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whoreforhorror · 1 year

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Slasher with an S/O who self-harms

Included: Billy Loomis, Hannibal Lecter, Rusty Nail, Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair

Tw: Mentions of self-harm and blood

Billy Loomis

Billy had been out with Stu as Ghostface quite late into the night. He figured you would be asleep. Still, on the off chance that you weren’t, he made his way to your house. Realistically, even if you were asleep, he was just going to join you in bed.

He got to your window to find you were up, sitting on the edge of your bed with your back to the window. He was happy to see you up because he wanted to spend time with you, but it wasn’t really usual for you to be up quite this late. He snuck in quietly, planning to try and give you a scare, and got about halfway to you before he noticed a few more details he had missed.

You were incredibly quiet, the silence of the room feeling a bit suffocating at the moment. Your head was hung low and you had a blade in one of your hands. Your arms were bleeding. You were… bleeding? What the fuck?

Billy closes in on you, achieving his original goal of giving you quite the jump scare in the process. He didn’t care about that right now. Before you really know what was happening, you’re in the bathroom, sitting while he pulls out medical supplies. Billy was silent and methodical as he cleaned each wound, making sure they weren’t too deep before wrapping your arms in gauze and medical wrap. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at you.

He’d sit you back down on the edge of your bed, standing in front of you in silence. Even considering he didn’t really like to talk that much, he was too quiet. It put you on edge and made you worry. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried, and his face wasn’t giving anything away.

You avoided eye contact for what felt like an eternity before you came to the conclusion that you’d have to be the first to talk. “Billy-“ You couldn’t get anything out before he dropped to his knees in front of you and hugged your waist, burying his head in your stomach. You could hear him sob quietly into your shirt, and his hold on you was tight.

He cried for a while before he could gather himself enough to talk. Even then, all he said was “Why?”. He’d kill anyone responsible for making you feel this way. Point blank. No Stu, no Ghostface, no teasing or foreplay. It would be him, them, and his knife, and it would be messy. If it wasn’t that simple, he’d listen to everything you told him, anything you’d be willing to share. When you finished, he’d stand up to hold you properly and to talk in your ear. He couldn’t bring himself to talk anywhere above a whisper at the moment.

“I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. I love you so much-“ It was the first time he had told you that and you couldn’t ignore the sting created by having him say it in this moment rather than during something happy and romantic. “I need you here with me. Anything you want I’ll help you with. I’ll do anything to make you feel better, just say the word.”

Eventually, he’d get you to lay down with him and he’d hold you tight as you both slept. From now on, he’d keep a closer eye on you and anything your body language would tell him about how you’re feeling. Sometimes, when he’s really tired and you’re asleep, he’ll run his thumb over your scars and think to himself about how he’d missed the signs and what he can do to keep this from happening ever again.

Hannibal Lecter

The dinner party really wasn’t supposed to start like this. Hannibal had bought you an outfit he’d seen while he was out, and it had reminded him of you. It was a sweet thought, and you couldn’t deny it looked amazing, but there was one issue. It had short sleeves. You’d been able to get away with wearing long sleeves up until this point because of the weather, which was cold, but each day was just a bit warmer and it was to the point where it was too warm to add a jacket to an outfit. So here you were, looking at the outfit laying neatly on the bed, tears in your eyes as you thought about your arms and how Hannibal was going to react. Would he think you’re weak? Imperfect? Valueless? Would he think you were trying to damage his image?

Hannibal, who had been around for nearly twenty minutes, was growing concerned about how long it was taking you to get around. He knocked on the door, calling out to you and asking if everything was alright. You responded, saying everything was ok, but he could hear the distress and shakiness in your voice as you spoke. Of course, he could. He thought about his options for a second before announcing that he was coming into the room. You didn’t want him to but there was no way to keep him out. You knew that.

“What’s wrong, my love? Do you not like the outfit?” He knew it wasn’t that, but he’d rather you tell him what was really wrong rather than him having to figure it out himself. “I can take it back if it’s not to your liking.” You’d have to choose between acting as if you hated the outfit he’d gifted you or telling him about your self-harming. You hated sounding ungrateful, especially when Hannibal was always so gracious. You had to tell him.

And when you did, he goes quiet for a moment. He’d known something was wrong but he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He hadn’t noticed. How hadn’t he noticed? He’s panicking internally but refuses to let it show at the moment. For the first time in a very, very long time, he’s feeling fear, sadness, confusion, and anger toward himself.

He’ll do whatever is needed to make you feel comfortable. If you want to cover them, he’ll figure it out. If you don’t want to, he’s more than supportive and will shut down anyone who would dare say something about them.

Once dinner is done and the guests have left, he’ll question you. In that moment, you don’t have Hannibal, you have Dr. Lecter. He will want to know how long you’ve been struggling with mental health, how long you’ve been self-harming, what triggers you, how can he help, etc.

He’ll pay close attention to you after he knows. You and sharp objects, that is. He won’t lock away knives or anything of that sort. He knows that will only make you feel worse, but he’ll make sure to remember exactly where sharp objects are and how they’re positioned. He’s going to know if you do it again. Once he knows, it’s impossible to hide it. Point blank. Still, he’ll be gentle about it. He doesn’t think you’re wrong or damaged; he just thinks you need a bit of structure and help.

Rest assured, you’ll get the best care with Hannibal. He’s a psychiatrist after all, and one of the best at that. However, he might use this as a way to subtly manipulate you into sharing his… unique food tastes. After all, why harm yourself when you can take all of your emotions out on others?

Rusty Nail

Rusty is gone A LOT, that’s no secret. But, that means you’re left with a lot of time to think, and thinking leads you to, well, the predicament you’re in now. You didn’t think he was supposed to be home for another day or two, but he’s early. He’s early and your arm is leaking fresh blood. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also hadn’t heard him (you were too wrapped up in your thoughts) until he was opening the bedroom door.

“Darlin’?” He’s walking towards you slowly, like you’re an animal that could lash out if he moves too quickly. Gently, he takes your hands and holds up your arms to give himself a better view. He wipes his thumb across a drop of blood to convince himself that this is real, and not a sort of twisted hallucination. “Darlin’.” He says it softly, this time.

He’s incredibly gentle as he guides you to the bathroom to tend to your wounds, quiet too. You’re sat on the side of the tub and he’s kneeling before you. As he finishes, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at you before circling his arms around your waist and burring his face into your stomach. His hold is tight, and this lasts for quite a while.

When Rusty gathers himself enough to look at you again, he’ll pick you up and carry you to bed. You don’t feel like arguing. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was right, you were tired and you weren’t going to fight him on it. Even if you wanted to, the shattered look in his eyes acted as a foolproof deterrent.

As you nap, he cooks a meal for you. He wakes you up after a while to eat and draws you a bath after you’re done. He doesn’t say much. He doesn’t know what to say. For every moment he can, he’s going to take care of you like your royalty. Gradually, as the tension loosens, he’ll talk more and so will you but there is still a heavy sadness and tension in the air around him.

