#heel grabber

[thefunniestguy]

GET BITTEN .................. little guy really said . Omph . Anyway Doing this to you

#that little guy also looks like its wearing heels bc of tjose feets . lookit tjose feets #anyway AHHHHHH THE SCARY GRABBER IN MY INBOX ....... jumpsvare 💥

[minispidey]

02: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist. next part.

02. He's just Steven (and Marc, and Jake)

a/n: i'm not like fully knowledgeable of DID but i did some research! if u guys can give me some tips/ point out my mistakes, i'd be happy to hear it and edit. i just really do need some help 🙏🏻 i've never written a system before and i'd love to hear some advice

(series tags are open!) tags: @3zae-zae3

"Morning, Stevie!" you started calling him Stevie not even a week after you moved in. Sure, he hates it when Donna calls him that, but god did it sound so beautiful when you say it.

You two walk out at the same time everyday, bothered by some of the sellers on the street blocking the door "Excuse us." you say as they made way for you and Steven. A vintage pink corvette was your way of transportation while Steven chooses the bus, but you weren't in a rush today "Stevie! I'll give you a ride. Get in."

Steven blushed, shaking his head "No no, it's fine, love." hearing him call you love made you accidentally kick your leg up. You stared confused at your leg before turning your head towards Steven again "Come on." you pouted.

"I'm serious— oh, bollocks." he drops his keys by accident "I'm alright."

You drove by his side slowly "Stevieee get in. I'm not letting you take the bus when I have a car."

"It's just-"

"Is it because it's pink?"

"No! No, not at all. I don't want to be a bother, that's all." he sighed.

"Steven. Get in." you pull down your sunglasses "I'm not taking a no for an answer."

"Yes, ma'am." seeing you so serious had him flustered. Maybe it's a weird kink he developed after knowing you were a lawyer.

He sat in the passenger's seat and buckled his seatbelt. You smiled at him before fixing your sunglasses "Okay! First stop, the museum."

Steven knew everyone's going to stare at your pink car. He just never expected so many people turning their heads towards you too. You were beautiful and radiated beauty and sunshine, you were an attention grabber.

He just imagines you in all pink in your firm, in a room filled with blue and black suits. He thought it was cute.

"Do you have like, a license? You can take my car on my days off."

"You don't have to." Steven shook his head "Really, you're too kind."

"It's alright! Whatever makes your life easier." you flashed him one of your bright smiles "I can drop you off every day if you wanna. I'm not as busy anyways."

"Take the offer, Steven. Beats having to cramp in every day." Marc says from the reflection of the right side mirror. Steven shook his head before turning towards you "It's fine, love."

"Come on. Rent's hell. Let me save you some commute money, okay? I may be fashionable, but I can be such a cheapskate-" the car comes to a sudden halt as you snap your head towards a shop window. Steven was pushed forward but thankfully held by the seatbelt "What's wrong?" he breathed out.

"What time do you have to go to work?"

"Before ten. Why?"

"It's eight. Do you mind making a short stop with me?"

Shop assistants surrounded you as you worked your magic "Ooh, and this one. Do you have it in pink?" you giggled as you slipped on another heel "Okay so like, the trick is to ignore the assistants." you whisper to Steven "They'll sell you anything in full price. Head straight to the expensive ones before slowly going to the ones on sale."

Steven nodded as he listened to the advice you gave. He felt a bit nervous as you spoke to the shop assistants, you seemed so confident as well. In contrast, Steven felt fairly awkward and he was just observing how you interacted with the people around you.

He was very intrigued by the way you were trying on shoes, the way you were talking about it with the shop staff— he couldn't explain what exactly it was that he found attractive about you, and it was slightly annoying him.

"Chica está loca..." Steven looks at the full-length mirror, Jake was staring right back at him. He raises an eyebrow at Jake "She's crazy. I've never met a girl who wears so much... pink."

Steven was about to talk back when you pull him to the counter, swiping your card and taking your shopping bags "Okay, so like, I got fourty percent off. I have a loyalty voucher." you two made your way back to your car, stuffing your bags in the back "Thanks for coming with me, Stevie. Well, you didn't have a choice anyways."

"It's alright, really. It was... fun." he smiled at you, getting inside the car "Never really shopped with anyone before."

"Really? Not even with friends?"

"Don't have any."

"Aw, how come? You're so fun to be with."

Steven's heart skipped a beat. He stared at you with bright eyes as you drove. He felt his face heat up. When he turns his head to face the side mirror, he finds Marc judging him.

"You've just met her, huh?"

"Shut it..." Steven mumbled under his breath, looking away from the mirror. He watched you, still smiling as you drove. It was like you weren't real, like you were too good to be true. If he had known years ago a woman like you existed, he would've searched for you everywhere. But you landed right outside his flat.

"I don't think I can pick you up after your work, training interns and all." you stopped near the steps "I'll see you later, Stevie."

"You don't have to, it's really okay." he blushed "I'll see you around, love." he got out of your car, looking back at you as he walked up the steps. You pushed your sunglasses down and waved back before driving away.

After an exhausting day, you drove back at 1 am. You shoved your files in the back seat with your shopping bags and rested your face, your signature smile falling from fatigue.

The streets of London were quiet, only the crickets' mating call filling the cold air. You rub your eyes, some of your mascara rubbing off "So tired..." you sighed as you turned the car to the right.

Though your sleepiness immediately went away when you spot a ridiculous ugly-patterned shirt. It was Steven walking back.

"This late?" you whispered to yourself. You sped up a bit to catch up with him "Stevie!" your cheery voice halted the quiet night.

His head turned towards you, a scowl displayed on his face. Though his eyebrows softened upon realizing it was you.

"Don't they have buses out late? You poor thing. Get in." you smiled as you unlocked your car, allowing him to enter.

"I should've totally given you my number. If I only knew you'd be out late like me I would've picked you up." you let out a yawn before continuing "I'm not that busy, I swear. Like, I'm a lawyer but I know how to manage my time."

As you went on and on, Steven just sat there and listened to you.

You parked your car and stepped out, trying to get all your shopping bags in one go. But Steven stepped in and helped "Aw, Stevie, thanks so much!" Steven looked exhausted too.

You talked more in the elevator, detailing how frustrating your day was at your firm before walking to your doors.

"-and he was like no and I was like totes! And he was like noooo and I was like, definitely!" you giggled "Whoever said orange is the new pink is totally disturbed."

You unlocked your door and let Steven in to set your bags down. He went to step out afterwards when you pulled on his sleeve "Thanks so much again, Stevie. You are like, too good to me. We should totally shop again some other time! Goodnight!" you placed a kiss on his cheek before closing your door.

He froze in place, staring at your door before unlocking his own door and getting in. He breathed in the cold air before walking to his fish tank, feeding the two fishes before his vision focused, looking at his reflection on the glass.

"Marc! What was that?!"

Marc looked back at Steven "It's nothing."

"Back off. I really like her, okay? There. I said it."

"You kissed my wife and your crush kissed me on the cheek."

"I said I was sorry."

Jake spoke up, appearing from a small mirror "You like her? Dios mío, that woman wears a lot of pink. What is it about her? Is it because of the car? I have a limousine."

"No! She's- she's really nice."

"Be more specific, amigo. Nice isn't how you like someone."

"Enough." Marc shakes his head "Steven, if you like her then go ahead. But just don't get attached."

"What do you mean?"

"I have Layla— we have Layla. I'm married to her. You can have a crush on your little neighbor, sure, but it's not like you can date her."

"Marc... come on, I have my own life... we have our own lives. What if I decide I want to date her? What if I really really like her, you know?"

"I don't know." he sighed, scratching his eyebrow "It's gonna be complicated, you know that."

Steven let out a sigh, looking down "I-I know... but I just... I just really like her."

Jake on the other hand was deep in this own thoughts. Marc heads to bed when Jake fronts, taking over the body. He cracks his neck before walking out and knocking on your door.

You were just about to take off your makeup when you head his knock. Your fluffy pink slippers squeaked as you made your way to the door, opening it "Stevie? Did you miss me already?" you giggled.

"Do you want to go out with me?" Jake put on his best performance, speaking in a kind of shy British accent.

"Out? Like, a date?" you blinked twice.

"Yes."

Jake understood now. He saw the way your eyes sparkled and your blinding smile "Oh my gosh, yes!" you squealed before covering your mouth, looking side to side across the halls, worried you might've woken up your neighbors "Yes. Let's go out. Uh, maybe lunch? I'm free."

"That's alright with me." he nodded.

"Alright." you couldn't help but smile like a fool "Goodnight, Stevie."

"Goodnight..."

After closing your door, you silently screamed, jumping up and down in excitement. Your exhaustion suddenly disappears as you start planning out your outfit for the morning.

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight system #steven grant x reader #x reader #x you #x bimbo reader #bimbo!reader

[vainvenus]

⌲;꒰ Head over heels. ꒱

Pairing(s): Vance Hopper x Gn!Reader

Summary: You're the only person Vance can stand being around or talking to.

Includings: No Grabber!Au, best friends to lovers, chill x hothead dynamic, kinda ooc vance, jealousy, bit of a slowburn, mutual pinning, happy ending tho!

An: First post for Vancey boy! 💪🏾

I don't like the ending bc it was rushed a hard to write

"And now I'm the one who's in trouble! Me? Because that fucking dipshit and his stupid ass friend bumped into me!"

You hummed in response so that he knew that you were still listening to him as you were looking for your dark blue lighter.

You were listening to Vance rant, having just learned that he was now banned from the Grab-And-Go for a week for starting a fight all because some boy's bumped into the pinball game he was obsessed with.

"It's fucking stupid and I should've kept pounding his head into the floor until he passed out."

You had found your lighter and grabbed a lavender scented incense, lighting it and letting the flame burn before you blew at it and put it in the incense holder.

"It was an accident, Vance. You should've handled it more responsibly and walked away from the situation."

He had furrowed his brows, he knew that you were right but he was still too stubborn to admit it at the moment so he rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. The fuckers should've watched where they were going." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded "Yes, they should have. I'm sorry you got kicked out, Vance. I'll make sure no one beats your high score."

Although Vance was in the wrong for him beating the boys up over a something like that you didn't want him to feel like the way he felt about the situation was invalid or him overreacting.

You walked over to your record player, going through a few of your discs to find something to play so that he at least wouldn't be in such a bitter mood.

You smiled softly as you pulled out one of the discs and put it into the record player, placing the stylus on it as it had started playing 'Dancing Queen' by Abba and you turned your head to smile at Vance.

"C'mon..I know you want to." You said, walking towards him and chuckling softly as you grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up from his spot on the bed.

"I don't fuckin dance... especially not to Abba." He said and you knew for a fact that he was lying because the last time you borrowed his mixtape player it was one of the first songs that played.

"Dancing is a good way to free your body from negative energy. Something you seem to have a lot of." You had said as you swayed to the music, the sound of the multiple bracelets you wore shaking together.

Vance narrowed his eyes up at you "That's bullshit."

"Is not! Works for me whenever I'm angry."

He furrowed his brows "I've never seen you angry before though."

"That's because I don't show it. I don't let my emotions control my actions or mouth. I find better ways to release my anger."

Vance had thought about that sentence for a while. He wondered what you were like if you were to finally snap like how he does, furrowed brows and shouting profanities like a sailor.

"Dance with me, Vance! C'mon!!"

He groaned as he rolled his eyes and stood up from his spot on your bed and stiffly moved to the song like he was a robot and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?!"

"You dance like we're at our first dance together and the slow song just came on!" You had giggled. "Loosen up!"

Vance had glared playfully at you. "I thought this was a judge free zone?"

"Oh it is...just not for stiff dancers."

The boy had chuckled at this, a genuine one that showed his teeth and he couldn't even be mad about the situation that happened earlier.

It was always like this when he would go to you to rant for a bit, you would talk to him and make him feel like his feelings were completely valid, you reassured him every single time but scolded him rightfully.

You were the comfort he longed for constantly. That missing peace in his life. You felt like what home should've felt like for him.

You were sweet and caring. Not once could he think of a time where you yelled at him even if he was screaming his lungs out at you. You were understanding and he loved that, he love that you knew his better than he knew himself.

Vance loved you.

"Hey, Vance!"

He snapped from his thoughts as he looked over to you who was back at the record player, going through your discs once more. He was sure you had every song under the sun with the stack you had.

"Any song requests?"

"Hotel California."

"Gotcha!"

♡

When you heard your door swim open an slam shut you hadn't even questioned it at this point, already knowing who the culprit was.

You turned your attention away from the painting you were working on as you turned to look at Vance who looked like he was already angry if you couldn't tell by the door slam.

"What's the matter now?"

"Nothing. What're you doing?"

You had knew that he was lying but you would take care of what was bothering him when he wanted to talk about it so you gestured to the canvas.

"I'm painting. The sky's really pretty right now so I'm trying to capture it while I can." You had told him and he had rolled his eyes.

"You should try it. Painting can help let off steam." You said, dipping your brush back into the light pink paint.

You always tried to get Vance to paint or draw with you, telling him it was a good way to express his anger without yelling or breaking something but art just wasn't his forte.

"i don't paint. It's hard to work with and I'm not good at it." Vance had complained as he crossed his arms, standing beside you while staring at your painting.

