, pretty baby..."

Those words, spoken in the masked killer's rasping voice...

Your eyes went wide at the familiar nicknames.

There was no fucking way-

Chris??

He wouldn't really do all of this, would he?

Except... you cast a look down at the blade held against your throat, and that's when it dawned on you.

Though it may have been spattered with blood, probably from the most recent of murders, it was still familiar, nonetheless.

You recognized the engravings along the dark handle, the way the blade curved ever so slightly near the tip.

It was the same knife.

It was the exact same knife Chris had used on you countless times before, his hands steady and his focus only on you, always on you.

Even now, with your wrists confined beneath one gloved hand and his face inches from yours, the focus was entirely on you.

And you swore if you looked hard enough, you could see those familiar dark brown irises behind the mesh eye-holes of the mask.

You sniffed, blinking away more tears as you inhaled a shaky breath.

"C-chris?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The grip on your wrists subtly loosened, just enough for you to feel the difference, to gauge the current mood in the room.

"No more tears, little mouse..." the voice rasped again, and the cloaked figure raised the knife, waving it back and forth once, twice, almost as an imitation of scolding you.

And then lightning fast, before you knew what was happening, he was bringing the knife down towards you, making easy and immediate work of shredding your thin nightwear like it was nothing, until you were laid bare before him.

You visibly flinched, and you could swear you heard a soft groan emit from behind the mask. "Now that's much better, isn't it?" the voice rasped, taking on a rather condescending tone. You couldn't help the spark of indignation that flared up within you, despite the lingering fear.

And the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

"Fuck you."

The masked figure tilted his head to the side a little, his blade once again inches from your throat.

"Are you asking me or telling me, little mouse?" he teased.

And before you could stop it from happening, he had reached down towards your thighs, dropping his blade for a moment to wedge one gloved hand between your legs, prying them apart and exposing everything for the world to see.

You watched as he dipped one gloved finger down along the spot between your thighs, looking on in silent, horrified shame as he brought that now-glistening fingertip towards the mask, slipping his hand underneath to taste your essence on his tongue.

"Fuckkk..." the voice groaned, the single word almost a growl.

"Still as wet for me as always, pretty baby..." he continued. With that, his grip on your wrists loosened just a bit more, but the gloved hand that had been between your legs was now wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly in warning.

"You gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N?" he asked.

This was wrong, all of it, it was so wrong, on so many levels.

You knew that, you had already wasted so many tears on it tonight.

And yet...

No. No, no, no.

You had to know why, first.

"Chris, why?"

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you watched a sort of change come over the masked figure kneeling above you.

His grip on your wrists and throat loosened, a soft sigh coming from behind the mask. A moment or two of silence ticked by, and you almost didn't think he'd answer you... until he did.

"You don't get it, do you?"

The figure heaved another sigh, before he abruptly reached up and yanked the mask off, revealing a familiar head of purple hair.

Chris looked ragged beneath the mask, which he now let fall to the floor beside the bed.

"They all deserved it. Every... every single one of them," he said, a weary expression on his face. "Every single one of those greedy, self-centered, fucking narcissistic assholes-" he ground out through gritted teeth, reaching up to run one gloved hand through his hair, "they all deserved what they got. All of them."

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing. All those times you had told Chris how you were worried, how you wanted him to come home, and the whole time... he knew.

Of course he knew, he'd been the one committing the murders in the first place.

Despite the fact that it was your boyfriend sitting here in front of you- or maybe it was because of your boyfriend sitting here in front of you- anger flared up within you, hot and quick.

"So all those times I begged you to come home, to stay with me, to be careful on tour... none of it fucking mattered, did it?" you ground out through clenched teeth.

Chris heaved a sigh, releasing his grip on your throat to push back the few sweat-drenched purple locks of hair clinging to his face. "Baby, I-" he began, but you cut him off.

"No! You don't get to justify this! Instead of coming home and spending time with your girlfriend, you'd rather get your fucking kicks murdering people!" you spat.