He’ll ask you quietly in the morning, as you two laze in bed, why you do it. Whether or not you tell him, he respects your choice. If you do tell him, he’ll want to talk through the issue. If it’s a person, he’s already thinking up ways to draw as much suffering from him as possible. If you don’t want to tell him, that’s ok. He’ll hold you close and whisper things about how much he loves you and what he would do to prove it.

When he’s on the road, he’ll call you every afternoon. Talk to him about anything, he just wants to hear you speak and get insight on your day. He wants to make sure you’re ok, as well.

He’d take you for a drive if you wanted. He absolutely loves having you in his passenger seat, riding alongside him in his rig. It makes him feel happy and possessive. One night, when he’s not on the road, he’d stock his truck with snacks, drinks, and blankets. He’d drive you out a field and stargaze with you late into the night, possibly until you fell asleep. If that happened, he’d carry you back into the truck so he could drive home.

Michael Myers

Micheal knew something had been off for a while, but assumed you’d come to him when you were ready to share. He’d grown impatient though, and decided to watch you while you thought he was away, to see if he could figure out what was wrong.

He’d caught you in the act and was shocked. Well, he felt as much shock as he was capable of feeling, which is far more than he is used to but not like a person might normally. Still, the pang of emotion was something he didn’t feel often. He’d suspected something was up but he hadn’t suspected this. Not in the slightest.

Of course, he’d seen people self-harm before. He had his time in the hospital to thank for that. He remembered how the doctors would react. Restraints, heavy surveillance, taking away anything even slightly dangerous, frequent and consistent check-ins, and medication, loads of medications. He also remembered how much the patients hated it. He had a few hours before you expected him home, which meant he had a few hours to think.

When Michael came home, you greeted him as you always did. You were cheery and excitable. It put a weird taste in his mouth and a feeling like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It didn’t sit right with him and made him very unhappy.

He was still for a moment longer than normal, catching your attention and causing you to ask if something was wrong. He responds by pointing to your arm, confusing you. He grabs your wrist and pulls up one of your sleeves, and you freeze, looking at him in the eye holes of his mask in shock.

Michael would give you the materials needed to take care of your wounds and watch as you patch yourself up. He’d teach you if you didn’t know how. After, he’d lay on the couch with you and watch movies until you fell asleep. Only after you’re asleep would he leave a kiss on each arm. A promise to you and himself that he’d do what he needed to make you happy.

Michael will be around more after he finds out. Not in an overbearing way, but he realized that he doesn’t spend as much time as he should with you. He’ll bring home little gifts that he thinks you’ll like and will make you masks that he thinks fit your personality. You might even sucker him into cleaning the house or cooking from time to time.

Bo Sinclair

It was WAY too hot for long sleeves in Louisiana. It was the middle of summer, and mid-day at that. Bo thought you’d knock more than a few screws loose to be dressed for late fall at this time of year. And to be outside on top of that?

Bo had asked you to come to the church to help with some minor repairs, and you’d been more than happy to come along. Problem was, you’d had a relapse the night before and your arms were covered in fresh wounds. You were practically dying in the summer heat, but you’d risk the heatstroke to avoid Bo finding out.

“What’re you doin’ with them sleeves? You look like you’re fixin’ to go out in winter, not the Louisiana summer.” You hadn’t really thought of a cover story, which was coming back to bite you in the ass. You’d decided to say you just weren’t feeling too great, causing Bo to look back at you.

“What’s wrong sugar?” You’d responded and said you felt cold and you were tired, and you could tell he wasn’t sure if he really believed you. He put a hand on your forehead as you looked up at him. “Well, you’re burnin’ up but that’s probably because of them sleeves. Why don’t ya take it off? Certainly wouldn’t mind the view to give me a lil’ work encouragement.”

You turned him down and suggested that you’d go get some lemonade, to which he agreed was a good idea and wanted to join you. He was at a good stopping place anyway. While you were washing up to serve the lemonade, you’d had to push up your sleeves a bit to avoid getting them wet. You hadn’t accounted for Bo coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

He was about to say something when he saw them. When you felt him tense up, you tensed up too. You froze and waited for him to say something, to do anything that gave you an indication of how to respond. After a few seconds, he took his arms away from your waist and grabbed your shoulders gently, turning you around to face him.

“You know… I’ve got some scars too…” It was the first time you’d seen the scars on his wrist. It was the only thing he could think to do in the moment. You started fretting over him, asking what happened, if he was alright, who did this, and other things along that line in a continuous stream of worry. He had to interrupt you and raise his voice to get you to quiet down. He agreed that he would tell you what happened if you told him why you’d harmed yourself.

In the end, you both wound up having an hours-long conversation about both of your histories and troubles. You both talked until you passed out, holding each other close and feeling leagues closer to him than you had before. It was a rare, bittersweet moment to bond and it would result in a permanent, noticeable shift in the interactions between you two.

After the conversation, you two held each other closer. You were softer when speaking to each other, and arguments often got resolved much quicker and with fewer tears than there used to be. You both understood each other more than anyone else had, and it shows.

Bo would do the best he could to make you feel comfortable showing your arms, no matter what stage of healing they were in. Bo would even show his scars more if it helped, granted that there was no chance of visitors. If tourists said anything about it, they wouldn’t get to be a sculpture. Vincent wouldn’t be able to reconstruct them well enough if he tried. No, they’d wind up in the pit with Lester’s roadkill.

Bo would kiss your scars in intimate moments if you’d let him. It’s his way of showing that he loves every part of you, regardless of how much you like it yourself.

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dailyflicks · 9 months

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JOY RIDE (2023) Dir. Adele Lim

#filmedit #joyride #chewieblog #userbbelcher #fyeahmovies #filmgifs #usersavana #userkraina #usermandie #userzo #comedy #by adie #*#2020s

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aesthetic-otd · 4 months

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Today's aesthetic is joyride

#aesthetic #aesthetic blog #aesthetics #aesthetic otd #aesthetics blog #aesthetic community #aesthetic blogs #joyride

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shadowxamyweek · 10 months

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Joyride

This amazing artwork is by Toonsite and has been posted with their permission! You can find it and so many of their other fantastic works by following this link to their Twitter!💖🖤

#shadamy #shadamy week 2023 #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic #sega #sth #joyride

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one-time-i-dreamt · 4 months

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I was going on a joyride through the British countryside with my grandfather until we went over what seemed to be a very small hill but turned out to be a giant cliff and we both fell to our deaths into a (very scenic) ravine.

#dream #joyride #uk #countryside #grandfather #car #family #death tw #ravine #emma from degrassi girl why did i think of you

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effkaytales · 6 months

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NEW YEEN NEW YEEN

A Girl Named Joy

A girl who wants to live her life the way she wants to and couldn't abide by anyone else saying otherwise, Joy lives for hers and anyone else's freedoms.