"Oh c'mon, the last time you painted with me was a finger painting."

"I don't care."

You shrugged as you turned back to the canvas, glancing back at the sky before you went back and had glided your brush against the canvas, letting the music playing fill in the silence.

Vance shifted in the spot next to you, eyes glancing from the painting before back to the sky which was a mixture of soft purple, blues and pinks with the sun peaking from them.

He looked back to you as you were back into focus mode. Your eyebrows knitting together whenever you were like this and he couldn't help but smile a bit at the expression.

"Starings rude, y'know."

His face immediately shifted and he had scoffed "I wasn't staring, asshole! I was looking at the painting!"

"Mhm..you sure you don't wanna give painting another go? You don't even have to paint the sky you can paint your emotions and-"

Vance swiftly cut you off "Just give me a canvas and brush before you start with your hippie emotion bullshit."

You had giggled softly as you went to grab another canvas and easel, setting them beside your own as you gave Vance an empty pallette and set the paints between the two of you.

He picked up the blue paint and looked back over at you who seemed to be caught up in finishing up your painting and he had smirked.

He had opened it as turned his body a bit as he squirted it onto the palm of his hands, rubbing them together and pressing them against the canvas.

He watched as you turned to him with a smile before your smile had dropped. "Vance, really?! C'mon! I thought you were behind finger and hand painting! You're gonna make a mess!"

He had smirked, reaching out to touch you as you had backed away. "Vance Hopper! Don't!"

"Don't what? Do this?"

He had grabbed you arm to pull you towards him as he pressed his palm against your cheek now leaving a blue handprint there as he pulled away laughing.

"Asshole!" You had playfully shouted as you grabbed the pink paint and rubbed it across your palms, now pressing your hands against his face and he had laughed loudly as he pressed his hands back against yours.

You both pulled away to reach for more paint, a childish game now being played between the two of you as you were grabbing different colors.

Red, blue, pink, purple and yellow handprints were plastered all over your faces, arms and even shirts. Neither of you were mad at the mess though now on the floor and laughing at how idiotic the two of you looked.

"You're an idiot, Vance! I'm gonna have to take like four showers!"

"Oh stop complaing! You literally fought back."

You giggled as you looked at the red paint on your finger and rolled closer to Vance as you lazily drew a heart on the back of his hand.

Vance stared at the red heart with wide eyes before he looked back at you who had that same bright smile on your face that made his heart skip a beat.

"See, you could've just drew that on me but you wanted to be a childish asshole." You hummed, pressing red paint again this nose and Vance stared at you.

Yeah.

Vance had already fallen in love but he was falling harder.

♡

The next time Vance had came over he had noticed that you had the music playing again but he could also make out the sound of another person.

The two you seemed to be laughing together, the sound overbearing the song that was playing at the moment and he furrowed his brows.

He stomped up in the stairs and made a B-line for your room, gripping onto the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door so roughly that it slammed against the wall when he entered the room.

His eyes glanced from you who was staring at him with wide eyes gore he glanced over the person you had been laughing with.

Bruce Yamada. somebody he wasn't too fond of just because he was everything Vance wasn't. Popular (for the right reasons), kind and caring, not a bad bone in his body. Everyone either wanted to be him or be with him.

He noticed that you were holding his hand with a bottle of blue nail polish in your other hand as the two of you were staring at him with wide and confused expressions.

"Vance. Stop entering my mom trying to catch me doing drugs."

"The hell is he doing here?" He completely disregarded your statement, glaring at Bruce and oh if looks could kill the Yamada's would be having a funeral.

Bruce had only smiled that award winning smile at Vance though "We're painting nails! You-"

He had cut him off swiftly, venom dripping from his tone as he spoke "I wasn't talking to you, asshole."

You had frowned as you looked up at blonde, placing the nail polish back in the tube. "Vance you shouldn't talk to him like that. He hasn't done anything to you."

You were right, Bruce was innocent and all he did was answer his question but Vance was acting on his emotions right now which were pure jealousy and fury.

"And? I wasn't fuckin' talking to him so why did he even reply?" Vance spat and Bruce awkwardly sat there.

You had narrowed your eyes slightly at Vance before inhaling and exhaling softly, looking back to Bruce with a small smile.

"Bruce, I'm sorry to cut this short but can we continue another time? I think me and Vance need to have a talk."

"Yeah..of course. Sorry for..uhm.."

"No, don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. You told him, glancing back to Vance back to him.

"Get home safe, mkay?" You commented and he had smiled and nodded at this. "I'll call you when I get home. Thanks for having me." He had waved you goodbye, slipping past Bruce and out the door.

Once you heard the door from downstairs close you had gathered up the nail polish and put them back into your box.

You turned to turn off the record player and looked back at Vance who was giving a distasteful look to the wall.

"Wanna tell me what that was about?"

He hadn't answered, keeping his eyes away from yours and after a short while he had just shrugged.

"Don't just shrug at me." With the way you were talking with him he was sure you were irritated and it only upset him more when he realized he ruined your mood.

"That was completely uncalled for." You stated, gesturing to Vance who looked like a child being chided for the first time.

He shrugged again, his words being stuck in that lump in his throat and he watched as you crossed your arms, shaking your head like a disappointed parent.

"I don't know what made you so upset before you came here but it gave you no right to call Bruce names and get angry with him."

Vance knew this, he knew he was in the wrong all the way this time but he couldn't help it, always thinking with his mouth and fists and never that head of his.

He huffed "Yeah? Well, he shouldn't even fucking being over here....with you...alone."

You raised your brows, holding back the urge to scoff "So you're the only one who gets to be alone in my room with me?"

"No! I...I'm not saying that but-"

"Then what are you saying, Vance?"

And there it was, that word vomit that he had been trying so hard to hold back.

"I'm saying that I love you, okay?! I fucking love you and every time I'm around you I just fall harder for you!" He shouted, voice cracking like he was on the verge of tears.

"So yes when I saw you alone, painting nails and giggling with Bruce 'Hearthrob' Yamada I was a little pissed off!"

It was silent after that.

Not even any music playing in the background to fill it up, just complete silence and the heavy pants of Vance.

It was probably four minutes of silence before you had spoke up.

"So you mean to tell me..you were rude to Bruce because you were jealous?"

Vance had gave a small nod, biting on the inside of his cheek.

You had let out a huff, chuckling a bit "Vance...that had got to be the most idiotic thing you've ever done. I don't even like Bruce like that, we're like siblings ."

"Oh.." Vance mumbled, now more embarrassed than before. He would definitely owe the boy an apology at school tomorrow.

"And plus, I'm not really into baseball players, I like people who play pinball."

His eyes widened slightly as he pointed to himself "You're... You're talking about me, right?"

"No Vance, I'm obviously talking about Moose. Yes, you."

"Why me?"

You tilted your head in confusion "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why me? I'm not definitely not a dreamboat like Bruce or-"

He was cut off by your lips on his, that vanilla flavored ChapStick you always wore now glossing over his lips and he stared at you like a deer in headlights when you pulled away.

You tilted your head and shrugged "I don't want dreamboat Bruce or any other person you're about to name."

You grabbed his hand and held him softly while grinning up at him "I want been my best friend for years troublemaker Vance."

It was quiet for a bit and Vance rubbed his thumb over the palm of your hand after you made it pretty clear that you weren't letting his hand go.

"You sure?"

You placed another kiss on his cheek, pretending to think for a moment before nodding.

"Positive. Couldn't see myself with anyone else."

He had smiled and brought you close to wrap his arms around you and decided that walking over to the bed would just be too much and he slid down the wall onto the floor with you.

With you laying on his chest and playing with his curls that definitely needed a good wash or brush he had heard you mumble;

"Well...maybe Keanu Reeves..."

"[Y/n]."

"Joking! Joking! You gotta admit he's pretty though"

He gestured to himself "Am I not?"

"Oh you are! Prettiest boy in Denver. But have you seen Keanu Reeves?"

Sure he had competition with Keanu Reeves but at least he knew that he outranked everyone in Denver.

#the black phone #the black phone x reader #the black phone x you #vance hopper #vance hopper x you #vance hopper x reader #bruce yamada #finney blake #griffin stagg #billy showalter #gwen blake #donna the black phone

[poketnife69]

Yooo, if you're still taking requests, can i aks for a headcanon with Vincent, Brahms, Hannibal and Thomas, where their fem S/O is like Morticia Addams, a lil sadistic, independent, gothic woman who obviously emanates Girlboss energy!

Thanks for your attention and....drink water!!!!

Slashers x fem!reader who's like Morticia Addams

Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire, Hannibal Lecter and Thomas Hewitt

WARNINGS : Mentions of murder(?), mentions of turning people into wax firgures.

NOTE : Sorry if this doesn't seem good, my brain couldn't function properly due to the lack of sleep I'm getting 💀 so I'm gonna make a new rule which is that I will not be making fanfics or taking requests during the weekends, so that I can freshen up a bit and get some rest.

Also, I MIGHT add the grabber to my list of characters and make fanfics for male readers as well, who knows?

------------------------------------

Vincent Sinclair

- Vincent didn't know if it was love at first sight, but all he knew is that the moment he walked into the house of wax and had this dark aura he somehow stopped breathing.

- The only thing that was on his mind was how beautiful you were.

- He tries to convince Bo not to kill you

- You and Lester get along so well, whenever he would stop by and visit Ambrose he would show you some of the raindeers and other animals he's killed

- He might have given you a raindeers head as a gift of appreciation too

- Though when it comes to Bo, you two aren't really on the best of terms, only because he doesn't trust you and that you intimidate him a lot. But despite being an ass to you he does see how happy you make vincent.

- Not like he'd admit it

- Whenever some unlucky tourists come by in the empty town of Ambrose they would often comment on your style choice.

- Of course, Vincent wouldn't have allowed this but when you spoke back at that person, he couldve sworn that they almost pissed their pants. He thinks your a badass and hot

- He still kills them afterward, but instead of making them into wax, he gives them to Lester so that he could dump their bodies in the road pit. He thinks their undeserving of becoming one of their wax sculptures.

- You would often hang with Vincent down in the basement admiring him from afar while he turns his victims into wax sculptures

- He would paint something very dark or sculpt a small wax creature and give them to you

Brahms Heelshire

- The Heelshires had hired you to become a doll's nanny, now if it were anyone they would have freaked out and autopilot to the front door of their mansion.

- But not you though, you didn't see any reason to be creeped out by it. In fact, you were delighted to watch over the porcelain doll.

- Brahms had been watching you through the walls the entire time, and he instantly went head over heels for you.

- Eventually, he showed himself to you while you were reading a book to the doll. He was quite surprised when you patted the space next to you telling him to sit right beside you, like all the other nannies he expected you to fear him, and feel disgusted just by the mere look of him.

- But you welcomed him with open arms.

- But be warned, he's gonna be VERY clingy to the point where you can't get any space or alone time. Not like you had any privacy from the start

- Plus we all know the man reaks, and he's gonna demand cuddles.

- Please dress him up in something dark and gothic! He just loves your unique style so much that he wants to dress up just like you ( maybe even impress you 😏 )

- He honestly thinks you're so pretty! He also admired how independent you are, he knows that you can't depend on him most of the time, especially in his state ( him being a full-grown man and having the mind of a child due to him being kept in the walls by his parents for so long )

Hannibal Lecter

- Let's just pretend that you met Hannibal at a grocery store-

- You seemed to catch his attention very easily, a woman in all dark and gothic style, and looks that could kill, in the middle of a cereal aisle was one of the highlights of his day.

- Everyone else seems to be avoiding you as if you were some sort of different entity, it was sort of amusing yet quite rude of people for thinking you differently. Hannibal approached you and introduced himself to you.

- After a little bit of chit chat he asked if you could join him for dinner, which was weird because you both had just met each other, but then again that was the purpose of having dinner.. To get to know each other better.

- You arrived a few minutes earlier which pleased him, he guided you to the dining room and pushed your chair for you. He enjoyed your company as well as conversing with you, eventually, you two finished your meals.

- And if your gonna ask if he fed you human meat that's for you to decide-🗿

- You didn't know how it happened but things sort of got... heated, which led you to wake up with him next to you. It's safe to say that after the whole encounter he would invite you for dinner every day and eventually you two ended up together.

- Now when you two are already in a relationship expect to receive a TON of gifts from this man.

- Like cmon he's rich what else did you expect, gift giving is probably his love language too.

- He'd buy the finest clothing that matches your style, some old and dark antique that would fit the vibe at your home, maybe even bring you to an opera that you like.

- Now when it comes to his 'habits' he won't let you know nor does he plan to, but if you do find out and join him in his activities then he'd just be over the moon.

- He is going to protect you with all his life no matter the cause, yes he knows you are independent and capable of managing yourself but honey please let him care for you- ❤️

- Overall it's a 10/10 when it comes to Hannibal

Thomas Hewitt

- The first time he met you was at Luda Mae's shop

- He found you... Quite odd... But not in a rude way!

- It's just the fact that you're wearing so much black under this heat it concerns him.

- Though that didn't stop him from falling for you. And in the end, you two ended up together.

- At first, he was against the idea of you being in the basement, he didn't want you to witness all the things Thomas does to their victims thinking that it'll drive you further away from him.

- But you somehow find enjoyment in it-??

