how do you think Hazbin Hotel characters would react to a demon with butterfly wings?
The main Hazbin cast x Butterfly demon reader
Part 2 >
A/N: This wasn't really specific with what charas specifically, so I'm just doing the main cast. I'll do a part 2 with more characters, though, if it's wanted (sorry)
Reader's wings are written as colourful and proportionate to their body, so they are pretty big.
Realised there's a 10 image limit per post, which is bs. Isn't how i normally would have liked it to be aesthetically bc of that 👎
Cw: Sfw, slightly suggestive stuff in Angel's, reference to decapitation and cannibalism 💀, kinda a bit angsty in Angel's and Vaggie's, gn! Reader
Charlie
- Charlie would be absolutely delighted by you, no doubt about it.
- She wants nothing more than to be in a place that's vividly colourful and (assuming reader is a somewhat colourful butterfly demon) you'd be that for her.
- She also probably just really really likes butterflies in general though, let's be real.
- I can imagine her just staring at your wings with absolutely starry eyes while complimenting them.
- "They're so pretty ohhh my gosh!"
- I imagine her being lightly jealous, she'd love to have wings like a butterfly.
- Would probably ask if she can touch, and look somewhat sad when told no due to how it would cause your scales to come off. (Assuming reader's wings are the same as normal butterfly wings)
- It may get somewhat uncomfortable if you don't like attention, she would definitely fixate heavily on them. Tell her to stop though and it's making you feel weird and she will tone it down though.
- If not, though, enjoy the attention you're gonna be getting from Charlie over them.
Vaggie
- Vaggie would likely be a bit uncomfortable about seeing demons with wings in general due to her history - let alone you with beautiful, delicate ones.
- I think she'd secretly be hiding some angst and jealously about your wings ngl.
- When she sees Charlie fawning over them though oh boy.
- Yeah she's not gonna be happy about them then. She doesn't blame you or anything for how she's feeling as it's her issue and she knows that, but it still hurts quite a bit - especially in the beginning.
- It gets less and less bad though the more she gets used to it, she kind of just becomes 'meh' about it - especially if you ask Charlie to stop being so gaga about them.
- When she gets her wings back, though, I think she'd come to think they are cool. A normal level appreciation though.
- I can half see you two helping each other out with your wings down the line if you two get closer though.
- There are some things that come with upkeep so wings don't become damaged and stuff, so the people who also have wings? Allies 100%.
Angel
- I'm gonna be fr, the first time your wings come out he's probably gonna be panicked due to his baggage.
- Especially if it happens when you're angry.
- He's probably gonna need reassurance you aren't gonna try hurt him tbh.
- As sad as it is, his trauma would definitely play a part in his initial perception of them.
- After he recovers a bit and stops immediately going into fight or flight and seeing you =/= Val though, the switch up is insane.
- He would be all over you about them.
- I can imagine him calling you a bunch of butterfly related petnames.
- If you remember the 'make those wings flap' comments he made about Husk, its gonna be that on a hundred.
- Even if it's just joking flirting about them, it's gonna be constant because he thinks they are beautiful and it's a lot of material considering you're a butterfly and he's a spider.
- I feel like he would touch them at some point without really thinking and pull his hand back to see your scales have rubbed off onto his hand and go ''oh shit.''
Husk
- I don't think he'd have much of a reaction to it at all - at least not initially.
- Of course he acknowledges that they are very pretty, but he won't comment upon it much at all unlike the others.
- Possibly may make reference to it when crafting bitter statements directed towards you, though.
- Down the line, if you grow closer to him, I can see him as actually being concerned about your wings.
- They are extremely eye-catching and unique for a being in hell, and due to that, it could lead demons to actively target you
- Whether with overt aggressive intentions to take your wings and sell them, or with more covert problems like you being scouted for modelling (ie. By Velvette)
- I can see Vaggie and you trying to set up a wing maintenance group and trying to include him in it. Him being vehemently against it to a level that's almost comedic.
- You eventually convince him even though he's complaining the whole way through it. (He is lying and actually enjoys it).
Pentious
- He wouldn't like them at all in the beginning.
- They're big and bulky and get in the way of everything, including him.
- The amount of times he's accidentally fallen due to 'tripping' on your giant ass wings is greatly irritating and embarrassing to him.
- Possibly thinks you keep trying to kill him by tripping him.
- Could also see his 'hair' (idk how to properly refer to it, haha), accidentally brushing up against your wings with how expressive it is and getting your scales all over him.
- Basically, he doesn't like them because he's clumsy but will take it out on you.
- I also get the vibe he'd be jealous because of how eye-catching they are.
- In his mind, if he had wings like that, then he'd surely have been acknowledged by the Vees in some way.
- If you change your habits with your wings to be conscious of him not being able to walk normally and start getting onto better terms, though, he will likely become appreciative of them and stop being so pissy about them.
- They are very cool looking to him, and once his poor attitude wears off about them, he'll come to admit that.
Alastor
- He'd actually be somewhat weary of you in the beginning.
- It's nature's law that creatures that do not bother to hide themselves are not to be messed with - especially in a place like hell of all places.
- When he sees that you just happen to be particularly colourful, he drops that, though.
- He'd honestly probably be thinking of what it would be like to eat a demon like you after confirming you are, in fact, not poisonous or dangerous at all.
- He doesn't much care all that much for the intrinsic beauty of things as long as they aren't utterly ugly, and as long as they aren't obnoxious and in your face.
- Depending on how bright and vibrant they are and how much attention you bring to them, he may actually dislike them.