She's found a place where she's free to be whoever she wants to be, and that's become her precious treasure. She'll fight for you if you'll let her.

#reearts #Joy #Joyride #Hyena #hyena furry

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doomh3ad · 2 months

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How would rusty react to dirty talk over the CB. I know he was pretty nervous about it in the first movie and we didn’t see much of it but wonder what an uninterrupted talk would be like

OOOO i love this oh that's hot

rusty nail + dirty talking on CB (nsfw under cut)

-rusty is a sensual man, a romantic, but a fairly inexperienced one. sure, he's had a few girlfriends in his time, but none of them have made a shiver run down his spine. not like you have. your sweet voice through the radio, his cock twitching in response, a smirk tugging at his lips as he hears you call out for him.

-"right here, darlin', how's the road treatin' you?" his smooth voice does something to you nothing else ever has and ever will.

-you're so close to him right now. so tantalisingly close and yet every inch between you feels like a mile-long gap. when your conversations take a turn, he fantasises more and more about just driving to you, fucking you good and hard right there.

-he snaps one day. your teasing gets too much. your pretty, honeyed words laced with promise have undone him. he drives like the devil himself is on his heels and makes it to you in record time. you're stunned by his presence as he knocks (he's brought flowers - how did he know those were your favourite? - and a bottle of something if you're a drinker)

- "you must be so tired after such a long drive," you purr at him, eyes scanning down his body for the first - far from the last, oh god, you'll need so much more of this - time. "why don't i take care of you, hmm?"

-his eyes are pure sin.

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 3 months

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“Every day is a battle, Sam,” Dean said. “Sometimes a series of battles. You face them head on. They knock you down, you get back up. You lose one, you damn well better win the next. You take the wins. Because tomorrow is a crapshoot.”

from: Supernatural - Joyride, written by John Passarella

#very true #very dean #spn #supernatural #spn books #joyride #john passarella #book quote #dean winchester #jensen ackles

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slxsherwriter · 5 days

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Love is a Labor

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairings: Rusty Nail x Single Mother reader

Word count: 2,127

Warnings: None

Author's note: This is for @umnitsa who had asked for a second part of A Chance at New Beginnings and have it be fluff (sorry I couldn't expand on the further part of that request this was where my brain went). Have some soft, domestic Rusty.

Tagging: @tinalbion

“Are you really sure about this?” The question came for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last hour. It was coming from a place of good intentions, that much was well known. But after so many times, that raw nerve of irritation was starting to flare.

“Yes. The answer isn't going to change. It hasn't yet, and it won't.” Your friend sighed beside you, still not convinced that this was anything other than a bad idea. A fact that had also been aired out several times over the last two days. Ever since you announced the plans to meet up with Rusty. This time with Michael in tow.

“I just…I got a bad feeling about this guy. You've met him once, talked to him, what? Three times? And now you are going to meet him with your kid?” All good and valid points. You were thankful for the concern and the worry. It meant that she cared. What she didn't know? You had been talking with Rusty almost nightly for the past month. Yeah, you had only met with him once up until now. Maybe it was a little silly, but his presence had made you feel safe, far safer than anyone else in your life had ever managed. He had already proven himself good with Michael. So why not? Did it feel a little like a rebound after what you had gone through with your ex? Slightly. But that wasn't the point. Rusty was kind, patient, and caring. You considered him a good friend. The attraction that you had to the man that had seemingly ignited out of nowhere was just a side point.

“I get you're worried, and I appreciate it. I really do. But there isn't anything to be worried about, okay? It's not like I'm going to meet up with him at some motel. We are meeting in a public place. You know where I'll be, and there are going to be plenty of other people around.”

“I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?" It wasn't defeat in her voice but awful close to it.

“Not a chance.” You leaned in and gave your friend a hug. “Everything's going to be just fine, okay? I know it.” The huff that came from her told you all that you needed to know; she didn't believe a word that you had said and was still going to panic over the entire thing. If it wasn't, well, she would get to say I told you so. Michael appeared in the doorway, wearing a grin and tucking his truck into the little backpack he carried everywhere.

“Come on, mom.” There hadn't been this sort of impatience about him before. It was endearing and solidified your choice in this whole thing. “If we're late, we might miss him.”

“We aren't going to miss him, I promise.” You scooped your son up into your arms and smiled. “Got everything?” He nodded.

“You two be careful, okay?”.

“We will be. Let's get going then.” You got Michael's shoes on and tucked him up in his jacket before heading out the door and to the agreed meeting spot. Location services on your phone turned on as per the request of your friend and current roommate.

Okay, so the meeting spot wasn't exactly largely full of people. You had opted for a park. Still a little dangerous, yes, but you truly weren't worried. Besides, it gave Michael open space to play and be away from the man if he did feel uncomfortable. He was four after all, being cramped into a coffee shop, or something of the like wasn't fair. The weather was nice enough, just on the right side of chilly and clouds provided just enough cover where the sun wasn't constantly beaming down into eyes. You had settled on a bench, letting Mike play with the trucks that he brought in the sand not too far off.

“Excuse me, that seat taken?” The low, gravelly voice was one you could recognize in your sleep by now.

“Well, I was saving it for someone,” you offered back, looking up at the towering figure with a grin. You couldn't entirely see his face from how he was standing, hat keeping half of his face shielded. “But, I guess I could offer it. You seem like a nice man.”

“Very kind of you.” Rusty moved to settle on the bench beside you. Not close enough that he was pressed against your side but enough that you could feel the heat radiating from the man. A pleasant feeling. “How are you doing today, darling?”

“I'm good. How are you?” He looked tired. Had he come right from the road here? You wouldn't have been surprised. From your understanding, he lived further south on a nice quiet piece of land. It sounded like a little slice of heaven, if you could be honest. That felt like too much to say to the man, though, so it was a thought you kept to yourself. His eyes found you before flicking briefly to Michael.

“Got nothing to complain about.” Michael looked up and saw the man sitting beside you, and all else was immediately forgotten about, trucks abandoned in the sand to run over to you both.

“Are you Rusty?” Rusty leaned forward just a little bit, elbows resting against his knees.

“I am. You must be Michael.” Your son beamed at the recognition, lightly bouncing on his feet.

“Do you really drive a big truck?” Rusty chuckled softly at the eager question that came. Thankfully, he didn't seem bothered that Michael had launched right into the questioning. Others may have been.

“I do. Even drove it here. If your ma says it's, we can go look at it.” Michael's eyes widened almost impossibly large before his head whipped to you.

“Can we mom? Please?” He had never been in a real truck before. You could hear your friends voice screaming in your head about how terrible an idea it was, but at the same time, you truly felt no danger from the man and trusted that everything would be safe. There was also a worry that if you denied his request, the poor boy might just have spontaneous combust. There was a risk of that happening, too, with you agreeing. But it was a far better risk.

“Of course, but you have to listen to everything he says, okay? I don't want you getting hurt because you are so excited.”