- He just lets you watch from the sidelines instead, you smile the entire time as one of the victims started crying and screaming.

- He's so shy and nervous around you! Even when you're both already a thing he still finds it hard to be affectionate with you! You tease him about it making him blush even more.

- But oh boy... If anyone dared to insult you..

- This man had lived his whole life being judged by others because of his looks, but if anyone peeped a word that may seem disrespectful, or spared a judgment look your way?..

- Let's just say that dinner will be served a little earlier.

- Though he wouldn't have any problem with that, you seem to manage the situation very well judging by the way people looked away whenever you'd pass by.

- No one would dare mess with you

- They all knew that including Hoyt, and that's what Thomas likes.

--------------------------------------------------

TAGLIST :

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #leatherface #leatherface x reader

[berry-loves-yandere]

Hi Darling!

I wanted to request a Yandere platonic black phone kids with a protective and sweet mother figure reader? Is that alright? Love your writing btw! Have a great day/night!

I was originally gonna do headcanons for this but my brain said no no and now it a whole ass long oneshot.

Small bit of info (cause this is an au): all the boys are alive but were kept in separate rooms but they managed to contact Finney through a hidden phone in their rooms, who killed the Grabber, everything else is the same

Yandere Platonic Black Phone Kids with mother figure reader:

(Y/N) was Griffin Stagg's adoptive mother.

She was constantly caring for her son while also working to try to pay the bills.

She had been his babysitter when he was 6 and his father was around but one day, he just never came back during one of her babysitting jobs.

And (Y/N) was about 23 at the time, and decided that caring for Griffin and being his parent was her new job.

Despite taking on a lot of hours to make ends meet, she always made time in her schedule to care for Griffin.

Griffin adored his adoptive mother.

She would read him stories at night, help him with homework and try her best to buy him some toys with the limited money she had.

Griffin appreciated everything she did and loved (Y/N) so much.

Then one day he went missing.

(Y/N) had multiple breakdowns, would hang posters all over town, called the police asking for updates on his whereabouts and even searching for him everyday after work.

Many people saw as the young woman would knock on people's doors asking if they've seen Griffin and showing them photos of him.

She was getting desperate and once she broke down right in front of her house, sobbing her eyes out, praying that Griffin was going to come home.

Almost everyone in town felt awful but there was nothing they could do.

Then more children went missing over the course of a year and a half then people seemed to forget about Griffin.

(Y/N) overstressed herself with work and the search for Griffin and had collapsed more than once and sometimes in public.

People were heavily concerned for her but she brushed it off.

When Griffin and all the other boys were found, (Y/N) received a phone call.

"Hello?" She said.

"Hi. This Officer Williams, is this Griffin Stagg's mother?" A voice on the other line asked.

"YES! I mean! Yes, that's me! Did you finally find him?" She replied, her voice showing her hope.

"We found him. Please come to ********* on ****** street, he's here." Officer Williams told her.

(Y/N) hung up the phone and rushed to the address, not caring that her feet were aching in her heels or that her hair was becoming increasingly tangled as she ran against the wind.

Once she made it to the address, she was out of breath and took a moment to get back into a somewhat calmer breathing pattern before looking for Griffin in the swarm of police cars and ambulances.

She then spotted him, wrapped in a blanket, sitting in the back of an ambulance talking with another boy.

"Griffin!" (Y/N) cried as tears began forming in her eyes and she hurriedly walked over to him.

"Mom!" He shouted before running towards her.

(Y/N) engulfed the boy in a hug as she cried.

"You've changed so much!" She said after pulling away from the hug and examining his face, noticing how thin he had gotten and how small he still was.

"I missed you so much Mom. Everyday I thought about you and that helped me survive. Cause I didn't want you to be sad or alone." Griffin told her.

This statement made more tears fall down (Y/N)'s cheeks before she hugged him again.

"I looked for you every day Griffy. I knew you were okay. I'm so glad you're okay." (Y/N) whispered as she cried.

After a few months of recovery, the formerly kidnapped boys began meeting up.

Every time they came to Griffin's house, (Y/N) would treat them like her own children.

She would smother them with affection and they adored it, especially Vance, who's own mother was too busy to care about him.

Vance would often stay around the Stagg house so much to the point where he basically moved in.

(Y/N) treated him like a second son and Vance acted like an older brother to Griffin.

Finney would often come over and bring his younger sister Gwen, who (Y/N) adored.

All of the children loved (Y/N) because of how protective and kind she was towards them.

But sometimes when walking around school, some kids would talk and laugh about (Y/N) because of her behaviour when Griffin went missing.

When Vance, Robin, and hell, even Finney and Bruce hear this, they’re immediately hounding on those kids.

All of them have grown extremely protective of the young woman since she’s like a mother to them (For Bruce, another mother since he already has a caring one).

None of them want (Y/N) to be badmouthed or date someone because what if she forgets about them?

Vance, Bruce, Robin and Finney deal with the people who badmouth (Y/N) while Griffin, Billy and Gwen terrorize the people trying to date her.

Then even after all of that, they pretend to be (Y/N)’s sweet little angelic children (emotionally not adopted, though she’s tempted for most of them).

They adore the sweet woman too much to let her go.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere the black phone #yandere the black phone x reader #yandere horror #yandere horror x reader #yandere tbp #yandere tbp x reader #yandere finney blake #yandere robin arellano #yandere vance hopper #yandere gwen blake #yandere billy showalter #yandere griffin stagg #platonic yandere #the black phone #the black phone x reader #tbp #tbp x reader

[creative-crybaby]

Head Over Heels

PAIRING: timeskip!Azumane Asahi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: oral (f receiving, implications of m receiving), cum eating, praise kink, hair-pulling

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY: Being your husband’s personal model is both a blessing and a curse. All characters are 18+

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

Azumane shouldn’t be as fidgety as he is. This was technically your idea, after all, and he can’t say no to you. It’s the balance he needs, he supposes: he has his ideas while you have the enthusiasm to help him follow through. Not that he can’t complete tasks without you. He’s grown since high school; however, compared to you, he’s got more mountains to climb to reach your confidence level. Until then, the former ace is forever grateful for your support and trusts you more than he can express. 

He shouldn’t be as fidgety as he is, yet, here he is, leg bouncing as he waits for you to return.

The loose thread on his crewneck keeps him distracted to the best of its abilities until the door opens. Azumane’s head shoots up at the light creaking of the hinges, and his eyes widen when he sees you standing before the entrance with a hand on your hip. 

Despite being in his profession for quite some time, the brunet never designed lingerie before. It’s almost ridiculous: he’s worked with models, measuring them and adjusting the clothes to fit their body type, even if it meant he’d witness some exposed skin, yet it’s some lacy undergarments that get him flustered. And they’re on you, no less, his loving wife.

“Told you I’d look good,” you grin. Of course, you do. Picking the colour was the easiest part of the process; not only was it your favourite, but it complimented your skin, a quick attention-grabber that’ll lead to the finer details. The lace, a floral pattern, blends into the thin fabric as well as leaves its mark on your skin, hugging any fat it can lay on. And the long socks–those were your idea–were the perfect touch, held up with garnets and letting your thighs spill out from the embrace. The last factor he notices is one left unplanned, at least by him. “Remembered I had these in our closet and thought they’d complete the look.”

Simple black stilettos adorn your feet: your favourite pair. With how they look with your get-up, they’re Azumane’s favourite, too. 

Remembered, you say. Please: you’re trying to give your poor husband a heart attack.

“You look amazing, honey,” he stammers, a nervous smile appearing on his pink face. “But, you know, the idea was to create something new for work, and those heels–again, you’re beautiful as always–are kinda old, fashion-wise.”

His sentence trails into silence as his eyes look at anything but you. His words don’t bother you in the slightest, and he’d know this if he saw the smug expression on your face. You’d feel guilty for teasing if his reactions didn’t bubble something within you every time.

“Yeah, I figured,” you shrug, making your way towards your husband at his desk chair. The room is dedicated to all his creations, and while he manages to keep his workspace rather tidy, walking towards him takes a bit more effort than necessary. It doesn’t make him any less flustered, though. “Shouldn’t you be looking at your work to make sure it properly fits the model?”

Azumane gulps, his eyes hesitantly trailing forward to where you stand before him with your arms crossed. Anywhere below your neck has his face in flames, though he’s not sure meeting your gaze would fix the problem, either. 

“I made sure the measurements were accurate,” he utters bashfully, adjusting his glasses, “but if something doesn’t feel right….”

Your lids droop as the corners of your lips further twitch upwards. It never takes much to get the brunet bending over backwards for you, regardless of how meaningless the task may appear. He’d do anything to make his precious wife happy, not that you ever aren’t. With how often you like to toy with him, you’d think he’d eventually refrain from letting your games affect him the way they do. Maybe he likes this dynamic more than he lets on.

“As a matter of fact,” you drawl, lifting yourself to sit on his desk before spreading your legs, “I could use some adjustments.”

“O-Oh,” is all Azumane can muster as his gaze locks on your clothed cunt. Everything is choking him, from his loose crewneck to his sweats. Vermillion travels from his face to his ears and neck as each second ticks by with nothing but his heart echoing in his ears to fill the silence. Then your hand is on his wrist, bringing it up between your thighs and having his fingers press against the wet patch on the thin cotton.

“It’s a little tight down here,” you hum, feigning concern. Releasing your hold and letting his arm drop, you then lift one of your legs to settle your foot between the brunet’s thighs, the pointed tip of your stiletto barely grazing his growing bulge. The effect you have on him makes you smirk, and you watch intently as his fallen hand rises to caress your ankle. With a satisfied hum, you move your panties aside to reveal your soaked cunt to your husband’s hungry gaze. “Care to help?”

He can only respond in actions, doing so by removing his glasses and wrapping his arms around your thighs while leaning forward, sliding his chair forward in the process. The first lick across your pussy makes Azumane moan lowly. His next movements are languid, tasting whatever you have to offer; whenever your hips twitch, he gains more confidence. Soon, he’s no longer cleaning you with his tongue, but actively searching for more of your essence, lips pressed against your cunt as he explores inside you.

Your husband feels you free his hair from its bun as you adjust your legs on his shoulders, letting it cascade down his back in soft waves. An inconvenience if it weren’t for you grabbing handfuls of his locks and lightly tugging with every bolt of pleasure. 

“Always so good for me,” you moan, letting your eyes flutter closed. “My pretty baby.”

With the combination of your praise and the burning of his scalp, Azumane keens. His attention goes to your puffy clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub and flicking it with the tip of his tongue as his goatee brushes against your cunt. The sensation is dizzying, forcing your jaw slack as silent mewls tumble out. Your hips grind in tandem with his mouth, setting a rhythm that soon has your thighs quivering. 

You tug at his locks harshly this time, causing your husband to groan against you once more. Even from your angle, you can tell he’s getting restless, his hips lightly grinding along to his set pace despite his tongue’s somewhat languid movements. One of your stilettos stays on by your toes, threatening to drop with one wrong move, not that you care anymore. Your orgasm is just on the horizon; chasing it is only natural. 

“So good for me,” you sigh hazily. “Always making me pretty clothes and treating me right. You like having me as your personal model?”

You’re answered with a deep groan and a faster pace, Azumane’s grip on your thighs tightening as you lean back to rest on your forearms. He doesn’t have time to miss your hold on his hair, instead focusing on his goal of making you come undone. 

“Asahi,” you gasp. “Gonna cum soon. Need you to take me there, baby. Need you so bad.”

Yeah, you do. He’s never going to make you work for your pleasure again. Sit on his face, straddle his thigh while he moves your hips, spread your legs while he splits you in half: it’s his job where your cries and orgasms are his paychecks and being your husband is the ultimate promotion. 

Both of your brains draw blanks: you from your soaring release, and he, from your essence’s invasion of his tastebuds. Either way, you ascend the heavens together. 

And when you float down from the clouds, Azumane’s there to catch you. With his arms around your torso, he holds you in a gentle embrace, allowing your body to fall limp. 

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t you always?” you snicker tiredly, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. Your hand finds its place back in his hair, this time gently raking your fingers through his locks. “You always make the prettiest stuff. Not just saying that ‘cause I love you.”

You pull away from his hold slowly. Azumane’s face still glows a pinkish hue, his lips and chin shining with the light from his desk lamp. You swipe your thumb across his goatee, barely cleaning it of your mess. His eyes trail down to your body, or rather, the thin material barely covering it.

“Even so,” he begins, his tone becoming sheepish, “I might need to wash this one before bringing it to work. Or just make a new one altogether.”

You don’t need to follow his attention to know what he’s talking about; you can feel it, the slick connecting the panties to your crotch. You shiver.

He takes his time with you, neither of you being a fan of rushing through the more intimate moments. One of your heels seems to have fallen from your foot; when, you don’t remember. For now, though, your husband’s hand trails down your leg, slowly sliding down to remove your other stiletto. You haven’t worn them for long, though having them off makes you exhale with satisfaction.

“You always take good care of me, you know that?” you whisper.

Azumane chuckles. “I sure hope so.”

When you catch his gaze after he places the shoes aside, you find nothing but pure adoration pooling in the deep brown depths of his irises. You return the love with a smile. Once your legs stop shaking, that smile morphs into a smirk. The former ace doesn’t miss it. 