Chris immediately went on the defensive, grabbing the knife from where he'd dropped it and pointing it towards the spot at the base of your throat, his face contorting into a snarl.

"Do not be a fucking brat!" he hissed, leaning closer to you, those brown eyes like dark embers scorching through to your soul. The way he said it, the dark inflections in his voice, something about the way he was glaring down at you right now- you hated it, hated him.

And yet... it ignited a spark of arousal in you, starting from deep in your lower belly and spreading all the way to the tips of your toes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue before they slipped out.

"Fuck you."

An irritated growl rumbled deep within Chris's chest before his mouth was suddenly on yours, silencing any further sharp words and choking them out on your tongue.

"Gladly, little mouse," he hissed, his mouth working furiously against your own, his tongue and teeth working in unison to send you down, so far down, into that familiar spiral, unraveling so easily beneath him.

With another irritated growl, Chris broke the kiss for a moment to sit up, yanking off the glove on his left hand with his teeth, tossing it aside before he grabbed you by the jaw, forcing you to look at him and only him, always him.

"Open your fucking mouth," he growled, glaring down at you. You stared defiantly back up at him for a moment, drawing it out as long as you could before he raised a brow at you.

You did as you were told, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him, just how he liked it. "Good fucking girl," Chris muttered, before he shoved two inked fingers into your mouth, nearly choking you.

"Suck. Now," he growled, staring down at you with narrowed eyes, that knife once again pointed towards the base of your throat.

You glared up at him through narrowed eyes before reluctantly doing as you were told, but not without biting down softly once, twice.

Chris let out a hiss, gripping the sides of your jaw with his few free remaining fingers, his eyes darkening. "Don't you dare bite, you little fucking brat!" he warned you, his tone firm. With that, he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, but the minute you went to close it, he shook his head at you.

"No. Mouth open, now," he ordered. You rolled your eyes at him, but complied, opening your mouth for him once more.

And Chris leaned over you with a snarl, his eyes narrowing as he spit into your mouth, the taste of him lingering on your tongue.

"Fucking swallow."

You did just that, glaring him down the entire time, your former hatred for him flaring up again, along with that delicious little spark of arousal.

Chris offered you a smirk, though there wasn't a single trace of humor within it. "Good girl," he muttered, the words of praise only adding further fuel to the steady blaze slowly burning away in your lower belly.

And yet that hatred was still there...

"I hate you-" you started on a hiss, but Chris shook his head at you, his gaze softening the tiniest bit.

"No. You don't. You love me, Y/N, you always have," he argued, before leaning down to kiss you.

And it was true.

You hated it, but he was right.

There was a small part of you that refused to be silenced, refused to die out.

You still loved him.

You hated him and you loved him, all at once.

You know what he'd done, the atrocities he'd committed, all of it was an unspeakable sort of horror. What he'd done to you tonight, was another horror entirely. And despite all of that...

You couldn't bring yourself to hate him, to truly hate him. At the end of the day, he was still Chris.

Chris, the sweet man with a heart of gold for those he cared about.

Chris, the goofball of his friends, the one who could make anyone smile, even on the worst of days.

Chris... the man you'd fallen hopelessly and endlessly in love with, who you'd given your entire heart and soul to.

You knew you'd always love him, you knew it in the way you kissed him back right now, in the way your leg slid up just enough to rest against his thigh, in the way his touch left you wanting more.

And he knew it too.

A soft groan left his throat, followed by a mumbled expletive, his mouth working urgently against your own. "Shh, baby, that's my good girl," he whispered, his tone less harsh than before. Your hatred slowly ebbing and fading into nothing, you let natural instinct take over, too exhausted to keep fighting, to keep trying.

You loved him too much.

Your leg hitched up a little further against Chris's thigh, a groan leaving his throat as he set the knife aside to grip tightly on your outer thigh, keeping you pinned against him as he kissed you.

"Such a good fucking girl for me..." he breathed against your lips, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. You arched up into his touch, wanting more of him, all of him.