“I promise.”

“No better time than now. Whatcha think, big man?” Michael was ecstatic, and the yes that came was both enthusiastic and loud. “Go get your stuff, and we'll go look at my truck.” If it had been a cartoon, there would have been burn marks trailing behind him. You couldn't help the small laugh and fond shake of your head. Your son was something else.

“I think you might have made his year.” He was leaning back, and before you knew it, his arm was around your shoulders. Heavy but fully pleasant. A sensation that you could get used to quickly.

“Now I just need to find out how to make yours.” The flirting tease had heat rising to your cheeks. There wasn't a quick response to that, and the floundering surely had to be clear to him. His warm breath ghosted over your cheek as his lips briefly pressed to the skin. “That blush is mighty cute, darling.” Yeah, he absolutely had you there. However, Michael came running back over and cut off anything else that might have been said. Standing up, you took the tiny hand that was held out to you. Though, you didn't move since Michael hesitated just a second before reaching his other out to Rusty.

Your heart melted as he didn't seem to take even a second to think about it. His large hand dwarfed Michael's, more so than your own. Then, the three of you were off to his truck.

Finding parking for the rig clearly hadn't been easy since it was a bit of a walk to where he had left it. Not that it seemed to matter all that much as your son's excitement filled the silence and the distance.

“You said it was black, right? Why black?” As soon as Rusty would finish answering one, another would come. “Does it have a really loud horn?” And so on it went until you came to the rig. You knew almost nothing about trucks, but the monster of a truck seemed to fit the man with you in an odd way. Rusty knelt down, letting go of Michael's hand.

“All right. Now, I know you promised your ma that you were going to listen. And we don't lie to ma, right?” Michael nodded, staring intently at the man. “Good. Now, I'm gonna have to pick you up to get in. I don't want you climbing yourself, trying to get in or out. It's a long way up, and you could get hurt if you do fall. I need you to hold on real tight. Can you do that?” Michael glanced at you, wanting the reassurance it seemed. There was a bit of that shy nature coming out.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Rusty waited patiently, his eyes not leaving Michael this time. “You don't have to if you don't want to, but if you want to see the inside of the truck, Rusty has to carry you up.”

“It's up to you.” Rusty backed up the fact that no one was forcing him to do anything that he didn't want to do. A few more seconds passed before Michael finally nodded.

“Okay.” His curiosity and eagerness about the truck had trumped the shyness.

“All right. Let me go get it unlocked and opened up, okay?” He pushed back up and moved off to his truck after shooting you a smile. You reached out to take the backpack from your son, kneeling down beside him to help soothe any of the nerves that he still had going on.

“This is exciting! Getting to go into a truck like that.” He nodded, eyes moving from the truck to you and back. “Everything's going to be okay.” Finally, a smile came to his face. That was more what you wanted to see. Rusty came wandering back over.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” He knelt down so that Michael could come to him, lifting him up only when your son had wrapped his arms around the man's neck. You followed right alongside them, unable to help yourself from grinning as more excitement came forth from Michael. “Why don't you get in from the other side?” He suggested with a smile, one hand holding your son to him securely, the other wrapped around the grab handle. Nodding, you did just as suggested and moved to the other side of his truck, having to climb up a step before even opening the door.

“Wow…” Rusty was already settled into the driver seat, letting Michael look around at everything. From the wheel to the mirror and beyond. He was behaving well, not touching anything. Rusty shifted him so he was more seated in his lap.

“Go on, you can take a hold of the wheel, big man.” The gleeful laugh that came from him had the both of you smiling. His hands looked small against the wheel. In that moment, you reached for your phone to snap a picture, not even thinking to ask if the man would mind. It was just a moment that you wanted to capture.

“This is so cool.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Carefully, once Michael had his fill, Rusty set him to the side and motioned for him to head into the back of the cab, where a little bed was set up. It allowed him to explore the small space.

“Hope you don't mind me taking a picture…”

“Not at all, darling. Ya wanna see him get really excited?” Your cheeks actually hurt so much from smiling. It was the most that you had done since leaving the better part of three months ago. “Hey, Michael. You wanna honk the horn?” Michael scrambled back to the front so quickly that he nearly tripped and landed face first into the shifter. Rusty had managed to catch him just in time.

“Easy there, buddy. Don't need your first ride here to be a trip to the ER.” It was a bit astounding how good he was with your son, but you couldn't have asked for more in that moment. Nothing about this had been a mistake. And it wouldn't be moving forward with whatever happened to come between you and this man.

#horror writing #slasher writing #slasher x reader #slasher x you #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail #joyride fic #joyride

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sketchy-rosewitch · 8 months

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Wolves Eat Bunnies: Rusty Nail x gn!afab!reader

Warnings: dubcon, PinV, spit. (Anything else I missed)

A/N: Yesss I haven’t written Rusty in a second!

Haunted Hoedown day Seven!

Hoedown Masterlist

Previous: Moonlight Madness: Bo Sinclair x werewolf!gn!afab!reader x Vincent Sinclair

Next: Vincent x past victim!reader

“Come on Rabbit. You’re the one who wanted to play these games with me!” Rusty’s voice echos through the trees. You let out a sob but continue running through the forest trying to avoid branches and roots.

Your friends are such idiots, all of them. All they do is fuck around and you end up being blamed too when all you were was a witness, begging them to stop. Now all of them are dead somewhere out in these woods.

You dodge a tree branch and quickly turn into a clearing when you hear his footsteps catching up to you quickly. You stop and roll out of the way letting him trip and fall as he tries to catch himself.

You pray that God didn’t let your friends into heaven. Not after this. Not after you breath is running out. They put you through this goddamn hell they don’t deserve heaven.

That’s when you feel a giant hand wrap around your throat and push you into the dirt.

Your knees and hands sting and you let out a loud sob.

“Please! Please I didn’t do anything! I told them to stop I didn’t want them messing around with you or anyone! I was so pissed! Please just let me go!” You beg, your body wiggles and writhes under Rusty’s grasp. Tears soak the floor of the already damp forest.

“Can’t let you go bunny rabbit.”

“W-why?! Please! I don’t wanna die..” snot and spit come from your nose and mouth as your lips quiver.

“I ain’t killin’ ya. You’re too good for that. Just gonna take you home for me to use.” Rusty explains, your eyes almost shoot out of your head. You struggle against him further and that’s when your ass hits something hard.

“No, no no! NO PLEASE!”

He turns you around and unzips his pants. Rusty’s cock springs out and you let out a whimper.

“Please no, it’s too big! I can’t!”

“Shh. Come on don’t you wanna live? Just relax Bunny.”

You try and take multiple deep breathes. Feeling as he pulls your shorts down.

It’ll be okay, you can take it. Then you get to live and maybe running won’t be for nothing.

You watch as a giant glob of spit falls onto his cock, he jerks himself a few times, getting it nice and wet.