“Always taking such good care of me,” you muse, lightly pushing his chest as you dismount the desk. The brunet stumbles before landing on his chair, his eyes wide with fear and anticipation as you now loom over him. The bulge in his pants is as prominent as ever, and you slowly drop to your knees before him to palm his erection. Your eyes never leave him, and he shivers. “Let me take care of you this time.”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

#fanfic #fanfiction #hq #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu!! #smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #karasuno #asahi azumane #azumane asahi #asahi smut #asahi x reader

[princesssarisa]

This… out of curiosity

Do you know the different meanings of the name of Cinderella's Stepsisters?

Charles Perrault's Cendrillon

Javotte: A nickname for Geneviève, which means "of the race of woman," "woman of the family," or "white wave."

(Perrault only reveals the older stepsister's name in one scene, not the younger one's.)

Rossini's opera La Cenerentola

Clorinda: “Youthful” or “greenery.”

Tisbe: Unknown; it’s a name from Greek mythology.

Massenet's opera Cendrillon

Noémie: “Pleasantness.”

Dorothée: “Gift from God.”

The 1947 Russian film

Anna: “Grace” or “favor.”

Marianna: A cross between Mary, meaning “bitter,” “drop of the sea,” or “beloved,” and Anna (see above).

The Let's Pretend radio adaptation

Flora: “Flower.”

Isabella: A form of Elizabeth, meaning “My God is an oath.”

The Disney version, animated and live action

Anastasia: “Resurrection.”

Drizella: Probably a variant of Drusilla, meaning “little strong one.”

The 1955 film The Glass Slipper

Birdena: “Little bird.”

Serafina: “Fiery one.”

The 1957 version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical

Portia: “Pig.”

Joy: Self-evident.

The 1965 version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical

Prunella: “Little plum.”

Esmeralda: “Emerald.”

The Muppets' Hey, Cinderella!

Mona: “My lady.”

Lisa: Derived from Elizabeth, meaning “my God is an oath.”

Rankin/Bass's Festival of Family Classics

Fatima: “To abstain” (though it serves as a play on “fat,” because she is fat)

Leania: Probably derived from Helen, meaning “light” (though it serves as a play on “lean” because she’s scrawny)

The 1969 Czech film

Katerina: “Far off” or “pure.”

Dorota: "Gift from God."

The 1973 Czech film Three Wishes for Cinderella

Dora: “Gift.”

The 1976 film The Slipper and the Rose

Isobella: “My God is an oath” (see above).

Palatine: “Of the palace.”

The 1978 African-American adaptation Cindy

Olive: "Olive," of course.

Venus: "Love."

The Faerie Tale Theatre adaptation

Arlene: “Honor” or “eagle.”

Bertha: “Bright.”

The Grimm's Faerie Tale Classics adaptation (English dub)

Phoebe: “Bright.”

Griselda: “Gray battle.”

Stephen Sondheim's musical Into the Woods

Florinda: "Flower."

Lucinda: "Light."

The Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales for Every Child adaptation

Margarita: “Pearl” or “daisy flower.”

Esmeralda: “Emerald” (see above).

The musical A Tale of Cinderella

Moltovoce: “Much voice.”

Seppia: “Squid.”

The 1996 Burbank Animation version

Nellie: A nickname for Ellen or Helen, meaning “torch” or “light.”

Melba: Derived from Melbourne, Australia. Melbourne means “mill stream.”

(Their names are inspired by the famous Australian opera singer Nellie Melba, whose birth name was Helen Mitchell and who took her stage name from her home city of Melbourne.)

The anime series Cinderella Monogatari

Catherine: “Far off” or “pure.”

Jeanne: “God is gracious.”

The 1997 version of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical

Minerva: “Intellect.”

Calliope: “Beautiful voice.”

The 1998 film Ever After: A Cinderella Story

Marguerite: “Pearl” or “daisy flower.”

Jacqueline: “Heel-grabber” or “supplanter."

Gregory Maguire's novel Confession of an Ugly Stepsister

Iris: "Rainbow" or "iris flower."

Ruth: "Friend."

Margaret Peterson Haddix's novel Just Ella

Griselda: "Gray battle" (see above).

Corimunde: Possibly a variant of "Clarimond," meaning "shining defender."

The Shrek franchise

Doris: "Dorian woman."

Mabel: "Lovable."

The 2000 stage version of the Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical

Grace: Self-evident.

Joy: Self-evident (see above).

The 2000 British TV film

Goneril: Unknown meaning.

Regan: "Little ruler" or "king's child."

(In case anyone didn't know it, their names are taken from the evil sisters in Shakespeare's King Lear.)

The Simsala Grimm adaptation

Agatha: “Good.”

Beatrice: "One who blesses.”

The novel and film Ella Enchanted

Hattie: A nickname for Harriet, meaning “home ruler.”

Olive: Self-evident (see above).

The 2004 film A Cinderella Story

Brianna: "High" or "noble."

Gabriella: "God is my strength."

Malinda Lo's novel Ash

Ana: "Grace" or "favor" (see above).

Clara: "Clear" or "bright.

The 2010 Märchenperlen adaptation

Clothilde: “Glorious battle.”

The 2011 Sechs auf einen Streich adaptation

Annabella: "Grace and beauty."

The 2013 stage version of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical

Gabrielle: “God is my strength” (see above).

Charlotte: “Free woman.”

Alma Deutscher's opera

Griselda: “Gray battle” (see above).

Zibaldona: Possibly derived from Zebada, which is derived from Zebadiah, meaning “God has bestowed.”

Betsy Cornwell's novel Mechanica

Piety: Self-evident.

Chastity: Self-evident.

Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical Bad Cinderella

Adéle: “Noble.”

Marie: “Bitter,” “drop of the sea,” or “beloved.”

The 2021 Sony/Amazon film

Narissa: “Sea nymph.”

Malvolia: “Ill will.”

#cinderella #fairy tale #cinderella's stepsisters #name meanings

[viscerax]

Don’t know if I can request here, so if I can’t I’m sorry :( but if so, can I request hcs of finney dating a cheerleader? Maybe cheerleader defending finney with fluff??

Finney Dating a Cheerleader HC's

Okay so, this man was absolutely FLABBERGASTED when he found out you liked him too.

Hes had girls pretend to ask him out as a prank/a form of bullying, so he figured thats just what you were doing

I think he tried to ask you out first, but got super nervous and ended up asking to borrow a pencil... after school.

You asked him out after one of his baseball games. His game ended like 30 minutes after your cheer practice was out, so you ran from the school to the baseball field in time to watch the last ten minutes of the game and asked him out afterwards

Finney just stood there like "Huh??? Me??? 🧍‍♂️" he definitely thought you were either pranking him or you had just gotten him mixed up with someone else.

First date was a football game. Which was a weird date because the two of you didn't really get to hang out until after the game

Finney is SO SO AKWARD. You're his first for everything. First kiss, first partner, first girl to hold his hand, everything.

You constantly joke about how he would probably look good in your uniform, and although he'd never admit it, he's kind of curious now

Now a small scenario

You knew that Finney wasn't popular. You knew about all the mean shit the other girls said about him. Sometimes they'd call him harmless things, like nerd, or weirdo, but what bothered you most was when they would constantly bring up his encounter with the Grabber.

The situation had scarred Finney, physically, mentally, emotionally. He acted like it didn't bother him to much, but you knew how badly it hurt him. So, no one got off without a few bruises from you if they ever brought it up, whether it was to his face or around other people. If you found out, they were done for.

Many people doubted you, since you were a cheerleader. But you could throw a few good punches.

One particular day, some bitch had whispered something to her friend while you were passing by in the hallways. Yoy stopped dead in your tracks, immediately tying your hair into ponytail and turned on the heel of your boots, a very fake smile spreading across your face.

"I'm sorry, what the fuck did you say, bitch?" Your fists were clenched at your sides, and suddenly the girl didn't seem too confident anymore.

"I said that your boyfriend is going to grow up and become some kind of serial killer. So I'd be careful if I were you. The bimbo girlfriend is always the first victim. Unless of course, you go along with him." The girl snickered to herself, but her laugh was cut off as you slammed your fist into her face, making the back of her head collide with her locker. Suddenly, everyone was paying attention. You grabbed a hold of the girls ponytail and tugged it so that she was looking directly into your eyes.

"Finney isn't a fucking serial killer. He's gone through something terrible, and a weak bitch like you would snap. But he didn't. He persisted. So maybe next time, you should be more careful about the lies and shit you say about other people. Especially Finney." You sighed and slammed her head into the lockers again before spinning on your heel, facing the crowd and smiling, taking your hair out of the ponytail and waving as you walked off.

#the black phone #the black phone x reader #black phone edit #headcanon #finney shaw #finney x reader #finney blake #reader is a fucking badass

[ivanzplaid]

Can I have some head cannons for Otis Driftwood, The Grabber, Thomas Hewitt and the Sinclair brothers if you write for them with a male s/o who whenever they do something wrong, break something, set a boundary etc they start apologizing profusely kind of in fear due to past partners? I understand if this is kinda too dark

TYSMM🫶🫶 i love this sm, of course i can do those! but fr thank you for this request, its refreshing to have not just a grabber request, and dw, this isnt too dark, ive done worse 🫡 and x male readers r my fave to write for!!

i dont know how to feel abt these so they might be ooc but i hope not too much, i need to get a feel for them more💔 this made me watch house of wax and i found out i love bo LMFAOO

alsooo, i reached 200 followers!! tysmm!!!! i have smth planned, sooo if youd like smth written, ask and ill tell yall what im thinkin

requests r open, masterlist is up!!! these motivate me ilyg :)

Warnings: Murder mentions, Slight language / anger, mainly fluff

------------------------------------------------------------

Otis Driftwood

my god he is just head over heels for you, but will make snarky comments to cover it up, doesnt want to show it alot so hes compensates

youve been living with him for a while now, he is so happy to have you, when its just you two he sarcastically tells you how much you mean to him, and will hold you protectively

he is a very protective man

he never really made you feel self conscious about fucking something up, he might make fun of you lightly or let out a "oh for fucks sake" before cleaning jt up, but he was normally just sarcastic, never staying pissed

one night, yall were asleep on his bed together, his arm rested nicely against your stomach, fitting perfectly

you got thirsty, so you carefully maneuvered yourself to get up

its so fucking dark in his room, you cannot see shit

not even two steps off the bed, you hit something, and it clatters to the floor

you can already feel the tears swelling up as you breath faster

you knew what you knocked over

otis's painting he was working on

even just thinking about the consequences made you sob quietly while standing there, afraid to wake him up

this however did wake him up, hearing his boyfriend cry when he was asleep made his senses heightened, all he heard from your dark figure was a small "im so sorry, please dont be mad, i didnt mean to" which was paused by hiccups & sniffling frequently

"what the fuck- oh, oh shit. hey handsome, its alright, just sit over here and tell me why the crying?"

rubs your back, hands & shoulder a lot as you tell him, hes tired and just wants to make you feel better, but the more you sob & talk, the more curious he gets, so he pops the question

"why the hell are you saying sorry so much?"

he didnt mean to put it like that, he knows it was an accident, but his phrasing isnt always the best

however, he is wide awake once youve explained everything, your past, your ex, what they did, and as he sits there quietly listening, he is only seeing red

he thinks so highly of you, why the fuck would anyone do this to you?

he wants the names of them, he is determined to come across them, and inflict nothing short of torture, you didnt deserve any of that

he'll lay off on his famous comments, respecting what he just learned, he doesnt want to lose you, so he adapts his usual demeanor so you arent afraid of him, true fear is reserved for his victims

he praises you a lot since learning it, reassuring you quietly & in his own little ways

he does his best to understand, word will get around the family, and everyone understands, mama is literally so sympathetic towards you & baby likes to talk shit alot abt them with your permission

"I'm so sorry Otis, this is all my fault,"

"Hey there prettyboy, its fine, no need for the crying here!"

//

The Grabber

he is all ears

obviously he has a short temper, but if you get a chance to talk, or to explain yourself, he changes immediately

holding you close, stroking your hair, kissing your forehead

you mightve broken a plate, or smashed a bottle, but he assured you he is going to clean it up, and to mind your steps so you dont cut yourself anywhere

just like otis he wants to hurt them, he should be the only one to make you cry, make you hurt, but not like this

"youre still a good boy, it was a mistake! mistakes are inevitable my dove."

setting a boundary after hearing your past will make him more lenient, easing up on whatever it is, wanting to make you feel more loved by him than anyone else

will be happy you shared this with him, in his mind hes satisfied youre trusting him more! what a fun day!

thinks no differently of you after you shared this, hes happy his boyfriend is comfortable around him, hes happy youre in his life, and now he knows how to please you more!

"Al, thank you for.. understanding everything, its a lot I know, but-"

"You are special, peach. I would do anything to make you comfortable in our home."