"Need..." your breath was coming out in soft pants as you stared up at him, silently begging him to take control, to give you what you needed, what you always desperately craved from him.

"What, pretty baby, what do you need?" Chris murmured, leaning back to smirk down at you, a knowing look in those warm brown eyes. He knew exactly what it was you wanted, the smug little fucker. You glared at him, your breathing heavy as you waited.

"Don't look at me like that, use your words, Y/N," Chris told you, his eyes narrowing for a split second. You huffed, your gaze softening and turning into a pleading look, begging him again.

"Please?"

That one word seemed to set something off inside of him, because in one second, you'd been silently begging him, and now here in the next second, he was leaning down over you, his inked fingers reaching down to toy with your clit.

Then before you could even blink, you felt him push two, three of his fingers inside of you, curling perfectly against that sweet spot deep within. Your back arched up off the bed, a soft cry leaving your throat as Chris slowly worked his fingers to bring you closer and closer to that edge, ready to fall at any moment's notice.

And then all too soon, right as you could feel that warmth blaze deep in your belly, he was withdrawing his fingers from you, eliciting a noise of disappointment from deep in your throat.

"Shh, little mouse. Don't worry, I'm not fucking done with you yet," Chris murmured, his eyes darkening a shade or two as he stared down at you. "On all fours, now. Turn around," he added, leaning down to kiss you once, twice, before releasing you.

Your thighs trembling, you got up on all fours, turning to face away from him. "Head down, eyes closed. I want you to fucking feel this, all of it," Chris's voice was in your ear, all dark seduction.

And how easily you obeyed him.

A satisfied growl rumbled from deep within Chris's chest, and you had maybe all but five seconds before you heard the sound of a zipper being undone, followed by the feel of Chris pushing into you, burying himself deep inside, his hips settling against yours.

"Fuck... You're so fucking wet for me, you don't even need lube, little mouse..."

His words brought back that fire in your lower belly, a groan leaving your throat as you tilted your head back. His hand was on your throat in an instant, his fingers curling to grip just tight enough, exactly how you loved it.

All of this felt so familiar, so easy...

He had you exactly where he wanted you, and you didn't mind in the least.

Your thoughts were suddenly disturbed, your mind going deliriously blank as Chris's hips met yours repeatedly, each thrust seemingly rougher than the last, his hand holding ever steady to your throat like it was his own personal lifeline, his salvation.

And then he pulled you up by the throat, your back meeting his chest, the new angle causing little stars and dots to splash across your vision, soft cries to rise up from your throat.

Looking back over your shoulder, you saw him use his teeth to rid his other hand of its glove, before those inked fingers grabbed ahold of your jaw, tilting your head back far enough for Chris's mouth to meet your own in a harsh, unforgiving kiss.

"Still... fucking... hate me?" he gasped, in between kisses. You inhaled a sharp breath, your eyes meeting his as he waited. "No..." you finally breathed. And you could see it in his eyes, the way he knew you were speaking the truth.

Sure, you'd probably come to regret this a little the next morning, but here? Now? Right in this very moment? You still didn't hate him, you couldn't.

How could you hate someone who, despite having a near god complex this evening, despite committing horrendous atrocities, even despite hunting you down like nothing more than weak prey, still somehow had your best interests at heart..?

How could you hate the one person who had been there for you from the beginning, who had loved you more than you loved yourself at times?

"Say it," Chris's voice cut through your thoughts, his words firm.

"I... I love you," your answer was immediate, your breath coming out in soft pants.

"Mm... of course you do, pretty baby..." Chris buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving little kisses and bites along the skin there, bruises sure to form the next morning.

The hand on your throat moved down to rest between your thighs, his fingers toying with your clit and drawing you closer and closer to that sweet high, the blaze in your lower belly burning brighter than ever.