The tip of his cock touches your cunt and you feel as he stretches you out. Your fingers dig into the dirt as you’re split in half.

“God you’re tight.” Rusty comments as he looks over you. Your lip trembles and through the corner of your eye you see his arm move and you grip his jean jacket covered bicep with one of your hands.

“So big. Hurt.” You whimper, he notice a smirk on his lips, he takes the thumb of his other hand and wipes your drooly bottom lip then licks his thumb.

Rusty pulls out and you feel your hole gaping open, only a small bit of relief comes before he thrusts back into you, making you let out a yelp. Your eyes squeeze shut and you grip onto his jacket harder. His hips smack rapidly into yours as he grinds his cock in and out of you.

You let out repeated screams of both pleasure and pain every time he thrusts into you.

“You’re such a good Bunny. You’re all mine.” Rusty groans, you can’t help but nod and smile a bit at his cock tarting to feel so good.

“I am! Fuck! You feel good!” You cry out as you start to grind down wanting more and more of his cock. He bites down on your shoulder and you wrap your arms around his neck.

You feel like nothing yet everything as he continues to use your cunt up. Every part of you is numb. His small grunts can be heard just slightly as your moans and sobs take over the woods.

Then you feel it. His chapped lips kiss yours and you open your mouth asking for him to play with your tongue. You taste tobacco and smoke on his tongue and groan as his saliva becomes addicting so quickly.

Through your shirt he pinches your nipple and you let out a squeak, pressing into his mouth more aggressively. He lets out small grunts and bites down on your lip.

Your pussy tightens around Rusty and you let out a little squeal as you cum around his cock, bucking and squirming when he doesn’t stop fucking you.

You feel warmth flood your hole and let out a soft groan. He smiles and kisses you again.

He then swiftly lifts you up, his cock slides from your hole, he grabs your shirts and walks you back to his truck. You wrap your arms around him and and start to drift off to sleep.

#rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail #joy ride #joyride 2 #joyride #joyride 3 #hauntedhoedown

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dianessunflower · 1 year

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Stephanie Hsu on the cover of Elle China, April 2023

#stephanie hsu #everything everywhere all at once #joyride #elle china #magazine cover #cover girl #cover shoot #breakfast at stephanie's

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whoreforhorror · 2 years

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S/o with Tattoos

Included: Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair, (Poly) Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, Bubba Sawyer, Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Hannibal Lecter, Rusty Nail

Michael Myers:

He wouldn’t notice before you two were together. Well, more like he would notice but wouldn’t care or pay any mind to them.

When you’re together, he’d start taking note of them. He’d watch you from afar and admire the way the images moved on your skin

If he’s out killing and he finds something that you have tattooed, he’d take it and gift it to you when he returned.

Would absolutely go feral if you got a tattoo for him, regardless of where it was. Somewhere everyone can see? Everyone will know you’re his. Somewhere intimate? It’s just for him and will definitely get a lot of attention while you two are… enjoying the night together

Honestly, getting a tattoo for him might save you from him craving his initials into you with his definitely unsanitary knife. He’s possessive and you both know it, but it probably isn’t high up on your list to get some blood disease.

Bo Sinclair:

It was one of the first things he noticed about you.

After a hard day's work, when you both are relaxing on the couch or in bed and he’s softened up a bit, he’ll trace your tattoos quietly. If there’s a story behind any of them, he’d absolutely melt if you told him the story while he traced.

If you got a tattoo for him, it’d instantly be his favorite. He’s always scared, in the back of his mind, that one day you’ll come to your senses and leave him. Getting a tattoo of him would help ease these thoughts, by a lot.

He’d love it if the tattoo was somewhere where the tourists could see, so they know you're his. Still, he definitely wouldn’t mind if it was hidden and just for his eyes. Either way, the tattoo would definitely inflate his ego.

If you agreed, he might have Vincent draw up a tattoo idea that Bo has. Get it inked and you’ll win his heart. Bo’s a family man, and getting Vincent’s art tattooed would let him know that you love not just him but his family as well. It would let him know that you accept him and everything that comes with him.

Poly Billy Loomis and Stu Macher:

Oh boy, these two think you are one of the coolest people they’ve ever met. Your tattoos are how you caught their attention

Billy would subtly suggest that you get tattoos for them. Nothing would turn him on more. Billy has major abandonment issues, thanks to his mother, and (like Bo) getting a tattoo for him would help reassure him that you weren’t going to leave him

Stu wouldn’t be as subtle. He never is. He’d definitely turn to you during a movie marathon and say “Hey babe, you should get a tattoo for us. That’d be hot as hell!” Que Billy glaring at Stu from the other side of the couch

If you tattoo yourself, the boys will DEFINITELY want to do one. Give them something easy, for your sake, but nothing would make them happier. They might get a little bit hooked though, so you might have to give them a limit to how many they can do.

They’ll 100% want to get matching tattoos with you.

Get a tattoo of Ghostface and they’ll never leave you. It’s a sign that you not only love them, but you accept Ghostface as well.

Bubba Sawyer

He definitely isn’t a fan, to start. His family has convinced him that the only people that get tattoos are rowdy heathens that are bound to become dinner. He loves you too much to eat you!

Drayton would definitely say shit. Whether he’d making fun or judging, he’s bound to say something. Bubba will glare at him to shut him up, and take you to another room if it gets to be too much.

He’d love to hear the story behind the tattoos, if you had any

If you get a tattoo for him, he’s going to be concerned! Why would you hurt yourself for him?! He’s concerned and flustered but he’s also really happy. You really love him that much?

Prepare for a back-cracking, teddy bear hug!

He’ll definitely look at it from time to time, when he thinks you aren’t looking.

But please don’t get any more! He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself, in any form.

Jason Voorhees

He’s not sure how to feel

Bad people at the camp have tattoos. But you’re not a bad person! You’re his s/o!

He’ll have to sit and think through this for a while, but he still loves you. Of course he does!

Eventually, he’ll come to love them. They’re a part of you, after all.

He especially likes any tattoos you have of nature or animals.

If you get a tattoo for him, he’ll be more conflicted than ever. He really loves you and loves that you’d get something so permanent for him, but (again) tattoos are for bad people

He’s fond of the tattoos you have, but don’t get any more

Brahms Heelshire

Like Bubba and Jason, Brahms isn’t sure how he feels about your tattoos. His parents always talked down about people with tattoos, even you when you were hired. The only reason you got the job, his parents said, was because you were well qualified and followed instructions

Brahms will draw the tattoo he can see from the walls, and hang them up in his den in the walls

Eventually, when you two are officially together, he’ll move you around a little bit while you both cuddle to see your tattoos better. Don’t be surprised if he grabs your arm or turns your head while you’re doing something, so he can look at one of them.

He’ll point to one or rub his thumb over one in particular if he wants to know more about it

If you got a tattoo for him, he’d be all over you. You wouldn’t be able to get him off of you for a week at least. Whether it’s cuddling, him clinging to you while you work, or less innocent things, prepare to have your hands full for a while. Even long after you’ve gotten the tattoo, he’ll hold you closer if he catches sight of it. Best to get it in an area that isn’t very visible in day-to-day outfits.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal is tricker than some others with tattoos, and it really depends on what and how many

If you had tattoos of classical art or literature, I think he’d be completely enamored. He’d quote the artist or author and fully expects you to recognize the quote. If you have a piece tattooed that he doesn’t have, art or literature alike, he will get it to please you. If you have it tattooed, you must really like it, right?

If you have silly tattoos or some that could be described as “junkie”, he might encourage you to cover them up while you’re attending gatherings with him. He’s not ashamed, never. He just thinks they’re improper and unfit for the setting. There’s nothing wrong with being a little improper from day to day.

He most certainly will try to psychoanalyze you based on your tattoos.

If you get a tattoo for him, that spot would be his favorite to hold you by. He’ll always have a hand on that spot, especially in public if it’s not too inappropriate. If it’s his favorite story, artwork, or music piece, he’ll tell you random quotes or information about it. Soon enough, you’ll know everything there is to know on the subject

Rusty Nail

I think Rusty would be pretty indifferent to any tattoos you had, honestly.

They’re hot, you’re hot, that’s all he really thinks on the matter.

HOWEVER

IF YOU GET A TATTOO FOR THIS MAN

Over the moon, elated, horny, very horny.

Rusty is incredibly territorial already, and a tattoo? Just for him? You two really are the perfect match. He’ll look at it every chance he gets, hold you wherever the tattoo is, and he’ll most certainly give it some extra attention while you two are going at it.

He will definitely think about branding you with the nail on his keychain that he bent into an ‘R’ shape. If you let him, you’re never getting away from him. As far as Rusty is concerned, that’s the same thing as a wedding band and exchanging ‘I Do’s. You are his, permanently. But that also means that he is yours.

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drunkbeefstudio · 5 months

Text

I'd joyride him, God damn.

#rusty nail joyride #rusty nail #joyride #the only man id call daddy #i want him to park that big ass truck right in this lil garage

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jesse-cromeans-sugarbaby · 1 year

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IMAGINE THIS MY LOVELIES

Rusty nail/Gn!reader

Sighing, you stood on the side of the road. Exhausted from walking an entire mile. Waiting for a car to pass by. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying due to your boyfriend deciding that now was the time to dump, and you don’t just mean dump as in breaking up…he literally dumped you on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Rubbing your eyes you were beginning to feel hopelessness.

Seeing a truck suddenly appear down the road. You held your thumbs up hoping they would stop. You’ve already been ignored by 3 other cars. The truck slowly pulled to a stop. You looked up watching as the window rolled down. “Now what’s a sweet thing like you doing out here?” The man asked.

“W-well my now ex-boyfriend decided I wasn’t worth his time anymore…”your emotions getting the best of you. He looked at you up and down nodding and getting out he walked to the other side of the truck and opened the door. “We’ll come on sugar…I ain’t got all day.” He smirked.

Just a short tidbit…I might make this into a actual fic?

#rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #slashers #drabble #joyride #murder husbands #x reader

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compare-and-conform · 26 days

Text

Summer dust ✨

#me #its meeee #mine #photography #spring #Easter #girls with tattoos #Latinas #canon rebel #transit #joyride #messy hair #you’re just the pieces I’m picking up #portrait #self portrait #photographer

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zapreportsblog · 7 months

Note

Can you do Rusty nail x reader where the reader was with Lewis and them when they prank rusty and rusty chase them and kip napped reader and the reader falls in love with rusty.

Hope you understand ?

❝sweet thang❞

✭ pairing : rusty nail x reader

✭ fandom : slashers, joyride

✭ summary : (Y/n) told the boys it wouldn’t be a good idea to prank that nice man on the radio but as the saying goes boy will be boys. Now look at what’s happened, she’s been kidnapped, one of them is already dead and she’s slowly falling in love with the very man who kidnapped her

✭ authors note : I surprisingly enjoy writing for rusty mail though he is a character I hadn’t expected to write for I like the challenge of having to write for him ya know?

✭ slashers masterlist

The road stretched out ahead, seemingly endless, under the vast expanse of the starlit sky. (Y/N) sat in the back of the old, beat-up van with her younger sister, Venna, as they continued their cross-country journey with their two travel companions, Lewis and Ronald. The four of them had embarked on this adventure with little more than a whim and a desire to see the world. They had quickly become a tight-knit group, navigating the highways and byways together.

One particularly quiet night, as they cruised down a desolate stretch of road somewhere in the heartland of America, boredom hung heavily in the air. Lewis, the mischievous one of the group, couldn't take it any longer. He leaned forward and switched on the intercom, a relic from a bygone era that came with the van.

"Hey, (Y/N), Venna, you up for a bit of fun?" he asked, a sly grin forming on his face.

(Y/N) exchanged a puzzled glance with her sister, Venna, who was seated beside her. "What kind of fun are you thinking, Lewis?" she inquired cautiously.

Ronald chimed in from the driver's seat, his curiosity piqued. "Well we can radio in some trucks guys and have a little fun with them? How about we have a little fun and prank them and mess with them over the intercom?"

Venna was immediately against the idea. She had always been the voice of reason in the group. "That's mean, guys. We shouldn't do that."

(Y/N) nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that doesn't sound nice. We should leave the trucker alone."

Lewis and Ronald exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Then, with mischievous grins, they turned back to the sisters.

"Come on, it'll be harmless fun," Lewis insisted. "We won't hurt him, just mess with him a bit."

Ronald added, "And besides, it's just a bit of excitement on this never-ending road."

Venna sighed, realizing that her protests weren't gaining much ground. She turned to (Y/N), her eyes pleading. "We should stand together on this, (Y/N). Let's not do this."

(Y/N) hesitated, torn between her loyalty to her sister and the allure of an adventure. Finally, she relented, albeit reluctantly. "Alright, but let's not be too mean. Just a little harmless prank."

Lewis and Ronald exchanged triumphant grins as they tuned into the CB radio. Ronald picked up the microphone, and his voice crackled through the intercom, "Breaker, breaker. This is Sweet Thang and Cherry, two lonely travelers in need of some company. Any good-hearted trucker out there want to keep us company tonight?"

The intercom remained silent for a moment, and Venna shot (Y/N) a disapproving look. Then, a deep, gravelly voice filled the van's speakers. "Well, Sweet Thang and Cherry, this here's Rusty Nail. I reckon I could use some company myself. Where y'all headed?"

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged nervous glances as they continued the charade. "We're just drifters, Rusty," (Y/N) replied with a feigned Southern drawl. "Headin' wherever the wind takes us."

Venna reluctantly chimed in, "You can call me Cherry, by the way."

As the night rolled on, they continued their playful banter with Rusty Nail, weaving tales of their supposed travels and misadventures. Little did they know that this innocent prank would lead to unexpected twists and turns on their journey down the open road.

The rhythmic hum of the car's engine served as a lullaby, coaxing (Y/N) and Venna into a drowsy state. They were nestled in the backseat, cocooned in blankets and half-asleep, their journey to the unknown stretching out ahead of them.

Up front, Ronald and Lewis exchanged mischievous glances. Lewis, the eternal optimist, was convinced that this long road trip would be their chance for an unforgettable adventure. Ronald, more practical and a little skeptical, had agreed to go along for the ride, quite literally.

As the miles blurred by, Ronald fiddled with the intercom system. An unexpected voice crackled through the speakers, gravelly and worn, like it had seen more miles than the truck it belonged to.

"Breaker, breaker, this is Rusty Nail, anyone out there in the great unknown?"

Ronald and Lewis exchanged glances again, but this time it was different. The name "Rusty Nail" had caught their attention, it was the truck driver from last night.

"Hey, girls," Ronald said, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "You think we should respond? Rusty Nail sounds like he's in need of some more company from Cherry and Sweet Thang.”

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged puzzled looks, still half-asleep, but curiosity piqued.

Venna, bored out her mind gives (y/n) a mischievous smile, nudged (Y/N). "What do you think? Should we play along? It could be fun."

In the beginning she was against it but having been on the road for a few hours she was starting to grow bored again plus what was the harm in it. They spoke with him once already and he seemed harmless.

(Y/N) yawned and stretched, then leaned toward the intercom. "Sure, why not? What's the harm?"

Ronald and Lewis exchanged victorious grins.

(Y/N) and Venna exchanged glances one more time, now fully awake and realizing they were about to play a part in this peculiar radio encounter. They'd have to think on their feet.

Venna picked up the intercom's microphone and adopted a sultry tone. "Hey there, Rusty Nail, this is Cherry, and I've got my friend Sweets here with me.” What's on your mind?"

In the front seat, Ronald and Lewis exchanged impressed glances. Their sleepy road trip had just taken a wild turn, and it was anyone's guess where Rusty Nail's stories might lead them.

(Y/N) continued to converse with Rusty Nail, maintaining her playful persona as Cherry. But as the minutes turned into hours, a strange feeling began to settle within her. It was a mix of guilt and unease, like she was playing a game that she didn't fully understand.

Feeling the discomfort gnawing at her, she finally decided it was time to bow out. She leaned into the microphone and spoke with a hint of sadness, "Sweet Thang over and out, Rusty Nail. It's been real nice talking to you. We'll catch you on the flip side."

Venna, catching on to her sister's change in demeanor, followed suit, her voice a little quieter, "Yeah, Cherry over and out too. We'll talk later, Rusty."

In the front seats, Ronald noticed the shift in mood and glanced at (Y/N) with concern. "Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked.

(Y/N) sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. "I just... I feel bad for doing this. We don't even know this guy, and we're pretending to be someone we're not. It's like we're messing with his emotions."

Ronald smiled gently and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, it's all in good fun. Rusty Nail's probably loving the company. And if we ever cross paths, we'll make it right."

Their conversation was interrupted as they pulled into a dimly lit gas station, the flickering neon lights casting an eerie glow. (Y/N) decided to stay in the car while the others went to refuel.

As the others left the car, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel the weight of her actions. She decided to radio Rusty Nail once more, her voice laced with sincerity, "Hey, Rusty, it's Sweet Thang again. I just wanted to apologize for cutting the conversation off so soon. It's not that I'm not enjoying talking to you; I'm just not all that social, you know?"

Rusty Nail's voice crackled back, understanding in his tone, "It's all good, Sweets. I can be that way too sometimes. No hard feelings. We'll chat whenever you're up for it. Keep the rubber side down out there."

(Y/N) managed a small smile, feeling a bit better about the situation. Maybe Rusty Nail wasn't as affected as she had feared. She settled back into the car, the road stretching out before her, ready for whatever adventures lay ahead.

(Y/N) had fallen into a deep sleep in her room at the motel, the exhaustion from the day's events finally catching up to her. Meanwhile, Venna, Lewis, and Ronald remained awake, the mischievous idea they had hatched continuing to brew.

With (Y/N) out of the picture, the three of them took turns calling into Rusty Nail's channel. Each time, they spun a new tale, making their fictitious adventures more outrageous with every exchange. Rusty Nail seemed to revel in the companionship, his gruff voice lightening up as he shared his own tall tales.

As the night wore on, Ronald whispered to Venna, "Why don't we invite Rusty Nail to our motel room for some fun? It's just a prank, and it'll give him a story to tell."

Venna hesitated, glancing at Lewis for guidance. After a moment, Lewis nodded in agreement. Venna picked up the intercom, her voice laced with faux excitement, "Hey, Rusty, we've got a wild idea. Why don't you swing by the Cherry Motel? Room 205. We'll have a blast!"

Rusty Nail, always up for an adventure, agreed with enthusiasm. "You got it, Cherry. I'll be there in a jiffy."

They parked in the motel parking lot, and Lewis, always the caring one, helped (Y/N) to the room, ensuring she was comfortable before retiring to his own.

Each of them had their own room, and they settled in for the night, their prank on Rusty Nail ready to unfold.

Later that night, as the motel's parking lot lay shrouded in darkness, the roar of a truck engine shattered the silence. It was Rusty Nail, rolling into the lot with anticipation.

The three friends watched from the shadows as Rusty Nail climbed out of his truck and approached Room 205, a smile on his face. He knocked on the door, not suspecting a thing.

When the door swung open, he was met with laughter and camera flashes. The room was filled with the blinding light of smartphones, capturing his surprised expression.

Ronald, caught up in the moment, couldn't resist taking it a step further. As Rusty Nail retreated to his truck in embarrassment, Ronald hastily scribbled a note on a piece of paper and taped it to Rusty's truck door. It read "Loser."

The boys quickly retreated back to their rooms, and Venna and Lewis joined (Y/N) in her room.

(Y/N) was half-awake when they entered. She mumbled, "What did you guys do?"

Ronald, with a nervous laugh, explained, "We pulled a prank on Rusty, that's all. It was just a bit of fun."

But (Y/N) couldn't shake a growing unease. "You shouldn't have done that. What if he takes it the wrong way?"

Venna and Lewis reassured her that it was harmless fun, but (Y/N)'s bad feeling lingered. The night was filled with an unsettling tension as they waited to see if their prank had unintended consequences.

The unsettling tension from the previous night's prank hung heavy in the air as (Y/N), Venna, Lewis, and Ronald hastily checked out of the Cherry Motel and booked it to another one several miles down the road. (Y/N) felt responsible for the prank that had gone awry, even though she had been half-asleep when it happened.

As they settled into their new accommodations, (Y/N) decided to take matters into her own hands. She picked up the intercom, her voice filled with sincerity, and radioed Rusty Nail, "Hey, Rusty, this isSweet Thang. I wanted to apologize for Cherry's actions and the boys. I had no idea they would do something like that."

A crackling pause filled the intercom, and then Rusty's voice returned, surprisingly calm, "It's okay, sweet thang. You didn't have any say in their prank, so I'll spare you."

"(Y/N)" hesitated, slightly confused by his choice of words. "Spare me? What do you mean?"

Rusty Nail chuckled, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I'm not a vengeful person, but I do enjoy a good game. So, how about this? We'll play a little game, you and me. The boys won't even know. I'll make sure they get what's coming to them."

(Y/N) felt a shiver of unease. She had no idea what Rusty had in mind, but she sensed it wouldn't be a simple matter. "What kind of game are we talking about, Rusty?"

Rusty Nail's voice held an eerie tone of amusement. "A game of wits, my dear. I'll give you a clue to start, and it'll lead you on a little scavenger hunt. The destination? Well, let's just say it's where the boys left their mark."

(Y/N) hesitated, her mind racing with uncertainty. She didn't want to involve herself further in this strange game, but she also didn't want to risk the boys facing any consequences for their ill-conceived prank.

After a moment of contemplation, she reluctantly agreed, "Alright, Rusty. I'll play your game. Just promise me it won't get out of hand."

Rusty Nail's laughter echoed through the intercom. "Don't you worry,sweetheart. It's all in good fun. You'll see. Now, let the game begin."

The atmosphere inside the motel room seemed to have turned icy as (Y/N) relayed the details of Rusty game. Her voice trembled with a bit of uneasement as she explained, "Rusty wants to play a game with us, and he's leaving clues too. The first clue was back at the Cherry Motel."

Venna, Lewis, and Ronald exchanged alarmed glances. They couldn't believe what they were hearing.

Dread hung in the air as they reluctantly decided to return to the Cherry Motel to follow the clue. The night had turned pitch-black, and the once-familiar surroundings now seemed menacing. As they approached the room where they had pulled the prank, a chill ran down their spines.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a gruesome sight. A lifeless body lay sprawled on the floor, bathed in eerie moonlight. Shock and horror gripped them, and (Y/N) couldn't hold back a gasp.

Lewis, his voice barely above a whisper, radioed Rusty in disbelief, "What the hell have you done, Rusty? This isn't a game!"

Ronald's anger boiled over as he grabbed the intercom, his words sharp and accusing, "You sick fuck! What kind of game are you playing at?"

Rusty Nail's voice crackled back, his tone chillingly calm, "You like games, don't you, boy? Well, let's play."

With those ominous words, it became apparent that Rusty was no longer content with a simple prank. He had escalated things to a dangerous level, and now, they were all unwitting participants in a nightmarish game.

Fear clenched their hearts as they realized that Rusty was not going to let them off the hook easily. He had become the hunter, and they were his prey, trapped in a deadly game with no way out.

Lewis, Ronald, Venna, and (Y/N) had been on the road for hours, driving through a seemingly endless stretch of highway desperate to get away from earlier motel. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow across the landscape. The gas gauge in the car was dangerously close to empty, forcing them to make yet another stop for fuel.

As the car pulled into the gas station, (Y/N) let out a small sigh. She had grown tired of the constant fear gripping at her heart and longed for a moment of peace. "Hey, guys," she said, turning to the others. "I think I'll just stay in the car this time. I'll be fine."

Venna, always the protective one, looked concerned. "Are you sure? I know I said I had to use the bathroom but I can hold it if you want so you aren’t alone?”

“No it’s fine venna, plus I’m pretty sure you can get a UTI from that. I’ll be here, the boys wont be too far away from me and the bathrooms just over there so if I need you I can go there.”

“Are you sure?”

(Y/N) reassured her with a smile. "I'll be right here. Don't worry about me."

The boys, jumped out of the car and headed towards the gas station, promising to be quick. Ronald was the one to turne back and called out, "We won't be long. Stay safe, (Y/N)!"

With a nod, (Y/N) watched them disappear inside the store. She leaned back in her seat, gazing out the window at the passing cars. Moments turned into minutes, and soon she found herself growing restless.

Just as she was about to reach for her phone, a truck pulled into the station. The driver, a man wore a cap with his hair hidden underneath and a had an almost sinister grin imprinted on his lips and it seems he’s caught (Y/N)'s attention. He parked his truck next to her car, his eyes never leaving hers not that she could see it though she did feel a shiver run down her spine as she immediately regretted her decision to stay behind.

"Hey, sweets," the man said, stepping out of his truck and walking towards her. His voice was laced with a chilling menace. "You're all alone out here?"

(Y/N) tried to compose herself, but fear gripped her tightly. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing growing shallow. She managed to stammer, "Wh-who are you?"

The man licked his lips, his gaze predatory. "It’s mee Sweet Thang, Rusty. And don't worry, sweetheart, I promised I wouldn't hurt you."

As Rusty approached, (Y/N) felt her body freeze with fear. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but her voice seemed to have vanished. The world around her turned blurry, and the last thing she saw before everything went black was Rusty's twisted grin.

The days had blurred into months since that fateful night when (Y/N) was taken by Rusty. She had no idea what had become of Lewis, Ronald, or Venna, her friends and sister who had been there that night. All she could remember were the anguished screams echoing from the shed, leaving behind a chilling silence that hung over her like a dark cloud.

Rusty had made a sinister promise to her: he wouldn't harm her physically. However, he had found another way to keep her under his control. He had chained her at the ankles, ensuring that she couldn't venture far from his clutches. The rusty iron links weighed her down both physically and mentally, a constant reminder of her captivity.

In the beginning, she had fought relentlessly, clawing at her chains, shouting for help, and trying to escape every chance she got. But Rusty was cunning, always one step ahead, and her attempts were met with harsh consequences. He wasn't afraid to use violence, even if it meant only a bruise here or there. Each time she resisted, it seemed to amuse him even more.

As the weeks turned into months, something peculiar began to happen. (Y/N) found herself slipping into a bizarre routine. Rusty had taken on the role of a malevolent housewife, and she, unwittingly, became a part of it. She cooked his meals, cleaned his house, and even found herself tidying up his collection of gruesome trophies from previous victims.

The lines between captor and captive blurred as she obeyed his twisted demands. Her fear began to morph into compliance, and her survival instincts were dulled by the monotonous cycle of their strange coexistence. In her twisted reality, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of safety in following his commands.

The darkness of her predicament weighed heavily on her, obscuring the memories of her life before Rusty's twisted game. It was as if she had become trapped in a macabre dance, where the only partner was her tormentor. She didn't realize that she was no longer fighting him or trying to escape, but instead, she was slowly being molded into a reflection of his madness.

As the days turned into endless nights, (Y/N) began to lose not only her sense of self but also the hope that anyone would ever find her in this desolate place. Her only company was Rusty and the haunting echoes of those screams that had faded into the abyss.

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