//

Bo Sinclair

being a good boyfriend and setting aside his asshole tendencies

he is doing his best, and his best is actually pretty ok

you might've accidentally messed up his workspace, or made some type of boundary, but no matter what, he shows you the upmost respect, at first he was going to tease you, but seeing how upset you were made him pause

"Darlin', don't put too much thought into it, I promise ya I didn't take it to heart,"

he puts an arm around your shoulder or cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing circles on your skin, one of the few times he shows an excessive amount of pda

he follows your boundaries immediately, no questions or doubts about it, will curse to himself if he accidentally crosses it

if you try to apologize profusely, he will first tell you that its fine, hes not angry, kissing your cheek, but if you keep on going, hes going to make you know its fine, whatever he sees fit is what he'll do, he wants you to know he wont hurt or make you feel bad, may get internally frustrated but he cuts it out fast

i can see him at night, once every blue moon, slow dancing with you to show how much he loves you, and how youre still his #1 even after mistakes, this is a rare moment for the both of you, cherish it, but he will be picking the music

king of knowing when youre upset but he will wait to see how upset you are, can read you easily so he has an idea of what to do

hearing your boundaries makes him understand you more, he is may act like a dick, but will take a moment out of his day and listen to what you need to feel loved

bribes lester to see if he can get the ex into town to get his hands on them

"This is alot, I shouldn't be so sensitive about these things,"

"Sweets, this helps me love you more,"

//

Vincent Sinclair

#1 boyfriend right here

he will gaze into your eyes as you talk about it or apologize

wants to hold you ( if youre alright with it ) while you tell him

saying sorry to him makes him feel bad for some reason, he knows you didnt mean to make the mistake, he doesnt want you to hurt

might aswell dream abt making them a wax figure but discarding them, they arent good enough to be put anywhere

if you happen to break something in his little spot, he will think of how it can be replaced, knows how to calm himself down easily so he can communicate with you ( to the best of his abilities )

healthy relationship🙏 ( the most caring you could get for a sinclair brother )

is not afraid to show you how he isnt mad at you, likes for you to spend time with him, sitting while he works, or if you dont prefer that, then having you around while he works with the wax, or just taking a walk with him to calm you down

is a little taken aback at how much youre apologizing, very curious man

will give you things taken from victims, no remorse, less wax, win-win!

//

Lester Sinclair

he.. tries his best

he listens, he focuses on you and nods, showing you that he is in fact paying attention

he does not have the best memory ever, please remind him, he will remember instantly and apologize

"Sorry toots, my memory is a little faded,"

he is so sincere though, he means good intentions

whenever you begin to over apologize he suggests taking a car ride with him, or finding a nice place to sit in peace so you two can talk it out

goofiest damn smile, warms the heart

he can communicate pretty well, better than bo

if you let him, he'll lay down with you while putting an arm around your shoulder, saying how good of a boyfriend you are, how happy he is with you, mainly words of affirmation

really just wants to make you happy, he will do anything

"I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed right now.."

"Wanna take a ride, maybe outta here for a bit?"

-------------------------------------------

im too tired to release a fic tonight, but ill post one tmrw for the requests im getting dw!! again, i cannot tell if this is ass or not so all notes r lit🫡

requests r opennn masterlist is uppp🫶

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #black phone #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #house of wax #house of wax x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #horror movies #x male reader

[lulu-services]

Do it for me

------------------------

• A Finney Blake x F! Reader.

🌷Luna's Note: Request are open! I do Characters like Donna and Matty. (and the cast)

! Warnings !: Reader is dead, Can be seen platonic or romantic. Reader is the first victim. Gore. Mentions of R∆pe. Angst.

You thought you were the first victim because you were a sad lonely little girl. But when you watch over all the other little boy's you saw The Grabber. You saw he only took little boy's. You soon found out the grabber only killed you to figure out his sexuality. He only TOOK you to figure out his sexuality. He only SA'D you to figure out his sexuality. So when you saw Finney stuck down in that hell hole of a basement. You were Furious. You tried to run at him a few times but you went through him. You screamed in anger as he yelled, touched or even looked at Finney so when it was your time to call him you made the most of your time.

*RING RING* Finney steps back then he heard the phone ring. But then he sprung up when he saw a faint voice in the distance. "Hello? Who are you!?" Finney says shouting down the line. "Hey Finn, It's Y/N/N." You say sitting up on the vent. "Y/N is that r-really you? But your dead right?" He says hoping that you survived "Yes Finney I am dead but you have to get out for Me! For Robin, For Gwen and for Donna." You say "Where are you?" Finney Says looking around"I'm here."

End of pt 1

JKKKKKK

Finney looked around to see you standing in a grey dress that used to have it's natural form of pink he also saw your heel's had turned grey and finally he looked at your leg and chest. A gigantic cut had nearly covered the whole left side of your left leg. And cut on your chest causing you to bleed out and die. Finney screamed covering his mouth. "D-do I look that bad?" "N-n-no but you are dead." Finney Says.

"Anyway, Griffin stagg will call you next, He'll tell you the code to the main door. When you get to the kitchen try and crack Griffin's bike code I'm going to give you the combination which you must remember, Do you understand?" You say leaning against the door. "Yes, I understand." Finney whispered.

"When Griffin call it signals that the Grabber is asleep, He will purposely keep the door unlocked, but being the lazy hoe-bag slut-faced cunt he is he will doze off. Which gives you the time to get the bike and RUN. Alright the bike code is 2-5-1-9-2. Got it carve it somewhere like the bathroom or close to the mattress with your rocket thing!" You look at Finney and Whisper. "End the cycle Finney." Before you disappeared. You hug him strongly just enough for him to feel.

"I will Y/N just for you."

#mason thames x reader #the black phone #finney shaw #robin arellano #gwen shaw #gwen blake #reader insert #finney blake #finney x robin #donna the black phone #Beccafclarke #Donna x reader

[enblancjenveux]

Heel grabber Flex

SculptsO

#sculptso #fit #heel grabber #flex #talons

[herzgeist-writes]

1) The Stranger

Pairing: Zoro x fem!reader | Word count: 2.8k | Warnings: Cussing

A/N: To think, a swordsman is able to READ? Can you believe it? Me neither.

Dividers by cafekitsune

The scent of earthy and aromatic coffee wafts over to you, as you take in the warm and cozy atmosphere of the book store. It's times like these you enjoy the most. At this hour, the shop is hardly occupied, giving you the opportunity to fully induldge yourself in a good book and dwelve in the silence. Only the cracks and puffs of the fireplace echo in the back of your head.

All that ends to your chagrin, for a rather bothersome man enters at front, questioning the poor store keeper in a raspy voice: "Scuse me mister, I'm searching for a sake shop, which should be around here. Think I missed a turn." - "I-It's right across the street, Sir." Is he being serious?

Taking a close look at the stranger, you notice his hair immediately, green as a freshly rained upon meadow and three golden earrings glittering on his left earlobe. They clank with every move he makes. A scar vertically grazes over his eye, causing it to stay shut, right on the same side of his metallic jewelry, confusion apparent on his rather stern face.

It leaves you in slight abashment, to think this man to be quite handsome. Shaking those ill thoughts away, you go back to your read and continue where you left off. The front door closes again and you see the green-hair pass by your window in the corner of your eye. He idles for a second and turns to his right, walking along the village's streets. Strange. The sake shop is only a few feet before him, did he change his mind perhaps?

Syllable after syllable, you sink into the deep wonders and fantasies of your book and chuckle inwardly, enjoying the onholding humor and playfulness the author decided to weave within the lines. Then, another sound of the bell, being hit by the door's edge, tears you out of focus. To your curiousity, it's the same man you analysed just a few minutes ago.

"Are you sure it's around here?" - "Sir, it's only ten steps infront this book store. Literally.", you overhear the dialogue and decide to join in, still with your book in hand. "Pardon me for interrupting, but what seems to be the problem here?", your gaze switches between the green-haired man and the vendor.

Surprise plasters over the intimidating one's serious visage before you, not seeming to have taken any notice of you so far to your delibaration. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you await the expected answer of these two gawking men. "This imbecile here seems to be blind, not just on one eye." - "Oi, I was asking for directions, not pathetic jokes." His hand holds onto one of his three katanas, which are fastened on his red waist band. This man means bad news.

Before it escalates any further, you grab the agitated stranger's hand and lead him outside the shop, muttering in an angry huff, that going into a banter with random people isn't just pointless, it's unheard of. Unbeknownst to you, a blush crept over his cheeks by your touch, following you in all cluelessness.

You turn on your heels to face him, only to see the man knitting his eyebrows in an adorably disgruntled way. Honestly, it tickles you. With a light chuckle you prompt: "What? I'm showing you the way to the sake shop. Besides, I don't want you to destroy my favorite book store after all!" Clicking his tongue in protest, he replies in a deep rumble: "I don't need your help. And so what if there's one stupid book shop less."

Annoyed, you puff your cheeks and knock the three hundred pages of literature in your hand against his head, of course not with all your might, but just enough to leave a bruise. Exclaiming shortly with a deft 'Ow', he immediately holds his already growing, you might call it 'horn', on his forehead. Do you know, who you just 'injured' (Y/n)? Safe to say, the green-hair is not amused. Snatching the book out of your tiny grabbers, he flips through the pages: "I hope you're reading something about aggression therapy, 'cus I suggest you'll need it, woman."

Being the biggest bully of your nightmares, he thrusts the leather bound papers into the air, before you can reach it in your slowly faltering jumps, holding out for your belonging: "Give it back!" - "Not unless you apologise for that uncecessary nerd assault."

Nerd assault? Oh, the audacity. Crossing your arms you avert your furious stare elsewhere and deny his delusional claim. "Suit yourself, let me see what roils inside your little reader's head." Following the bookmark's edge, which looks strangely close to a swords heft, his fingers flick the pages to it's destination aside. Will you look at that, it is in fact a carefully crafted miniature metal katana, dull yet beautifully adorned with sword knots and engravings. The love for detail draws the stranger in like a moth to the flame.

Thus, the one functioning eye hovers over the paragraphs. One catches his attention the most.

Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love — Hamlet. Act II, scene 5

"W-Will you finally give it back?! This is embarassing enough!", you whimper while facepalming in disbelief, hiding the inevitable redness. Perplexion spreads over the green-head's face, reading those words.

Oddly enough, they move him in a way he wasn't expecting they could. Never was he the type to sit down and engage himself with mere letters being written down on paper, for he simply cannot fathom their importance. Why bother with the burden of collecting these dust catchers of knowledge, only to store them back in a shelf?

Noticing his absentmindedness, it was then, where you take the opportunity to grab your book and hold it to your chest, your arms pressing it close to your heart: "Are you done gaffing into my 'little reader's head'? Look, there's the sake shop, like I promised!" With your index finger pointed towards the long awaited ale cave, the man jarrs his head to return back to reality. Out of trance, he questions you in earnesty: "What is this about?"

You don't quite follow. His gaze focuses on the leather cover in your hand. In disbelief you explain: "Th-This? This is Hamlet." An awkward silence grows over both of you. Clearly, the matter of reading literature of such high class, isn't of this stranger's stature.

"You know - Shakespeare?" - "Doesn't ring a bell.", your jaw drops to the ground in sheer astonishment, negatively that is. To your dismay, a supressed giggle leaves you in skepticism. Lowly you add: "The William Shakespeare?" Once more, a nonchalant shrug answers your dumbfounded query.

Still gobsmacked, you shake your head to concentrate on the more important: "Sake". Giving the sturdy man a shove with both hands on his back, as strong as you can muster to make that pure mass of muscle move, you prod: "Alright, here's the shop you've been searching for! I have other things to attend to so-"

The green-hair's expression grimaces in uncertainty, not fully comprehending what the rush is about. Stuttering, he cannot even form a full sentence, always restarting with a muffled groan: "O-Oi, no wait- I- can we -" - "Sorry, got to run. Farewell, jade head."

Jade head? That is something he never heard someone call him before. Are you colour blind by any chance? Though it's not quite the shade you promptly announced it to be, nevertheless, he can't seem to deny to take a liking to that premature nicknaming. Smacking his lips in irritation, just thinking about the shitty cook calling him Mosshead, already sticks a sour aftertaste on his mind.

"Welcome! How can I be of service to you, kind Sir?" - "Give me your best you can offer.", he enters the sake shop and gets greeted by a cheery and dapper looking old man, proposing his guest a tasting of all sorts of just recently delivered wines and other none sake bevarages. Although he isn't that much into grape juice with a hint of promille, he decides to tag along, not seeing why he should decline such a temptious invitation. It's alcohol. Might as well buy a barrel of sake in the end, there's a chance this store is worthy of his tastes.

The golden orb dipped into the darkening horizon, engulfing the land and sea in blackness. Crickets chime in to a musical interlude and the stars light up the picturesque scenery. Lanterns flicker, their flames dancing in the soft breeze. The stranger's onyx eye lingers at the window, seemingly lost in day dreams. After nine glasses of potent wine, even a man of his caliber ceases to manage the impact, leaving him tipsy and slightly wobbly on his feet.

That woman he met today left an imprint on him. You. How come he wants to see you again?

Back outside, with a barrel of sake in tow, he stops at the entrance, right after exciting the shop. The alcohol hits him stronger than he likes to admit. This is the place where he last saw you, he actually remembers. Suddenly, a sharp spark on the ground lets him faintly gasp, stinging his eye.

Slowly inching closer to the shimmering object on the stone street, he kneels down, almost immediately recognising the shape. It's your katana bookmark. Letting his rough digits glide along it's tiny blade, he takes a close look at this little piece of art. Perhaps he could return it back to you? A tempting opportunity to meet you once more, if he ever will that is.