"Hah... fuck... m'close..." you groaned, leaning your head back to rest it on Chris's shoulder. He nodded, his grip on your jaw tightening a little as he bent down to kiss you softly on the mouth. "I know, baby... come on, Y/N..." he gently coaxed you, his words only adding fuel to the fire.

And then his next words had you tipping over the edge, falling blissfully down into that delicious darkness, his name leaving your mouth in a garbled shout.

"Scream for me, little mouse..."

Scream you did; your throat felt raw as your hands rose to claw at his, clinging on tightly almost out of fear of losing him, your first climax only working to bring on a second, more powerful one in its wake.

Somewhere in the white noise filtering in through your brain, you could hear Chris groan from behind you as he reached his own high, finishing inside of you, your name leaving his mouth like a swear word.

"Y/N, fuck, that's my good girl..."

His words of praise had you going completely stupid and sick in the head, your thighs trembling beneath you, and had he not been holding you tightly to him, you're sure you would have collapsed under your own weight.

As the two of you slowly came down from your unified high, Chris gently pulled out, tugging you down to lie next to him on the bed, shoving the earlier discarded knife to the side until it clattered to the floor, where it would most likely remain until the next morning.

Your heart thundered in your chest, the white noise gradually fading as you curled into Chris's side, your hand resting atop his still-clothed chest, your fingers tracing the collar of his robes, before a frown marred your features.

"Off.." you murmured, earning a deep chuckle from Chris as he sat up, tugging the black fabric over his head before discarding it on the floor, next to the knife.

"C'mere, lay down. Is this what you wanted, mouse?" he asked, pulling you closer to him. You nodded, your hand resting atop his chest again, your fingertips tracing over the ink there.

"Subby as shit, look at you, Y/N..." he teased you. Trying to hide a yawn, you lightly swatted at him, grumbling to yourself. "Shut up, I could kick your ass, you know..." you sleepily mumbled. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

"Says you, who wouldn't even have survived in her own horror movie," came his lighthearted response. "That's 'cause the villain is always hot..." you mumbled in response, yawning again.

That earned you another laugh, followed by a soft kiss on the forehead. "Hard to argue with that. Here, stay here a second. Let me clean you up, baby..." you heard Chris murmur, before you felt the bed dip under his weight.

You could hear his footsteps fading away, followed by the distinct sound of the tap running in the bathroom, before he came back.

And despite you trying your hardest to stay awake, there was just something so soothing about the warmth of the cloth down your back, in between your thighs, along the back of your neck...

"Stop fighting it, mouse. Get some sleep for me..." Chris gently chastised you, before you felt him lean over the bed to kiss you gently on the cheek. You mumbled a response before your eyes grew heavy, sleep waiting to overtake you.

And as his footsteps faded again, you finally gave in, letting your eyes fall closed, succumbing to the welcoming darkness of sleep...

You had done... surprisingly good.

Not even that, you had done exceptionally well for him. Better than he'd thought you would.

He had expected you to put up a bigger fight, sure, but... he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You loved him, you always had, always would.

The way you'd surrendered so easily to him after putting up quite the little fight... he had rewarded you decently enough for that.

At least he thought he had.

Either way, judging by the way you were currently passed out on your bed, tucked under the blanket he had taken great care to drape over you so you wouldn't get cold, he had worked you over pretty good.

God, the fucking noises you'd made for him tonight-! Always a good girl for him...

A gentle smile passed over his face as he leaned against the bedroom doorway, watching you sleep for a moment or two.

And then he noticed your phone lying there on the floor, completely forgotten from when you'd dropped it earlier.

Crossing the room to lean down and retrieve it, he glanced down at the screen, a small smirk settling over his features as he read the most recent text, from his bandmate and closest friend.

'Y/N!! Where the fuck are you??'

Ah, so that's who you'd been texting earlier...

Unable to help himself, he opened the chat, snapping a quick photo of you asleep in your bed, before hitting send and typing a reply, his smirk still in place.

'Little mice asleep in their beds... Y/N is safe with me now, she sends her love...

XO, Ghostface'

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