- If not, though, he acknowledges they are nice to look at, but again, doesn't really care about them outside of theorising how they would be to eat.
- Would probably make comments about how he could "just eat your wings up," or ask you about how you taste just to try to freak you out.
Niffty
- When she sees them, her eyes grow wide in a mixture of surprise and awe. At the exact same time, an unhinged smirk spreads across her face.
- She then proceeds to leap at you, scissors or whatever sharp object is closest to her raised at your wings.
- She'd be absolutely trying to take a piece out of them for her 'collection' 💀
- You're gonna need medical attention after she's done with you because she's hellbent.
- Her obsessiveness over your wings would vary depending on your gender but either way, she'd be trying to get a piece of them for herself.
- Definitely abnormal level of appreciation of them in the absolute worst way.
- If you can get her to stop instantly trying to cut off parts of them, she's still constantly trying to touch them. You need to complain about your scales every damn time she tries to reach out to touch it without fail.
- it's like your wings are a beacon, and she's the insect gunning for it ironically.
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would u? (3tan717) | myg
3tan717 drabble #1: would u?
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717
rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi
note: i am so so so sorry this is out on the very last day of feb but things have been absolute bananas lately! tbh i’m surprised this is even getting posted on time and i have even more to do after this is shared but eff it shibal!!!
note 2: as promised, this is dedicated to the people that submitted the answers i’m using for this drabble: anon, grapes / @yoongrace, and apryl @aprylynn for this idea hehehe! also i literally just finished this so it's legit unedited so i'm sry for any mistakes! off to go prep for events now!
warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, working yoongi??, kitchen, period cramps suck but yoongi to the mf rescue
drop date: feb 29th, 2024, 10:03pm est
word count: 2.3k
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Ugh.
Why does this have to happen every fucking month. Why can’t it happen every three? Or six? Or never ever ever?
Groaning, you roll over, burying your face into the pillow on Yoongi’s side.
To some degree, you feel placated, probably due to his scent still lingering next to your dismay. He had to get up early to finish a track, but he assured you can be in the room.
You can hear a little bit of what he’s working on as it bleeds through his headphones, and even just this sliver of sound gives you chills. Not just because of what it sounds like, but the sole fact that Yoongi’s letting you even listen in the first place.
Huffing out a bit of amusement, you remember the last time Yoongi let you stay while he worked—albeit at his place while he went to the studio.
Damn, how much you’ve grown since then. All those memories, those quiet times and tumultuous times, everything leading up to now. How time has molded you with knowing hands.
However, no matter how much has changed all these months, some things have not wavered, like the fact that you needed to be sure he was okay with it—and his answer making you absurdly shy.
Did he really have to say that you’re either staying or he’s gonna leave? That scheming motherfucker!
Some drum beats hit your cheek before you realize the menace himself is playing multiple different ones. It’s only a couple hits before he moves onto the next, and you’re about to lift your hea—
“Fuck, where the hell is that kick?”
Your laugh is stifled by cotton. As tickled as you are to hear Yoongi like this, you don’t wanna do anything to distract him.
But by doing so, that causes your body to tighten and fuck, it hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to laugh, it hurts to just exist. God, you want him to come back and join you so bad, but you don’t wanna be that person.
…Yet. Maybe if it gets so bad you can’t even sleep?
“Found you! Fucking finally. Thought you could hide from me, huh?”
Oh, fucking hell, he’s adorable.
Yeah, there’s no way you’re making him drop everything right now. This is too precious of an afternoon to stop.
Exhaling a mile long breath, you fight through your pain and feel for your phone, groaning as you shift yourself. When in position under sheets and warm sunlight, you cycle through apps as a distraction.
Scrolling. Scrolling. Smiling at some animal videos a bit before scrolling again.
After all of five minutes, you start to see a trend on your feed, and suddenly get the idea to try it on Yoongi. It’s simple and harmless, right?
You [3:30pm]: would u peel an orange for me
Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and you lift your head slightly to see if he looks at his phone.
When he does, he checks it really quick before setting it back down on his desk, back to clicking on his screen.
Ah. Damn. He must really be in the zone because…
Uhh.
Blinking, you watch as Yoongi rolls his chair out to get up, setting his glasses down and heading out of the room with a light swing of his chains.
Uh. What just happened? Did you upset him? You’re so stunned that his swift exit has you wanting to get up and follow him.
But ow. Ouch. It’s maddening how much your cramps are getting to you.
Bearing the punches to your gut, you start sliding out of the bed, straining and sucking in sharp breaths just to stand and pull Yoongi’s comforter over your tension.
Padding out the bedroom, your worries make your steps tiny and heavy, and you regret sending that text because you literally just said you weren’t… gonna…
On the dining table—quiet—lie three tangerines, peeled and placed next to vibrant scraps while your lover peels a fourth with diligent, devoted hands.
And you can’t even form words that match how you feel.
Your vision swims right as Yoongi looks your way, his body stilling before he puts the fruit down.
When he approaches with concern, you answer his silent questions through hiccups, “I—I thought you left cus—you were mad.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t even know,” you swallow, gesturing to all of your lower half and feeling him hold the slipping blanket. “It’s just… this, I guess.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Like a motherfucker.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, doll. Hold up.” Handing you the comforter, Yoongi goes to his cabinets in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of medicine before walking it over. “You gotta take something as soon as you feel it. Don’t let it get this bad.”
“I know,” you groan, resting your head on his shirt and inhaling his healing presence. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”
Your forehead is kissed. “You’re not bothering me. Especially with something like this.”
“Okay.”