His gaze shoots up to the book store infront of him. There is still a dim light shining through the window. Could it be?

Hesitating, he props himself onto the barrel, which now serves as faithful brace for his only ever more enhancing staggers. In consideration of either risking it to peek through the glass or find his way back to the sunny, he musters  at the bookmark in his calloused hand in the end. There's no guarantee he will even succeed in reaching the book store's doorstep, due to his lack of 'way finding skills'.

Mayhaps he shouldn't have tasted all these different kinds of wine, now taking his head for a spin. The sheer amount of pressure thrumming at his skull is near to bursting this ruthless man's ear drums. A low belch emits from his chest, escaping his mouth through his slacked jaw. How utterly disgraceful. "Shit, that stuff's pret- ty strong.", a hiccup interrupts is spoken aloud thoughts, legs beginning to give in slowly but surely. If it weren't for the barrel's support, the green-haired one already might have hit the cold stone ground, face first.

A loud creak of a wooden door opening, coming from the book store across the street, startles the drunk stranger. After a quick glance, recognition curls his sloppy lips to a delighted smile, calling out in a huff: "Oi, nerdy girl!" - "Jade head."

Upon seeing the man, who you oh so eagerly tried to get rid of this afternoon, you roll your eyes in annoyance. He doesn't seem to have any urgent plans, explaining his carefree, more reckless, drinking. Light footsteps make a stop next to the alcohol induced fool. With a scoff, you let your lashes flutter at the drunk, asking if his tastes have been met. "Y-You could say that. That wi- ne hits - different. Didn't get to taste sake- though, so I just bought- a barrel.", rasping at you with occassional inward burps and hiccups, his onyx orb narrows at you, appearing suspisiously lecherous. You blame it on the wine, it's odor wafting in the air, the source wobbling before you as proof.

"Let me guess, do you need directions to an inn? To sleep off the inevitable hangover?", the questions roll off your tongue with a hint of mock, for he only answers with a smug grin: "Actual-ly, I'll need directions for- the harbour, Miss." The harbour? Furrowing your brows, you count two and two together. Is he - a pirate? That is rather bothersome, given the fact that he's drunk, not a very pleasant combination. A drunk pirate often leads to bad surprises, to which you're not keen on finding out, if he's that kind of heathen.

An amused snort reverbes from deep within him and he cocks his eyebrow at you: "I know what you're thinking. Y-Yes I'm a pirate and no I won't hu-rt you." Stretching out his hand to you, he shortly after starts an assertive introduction: "Roronoa Zoro. Swordsman and Pirate Hunter." Hesitation won't let you take hold of his oddly enough inviting looking palm, waiting for you to embrace yours.

Thus you decide to give in to your over attentive and cautious demeanor and shake this close to be trusted man's hand: "(Y/n). I- umm. I actually have no fancy title nor reputation to be proud of, so . ." - "Except nerd?" Propping your hands onto your hips you cackle sarcastically, accepting your fate with this tease of a swordsman.

Gaining back his strength and some additional confidence, he straightens himself from his trusty barrel and towers over you, flashing a wide grin. "Gotta say though, you're pretty, for a nerdy girl.", he says, surprisingly sober. It must be the wine talking. And is it just you, or does he inch closer to you, each time you blink your in fluster widely torn open eyes?

The stench of alcohol causes your nose to wrinkle in discomfort and you stutter like a little school girl, uncertain how to react to his insinuations. There are these ill thoughts again, of you deeming him to be quite the looker, a dreamboat if you're completely honest with yourself.

"W-We should get going! The harbour isn't exactly around the corn-" - "You're rushing way too hard. Why don't we just-", first he interrupted you with a low chuckle, leaning down to your level to drown in your deep e/c eyes, second however, a booming voice echoes in the distance, interfering him and his unknown to you intentions. It seems to be a man calling out for someone out there.

"Marimo! Where are you, you dumb wannabe swordsman?!", you hear the insults and curses coming your direction. To your notice, Zoro looses his composure, shoulders sinking and head drooping in defeat as he clicks his tongue audibly upset. Suddenly, a tall blonde man stands next to you, heart eyes flinging your way: "Why hello there! I am terribly sorry, if this bafoon made you feel uncomfortable! He's with me."

This seems to be one of the Pirate Hunter's crew mates. Confused you greet the dubious blonde. He flusters in a shy smile: "My lady, pardon this unexpected intrusion, but if you excuse us. This fool should be back with us at the ship. On the other side of this god damn isle." Earning a vexed groan from the one eyed man, he grits his teeth to the crew mate's obvious bickering.

Hinting the oblivious blonde, that you and him held a quite specific moment with 'subtle' signs such as clearing his throat and nudging his head towards you, his mate won't budge even once. Without question, he's not buying it. Grabbing the swordsman by his collar and heaving the barrel onto his shoulder, he pulls the staggering drunk after him: "Anyways, have a nice evening, lovely lady! Until we meet again!" - "For fuck sake shitty cook! Let go of me! Can't you take a hint you-" Cussed protests stopped by seeing you wave goodbye to the green-head being towed away.

Slightly confuddled you chuckle at the scene playing before you, recognising how the jade-head, you chose to call him, cannot hide a creeping blush on his usually stoic and confident expressioned face. Be that as it may, but did he come to realise how foward he was with you? The chemistry was extraordinarly palpable, that, you can't deny. Nevertheless, will you see him again?

This is the only picture Zoro is able to remember of this fateful day, meeting you for the first time. Or second if you will. The urge to cut down the curly browed idiot, who calls it his privilege to drag the 'greatest swordsman' away, grows ever so fleetingly, evident on the popping vein, appearing on the Pirate Hunter's temple.

The onyx coloured eye lingers to the distance. Something within him roils restlessly. Zoro can't put a finger on it, but he must find his way back to that book store. After all, he still carries your bookmark.

#one piece #one piece zoro #one piece roronoa zoro #zoro x fem!reader #zoro x female reader #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #x reader #sfw #fanfiction #fanfiction fluff #fanfic fluff #multi shot

[thewritersofdeceased]

ཧᜰ꙰ꦿ➢𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄..༒

MAINLY ROBIN AND FINNEY.

OTHER GHOSTS ARE MENTIONED AS SIDE CHARACTERS

"REMEMBER ME." A voice softly sang, leaning against the wall of this cold dark basement. Robin Arellano. Thhirteen years old, born February 2nd, 1965. Missing since November 9th, 1978. The boy had no bandana on, which was his fathers right before he went to war. And he wore it. Everyday. Mainly after his dad didn't come home from it. He took a shaky breath, his eyes closed. Before he felt someone push his shoulder. Blue eyes stared down into Robin's dark brown ones, an annoyed expression plastered across the blonde's face. Vance Hopper. Born August 10th, 1964. Missing since September 23rd, 1977. The blonde stared down at Robin, his arms crossed before he spoke. "Make the final call, Arellano. He'll listen to you. Rather than he'd listen to any of us."

There were three others. They stood facing Robin. Two were standing close to each other, and the third was quiet, seeming to be picking at his nails. There was Bruce Yamada. Born June 12th, 1965. Missing since July 12th, 1978. The golden boy of Denver. Alongside that, there was Billy Showalter. Born December 12th, 1964. Missing between March and April 1977. And Lastly, the first Victim, Griffin Stagg. Born September 8th, 1965. Missing in 1977. Five victims. And they all knew this new boy, Finney, Blake may be the sixth.

"He's your best friend... He'll listen to you better than he listened to me." Billy grumbled, seeming annoyed that Finney didn't listen to him. "Don't go upstairs" just meant nothing to Finney. Clearly. The second victim leaned against the wall, annoyance held all over his face and even how he stood. Of course he was annoyed. Finney had gone upstairs, gotten out, and then dragged right back down here. The same thing that he had done. It was annoying how Finney didn't listen to him once, even with the warning that The Grabber was waiting upstairs with that stupid belt. He took a breath in, looking between himself and the other four victims.

Robin looked between them all, his brows furrowed slightly as he took a breath in himself, and letting it out only seconds after. "Okay. I'll call him." He mumbled aloud, fixing his hair, even if it looked to be a tangled mess. That should've been expected. You're kidnapped for about a week, your hair was bound to be a mess. He took a step towards the phone, looking around the room for his best friend. Finney was leaned against a wall, just by the former panel that used to keep him separated from the freezer that contained meat. Into the storage room.

Tears fell out the closed eyes of Finney, his head down. But it slowly rose when he had begun to hear that annoying phone ringing off the wall. He stood to his feet with a slight stumble, his eyes red from tears. He took a step or two towards the phone, hesitant to take it off the ringer. Before he did. Holding it up to his ear, he seemed confused to that stupid phone. He spoke with an almost blank tone, his voice hoarse from crying. "What?" He asked, his eyes widening after he heard the voice of someone all too familiar. "Hey Finn. What's happening?" The voice of Robin Arellano, his best friend.

Finney stood with his eyes widened, before they narrowed slightly as he spoke up again. "Robin?" He spoke, hesitation clear in his voice as he tried to figure out everything. "Hey buddy. Don't cry." Robin spoke, shaking his head. Even though Finney couldn't see him, Robin had a slight smile on his face. Talking to his best friend that he cared about. Finney shook his head, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. "I'm not." He lied, having not known Robin could see him. He grew quiet for a couple seconds, sniffling slightly.

"Yes, you are. I can see you." Robin spoke, leaning against the wall as he remained on the phone with his closest friend. Who he wished he never left. "You can?" Finn asked as he turned on his heel, facing the basement door. Just like he had with Billy. Except he wasn't going upstairs. Robin took a breath in, hesitance in his voice. A shaky breath almost. "I'm with you. I've been with you this whole time." He explained, looking back to the others ghosts, who only stood and stared at Robin as he tried talking with Finney.

"You have?" Another question. Finney raised a brow, trying to figure out if what Robin was saying was the full hard covered truth. Taking a breath in, yet another shaky one that seemed to be more hesitant than any, Robin spoke. "A man never leaves a friend behind. My dad didn't leave his buddies behind when he went to 'Nam." He started, fixing his outfit before speaking out again. "That's why he didn't come home. And I'm not coming home, either." He explained, looking down after speaking. A small tired chuckle had escaped Finney, who was now leaning against the wall. "We'll be together soon."

This caught Robin's attention as his eyes widened. His eyes narrowed right after, his determined tone beginning to pierce through the air. "Fuck that's you ain't gonna go like I did." He spoke, his voice going from determined to stern in the span of a second. Finney stared straight, trying to figure out what to say. "I've tried everything. Nothing's worked-" He went to speak, being cut off. "Yet." Robin cut him off, taking a step away from the phone. "Robin..." Finney muttered aloud. Shaking his head, Rohin's stern voice returned. "Remember what I told you?" He asked.

It took Finney a couple seconds to respond. "That I needed to see Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" He asked, gaining a slight laugh from Robin. "Before that." He explained right after. Finney realized just what Rob n now was beginning to mean. "That someday I have to stand up for myself." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair and continuing to try and keep himself calm and relaxed. But in his case, that was rather difficult.

"Someday is today, Finn." Robin spoke, the amount of determination and the feeling of being proud went through his head. "Today's the day you stop taking shit from anybody." He continued, a small smile appearing. Griffin sat, staring at Robin with a confused look. He couldn't talk. His vocal cords were messed up. After having his neck slit, you'd think so. Along with that, he couldn't walk. Both his ankles were broken. So without crutches, it was almost impossible to walk.

Vance only stood, staring at the situation with his arms crossed. It was like he was jealous. He should've been the one to escape. Not this bastard. He thought for a couple seconds, his angry demeanor showing up back on his face.  But it was whatever. He had run ins with the law plenty of time. Maybe he deserved all of this. He took a breath in, glaring daggers at Finney from where he was. Leaning against the wall, a foot prompted up against it, and himself leaning on it.

Billy was quiet as he too flared daggers straight at Finney. He was still annoyed that the brunette didn't listen to him. Don't go upstairs. What's the kid do? Go upstairs. That was the stupidest shit that Billy could remember. He looked between everyone at first, but his dagger glare never left Finney..

Griffin and Bruce were looking to Finney with almost pleading eyes. Bruce knew he was popular enough in Denver to not be forgotten for a long time, but Griffin wasn't. He only hoped people remembered his name. But he didn't think it would be for being missing.

With Robin... He listened to Finney speak, his eyes narrowed. "I'm not a fighter like you, Robin. You couldn't even take him." Now that was true. Robin couldn't fight the Grabber, but he sure as hell tried. Taking a breath in, Robin began to speak. "You've always been a fighter, Fin. That's what we have in common, why we're friends." He started to talk, leaning his head back against the cold basement walls he'd been confined it for weeks. "You were always afraid to throw a punch, but you always knew how to take one. And you always got back up every time." He finished.

"I'm not strong enough." Finney muttered, closing his eyes as he tried to process what Robin was saying. He wasn't a fighter. He was just a kid going through so much bullshit right now. Robin shook his head as he listened. "You have to be. You're getting out of here." He spoke, shaking his head. "If you can't do it for you, do it for me." He continued, now standing to Finney's left, the phone no longer in his hand, but rather hanging from the ringer on the ghosts side.

Finney stared blankly ahead of him. "What does it matter?" That question made Robin let out a sigh. "Because I don't want to die for nothing! I want to have at least died for a friend. And because I can't kill that hijo de puta, you have to do it for me." He grumbled out, staring at Finn with a look of almost desperation. But it wasn't. With a look of confusion, Finn looked down at the floor. "How?" He asked, confused now. What weapon?

"You're gonna use a weapon." Robin explained, looking at the phone that now dangled from the ringer. "What weapon?" Finn then asked, looking around the basement. Sure, there was the cable from Billy, and the lid that he used to try and get into the freezer and out to the storage room.. "The one in your hand." Robin then replied, calmly. The ghosts looked at him in confusion as he spoke.

"The phone..?" Finney muttered, looking at the phone in his hand from an almost side eye view. Robin nodded, knowing he wasn't able to be seen. "Fill the receiver with dirt. Pack it in tight. Give it some heft." He began to instruct, explaining what to do. Finney stared with confusion as he listened to Robin's instructions, not following on them yet. "Then what?" He asked.

Robin smirked at this. "Then you practice. Over. And over." He explained, acting as if he was doing the motions. "You raise the phone, take a fast step back. Step forward, step back and swing. Try it." He spoke to Finney. Who just remained confused for a couple seconds. "Now?" The brunette replied. "Yes." And so the training began. After a while, Robin spoke again.

"You got it. Now fill the phone with dirt like I told you." He instructed, turning to face the phone. He picked the dangling phone up, holding it his ear as he listened to Finney's question. "Will I still be able to talk with you?" That shattered Robin's heart to hear. He paused in his movements before taking a sharp breath in. "This was the last call, Finn. It's all you from here on out." He explained, feeling guilty for having to admit they wouldn't be able to talk again.

"I miss you, Robin."

"Then get out for me. Use what we gave you."

"I will."

"Bye Finn.”

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄..

"Bye Robin.."

Remember me. Don't let it make you cry.

And with silence overtaking, Robin put the phone back on the receiver. His shoulders slumped as he wiped his eyes. No. He wasn't supposed to cry. Bruce at this point had stood to his feet, placing a gentle hand on Robin's shoulder. "We know you'll miss him. You gave him good advice, man." He explained, trying to give a warm smile, but he felt weak, like he was going to disappear and fade away from anything going on. Griffin tried to speak in agreement, but again. He got sliced in the neck. He didn't really get to talk. He stumbled to stand, Billy quickly going to his side to help him up.

Griffin signed something, but Robin couldn't tell what it is. Billy had to translate. "Since he can't talk, he's trying to say you did your best." He explained, staring at Finney for a couple seconds. "He definitely cares about you." He mumbled aloud. He looked to Vance, who only rolled his eyes. As if he had anything nice to say at the situation. When the time came, each boy stood with their eyes focused on Finney.

Bruce and Billy's advice was taken, a hole in the ground and the cable being used as a tripwire. Robin's fighting helped too. Robin stood in front of every boy. After seeing the Grabber's ankle snap, Griffin made a noise of joy. Robin helped Billy bring him over to the phone, before it began to ring on the other side. On Finney's side. With an annoyed tone, he spoke. "It's for you."

Vance was the first to grab it. "Welcome to the nightmare end of your pathetic little life!" Next was Griffin. With a very little laughter, the youngest victim spoke slightly. “You don't have much time!" Then it was Vance again. "Today's the day, motherfucker!" He shouted, Robin taking the phone next with a smirk. "I can't kill you, you hijo de puta! So Finn is gonna do it for me!" Then Bruce was last. "Finn's arm is mint!"

And with that, the sound of a neck snapping echoed throughout the basement. Robin was cheering, having a large smirk on his face. Vance pushed himself away from the phone, looking at the door. If they went outside, what would happen?

When Finney went outside, as did the ghosts. Gwen, who was across the street, had ran across to her brother, engulfing him in a hug. Before she spoke up. "I found you! Finney, I found you! Oh! In one of my dreams.. Robin directed something to me." She spoke, taking something out of her pocket. The blue bandana. His fathers blue bandana. "And he's here. They all are, Finney..." She explained. "You just can't see them. I can."

Finney felt a shiver go down his spine as Gwen laughed. "Robin's hugging you. Vance and Griffin are over there," She pointed to one spot, more near the driveway. "Then Bruce and Billy are near the street." She pointed another way. Finney could feel himself tearing up. Before a song echoed through his mind. Through his ears.

"Remember me. Though I have to say goodbye, remember me. Don't let it make you cry. For even if I'm far away, I hold you in my heart. I sing a secret song to you each time we are apart."

"Remember me."

#rinney #Robin x finney #Finney Blake #Robin Arellano #the black phone imagine

[hoochieblues]

for the wip ask meme, please can i have as much as you feel comfortable sharing about 'funk hole' (an inherently funny combo of words, onomatopoetically speaking) or failing that the nanananana HANNIBAL (im assuming hummed to the batman theme tune)!

Thank you! You can have both! :D (oprahwinfreybees.gif )

Ngl, Funk Hole's title choice is like 50% 'oh this would be an attention grabber heh heh' but the phrase was also WW2-era slang, capitalising on the anger/fear that people were using country hotels or resort towns to hide out away from the bombardment and fighting ('funk hole' having originally been military slang for a dugout). The press really went after certain areas for this, including Torquay, where I lived for... like six months at one point, and distracted myself by reading a lot of local history. (side note: the majority of my family's from Kent/London, and when you listen to people's memories, or just look a map of V2 bomb sites, you can extra see why the idea that wealthier folks were just paying to avoid the reality of war generated so much rage.)

So, it's a queer romantic drama set in 1940s south Devon, in a (mostly) fictional quaint little country hotel run by an eccentric old lady, with help from her quiet, bookish nephew, a socialist conscientious objector saddled with the first name Raleigh. Poor bastard. Cue the cast of weirdoes living in the hotel - a mix of neurotic oddballs, well-heeled assholes, self-styled bohemians and Artsy(tm) types - until a new guest arrives: a recently disabled ex-pilot recovering from his injuries, his stay paid for by a wealthy relative.

You know where this is going. But I promise it's going to be an interesting or at least enjoyable journey. Probably. idk, this one's still largely notes on a proverbial napkin, but it's got all that good potential: the dissolving myth of 'England' in the post-Edwardian mess of the early-mid 20th century; the rapidly changing roles and boundaries of class, gender, and identity; hurt/comfort with graphic skin graft recovery (I read multiple books about Harold Gillies and now everyone else must suffer); characters forced to come to terms with lives and worlds irreparably changed by things beyond their control... and so forth. With luck, I might actually get to writing up the first draft later this year.

Aaaand then there's the Batman Hannibal AU, a concept which is largely @emungere's fault and that is the story I'm sticking to. It is entirely skates dangerously close to crackfic and is not to be taken at all seriously.

More beneath the cut if you dare.

Essentially, Hannibal is Alfred. Mischa is Batman, Chiyoh is Robin (kinda), and Commissioner Crawford has a perpetual headache. And Will Graham is... Dog...Man...?

The Lecter siblings coped with the death of their parents in different ways. Hannibal largely withdrew from society while Mischa secretly became The Bat, a vigilante who fights crime but does not kill, despite the fact that assholes are constantly breaking into Lecter Manor to rob/murder the city's wealthiest siblings. Fortunately, Hannibal's there to keep things neat and tidy... and cater spectacular menus for his beloved little sister's charity galas.

Things get complicated when Chiyoh lays a little too much smackdown on one of The Bat's enemies, and they bring him back to the estate to recover. This one's still in super early stages, but I cannot resist sharing the visual that would never ever leave my head. I'm sorry. Not very sorry, though.

________________________________

Shreds of moonlight glanced off the brickwork and made ghosts of the gasoline rainbows in the puddles underfoot. The alarm still blared in the distance, shrill and ignored. Wherever the figure had gone, they were trapped in the alleys now. No way out. Mischa stole forward, boots silent on the greasy asphalt.

Chiyoh sniffed. “Smells like wet dog.”

Mischa shot her a frown. Rain beaded the tight slick of Chiyoh's hair, as dark and smooth as her high-necked black suit. Behind the mask, her gaze stayed firm. Mischa felt her lips twitch.

“What d’you expect?” she murmured. “It’s rough out there.”

Chiyoh sighed and looked away. Movement deeper in the alley drew their attention, and they crept forward. Mischa drew breath to call out to the thief, but something shifted in the dark.

A dog ran out of the shadows, a scruffy white-and-brown little thing, barking and showing his teeth. He stopped a few feet from them, stubby legs planted determinedly square, and let out the squeaky small dog version of a baying howl, back end quivering with over-excitement.

“Buster!” A voice called from the depths of the alley. “Leave!”

The sound of scrabbling paws and footsteps filled up the dark, and a dog pack of varying shapes and sizes burst from the alley. If Mischa hadn’t known better, she’d have said the scruffy little dog looked almost smug. Beside her, Chiyoh reached for a blade, but her hand stopped at her utility belt as three of the larger dogs pushed forward, growling.

“I wouldn’t do that. They’re… protective.”

A figure all in black—black jeans, black sweater, black hat pulled low over unruly dark curls—melted from the shadows behind the dogs. A small blue backpack dangled from his fingers. The kind people who hiked a lot zipped their pets into so that Fido could carry his own snacks and water bottle. Each of the dogs had one, but something trailed from the unzipped backpack in the man’s hand. Even in the dim light of the alley, the strings of diamonds glittered.

“You’re kidding, right?” Chiyoh said, her tone flat. “The Westerley robbery. And you… put….”

She let out a long, weary breath. Mischa lifted her chin. The subway vent behind her hissed. Steam rose, turning white against the cold. It snaked around her ankles, climbing the sleek black of her cape. If he knew who she was, he didn’t seem to care, and that irked her. All of Gotham knew The Bat.

“Who the hell are you, anyway?” She glanced at the pack surrounding him, each with their own little harness stuffed with ill-gotten gains. Seven sets of jaws panted, each furnished with awfully white teeth. “Dog… Man…?”

He stepped forward and clipped the backpack onto Buster, who lifted each paw obediently in turn, never looking away from Mischa. When the guy straightened up, he didn’t meet her eyes, but he wore a hard, crumpled kind of smile.

“Funny. No. You can call me The Packmaster.”

“I don’t think so,” Chiyoh said.

Her hand moved in a blur. The blade flew, silver against the dark. Mischa caught her breath, and it was easy to fall into the rhythm of their training, to read Chiyoh’s body language as easily as her own heartbeat, and to know she was just as readily understood.

Together, no one would stand against them.

#my fic tag #why yes i did spill mischa x chiyoh all over my batman au. oh no the stain is permanent. so sad. #writing tag

[willshipanything-blog]

Rules of the Game- Chapter 6

New chapter is here! Read below or or over on AO3.

See Chapter Index here

More smut/non-con elements, so as usual minors DNI. More tags on AO3...

Chapter 6- Boys and Girls

It must have been a few hours after his incensed beating. You’d regained consciousness but hadn’t the energy to try and maneuver yourself onto the mattress. The pain radiating from your ribs, head and arms could almost be ignored, eclipsed by the smoldering pain in your back, which had endured the most brutal of the beating. You had remained sprawled on your stomach, the early dawn glow creeping towards your battered body, when you heard the door open. A sudden pressure under your armpits told you your captor was dragging you along the floor, and you soon felt yourself laid on the mattress, too tired and hurt to try and fight back. A dip beside you indicated that he had knelt on the bed by your waist.

You heard the rip of fabric, and grimaced at the thought of what was to come. The grabber had torn open the back of your blouse from the collar, splitting the thin fabric in half in one quick motion. Awkwardly twisting your arms out and tugging the blouse from under you, you whimpered out a soft plea of resistance. He bent down low to position his face in front of yours, wearing just the lower portion of his grinning mask. 

“It’s already torn, Y/N. I need to take it off to look at your wounds, ok?” he spoke softly. Before sitting back up, he gently lifted your head from the mattress and his hands roamed along each side of your face. One eye had purpled with bruising; the other was cradled by the cut inflicted by your promise ring. He circled his thumb pads slowly over each of these wounds with the softness of a mother kissing better a playground injury.

“I don’t know why you’re pretending to care, you’re going to kill me anyway,” you spat bitterly.

He exhaled audibly. “Is that a fact?” he sighed, dropping your head and moving to tend your back. A sudden cry escaped you as you felt a cold sensation pressing against the welts that lay there. “The sooner these heal, the sooner I can inflict them again,” he explained casually, as if you were conversing about something as trivial as the weather. “Or would you prefer it if I lashed you down to the bone?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Without retorting, you turned your head silently away from him as he carried on cleaning the dried blood from your wounds and massaging ointment liberally into your skin. He continued to be a paradox of cruelty and compassion. Why was he confounding this situation by being so capricious in his behavior? You found yourself angry that he wasn’t just hurting you; it wouldn’t have been so numbing, and you wouldn’t have a taunting possibility of hope dangled in front of you like a noose.

...

You had just handed the Grabber his tray after another meal of scrambled eggs eaten at his feet. This had been the same routine as at the start of your confinement; he came down to feed you, and nothing else. Retreating a few paces until the back of your heels met the edge of the mattress, you stood as tall as you could, though you still measured pitifully against him. 