He walks away again to grab some water, and you watch as he pours some into an electric kettle before starting it up.
Glancing back at the fruit, you sigh, clutching the bottle of pills while feeling the weight of his comforter. He’s probably not pleased with the way it might drag on the ground, so you gather it and pick the end chair to sit on.
And then you sigh, “Sorry for making you peel those. I didn’t even plan on eating anything.”
“Too bad. You’re gonna eat what I make you anyway.”
Wait, he’s cooking? He has work to do! “You’re working, though. Don’t worry about me right now.”
“It’ll be quick.”
“What are you making?”
A glass bowl and pan are procured from random places before Yoongi blinks in place. “Uhh.. You’ll see.”
As he clunks them onto his counter and stove, you watch with hearts for eyes as he bustles around the kitchen space. Even doing things as simple as washing his hands, opening his fridge, and simply grabbing a knife gives you pause.
And this is when you realize that you can watch Yoongi do absolutely anything and be amazed.
Even when he stands, watching you with a look that’s wait why doesn’t he look—
“Take the medicine, baby girl.”
Oh.
Snapping out of your trance, you nod. “Sorry.”
Yoongi continues to give you glances until you swallow down the painkillers, satisfied enough to continue his cooking venture when you take the second one.
As the sun paints the apartment in marigold and light, you keep watching with a smile as he brings the kitchen to life. Butter sizzles in a pan, tangerines are getting halved on a board, and something is getting mixed with a whisk.
Who knew that the neighborhood fuckboy would have a whisk on hand? Not the younger you, that’s for damn sure.
But here Yoongi is, in the flesh, whisking away with veiny forearms that have you thinking the most absurd thoughts during this time of the month. The only thing that would cut through the raging horniness would be getting up to see what the hell he’s making.
It’s starting to smell familiar though. But he put the tangerines in the pan so you don’t even know what to expect right now.
Walking up—blanket left behind—you observe the kitchen before peering over his broad shoulder. “Mm.. Smells like pancakes.”
Yoongi doesn’t answer, but when you see the consistency of the batter, you realize you’re correct. “Oh, it is! I’m smart.”
“You are,” he laughs. “But you didn’t get it all the way right.”
“No?”
“Nope.” Yoongi then gently gets you to move before he pours the batter over the slices, and you crane your neck to watch as he evens it all out. “Just one tangerine pancake.”
“Oh, okay,” you scoff, earning a laugh at your side. “Whatever, chef.”
“We’ll see what you say in a bit.”
Is he gonna leave it or flip it? Probably the latter.
“K. Gonna flip that once it’s done.”
Nice. You smile to yourself, loving how you’re starting to really be on the same page. Nudging him, you keep watching as he lowers the heat and sets the lid on the pan. “What now?”
“We wait,” he responds, dusting his hands together before cleaning up his mixing bowl. “And I’m gonna see if we have any sugar.”
Damn it, Yoongi cannot keep saying that two-letter word. It’s starting to be detrimental to your health. “I can help.”
“S’ok,” he assures, nose upturned. “Just watch me work.”
“Oh, I’m very good at doing that.”
At this, Yoongi turns and gives you a smile that immediately reminds you of summer, and you almost feel like crying again.
“I’ve actually never tried this, but. We’ll see if this works.”
With nothing snarky, or teasing, or fake to say, you reply with a smile and a genuine, “I’m sure it will.”
When he keeps staring, his eyes lower to your lips, and you don’t care that you probably look like a wreck, or feel like one. Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you glow.
If only the kettle didn’t decide this was the moment to stop boiling.
You were probably about to get the kiss of your life.
But Yoongi halts in his tracks before shifting to get a mug, setting it down with a thud before checking on the pancakes. Pancake. Whatever that delicious-smelling thing is gonna be.
“There’s some tea packets in that right drawer. Help yourself cus I’d rather you pick.”
Chuckling, you oblige before scooting over. After seeing a small jar of granules on the counter, you start rummaging through the drawer, exploring the various options while hearing the sound of a plate behind you.
Ah, Yoongi’s flipping it.
As you turn, you’re just in time to watch the muscles in his back protrude through his shirt as he flips the pan, impressed as he sets the plate down because holy hell that looks great.
“Sugar, sugar, sugar… Suga, suga, suga.”
Laughing, you interrupt his silly search as you grab the jar you just saw. “Suga suga, how you get so fly?”
Yoongi stops to see what’s in your hand, and he huffs through a grin before grabbing it. “Thanks, doll.”
You keep humming the song that’s now wedged into your head as you watch him sprinkle bits on the pancake.
“I don’t have a blowtorch,” he admits, “But I do have this.”
Rolling out a drawer, Yoongi takes out a long lighter before holding it to the sugary top, humming the same song you were just singing without even knowing it. As the sugar slowly but surely heats, you both keep humming and basking in a calm afternoon.
And you don’t even feel the pain anymore.
“Go ahead and sit, babe.”
“You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
Following instructions, you make your way to the table, cocooning yourself in his comforter again as you await the cutest meal you’ve had in weeks. Months. Lifetimes.
Speaking of lifetimes… You hope every version of you meets every version of him. No matter when. No matter where. Because you want every version of yourself to find happiness, and Yoongi has been the one to help you finally find it.
And he certainly passed whatever the hell this orange theory thing was supposed to be.
Plates are set down to break you out of introspection, and you glance up with eyes sparkling.
When Yoongi raises a brow, you just smile. When he asks what’s gotten into you, a chuckle escapes before you shake your head,
“Nothing, baby. Just didn’t expect all this from that text.”
As he plops into the next chair, you love the way the sun settles on his skin. Highlights his hair. Shimmers in his eyes.
“Don’t even need to ask, babe.” He captures your attention with a calm look. “I was waiting for any distractions anyways.”
So this was for him, too? Good.
Grabbing your fork, you giggle. “Sounded like you were having a little trouble over there.”
“I was! This is what I get for not saving my shit.”
Both of you sit back in laugher as you throw your hands out. “Do that!”
“I’m lazy!”
“Tough shit!”
“I know!”
Grinning, you loll your head before waving your fork out. “You’re gonna save those sounds, and you’re gonna remember this day and thank me.”
Yoongi just tightens his lips in a smile, eyes creased and glimmering. “Maybe.”
“Yes. I’ll stand there and watch you until you do it.”
"Really.."
For the rest of the afternoon—with full bellies and clear minds—you rest on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, forcing him to find the files he needs and watching him groan his way through saving everything.
Constantly laughing at the ridiculously random names he’s assigning them.
When he’s done, you watch as he spins around in his chair, heart thumping with anticipation as you’re met with a waiting pair of eyes.
Breathtaking.
When he leans in, you feel incredibly shy. Always, always, always. This will forever remain the same.
And—just as well—Yoongi's kisses will forever taste like tangerines.
Three of them, to be exact.
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fin. :)
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how did the first 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe
a/n: nothing much to say other than i love y'all so much! i will try responding to anything when i can (there's literally still all the 3tan12 feedback to get to) but i do read all the commentary sent in and it keeps me going strong :'))) so thank you again for being here and being amazingly patient with me. off to work on more things but i shall be back once the wild weeks are over!
a/n 2: suga suga how you get so flyyyy hahaha
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Fake Blood (Ethan Landry x Reader)
Word count: 5.6K
Summary: spoiler: the blood isn’t fake. alone in your apartment after your friends had been attacked, you ask ethan to stop by. he does in an unexpected way and you get more than you bargained for
Tags: (18+), friends to lovers, minor violence, knife tw, flirting, making out, virgin!ethan, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, the ghostface robe stays on during sex, denial ab ethan being a murderer :) (if bad why hot?)
A/N: just watched scream 6 for the first time only a few days ago and couldn’t get this psycho out of my brain (tiktok edits didn’t help lol). timeline might be a little wonky but tbh it’s not relevant. also this follows the theory that ethan did the big apartment attack. I really wasn’t expecting this to be this long but it’s worth it yall I promise
cross-posted to ao3 • scream masterlist • main masterlist
As much as you liked Mindy, if you knew becoming friends with her would lead to you being integrated into her friend group of past and present serial killer victims, you might’ve thought about asking someone else to partner up with you for a presentation in your film studies class.
When you’d asked her, it was mostly to avoid having to accept an offer from a guy named Jason, who had always stared at you during that class and brought up the ‘Stab’ movies whenever he could (this was before you knew your friends knew him, but you still got a weird vibe from the guy).
She’d been excited to hang out with you after you two gave your presentation, and that’s how you wound up spending most days with her and her tight knit group of friends.
You were probably closest with Mindy, but you liked her brother too. For a guy named Chad, he was actually pretty chill. You got along with Tara as well, who was in a bit of a rebellious phase after being attacked and nearly killed, which you only learned about once they trusted you enough. Her older sister Sam was mostly cool too, but a bit overprotective. There was a gloomy aspect to her, but you supposed it made sense given that she was betrayed by her murderous boyfriend and now the internet peddled theories that blamed her for a series of killings in their home town of Woodsboro.
They had a tight bond, and even though you grew close with each of them, you knew you’d be an outsider. Like Tara and Sam’s roommate Quinn, Mindy’s girlfriend Anika, and Chad’s roommate Ethan. You all had shared multiple conversations about their trust issues. It must’ve been hard to even start to trust people after all that.
Out of all of the other “newcomers” as Mindy once put it, you got along with Ethan the best. He was a little quiet and sorta dorky (which your friends would tease him about a little—all friendly, of course) but he was fun to talk to. You guys liked a lot of the same stuff, including horror movies, and it didn’t hurt that he was cute.
In your opinion, with his curly dark hair and eyes to compliment, the whole “shy guy” thing was part of the appeal.
You wondered if he’d ever make a move, or if he even knew you were curious about him in that way. You wouldn’t go so far to say it was a crush for your ego’s sake, but you wouldn’t send him running off with his tail between his legs like you did with most guys.
Like that guy Jason from film class, who, just before Halloween, was killed alongside his roommate by a masked killer.
“Didn’t he have a thing for you?” Mindy asked you as you were all gathered around the TV, finding out the news together.
You were sitting crammed in a chair next to Ethan since the others had all taken up the couch space. He didn’t seem to mind, but it did unfortunately make it easy for them all to look your way and stare. You didn’t like the attention.
You were in shock at the news, especially when the anchor revealed Jason had also killed your film professor. Ethan pointed that out, saying if the guy was crazy enough to do that he might’ve even gone after you.
“Maybe the killer who killed him did you a favor,” Quinn suggested in response to Ethan.
The thought terrified you. You looked around the group. “Do you guys think he really would’ve hurt me? He seemed weird, not psycho.”
“We talked not that long ago, nothing seemed off,” Tara revealed with a grim look. “He asked if you and Sam were gonna come to the party.”
You hadn’t planned on going—what the hell would’ve happened if you had?
You exchanged a look with Sam, who seemed to have the wheels in her head turning.
You zoned back into the news as the reporter explained the mask found was a ghostface mask—like from the Stab movies. And of course, the actual Woodsboro killings.
“Pack a bag,” Sam told her sister, springing up to move around the apartment building.
Sam and Tara argued, which was a little weird to witness. You tried to sink back into the chair, while Ethan looked at you like he wanted to say something.
Hopefully it wasn’t “get out of the chair” because you didn’t think you could move.
The night ended with you going back to your little apartment alone. Your roommate was out of town and so your anxiety was on high alert.
A lot had happened that night apparently, including Sam and Tara getting attacked in a convenience store and them being questioned by the cops.
As much as you cared about them, you feared what would happen if you were with them.
That’s why the next night when you were invited over, you had been hesitant. A government paper was the perfect excuse, but you had FaceTimed with them so you all could keep an eye on each other.
You sat at your little desk, your laptop opened to work on your paper, and your phone propped up on your cup so you could talk to them hands free.
Apparently everyone was together at the apartment except Ethan, who told you he was studying in the library when you texted to ask him. You responded that you were working on a paper and that if he wanted to come over to keep you company, he could.
You’d spent some time alone with him, but not a lot when you really thought about it. It was always in the group—who were all murder suspects, according to Mindy’s movie rules.
You knew you weren’t the killer, and you had absolutely no motive. The others were still suspicious of you so that hurt a little (maybe that was another reason why you were keeping to yourself), but you did your best to understand that they weren’t just suspicious of you.
Everyone was a suspect, and no one was safe.
You felt even less safe when Mindy said she’d call you back. You didn’t know why she had to hang up so urgently, but you had a feeling it had to do with the emotional conversation Tara and Sam had been having in the background. You couldn’t make out most of it clear so you avoided mentioning it.
You sighed and checked your chat with Ethan. He hasn’t responded to your text. You were getting nervous now that you weren’t video chatting with your other friends anymore and the thought of being home alone didn’t bring you much ease.
You thought about just going over to the Carpenter’s (and Quinn’s) apartment, not wanting to bother Ethan further. Maybe he was ignoring you on purpose.
However, it was a far walk there. You didn’t feel safe making it alone at night—especially with a killer on the loose, likely targeting your friends. If you had a car, maybe, but you were a broke college student who could barely afford a place to live.
You sucked it up and double texted Ethan, this time asking if he could come over and that you were worried.
When he didn’t respond right away, you gave it a few minutes.
A little while longer passed and since you now couldn’t focus on your paper, you tried to call Mindy back. Then Tara. Then Chad. Then Sam. Then Quinn. Then Anika.
Not a single one of them answered.
You took a deep breath. Then, you went to double check that your door was locked.
You tried to call Ethan, but his phone went immediately to voicemail. It must’ve been dead or powered off.
That left no one else to call, and you felt more alone than ever.
You sat down at your desk and tried to focus.
You ended up going to your bedroom, putting on sleep clothes, and watching a comfort show under all your blankets instead, paper completely forgotten.
Your phone dinged from your bedside table and when you looked at it, you saw a message from Ethan. Only a few hours late, but he said he was on his way up.
That was sudden. You tried to not overthink being alone with Ethan too much.
A few moments later, there was a knock at your front door.
You climbed out of bed, not really caring that you were wearing sleep shorts and a baggy shirt. Your friends had seen you go to class in about the same when you had all night study sessions.
When you got to the door, you got a little nervous. But you knew it had to be Ethan, so you tried to push the anxiety aside and unlocked then opened the door.
You were met with shock and horror.
Towering over you in your doorway stood a figure in a black robe… and a ghostface mask.
You tried to slam the door, but the person caught it. You choked on a scream when they shoved their way in, holding a knife. There was a small stain of red on the metal blade and a darker, bigger mass on the robe.
Blood. Blood was red.
You scrambled back and tried to think of where to go. None of the doors in your apartment locked, not even the bathroom door.
Your heart and mind raced and suddenly you were spewing words.
“I don’t know what to say to make you not kill me, but I please don’t,” you rushed out.
The person—the killer—moved closer to you after shutting and locking your front door.
You ran, but there was really nowhere to go. The killer ran too. You tried to lure them to the bathroom and shove them in, but they dodged and had you almost within their grasp.
They didn’t slash the knife, though.
You ran for the front door, but the killer grabbed you by the arm. You were shoved back against your hallway wall and pinned. Your back slammed against the wall, but not hard. They held the knife to your throat—not too close, but it was still there and still kept you frozen.
“Are you gonna kill me?”
The words came out before you could stop them. You internally scolded yourself. That’s the kinda shit the girls who got murdered asked.
There was a laugh, and then a familiar voice.
“I’d never do that.”
By the time the killer reached for the mask and pulled it off, you still hadn’t processed your shock.
“Ethan?” you gawked up at him while he gave you a cheeky smile. He let the mask drop and the hand holding the knife fell to his side.
“You should’ve seen your face,” he said through a smile, excited eyes scanning your face for realization.
“Is this… is this a fucking prank?” you questioned, finally comprehending. “Ethan, what the fuck!?” You shoved him back by his shoulder, admittedly a little pissed. “You’re covered in blood!”
He stayed standing in front of you.
“It’s fake, I promise. It was just a joke,” he reasoned, looking a little guilty. “Y’know, cause Halloween and… alright, maybe my timing isn’t great.”
You scoffed out a laugh at that. “It’s terrible timing. There really is someone after us.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Ethan apologized with a small, apologetic smile. You stared at him, still surprised. He looked so innocent for someone that could pull off, let alone come up with, such a messed up prank.
“Is this where you’ve been? Dressing up to mess with me while there really is a killer after us?” You questioned, raising your brows and crossing your arms.
“Y’know, if there really is a killer after us, we probably shouldn’t let each other die virgins,” Ethan stated in a flirtatious way he easily could’ve played off as a joke. Maybe it was entirely a joke, but you played along in a different direction.
You scoffed. “And you’re just assuming I’m a virgin?”
He shrugged, the long fabric of his costume rustling. “I see how you are with guys. They want you, you never want them.”
“So what, I’m a tease?” you guessed, used to hearing that but a little disappointed to think it would come from him.
“No,” he clarified quickly. “But they’re just never good enough for you and you know that. Like that jerk Jason.”
You cringed a little at the mention of him, and then felt bad about that. The guy had been murdered, after all.
“Don’t say that, he’s dead.”
“So what?” Ethan asked plainly, surprising you a little. “He was a killer too. He could’ve gone after you, you should be grateful to whoever did it.”
You furrowed your brows. He was starting to sound like someone else. “Grateful?”
“It’s okay, you’re allowed to be.” Ethan’s expression as he spoke was one of reassurance. “You could’ve been next, you never know. He was one of those guys who couldn’t take a hint that he was beneath you.”
You had no idea he thought that way about you—that there were men he deemed unworthy. It was enough to distract you from the shift in his demeanor.
“And what? You’re saying you’re one of the guys who’s good enough for me?” you couldn’t help but wonder. You never thought about your dating history (or lack of) like that.
“Hell no,” he said, surprising you yet again. You were expecting a ‘yes’ with the way he was coming onto you all of the sudden, but what he said carried even more of a self-depreciating brand of charm. “But I’m hoping maybe you’ll pity the loser who’s had a hopeless crush on you for a while now and give him a chance.”
“You’re not a loser,” you said before you registered the rest of his words. When you did, you were taken aback at the confession. “But you’re not usually this… bold, Ethan.”
You wanted to ask him if something was wrong, but there was a lot wrong these past few hours.
“What can I say? I’ve been feeling more confident recently.”
You hummed, understanding that in a way.
“Maybe it’s the whole ‘we could die any second’ thing,” you ventured a guess.
He smiled to himself, like you’d just referenced an inside joke you weren’t a part of.
“Could be,” he agreed. He laughed a little and looked down at himself, then met your eyes again. “Sorry about scaring you. It was in poor taste. We both like horror movies… I don’t know, it was stupid.”
You scoffed, but you weren’t really mad anymore.
“I like horror movies, I don’t want to be in one,” you told him, eyeing the knife he held loosely in his right hand. “Is the knife real?”
“What?” Ethan asked, feigning confusion. He lifted the knife and examined it. “This knife?”
“Yeah, that knife,” you parroted back his playful tone. “You said the blood is fake, but is the knife real?”
A devious look crossed Ethan’s face. He held it to your throat slowly, holding it horizontally. You didn’t flinch, much to his pleasure. He seemed almost impressed.
“Gotta be authentic, right?” he mused, eyes flicking to your parted lips as you breathed steadily. “Can I kiss you?”
When his curious eyes looked back at yours, you couldn’t help but notice he still held the knife. The rush of excitement you felt scared you more than the fear of him letting it slip forward.
“What’s the knife for?” you asked with a surge of confidence, taunting him a little. “If I say no?”
Ethan laughed at that. He pulled it back and let it drop to the floor. It clattered against the wood, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. But it wasn’t from fear—it was from anticipation. Maybe your curiosity was a little more than that after all.
“You’re safe with me,” he assured. “Promise.”
His words felt layered, but in a way you couldn’t define.
Perhaps it was his way of saying he’d protect you. Maybe it was strange, especially given his entrance, but you found yourself feeling exactly that with Ethan. Safe.
Nothing was going to hurt you, certainly not him.
“About that kiss…” you started, giving him the indication that he was looking for.
Ethan took the hint and ran with it, lips crashing into yours in the blink of an eye.
His lips were soft, but the kiss was needy and hungry. You tried to move your lips in sync with his, but he was much more dominant.
A joke that you’d never say flashed by about him practicing.
It was easy not to laugh when Ethan’s hand threaded into your hair and his tongue began to explore your mouth.
The leather glove felt strange. It made you pull back a little, which you almost couldn’t do with the way Ethan eagerly chased your swollen lips with his own.
You glanced over his costume again. It looked really legit—when did he have time to get it? Was he actually gonna wear this for Halloween? You swore you remembered him and Chad talking about some other costume he made out of cardboard for the frat party.
Before you could spiral down that path, Ethan pulled the leather gloves off quickly and cast them aside. It was like he could read your mind. Both hands went to your face, pulling you to meet him halfway in another searing kiss.
You didn’t know what was coming over you, but whatever it was was causing arousal to stir in your belly.
You figured out the answer to that pretty quickly.
It was want. You wanted Ethan.
“Is the other offer still on the table?” you uttered softly when you and Ethan had to part for air.
He grinned, unable to contain it.
“Thought there was no way in hell that would work,” Ethan admitted a little breathlessly. “Thought I never stood a chance with you, but I liked you anyway.”
Ethan had a boyish charm about him usually, but now that was combined with a streak of deviance that you finally now noticed.
You weren’t expecting to be as intrigued by it as you were.
“Give yourself a little more credit,” you told Ethan, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch a little. One hand rested on your shoulder and the other fell to hold your hip, tucking under your baggy shirt and rubbing your skin beneath. “You are pretty cute.”
Ethan’s smile only grew, but when you leaned in to kiss him again his lips met yours.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and guided the two of you to the ground with your back leaning against the wall. He was in front of you, on his knees, with you in his lap.
You ran a hand through his curly hair and you guided his lips back to yours. From what he’d revealed, Ethan hadn’t had a lot of experience with girls. It was a damn shame, because the boy was a great kisser.
His hand caressed your thigh as he trailed upward. You gave him a soft sound of encouragement when his fingers found their way to the waistband of your shorts.
“Is this okay?” Ethan asked, which made you want to grab him and kiss him again.
“Yeah.”
His hand slid into your shorts and your underwear.
One finger—you guessed middle—pushed inside of you. A small gasp escaped you at the intrusion and he watched your face.
Ethan was making sure the sound wasn’t of pain, which it wasn’t, and you appreciated that.
He withdrew the digit, then pushed in again. He repeated the motion a few more times before adding his index finger.
Ethan’s breathing grew heavy as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. He thrust and curled them inside you with rhythm. He managed to find one pretty quickly. That plus his thumb rubbing at your clit, you were falling apart in mere minutes.
Your brief orgasm rocked your whole body, leaving you clenching his fingers and quivering.
Ethan muttered things to you, but you could hardly hear over the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.
Your head rested back against the wall as you caught your breath, still trembling from the aftershocks. Ethan withdrew his hand from between your legs and out of your shorts.
Your eyelids felt heavy, but in between slow blinks you saw him lift his fingers to his lips. You watched breathlessly as he placed them into his mouth and moaned at the taste of you.
No words would come out of your mouth, but he took rendering you speechless as a compliment.
“I’ve thought about that,” Ethan started, voice a little ragged. He was watching you, but his hand had moved off to the side. “What you’d look like… what you’d sound like… what you’d taste like.” The awe in his eyes as he spoke left you swooning.
“And?” you managed, sitting up a little straighter.
With the change in your angle, you could feel the bulge in his pants, even though the added layer of the costume he had yet to remove.
“You’re better than I ever imagined,” Ethan finished.
A scrape against the floor alarmed you. You looked to the sound and saw Ethan grabbing the knife off of the floor.
You watched as he brought it between your bodies. He first tucked it through the leg of your shorts, the cold metal sliding against your skin as it caught under your underwear as well. Then, he pointed the sharp side facing out. Finally, he sliced up through the fabric. You gasped a little as the cold air of the room hit your newly exposed skin. He did the same with the other leg, then pulled the tattered material away from your body.
You did the honors of pulling off your shirt. You didn’t have a bra underneath and you almost laughed at the way Ethan gawked at your fully naked body when you cast it aside.
“Your turn,” you told him. You were completely undressed, while he still wore the long, black disguise.
“Actually,” Ethan said a little eerily. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I was thinking I could leave it on?”
It was a question, there was room for you to say no. Maybe you should’ve, it was a little weird. But you weren’t really thinking about that. You were more focused on how badly you wanted Ethan to fuck you, and that clouded your brain.
“As long as you don’t put the mask back on,” you relented in a joking tone.
“You’re so fucking cool,” Ethan rushed out before slamming his lips into yours. The knife was cast aside again—you didn’t see it happen, but both of his hands were on your face.
You laughed a little against his lips, dazed and drunk on arousal. You didn’t really care about the logistics of it.
His hands moved down, but you were distracted by his lips dominating yours.
You heard the sound of his zipper being undone and he moved a little—you guessed shoving his pants down his thighs.
There was no time to look down because in a rush, Ethan was pinning you back against the wall with his body. One hand gripped your waist, holding you in place for him. The other was presumably guiding his cock to your entrance.
You gasped a little against his lips when he started to press forward while simultaneously pulling you down into his lap. The fabric of the costume draped over your thighs, blocking your view.
The stretch of his cock pushing into you was more intense than you could’ve predicted, but your whole body trembled with pleasure at the feel.
Finally, he either got too excited or lost his patience, and guided you down the rest of the way until he was fully sheathed inside of you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ethan cursed to himself, body straining to keep from moving. His head dropped to your shoulder, heavy breaths hitting your neck. He leaned against you, forcing you against the wall.
His cock twitched inside of you and his body tensed, trying to hold back.
You panted slightly, trying to get your breath back. You ran a hand up his back and you felt him shiver. Your hand moved up the back of his neck and into his mess of curls.
You always liked Ethan’s hair.
You gave a small, barely qualifiable tug, but it had an effect. His body jerked, causing him to move inside of you. You gasped a little, but the motion felt good.
He lifted his head to look at you. His face was a little flushed and the lust blown look in his eyes made you quiver.
“You can move,” you whispered out, not trusting your voice.
Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He secured the arm around your waist a little tighter and he put the other hand on the wall, giving himself leverage.
The slow drag of him moving out of you made you gasp for breath. The thrust back in knocked the air out of your lungs.
He set a quick pace after that, hips slamming eagerly into yours as the pleasure and excitement overwhelmed him.
It felt good, really fucking good.
Neither of you knew exactly what you were doing, but you were sure you’d figured it out because your whole body tingled with pleasure.
You cried out his name, which only spurred him on.
In a jarring movement you could hardly track, Ethan dragged you from the wall to the floor. He put himself on top of you, never once withdrawing from inside of you.
He watched your face as he pounded into you. Ethan had more leverage this way, able to grip your hip in one hand while the other held the top half of him off of you by being planted on the floor near your head.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, which you couldn’t see because the bottom half of your body was covered by the black costume. You hardly paid any attention to that aspect. You didn’t care that he wore it, not when you were this caught up in pleasure.
(In hindsight, you should’ve).
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Ethan breathed out, hips starting the stutter with every thrust.
The knot in your belly started to tighten as he buried himself into you over and over.
You couldn’t speak, your breathing was so labored as you reached to cling to him.
His head dropped down to your shoulder as he allowed more of his body weight to fall onto you. You found yourself enjoying the feel of him truly being on top of you.
You hardly noticed the fake blood smearing onto your bare skin. When you did, you were too gone to care.
You bucked your hips, meeting his stuttering thrusts. He was getting close to his edge and so were you. You moaned beneath him as his forceful thrusts sparked pleasure through your entire body.
“I’m close,” you managed to moan out against his ear.
“Oh, fuck,” Ethan groaned out, cock pulsing inside of you at the thought. He lifted his head enough to be able to watch your face. “Come again for me, please,” he panted out, nearly falling over the edge at the mere anticipation.
The begging was hot, and your body was already ready to give him what he wanted.
You noticed his eyes flicking down your body, seeing the red stains on your skin. That was quickly forgotten by you when your whole body began to tense and quiver. You held onto him tight as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.
You didn’t see his eyes linger.
Ethan couldn’t hold it together, not with the way your body tightened around him as your orgasm rocked you.
He collapsed on top of you, holding you against him as his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes were clenched shut as he frantically shoved his hips against yours, burying himself deep. His cock twitched, his whole body shivering as he spilled himself inside of you with a moan.
The sound of him alone was enough to prolong your pleasure as you rode it out, but the extra movement and the feeling of him filling you was an added bonus.
He kissed you hard on the lips, effectively pulling the air from your lungs.
After a moment, he found the strength to roll off of you, only to then drag you to his side.
“I can die a happy man, now,” he joked morbidly.
You shoved him a little by the shoulder like you had before, but not enough to actually make him go anywhere.
“Don’t say shit like that,” you argued weakly.
He flashed you a brief grin. “I meant it as a compliment.”
You rolled your eyes and did you best to laugh it off.
You lost track of how long it took you to move from the floor to your couch. The same thing happened between the time it took for you to get from the couch to your shower.
It was a tiny shower that couldn’t fit two people, so you rinsed off as quick as you could. You were tired, and your legs felt weak, and you knew you’d be sore in a way that would make it hard to keep calm tomorrow.
Whatever he had used for the blood, at least it washed off fast. You were able to finish up in a matter of minutes.
You threw on new pajamas and crawled into your bed, managing to tell Ethan to take however long he wanted and that he could stay over if he wanted.
You found yourself hoping he would.
You were nearly asleep when the shower shut off and Ethan finally joined you in bed. He was only in his boxers and a black t-shirt, which he must’ve been wearing under the costume robe.
A thought nagged at the back of your mind about the costume, wondering why he’d gone through all of that just to mess with you for a minute—albeit a terrifying minute. It didn’t seem like him, but then you remembered you’d only met him a few months ago.
You were so exhausted you fell asleep in his arms, not awake enough to care about all of the weird details. In fact, the only thing you could think about was how much you liked falling asleep with Ethan’s arms around you.
In the morning, you found out your friends had all been attacked.
You showed up with Ethan after the feed on your college’s chat app blew up with images of cops swarming and ambulances outside of Sam, Tara, and Quinn’s apartment.
Mindy seemed relieved to see you, but not so much when she realized Ethan was with you. Maybe she’d cleared you as a suspect in her head.
She yelled at him to stay back, accusing him of being the killer. Nobody was taking Quinn’s death well, but Mindy was especially heartbroken over Anika.
“Stay back!” Mindy yelled at Ethan, who did as she commanded.
Everyone turned on him then, even Chad. Everyone except you. They demanded his alibi.
“How do I know you’re not the killer, roomie,” Chad spit at him, amped up.
“I was with Y/N last night,” Ethan defended, holding his hands up in a small show of innocence, before you could say a word. “We were… preoccupied, alright?”
You wanted to elbow him for how he worded it, he couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried. It might’ve been on purpose, you weren’t sure.
He wasn’t close enough to do that, though, and now all eyes were on you.
“Yeah, he was with me,” you backed Ethan up.
You weren’t going to leave him hanging because it was the truth, but you knew what that implied, and so did your friends. They all shared subtle—but not unnoticeable—looks. Your face felt warm, while Ethan bit back a prideful smile.
“So you guys, um…”
“Chad, stop,” Tara scolded him before he could point out the obvious.
“Point is, we had nothing to do with this,” Ethan stated.
We?
They were suspicious of him, and now he was lumping the two of you together. There were always two killers in the movies—you began to doubt if the alibi would ease their anxiety or only spike it.
You thought back to when he had showed up to your apartment in that costume. He’d scared you, but you accepted it when he told you it was a joke that he mistakenly took too far.
It made you wonder. What if it was him?
If he wanted to hurt you, he easily could’ve. That didn’t seem to be his intention. What was? Seeing how much he could scare you? Get your heart rate up? Seeing if you wouldn’t believe him?
Or was it seeing if he could put the evidence right in front of you and have you ignore it because of a crush?
Fuck. Maybe it was some weird combination of all. Were you that gullible? Or were you overthinking it now?
Your brain struggled to come up with a conclusion.
You wanted to believe Ethan was innocent. You really, really did.
It was easier than believing you had slept with a killer. Or potentially worse, that you had feelings for one.
Ethan gave you a slight, assuring smile.
Your head told you one thing, but your heart told you another.
Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you kept your mouth shut and gave him one back.
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