“Hm, feeling bold today are we, Y/N?” he responded behind the grinning white mask, the devilish horns tilting to one side as he teased you with his question. 

You were not, in fact, feeling particularly brave. You had been stewing in your own quiet rage for two days since the beating, and perhaps your anger was helping to mask your fear a little better than normal. Your fists were balled up tight, the pressure causing your fingernails to dig sharply into your palms. You felt determined, though you were sure the sight of you dressed in just your skirt and bra, bruised and scarred, wasn’t a particularly intimidating look to the man who had done this to you. For the past couple of days, you had shown your indignation by giving him the silent treatment and shooting daggers whenever he looked at you. 

His cerulean eyes glinted dangerously as you firmly stood your ground. “Well?” a playful voice said suddenly. You thought the silence was another calculated ruse to freak you out (which was working rather well), but you realized he was waiting for your question. How were you to know when his expression was hidden from you? You flushed red, which elicited a snigger from beneath the mask.

You focused back to the question you’d been pondering. Wondering if he’d even know the answer himself. 

“Why did you pick Griffin to start with?”

“What?” a tone of genuine confusion.

“Griffin. Griffin Stagg. The Grabber’s- your- first boy. Why did you pick him?” 

You had accepted that your life would be over soon, and weren’t about to ask for graphic details of how the Grabber was going to do away with you. Instead, you wanted to know what had made him choose that first boy. This was something that had deeply disturbed you when ‘The Grabber’ had begun his spree around the neighborhoods of North Denver. You had known Griffin from the library. He hadn’t many friends, choosing to spend hours of his weekends reading in a quiet corner of the Galesburg Library. He was quiet, unassuming, and you had talked to him briefly about his favorite books when he had come in during your shifts. To know that his little life had been extinguished by the monster who stood before you had eaten away at you since you arrived here. 

The question had obviously taken the Grabber aback, and he hadn’t answered it. Anger rose in your throat. 

“You don’t remember him? You’ve killed, what, four boys? Losing count are you?”

His hands balled tellingly by his sides, and you saw those veiny arms flexing in anger. You’d obviously hit a nerve. 

“That wasn’t me.” A flat voice replied. 

You didn’t know why you thought to expect a rational answer from this murderer. That he might actually answer for the awful things he’d done. He was angry, but you reckoned at that moment your rage exceeded his considerably. 

“At least you didn’t get that last kid. The one that ran past you when you met me.”

“And who says I still can’t, Y/N?” The connotations of this should have terrified you, but you’d let loose your fury and weren’t about to stop in the heat of it.

“Oh, you’re gonna make room for him? You’re going to finally kill me then?”

“Naughty boys always get what they deserve in the end.”

“I am not one of your naughty boys. And I’m done talking to you.” you hissed scornfully, turning your face away in disgust. You were too enraged to worry about the consequences of your words. 

“You’re so right, dove. You’re not a naughty boy, are you?” He had started to stalk towards you, a flicker or menace in his eyes. “But you know as well as I do that naughty girls can be punished in different ways.” The words dripped from his mouth like acid. 

This insinuation repulsed you. Instinctively, you moved away from him, edging around the mattress to distance yourself from his approaching frame. You knew you had pushed him far enough already, but your hate had started spewing from you like lava, and you found yourself unable to stop. 

“So that’s how it is then? You’re just gonna hide behind those fucking masks and blame anyone else except yourself for how fucked up you are, all the disgusting things you’ve done to those boys, you vile pervert.”

On hearing this, the Grabber charged furiously towards you at speed. His body crashed into yours and he hoisted you the last few feet back to the wall and threw you into it, your whole body slamming against the hard stone with a crack. Before you had the chance to fall down with the force of this impact, his body was up against yours, trapping you between himself and the basement wall. The agony of the assault to your already wounded back had stupefied you, and before you could react a hand locked tightly around your throat, and another clamped over your mouth. 

With your body caged by his, and unable to move your head, you could only claw weakly with your hands at his bulky arms. He seemed not to notice, or not to care; he was apoplectic with rage and your feeble attempts to fight back were laughably pathetic against his bestial strength. 

“You said you were done talking, Y/N, so you can listen to me now,” he spoke quietly but his deep voice carried an unmistakable fury that numbed you, more petrified than you’d been yet in his presence. You ceased your weak blows and your arms dropped pitifully to your sides. He inched his face down towards yours, the pale mask’s nose almost brushing yours. 

This is it, you thought. I’m about to die. He’s going to kill me right here. You found yourself acknowledging this tragic fact as you closed your eyes in acceptance of what was to come.

“You’ve misunderstood the game, Y/N,” he explained, “The naughty boys get the belt and I end their pitiful, pathetic lives nice and slowly with my knife because they just can’t behave. If you’re insinuating…something else about me, then I’d be more than happy to oblige you.” Your eyes opened wide to see that hungry look you’d come to recognize in that monster’s eyes. You tried to shake your head, only to be held firmly in place.

“Aw, come on now, I think you rather enjoyed pleasuring me last night, you lecherous little thing,” your now muffled cries falling on deaf ears as he banged your head into the wall behind you, dazing you. “No, not another word from you- you said you were done talking, remember? I think we can put that mouth of yours to better use.”

Dragging you into the center of the room by your neck, your wheezing pleads disregarded entirely, he finally released your throat from his vice grip and you crumpled to your knees on the floor. Your pained yelps were soon silenced when a hand curled around the back of your neck, and a blade was held to your throat. He had produced the switchblade seemingly instantaneously. You shivered at the press of cold metal on your neck, worrying that your own shaking might cause an incision, that your own panic would have you bleeding out on the floor at the feet of this man.

The knife was dragged up your neck and underneath your chin, where the Grabber used it to tilt your head up to look at him. You knew what a vulnerable position you were truly in, saw how much pleasure he took in this dynamic; you, weak and pathetic beneath his strong, dominant hand. 

“If you think it wise to bite, I won’t hesitate to pull out every single tooth in that pretty head of yours, dove.” You said nothing as you shuddered at your upcoming task, too terrified to think about refusing. Your anger and hatred from earlier had been engulfed by the pure fear you felt right now. 

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“Yes.” you whispered, almost inaudibly. 

The blade was removed, the Grabber folding it on his thigh before vanishing it into a back pocket. The hand on the nape of your neck remained. His free hand moved to unbuckle that damned belt, as he undid his own trousers this time and lowered his clothing to reveal his half-hard cock. You were still startled by the size of it, not even fully erect yet. You wondered how on earth you were possibly going to take him fully in your mouth.

Surprisingly, his hand didn’t push your neck; instead, it only prevented you from moving back, and you realized his game once again. He wanted you to show him what a good girl you could be. If you had to be completely inert as he fucked your face, then you might have been able to distance and dissociate yourself from this situation. As it was, he waited for you to make the first move, to be active and engaged in the act, that motherfucker. 

You instinctively braced your hands on his thighs, hoping it might be something to push against if you needed to repel him. Inhaling through your nose, you opened wide and moved to take him in your mouth. You reached maybe halfway down his length before it felt uncomfortable, and so sucked the first half of his cock. Your mouth was dry with anxiety, and it chafed uncomfortably.

“You better wet it first, Y/N.” a playful tone purred from above.

Pulling out, you instead began to lick his entire shaft in small laps, swirling your tongue around his cock until all of its surface was glistening in your saliva. You cringed at the eroticism of this, but moans of approval told you he was happy with your performance so far. You moved to focus on the tip, his glistening head wet with his own precum. You ran your lips over the salty and somewhat bitter liquid, using your mouth to spread and lubricate his cock further with his own juices.

You took him for a second time, his slick manhood much easier to take, and began to move your head back and forth along its length. More hums of delight could be heard above. You were aware that you were only servicing half of his penis, so to please him you used a hand to grip him at the base, your hand and mouth moving to cover his entire throbbing cock. His thighs began to tremble slightly at this, his hand on your neck moving to grasp a handful of your tangled hair as he relished in this act.

His breaths were becoming ragged as he reached his peak and his more violent urges had taken over. Pulling away your hand from him, he now grasped your hair in both his fists, dragging you closer to him. Despite your muffled protests, he continued further into your mouth, stretching and hurting your already bruised jaw. You gagged instinctively as tears poured from your eyes, and his pace quickened. You struggled to breathe through the assault, trying to swallow for reprieve, which solicited carnal growls from him.

A staccato voice spoke your name amongst a tirade of obscenities, indicating he was about to come. His hands gripped in your greasy locks ensured you were going to swallow every last drop of what he gave you. It was hot and viscous when it hit your throat, and he only released you from his body once you had strenuously swallowed all of his discharge. 

He pulled away with a final satisfied hum as you hyperventilated in short, shallow breaths, gasping desperately for air. Once you had gained enough awareness of your environment, you saw him buckling his belt by the door. Dismissing him entirely, you ran down the small corridor to the toilet, where you began to regurgitate the entire contents of your stomach into the bowl. If the eggs were bad going down, they were ten times worse coming back up. 

Still retching, you heard his footsteps approach behind you, though didn’t react to his presence. You felt your long hair being gathered tenderly behind your back, and realized he was holding it as you vomited. You flinched as a hand touched your back softly, though he began to rub and pat it gently, silently encouraging you to get it all up. Once you had spat out a last string of saliva, you rubbed your mouth with your forearm and sat back on your butt, finding yourself falling into his chest. He sat astride you, and as you leaned into him he wrapped his arms around you, resting his masked chin on your head. 

You were numbed by this point, his strange mix of abuse and kindness further disjoining your thoughts and feelings. He cooed into your ear quietly, saying how well you’d done, brushing his hands over your face, neck and chest, fingering your black lace bra delicately, though you had no compulsion to fight him in that moment. In the almost-silence (aside from the last few of your hiccuping sobs permeating the air) you felt a calmness that you hadn’t in all the time you had been here. 

As much as you hated him, you found yourself feeling appreciation for his tenderness. You were fully aware he was the one inflicting this trauma on you, but you needed that flicker of kindness in the dark world you had found yourself trapped in. 

You knew his intentions, his games and punishments he would further inflict, and could predict what would eventually happen between the two of you. To quell these thoughts, your mind drifted back to an escape. In your calmed state you found yourself thinking optimistically again. He likes me, or at least has use of me beyond just killing me. I can use that. I won’t beat him in a fight, but he might let his guard down. It was a slim chance, but it was still a chance. 

Whilst absorbed dreamily in these thoughts, your captor scooped up your frame and carried you back to the mattress, gently placing you down before giving you a final, lingering look. He left wordlessly. 

She had indeed been very naughty, and he had enjoyed the intimate punishment, but something had shifted inside Al. He pondered which he had enjoyed more: the punishment for his little dove, or what came after. The punishment was divine, her frightened eyes looking up at him as his knife threatened her bare skin, the things she had done to him, the way he had come undone because of her. But he also considered that tender moment afterwards, where she hadn’t fought back. He had adored that too. He had soothed her, reassured her. Was it guilt he was feeling? Did he want her to feel safe with him?

If it had been a Naughty Boy, the belt meant a lashing, a barrage of leather whips to the face and back and chest until they were unconscious, until the game could begin again, until their lives ended and the game finished. Now the clank of his buckle had taken on a second meaning, and Al had found himself rewriting his own rules. He would have to keep playing to see how it progressed. The unknown possibilities brought him more excitement than Naughty Boy ever had.

#the grabber x you #the grabber x reader #albert shaw x reader #the black phone #first fic #smut #ethan hawke #black phone #the grabber #slashers #slasher fandom

[slasher-male-wife]

forgive me if this is a bit weird or dark but i was thinking maybe the grabber x a gn reader who was already so touch/affection starved from their home life that even just the act of Al taking care of them, checking in on them, taking time out of his day to make them meals, etc. puts the reader head over heels for him- obviously not in a healthy/usual way but yknow when is it ever with him lmfao. and do you think he would shower them in love because of this or take it to his advantage?

Oh boy no because like if I'm being honest this might have happened with me. Like obviously I have wonderful parents and I am treated great at home but still I would get so flattered if anyone who's job it wasn't to take care of me takes care of me and shows interest in me, dude I'm falling. Anyway I can't deny a good little prompt about the grabber so I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, kidnapped reader, the grabber being creepy as always

It took a week of consitant cooking for you, checking in on you, spending time with you and well caring for you in general for you to fall in "love" with Al or as you know him The Grabber.

He was quick to pick up on how you smiled when he was near and how you never seemed bothered by him. You would even ask him to stay longer.

But this was really cemented one night when he was watching you sleep and you woke up. When you saw him you weren't scared to find him watching, you smiled and went back to sleep.

He "loves" you too so having you love him back is all he ever wanted. He's probably obsessed with you and will start to give you privliges and things like that.

He'll give you a blanket when it's cold. Will let you change your clothes (into his obviously) and shower. He'll spend more time with you and might let you read the newspaper.

Get's very affectionate. Like constantly want's to hug/hold you. Lots of praise too. Whatever he can do to show his "love" for you he will.

I feel like after a few months he'll let you upstairs and give you more freedoms.

He probably won't play naughty boy with you because there's always that chance that you'll get away and he doesn't want to risk it.

Will be just as obsessed with you as you are with him.

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #the grabber x y/n #the black phone #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader