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ghost-in-the-hall · 10 days ago

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Tainted Innocence Pt. 2

Slipknot x Reader

Mafia AU

Why choose troupe

Summary - Fay has a few run ins and is trying to convince herself that she is okay.

Chapter 2 - The Watcher

As I grabbed the last of the plates left from my tables I noticed a small, crumbled piece of paper on the floor next to the table where the group of weirdos were sitting. Placing my tray down and reaching down to pick it up, I unfolded it to find a message: "we'll be watching." My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt sick to my stomach. The paper was crumpled so badly that I could barely make out the words, but the intent was clear. I quickly snapped my head to the window. The red hue reflecting off the wet asphalt was the only light that loomed in the dingy streets. My palms started to clam up as my eyes played tricks on me thinking someone was watching from the shadows.

Then suddenly I felt a large hand rest on my shoulder making me jump. "You okay, Fay?" Larry's voice was gruff but laced with genuine concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost." I nodded, trying to play it off, but I could feel my knees wobbling. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired." I stuffed the note into the pocket of my apron, trying to ignore the way it seemed to burn against my skin. "Okay well hurry up way we can go home." He said, grabbing my tray of dirty dishes.

"Sorry, I'll start wiping the tables and moping the floor." I murmured, my voice shaky. I didn't want to tell Larry about the note, because I might just be overreacting. Maybe it was just some sick prank from a regular customer who got off on scaring the new girl. But as I went through the motions of cleaning up, my mind couldn't help but replay their faces, their eyes on me, the way they talked to me like I wasn't my own person, like they had some power over me I wasn't aware of.

The rest little bit of my shift felt like a blur. I moved on autopilot, wiping down tables, putting up chairs, moping the floor, helping Larry with closing the kitchen, all while the words from that note echoed in my mind. "We'll be watching." It was like a dark melody that played in my head, a constant reminder of those nine men and their eerie presence. Every shadow, every creak of the old diner made me jump, my heart racing like a wild horse. I couldn't wait to get home and lock myself in my tiny, but safe, studio apartment.

Larry noticing my distress, gave me a gentle pat on the back as we locked up the diner. "You want me to walk you home?" He offered. The kindness in his eyes made me want to burst into tears but instead I gave a weak smile and accepted. The rain had started to come down harder now, making me walk closer to him as I forgot my umbrella in my locker. "You've got a really small umbrella." I laughed as I was still getting hit by the ice cold rain.

"Yeah well, I didn't expect to be playing chauffeur to the most beautiful girl in LA." He said with a chuckle, his gruffness fading away to reveal a gentle nature that was surprisingly endearing. I blushed at the compliment, my heart warming up like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter's day. His arm slid around my shoulder, pulling me closer under the tiny shield of his umbrella. Despite the rain, his warmth was comforting. It was almost enough to make me forget about the note that was burning in my pocket.

We walked in silence, the sound of our feet slapping against the wet pavement the only company we had. The rain washed the streets clean, the neon lights of the city reflecting in puddles like a disco floor. I felt safe with Larry, his bulk a reassuring barrier between me and the shadows. But as we approached my apartment complex, the feeling of being watched grew stronger. I glanced over my shoulder, but the streets were empty, the only sounds the distant wail of a siren and the persistent patter of rain but as I turned my head back a large black object hits me in the shoulder making me lose my balance.

"What the fuck? What's your problem?" Larry shouted behind me while helping me up. As I grabbed my bearings the sound of the rain now echoing. I slowly turn my body to see what hit me and there stood under a flickering streetlight was a tall busk outline of a person. They were faced away from me, the rain drenching them, their clothes sticking to their body. They were dressed in black from head to toe. A black hoodie pulled over their face with white goat on their back, the same one that scarred man was wearing. The realization hit me like a truck, and I felt the color drain from my face.

"Did you not hear me? What the fuck is your problem?" Larry continues to shout, but my eyes are glued to the figure in black. The rain beats down harder, and the sound of it mixing with my racing heart is deafening. The figure remains still, unmoved by Larry's words, as if they were nothing but whispers in the wind. I tugged on Larry's arm giving him pleading look. "It's fine. Let's just go." My voice is barely above a murmur, and I'm not sure if he hears me because he just double downs.

He steps closer to the person, his hand moving to his pocket, probably reaching for his phone to call the cops. The figure turns around slowly, the rain making the clown mask they're wearing seem even more menacing. It's a crude, painted on smile, the kind you'd find on a dollar store Halloween costume, but on this person, it's anything but funny. The mask is smeared with rainwater, giving it a warped, almost melting look, and the eyes are just dark holes that seem to swallow the light. The clown tilts his head slightly looking like he is reading my soul.

My legs feel like they're made of jelly, and I can't take my eyes off the figure. Larry's grip on my arm tightens as he pulls me backward. "Let's get the fuck out of here, Fay." His voice is a harsh whisper in my ear, and the fear in it snaps me out of my trance. I nod, my eyes never leaving the masked stranger. We start to walk backward, and the figure takes a step toward us, the rain plinking off the rubber nose of the mask. "Fay, now!" Larry's voice is a shout now, and the clown stops in its tracks.

We run the rest of the way to my apartment; the clown's image burned into my retinas. The stairs feel like they're moving under me, and I fumble with my keys. Larry stays with me, his eyes scanning the dark hallways until I'm safely inside. "You, okay?" He asks, his voice gruff but filled with genuine concern. I nod, my breath coming in gasps. "I think so. Thanks, Larry." I whisper, my voice barely audible. "Come in, please."

He follows me inside, his eyes scanning my tiny studio. It feels claustrophobic with him there, but I'm also grateful for his presence. He closes the door and locks it before turning to me. "Who was that?" He asks, his hand still hovering near his pocket where his phone is. I shake my head, trying to shake off the fear. "I don't know. I don't want to think about it."

The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words. The rain outside is the only sound, a constant reminder of the encounter. Larry's gaze is intense, searching my eyes for answers. "You sure you're, okay?" He asks again, his hand reaching out to touch my arm gently. I nod, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process."

I move to the kitchen, trying to put some distance between us, trying to push away the fear that's threatening to consume me. The warm light from the fridge casts an eerie glow on the tiles, making the shadows dance like the clown from my nightmares. "Would you like a drink?" I call out, my voice sounding more composed than I feel.

Larry nods, following me into the kitchen. His eyes are still on me, but he doesn't say anything, giving me space. I grab two beers and hand one to him, trying to keep my hands steady. The cold bottle feels good against my skin, grounding me in reality. "You know," he says, taking a swig, "you can talk to me, Fay."

I take a deep breath and sit down at the small table that doubles as my workspace. "It was… strange," I murmur, my voice shaking slightly. "And I found this at one of my tables." I pulled out the crumpled note from my pocket and handed it to Larry. He frowns, reading the words that had turned my world upside down.

"What does it mean?" I ask, the tremble in my voice giving away the fear that's taking over. Larry's expression turns grim as he reads it. He's seen a lot in his years, working the night shifts in this part of town. He's seen the worst of the worst, and the fact that he looks concerned sends a chill down my spine. "Where'd you find this?" He looks up at me, his eyes searching for something - understanding, maybe.

"At table four the ones you said looked like Slipknot. But you said you didn't know it was them or not." I told him slowly watching his face turn from concern to fear.

"Fay, you don't mess with those guys. I told you to be on your best behavior. What did you do?" His voice was a mix of anger and fear, the latter being the more prominent. I took a sip of my beer, feeling the cool liquid calm my nerves a bit. "I didn't do anything, Larry. They just… were being weird and wanted me to sing and I said no then told them to fuck off and get out when the tall guy with a scar across his cheek grabbed my arm."

I felt the scarred man's grip again, the way he'd said my full name with that smug smile. "I didn't mean to cause trouble," I whispered, my eyes downcast. "But I couldn't just… do it. Sing for them, I mean. The whole situation was weird and uncomfortable." Larry shook his head putting his beer down. "I can't help you." He said, his voice hard. "You fucked up and messed with the wrong group and I'm not going to get involved." He left without another word, the slamming of the door echoing in the quiet apartment.

Alone, the fear grew like a tumor in my chest, filling every inch of my being. I looked around my apartment, my eyes taking in the tiny space that was supposed to be my sanctuary. The rain outside had turned into a storm now, the thunder rumbling like the engine of a monster truck. It felt like it was trying to break through the walls, to get to me. I set my beer down on the counter deciding a shower would help my nerves. Maybe wash away the feeling of those eyes on me.

The hot water washed over me, and I let out a sigh of relief. The steam filled the bathroom, creating a cloud around me, obscuring everything else. I closed my eyes and let the water hit my face, the droplets stinging my skin like tiny pinpricks. But even in the safety of my shower, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every time I opened my eyes, I half-expected to see the clown from the street standing in the fog, his twisted smile taunting me.

I hurried to finish up, wrapping myself in a towel and rushing to my bedroom. The rain had turned into a soothing lullaby against my window, but the comfort was short-lived as I looked over to the counter not seeing my beer I had sworn I set there. It was gone, replaced with a single red rose laid neatly in its spot. My heart stopped. The clown, the note, the rose. It couldn't be a coincidence.

My eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of the intruder. The curtains fluttered with the gust of wind, the shadows playing tricks on my mind. I grabbed my phone, my fingers fumbling to unlock the screen. I had to tell someone, but who? The police? Would they even believe me? Larry? He'd just said he couldn't help. Looking at my contacts I realized I had nobody to call.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of panic that was raging inside me. "This is ridiculous," I whispered to myself. "It's just a rose." But it wasn't just a rose; it was a declaration of intent. A warning. The scarred man's eyes flashed in my mind, the way they'd lingered on me before he left the diner. He'd told me they'd be watching. And now, here was the proof.

Shivering, I padded over to the bed, the cold floorboards making me feel even more exposed. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to create a cocoon of safety. The thunder outside seemed to be getting closer, each crack echoing through my apartment like a gunshot. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to ignore the fear that was consuming me. But the feeling of being watched was too intense to ignore.

I peeked out from under the covers, my eyes darting around the room. The shadows danced with the flicker of the streetlight outside, and every creak of the old building sent my heart racing. I told myself it was just the storm, the wind playing tricks on me. But the rose was still there, taunting me from the counter, a stark reminder that my safety had been breached. I pulled out my phone, the screen lighting up the room in a cold blue glow.

My thumb hovered over Larry's name, but I hesitated. What would I say? 'Sorry, I know you said you couldn't help, but there's a rose, and I'm pretty sure it's from the scary mafia guys'? That sounded like a terrible plot for a horror movie, not my real life. But as the thunder rumbled closer, I knew I couldn't just sit here, doing nothing. I needed to get out, to go somewhere safe. But where? It's three in the morning and I had to be at Coffee Culture at five AM for my opening shift.

The chilly draft from the window sent a shiver down my spine, making me pull the comforter tighter around me. I glanced at the clock again, its red digits taunting me with the little time I had left to rest. But how could I rest knowing they were out there? Watching me.

I tried to distract myself by scrolling through social media, the mundane posts of my old high school friends feeling like a stark contrast to the horror story unfolding in my life. But even the bright screen of my phone couldn't keep the dark thoughts at bay. What did they want from me? Was it just a twisted game to them?

Before I knew it, it was 4:30 and I had to get dressed and ready for work. I threw on a cropped white long-sleeved shirt with pale blue jean overall shorts, paired with converse and two braids adorned with ribbons. I applied light makeup, trying to look as normal as possible, hoping it would hide the dark circles under my eyes. The rain had stopped, and the streets were eerily quiet as I walked to the coffee shop, the echoes of my footsteps bouncing off the wet pavement. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the faint hint of something metallic, like the aftermath of a storm.

As I approached Coffee Culture, the neon sign flickered to life, casting an otherworldly glow on the empty chairs and tables. I stepped inside, the bell jingling a cheery welcome that seemed out of place with my current mood. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and for a brief moment, it was like nothing had changed. But as I started to prep the machines, I couldn't shake the feeling of being observed. My heart pounded in my chest, and I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see the scarred man or the clown lurking in the shadows.

I jumped at the sound of the bell above the door, spinning around so fast that my braids slapped against my cheeks. But it was just Mia strolling in late looking pale and sleep deprived. "You okay?" I asked knowing she definitely had a hangover from last night. "Yeah, I'm just tired." She replied, her voice hoarse as she tied her apron around her waist.

As we started the day's grind, the fear from the night before began to feel like a distant nightmare. The chatter of the early morning customers, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the rhythmic clinking of cups and spoons created a comforting symphony that I'd grown used to. In that moment I had forgot about the rose, the clown, and the gang. But then the bell above the door chimed, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted in, and my heart skipped a beat.

The scarred man from the gang entered the coffee shop, his eyes locking onto me immediately. He looked different in the light. Less terrifying, almost human. He was dressed in black again, his scar stood out starkly against his pale skin. He walked up to the counter with confidence pushing his long black hair from his face, the same confidence from the night before, but this time it wasn't menacing. He was just a regular customer. Or so he wanted me to believe.

"Good morning, Fay," he said, his voice smooth as silk, sending a shiver down my spine. "Could I get a large black coffee?" His piercing blue eyes searched my face for a reaction, but I kept my expression neutral, my voice steady as I took his order.

"Can I get a name for that order?" I forced a smile, trying not to let the tremor in my voice give me away. The scarred man leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's Mick."

#slipknot #joey jordison #chris fehn #slipknot x reader #sid wilson #shawn crahan #mick thomson #craig jones #jim root #joey jordison x reader #chris fehn x reader #corey taylor #corey taylor x reader #mick thomson x reader #x reader #paul gray #slipknot imagine #slipknot fanfic

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ghost-in-the-hall · 10 days ago

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Tainted Innocence Pt. 1

Slipknot x Reader

Mafia AU

Why choose troupe

Summary - Fay tired and just wanting the night to end gets a table that makes her more aware than ever.

Chapter 1 - The Encounter

"Fay, you have a new table." My manager, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, called out from the back of the crowded diner. I nodded, my ponytail bobbing up and down as I juggled three plates of greasy food. The neon sign outside flickered, casting a sickly glow through the grimy windows. This was not the life I had envisioned when I left Sweetwater, but here I was, serving up southern comfort hospitality to the lonely souls of LA.

As I approached the new customers, I put on my best smile, trying to hide the tiredness from my eyes. "Hello, my name is Fay. I'll be your waitress tonight! Are we ready to order drinks or do we need a second?" I do my usual introduction putting more emphasis in my southern accent. The quietness of the table made me look up from my notepad to be met with 1,2,3…9 men who were anything but friendly looking.

The largest one, with a scar across his cheek, looked at me with an eerie smile, "We'll just have water for now, darlin'." His eyes scanning me up and down, taking in every detail of me, from my pink lace tank top to the white converse peeking out from under my loose jeans. The way they all stared made me feel like a piece of meat on display. But this wasn't new to me, my looks had always been a double-edged sword. I took a deep breath and turned on my heel to get their water, trying not to let their gazes pierce through my armor of make-believe.

As I walked away, I heard murmurs and felt their eyes on my back. It wasn't until I set down the glasses that the one with the scar spoke up, "You got a cute little accent," he drawled, his voice thick with curiosity and something darker I couldn't quite place. "Where you from, sugar?"

My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept the smile plastered on my face, turning to face them, "Sweetwater, Tennessee." I said lightly, trying to play off my nervousness. The others at the table snickered, but the scarred man's smile never wavered.

"That's a long way from home," he said, his gaze lingering. "What brings you to LA?"

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like sandpaper. "My dreams," I murmured, hoping my voice didn't betray the fear that was slowly coiling in my stomach. "I'm here to follow my dreams." I lightly laugh to myself at how pitiful that sounded while standing in this dirty dinner at 12pm while serving the most intimidating group of people I've ever seen in my life.

The man with the scar leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Is that so?" His voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder that made me shiver. "What kind of dreams could a little thing like you have in a place like this?" He gestured to the grimy walls and the sticky floors of the diner. I shook my head and was done talking about me. "You sure do ask a lot of questions but if you are not ready to order then I need to get to my other tables."

He chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down my spine, and waved a meaty hand. "Alright, darlin'. Give us a minute." As I walked away, I felt their eyes on me like a heavy weight. They whispered among themselves, and I could feel the tension in the air thickening like a storm about to break. I tried to push aside the feeling of unease, focusing on the rhythmic sizzle of the kitchen and the clink of cutlery. But it felt like God heard my pleas and the door opened. Walking in was my two good friends I met at my day job called Coffee Culture as drunk as sailors on a weekend leave.

"Fay!" One of them, a tall brunette named Mia, slurred, stumbling over to me. "You're working here too?" She giggled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I gave her a tight smile, grateful for the distraction. "Yep!" I say guiding her to an empty booth. "Just trying to keep up with bills, ya'know!"

Her companion, a lanky guy named Leo, raised an eyebrow at me and slurred. "So, this is why you never come out with us?"

I forced a laugh, trying to keep my voice steady. "You caught me!" The scarred man's eyes narrowed, and I could feel his gaze on me, but I didn't dare to look back. Instead, I turned to Mia and Leo, who were already sliding into the booth. "What can I get you two?"

Mia leaned over the table, her eyes glossy. "Two big greasy burgers and the biggest coke you got," she ordered, her breath smelling faintly of whiskey. Leo just nodded, too out of it to speak. As I scribbled their order, I heard the scarred man's chair scraping against the floor. I turned to find him standing beside me, looming like a towering mountain. "You got friends in high places, don't you darling?"

I met his gaze, trying to keep my voice steady. "They're just friends from work." His smile grew wider, showing off a gold tooth that glinted under the harsh diner lights. "Work? They work here? In this…establishment?" The way he said 'establishment' made it sound like a cage for lost souls.

Mia, oblivious to the tension, giggled. "Yeah, Fay's a triple threat! Barista, waitress, and record store diva by day, and a…uh…whatever it is you do at night!" She giggled again, her words slurring into one another. I shot her a glare, willing her to be quiet, but she was lost in her own world.

Leo, on the other hand, was more sober than a judge on Sunday morning. "We're just here for food," he said, his eyes darting between me and the scarred man. "Is there a problem?" The man who was towering over me nodded and spoke with a dark cadence "Ya, she hasn't taken our order cause you two won't shut the fuck up."

Mia's laughter died in her throat as she took in the tension that had filled the air. "Oh, sorry," she mumbled, shrinking into her seat. "Well go take your seat sir and I'll be with you in a second." I say trying to defuse the situation. The scarred man's eyes never left me as he turned and walked back to his table. I felt the weight of his gaze even as I turned my back to him.

As I took Mia and Leo's order to the kitchen, my legs felt like they were made of jelly. The cook, a gruff man named Larry, looked at me with concern. "You okay, Fay?" He asked gruffly, noticing my shaking hands. I nodded, forcing a smile. "Just tired," I lied. "Those guys at table four giving you trouble?"

I nodded, keeping my voice low. "They're just…intimidating." Larry grunted. "Looks like Slipknot to me." He said, his eyes darkening. The name sent a chill down my spine. "Big-time mafia group, but I don't know exactly cause they all wear masks when they actually commit crimes." he added in a whisper. "Best be on best behavior, honey." I nodded, my heart racing.

When I returned to their table, the tension was palpable. "So, Fay, tell me more about these dreams of yours." His voice was smooth, but the malice behind it was unmistakable. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "I'm a singer," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I perform whenever I can. Just trying to make a name for myself. But enough about me what can I get ya'll?"

The scarred man leaned in, his breath hot on my ear. "I think we've found ourselves a little songbird," he murmured. His hand reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from my face, sending a jolt of fear through me. "Why don't you sing us a little something?" His eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of resistance. I shook my head "I'm at work and need to do my job."

He chuckled, his hand dropping away, but not before giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We're just having a bit of fun, darlin'. Don't worry about the job. Sing for us." His voice was like a velvet vice, and for a moment, I considered it. I shook my head once again. "I'm sorry sir but I won't be singing." my voice much softer but still trying to be professional.

The scarred man's eyes searched mine, and for a brief second, I saw something in them that was not malice but curiosity. "Why not?" He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his broad chest. The other men at the table were watching me now, their expressions a mix of amusement and challenge. "Because I don't want to."

I tried to keep my voice firm, but it trembled slightly. The scarred man's smile grew wider, his gold tooth glinting in the dim light. "Well, now you have to," he said, his voice still smooth, but the threat underlying it was clear. "We don't take 'no' for an answer, darlin'." My voice betrays me letting out a laugh of disbelief and before I could think about what I was going to say my lips moved instinctually for me. "Well, you guys will be taking a no tonight or I won't be serving y'all."

The room seemed to hold its breath as the scarred man's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a vice-like grip. He yanked me closer to him, so close I could feel the heat from his body, smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his clothes. "You'll sing," he said, his voice a low growl. "Or else." His grip tightened, and I felt a spark of pain as his nails dug into my skin. But instead of fear, something else bubbled up inside me - anger. "Fuck off and get out." I said pulling my hand back.

Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by amusement. He let go of my wrist and leaned back in his chair. "Alright, sugar. I was just playing. I'll take a beer and an order of fries. What about you guys?" The tension at the table didn't dissipate as the other men at the table ordered their food. I scribbled down their orders, my hand shaking slightly. As I walked away, I could feel their eyes on me, watching my every move.

When I brought back their food, the scarred man took a fry and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly. He looked up at me, his eyes dark. "You know, I like a girl with a bit of fire," he said, his voice low. "But don't think for a second you can talk to me like that and get away with it." I ignored his comment and asked, "Would you guys like anything else?"

The others at the table exchanged glances, the air thick with a challenge that was unspoken. The tension was suffocating, but I kept my smile in place, my eyes never leaving theirs. "No, darlin'. That'll do for now," he said, his gaze holding mine. I nodded, "Well if you guys need anything just holler."

As I turned to leave, the scarred man called after me. "What's your last name, sweetheart?" and all I said while walking away, "Nope!"

I walked to the back and felt like I could finally brush off the weight of their gaze. The kitchen was hot and hectic, but it was a welcome distraction from the looming presence of the nine men who watched me like pray. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. The grease in the air clung to my skin, a stark contrast to the sweet vanilla scent of my lotion.

As I delivered their bill, the scarred man's hand shot out, catching my wrist again. "You forgot something, darlin'." His grip was firm but not painful, his eyes holding a mischievous twinkle. "What's your last name?" He repeated, his tone not so much a question as a demand. I tugged my hand free and placed the tray on the table, taking a moment to compose myself before speaking.

"Rosenberg," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "Lillyanna Fay Rosenberg." The room seemed to spin for a second, the weight of my own words like a noose around my neck. Why did I tell him? Why did I let them know who I really was? The scarred man leaned back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips.

"Lillyanna Fay," he repeated, rolling the name around his mouth like a fine whiskey. "It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." His eyes searched my face, and I felt a strange warmth in my cheeks. I hated that he could affect me like this, but there was something about him that drew me in, like a moth to a flame. "Are you happy now?" I snapped, trying to regain control of the situation.

He shrugged, his scar twitching with the movement. "Just wanted to know the name of the girl who's got all of us so intrigued." His eyes slid over to Mia and Leo, who were doing their best to pretend they weren't watching us. "Your friends are worried about you," he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "Why don't you go over there and check on them."

I nodded, grateful for the escape. As I approached the booth, Mia's eyes were wide with concern, and Leo looked ready to jump up and fight if needed. "You okay, Fay?" she whispered, her hand reaching out to grab mine. I nodded, my smile forced but hopefully convincing. "I'm fine. Just a misunderstanding."

But as I turned to leave, the scarred man called out, "Hey, songbird. You got any plans after your shift?" The question was casual, but the way he said it sent a shiver down my spine. I faced him, trying to keep the tremble from my voice. "Yes."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Do tell." His eyes bore into me, daring me to lie. "It's none of your business."

The scarred man leaned back in his chair, his grip on his beer bottle tightening. "Everything is my business in my city," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But I'll let it slide tonight." His gaze trailed over me, lingering on my chest before returning to my eyes. "For now." with that he got up pulling his wallet out and dropping a few hundred-dollar bills on the tables and said with a deep voice, "Keep the change baby girl."

I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as they filed out of the diner, their heavy footsteps echoing through the room. But as the door swung shut, I couldn't shake off the feeling that this wasn't the last I'd see of them. My heart hammered in my chest as I picked up the money they'd left, wondering if this was some kind of twisted payment for my 'entertainment'.

#joey jordison #chris fehn #slipknot #slipknot x reader #mick thomson #jim root #paul gray #shawn crahan #sid wilson #joey jordison x reader #slipknot fanfic #slipknot imagine

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ghost-in-the-hall · 10 days ago

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Hi! I’ve been reading your Slipknot fics and you’ve inspired me to start writing my own! I love your work and writing! Thank you for sharing your work and I desperately need more!😶♥️

Hi! That's awesome that you've started writing your own fics!!! I hope you're having so much fun with them!! And seriously thank you so much, it means the world to me hearing that I inspired you in a way that made you also want to write 😭😭 I love having writer friends, so if you ever want to bounce around ideas or anything feel free to shoot me a message! ❤️❤️

#ghost speaks #🔮#👹

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ghost-in-the-hall · 10 days ago

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i'm reorganizing my megaplaylist and wondering where Purity should go - at the end of the album, near Me Inside, somewhere else..? i have all the artists on there in the order they were added to the playlist, and within that, all the albums/songs are in order of release, so i'm not sure. where would you put it?

- 🔥

Hi 🔥!!! Personally I would put Purity at the end of the album, I think it fits perfectly with the vibe!!. Thank you so much for your ask, I always love getting to chat with you, I hope you're having a good day!! ❤️

#ghost speaks #🔮

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ghost-in-the-hall · 11 days ago

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ghost-in-the-hall · 16 days ago

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Hands On (Chris Fehn x Fem! Reader) Pt. 4

Hello! I'm finally back with some more Slipknot thank God I've missed writing for Chris 😭😭😭 Chris finally takes reader out on a date. The pair have a lovely day, lots of tooth rotting fluff and Chris being incredibly sweet and awkward just trying to impress Reader. They end up going back to her place only for Chris to let his real feelings slip. How will he handle confessing feelings that he hasn't confronted himself yet?

WARNINGS: MDNI, MINORS DO DONT INTERACT, 18+ CONTENT, some swearing, light choking/throat holding, wrist pinning, size kink, praise, use of 'good girl', sweat, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), creampie, confession, fluff, the slightest bit of angst sprinkled in., I believe that's everything, please let me know if I missed any!

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Patreon!

Dividers by: @adornedwithlight

You absentmindedly flicked through your TV, turning it off when you decided there was nothing worth watching. You had forgotten how boring it was when you weren't on tour. You pick up your phone, pulling up your contact list. You stared at Chris’s name, his smiling face staring back at you from the silly photo you kept of him, your thumb hovering over the call button. You sigh, locking your phone and tossing it across the couch. You really hated to admit it, but you missed him. You missed all of his playful flirting, his contagious laughter, and how his bright blue eyes never failed to leave you a flustered mess under their gaze. During the last week of the tour, you found yourself spending practically every night with him. You would quietly sneak down to their bunks, taking special caution not to wake anyone up as you crept towards Chris’s bed at the end of the hall. The slightest sound or shift from one of the other guys makes you freeze in your tracks. The majority of the time he would still be awake by the time you got there, on a few occasions he even ventured out to the couch where you were sleeping just to tug you back to bed with him. “Can't sleep.” He would mutter bashfully in response whenever you would question why he was still up. The two of you would lay there, crammed side by side on the small mattress, your nose brushing against his as you shared whispers and hushed laughter in an attempt not to wake the others. Chris’s touches were always hesitant at first: brushing hair from your cheek, his hand settling along your waist before realizing what he was doing and jolting away, how when he thought you were asleep, you would feel him press a soft kiss to your forehead, easily being able to drift off now that you were in his arms. You would wake up every morning a tangled mess of limbs; you couldn't help but notice how he seemed unusually flustered as he reluctantly separated himself from your warmth. Now, you were lying alone on your couch, staring up at the ceiling, replaying all those memories in your head as you agonized over your current situation.

“There's nothing wrong with calling him; we're friends, for God's sake!” You try to argue with yourself. The thought flashed through your head about how he was probably seeing somebody else now that he was home; you swallowed thickly, trying to press down the lump that had formed in your throat. You shouldn't care whether he was or not, but you just couldn't stop the thought from eating away at you. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, you had fallen for him. Something about being with him made everything better, colors seemed a bit brighter, and you always found yourself laughing a bit harder than usual whenever you were around him.

You're startled from your thoughts when your phone rings, a small scream slipping past your lips as your ringtone blares through the otherwise silent room. Your eyes widen slightly, your heart racing at the sight of Chris’s name on the screen. You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves as you answer it. “Hello?” You internally curse at the noticeable shake in your tone.

“Hey, baby.” You could have melted from the sound of his voice alone. “Are you busy today?” You couldn't stop the smile that immediately spread across your features.

“Not at all, why?” There was a slight pause as Chris built up the courage to spit out his question.

“Well, I'm going to be nearby… I was, um, would you– fuck.” You can't help but giggle slightly as he trips over his words. He chuckles, taking a steadying breath before finally managing to ask, “Can I take you out somewhere?” There was another short pause before he continued. “This is probably going to sound really fucking stupid, but, um…” he laughs softly in an attempt to push through his nerves, “I've missed getting to see you every day. I know this is a long shot, but I was hoping I could steal you away for myself for a few hours.”

You glanced at the time. “Think you could come get me around 6?” You ask softly.

There was a pause before he responded as if he couldn't believe you had actually said yes. “Of course, baby, that sounds perfect.” You could practically hear the dumb grin that spread across his face as he talked. “Just make sure you wear something pretty for me, okay?” He teases, making your cheeks grow warm.

“I'll see you in an hour.” You giggle in response, hesitantly exchanging your goodbyes before hanging up. It took you until you set your phone down to realize your heart was pounding, unable to wipe the excited smile off your face as you practically bolted upstairs to get ready.

You were still trying to decide which shoes to wear when you heard a car pull into your driveway. You could see Chris sitting in the driver's seat, hyping himself up in his rearview mirror before getting out. The sight was enough to make you laugh; it was cute that he seemed nervous about coming to pick you up. You hear him knock, “coming!” You call as you enter the hallway. You jog down the stairs, hurrying to open the door. Chris freezes the moment his eyes land on you.

“Woah.” He breathes out, his gaze trailing over your smaller form in a way that makes your cheeks grow warm. “You look great, baby.” He speaks softly, a smile spreading across his features.

“You don't look so bad yourself.” You smile flirtatiously. He reaches for you, his hands settling perfectly against your waist as yours effortlessly slide over his shoulders. A perfect fit. Your heart pounds as he pulls you flush against him. It was at this moment that it really set in just how much you missed being in his arms. His fingers slide into your hair, cradling your head to his chest. You can't help but smile as you hear how his heart raced, his fingers pressing tenderly into your skin as if he couldn't believe you were really standing here in front of him.

“I missed you.” He confesses softly.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, but Chris can't help but grin at your shaky tone. “I missed you, too.” You reluctantly separate from one another, his hands lingering on your waist, not wanting to let you go. “Your hair’s getting long," you remark, unable to keep the flustered smile off your face as his eyes meet yours. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” He asks, genuine surprise laced into his tone. “It definitely helps Mick get all the girls, so I was hoping it would help me get you.” He jokes with a wink. You giggle, playfully pushing his chest.

“Dork.” He beams down at you, making you squeal as he crushes you in another hug.

“Come on, let's get out of here, busy night ahead.” He hints cryptically, winking at you. He takes your hand as he walks you to his car. You can't help but laugh at the small bow he gives you as he opens the passenger side door. “Princess, your carriage awaits.” You notice him cringe slightly at the terrible line.

“Why thank you, my knight in shining armor.” You respond, quickly kissing his cheek before slipping into the car.

You had missed this.

You sped along the highway, warm sun streaming in through the open windows. You were laughing so hard your ribs hurt, tears collecting along your lashes as you listened to one of Chris’s absolutely outlandish stories from the earlier days on tour. “You're lying!” You managed to get out through your fits of giggles. “There's no way Paul and Corey actually threw a trash bag full of shit out of a moving tour bus.”

“I swear, it was the grossest fucking thing I've ever seen.” He responds, his shoulders shaking with laughter of his own. You lean into him, letting your head come to rest against his shoulder. You feel him tense momentarily, an arm hesitantly sliding around you, tugging you the slightest bit closer as he relaxes. Part of you wished you could stay like this forever. Chris was so warm, you can't help but be drawn into him as you cuddle closer, his thumb languidly stroking over your hip as you dip into a comfortable lull in the conversation.

“So,” you start in an attempt to break the silence that had settled over you, “you still haven't told me where you're taking me.” You finish playfully, pressing a kiss to his cheek and making him chuckle.

“And ruin the surprise?” He teases in response, knowing just how much you hated the anticipation. He glances over at you, his heart skipping a beat as he meets your eyes for the briefest moment. “The moment I saw this place all I could think of was you.” He admits bashfully, his hand gently squeezing your waist as he talks. “So, I'm going to have to ask you to trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” You respond softly. Your heart raced, his original excuse of swinging by cause he was in the area getting tossed out the window as you realized just how much thought Chris had put behind spending the day with you. You let your head fall against his shoulder, comfortably curling into his side as you watched the road stretch on endlessly in front of you.

You pulled into a small parking lot, a bright orange stucco building sat amongst a myriad of lush, green plants. Certain spots of the wall had begun to deteriorate with age, exposing some of the beautiful brick work below. The outdoor patio was surrounded by a wall of the same vibrant orange, dark wooden beams rising out of the stone leading up to an ivy wrapped canopy, tiny lights twinkling amongst the leaves. Your mouth watered at the smell of food in the air; the deep smoky aroma from the brick pizza oven, bright tomato sauces paired with pungent basil, all topped with an unmistakable note of garlic. Chris laughs as he hears your stomach growl. “I take it Italian was a good choice?” He jokes.

“I’d say the top way to seduce me is with garlic bread, so you made a pretty great decision.” You giggle.

“That’s all it takes, huh?” He jokes, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. “And here I was ready to get on my hands and knees.” His charming smirk makes your breath catch in your throat. Your heart was racing, and from the hungry expression that settled across his features you could have sworn Chris could hear it. He lets his gaze travel over you, mapping out all the familiar curves and angles of your body that he had missed so much. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold you in his arms, feeling the way you fit so perfectly against him.

“I mean, I wouldn't complain.” You tease in response, making him chuckle.

“Come on, beautiful, let's get something to eat.” He wraps an arm around your waist once you're out of the car, pulling you into his side, and placing a kiss to the top of your head. His grasp slowly slips away from you, hand catching yours to keep you close as you walk through the door into the busy lobby. The hostess greets you with a pleasant smile, “Hi, reservation for Chris.” You can't keep the smile off your face. Everything he did just proved how much he had been thinking about taking you out tonight, the thought alone was enough to make your heart race.

“Of course, we have the table you requested all set up.” You can't miss the excited look she exchanged with her coworker as she grabs your menus, leading you to your table. You were brought out onto a small back patio, a few other tables with couples situated neatly around the space. The air was filled with the sweet smell of fresh flowers that seemed to cover every inch of open space available to them, tea lights sat inside green glass lanterns in the middle of each table. She seats you before hurrying off. You move for your chair, pausing as Chris places a hand to the small of your back.

“Please, allow me.” He states softly, pulling out your chair for you, offering you his hand as you sit, before sliding you closer to the table. A quiet ‘thank you’ tumbles from your lips. He sits down across from you, clearing his throat as he settles into his seat. He freezes as his eyes meet yours, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he takes a moment to study your features.

“What is it?” You can't keep the grin off your own face, Chris unable to take his eyes off you.

“I just missed you…” He starts, breathing out an awkward chuckle. “And you look beautiful, it's kind of hard to look away.” He admits bashfully, making your cheeks grow warm. You reach over the table, hesitating momentarily before taking his hand in yours. “Sorry, my palms are kind of sweaty.” He states, making you laugh.

“It's okay, I didn't notice.” You respond, shooting him a playful smirk.

Your heart was pounding. There were so many things you wanted to tell him about, so much had happened while the two of you had been apart. But, for the life of you, you couldn't think of a single thing to say. You were just so caught up in the fact that Chris was here, in front of you, you could physically reach out and touch him. That fact alone was already overwhelming. You both jump as your waitress approaches the table, Chris’s gaze lingering on you for another moment before looking away.

Gradually, the other couples on the patio finished their meals, leaving the two of you alone just as the sun began to set over the horizon. The conversation that flowed between you was effortless, it's like the two of you had never been apart in the first place. Chris’s hand never left yours, bright blue eyes studying your features, hanging on every moment as his thumb drags across the valley of your knuckles. Your attention eventually turns to the sunset, vibrant oranges and reds burning across the evening sky. Chris states your name softly, “would you like to dance with me?”

“I'd love to.” You respond with a coy smile. He stands, offering you his hand as he gently tugs you from your seat. He slowly spins you around before slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. He sways you in time with the rhythm of the music that drifted from inside, neither of you able to tear your eyes away from the other. You wished you could stay like this forever. Chris’s fingertips press into the plush of your hip, his other hand languidly tracing over your knuckles. You fit so perfectly against him, your bodies moving in sync. You both laugh as you stumble over your feet slightly, Chris quick to catch you and steady you against him.

“Don't worry,” he states reassuringly, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes meet his, “I've got you.” He lazily studies you, tracing over every subtle curve and angle of your features. Your heart pounded in your chest, you found yourself chewing on your bottom lip as you thought about how much you wanted him to kiss you at that moment. He rests the hand he was holding on his shoulder, taking the opportunity to brush some stray hair from your cheek. His palm was warm against your face, you can't help but lean into his touch, cheeks growing warm at the gentle contact. “You are so beautiful.” He whispers. His thumb languidly trails over your skin, he clears his throat when he's unable to tear his attention away from your lips. “Would it be alright if I, um–”

“Jackson, you can't go out there! They're having a moment!” Chris chuckles at the sound of your waitress yell-whispering at one of her coworkers.

“If their food gets cold, Susan will kill me.” He argues in response. “How was I supposed to know I’d be interrupting a literal fucking romance novel?”

Chris sighs, giving your waist one final sleeve. “I'm sorry–”

“It's okay.” You rush to reassure him. “Chris, I'm having a great time.” He smiles down at you in response, but he still seemed a bit tense. He just wanted tonight to go perfectly. Ever since the two of you had parted ways at the airport he hadn't been able to get the thought of you out of his head. Most of his nights had been spent sleepless, staring up at the ceiling, wishing he could reach over and pull you into his arms. He missed the feeling of you lying in bed next to him, the way you would squeeze him tighter in your sleep if you were having a bad dream, how you would bury your face into his chest in an attempt to shield your eyes from the early morning sun. When the realization had set in, it made him sick to his stomach. He had fallen in love with you. He kept replaying the last time he saw you over and over in his head.

He had walked you outside so you could meet whoever you had called to pick you up. It was raining, of course it was fucking raining. The awning did little to protect you from the weather, both of you completely soaked through in a matter of minutes. “I told her to be early, I knew she was going to get stuck in traffic.” You groan. “Chris you can head back in, I don't want you to have to wait out in this.”

“I'll be alright, baby, it's just a little rain.” He chuckles. “Besides, I'm just not quite ready to say goodbye yet.” You shivered, whether it was from the rain or Chris’s words you couldn't be sure. Two large hands find their way to your waist, turning you around to face him. “I've had an incredible time with you the past few weeks,” he can't hide his nervous expression, tripping over his own words as he rambles in an attempt to confess what was really on his mind. “I'm going to miss getting to hold you in my arms all night. It's going to be awfully lonely without you around, that's for sure.”

You also were struggling to find the right words to say. There were so many things you wanted to say to him, but you knew once you crossed that line there was no going back. You wanted him to come back with you, the thought of not being able to see him for however long until the next tour made your chest grow tight. “I'm always just a phone call away.” Your voice strains as you speak, struggling to keep your emotions in check. Chris notices the tears prick at the corners of your eyes and something snaps in him. He crushes you against him, you could hear his heart racing as your ear presses to his chest. “I'll see you again before you know it.” He carefully takes your face in his hands, angling your chin upwards until your eyes meet his. “I promise.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips slot against yours. You kept kissing him until your lungs burned for air, your need to breathe eventually forcing you apart.

“Don't forget about me, okay?” You whisper against his lips, a smile finding its way to your face.

“As if it would be that fucking simple.” He chuckles, crushing his lips against yours again. You jump when your phone starts to ring in your pocket.

“Hey, where are you?” You start to look around for her car. “I'm parked out front, but I don't– oh my god. Oh my god! Alright, finish saying goodbye to your little boyfriend.” Your face burns as you see her flash your lights at you. “I'll be right here whenever you're done.”

“I take it, that's your ride?” Chris asks with a chuckle.

“Yeah, that's me.” You reply, that tight feeling reemerging in your chest. “I guess, I'll see you soon.”

“I'll get in touch with you soon, okay?” His thumb trails across your cheek. You nod in response, not wanting to let him go. “I–” he pauses, deciding whether or not he actually wants to say what was on his mind. He sighs, his features softening into a smile. “Let me know when you get home safely.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you in for one last tight hug, before disappearing back inside.

He should have said what he really wanted to, maybe things would have worked out. There was still a part of him that felt like this was all a dream; being able to feel your soft skin under his fingers, the way your warm lips pressed to his pulse, how your body always molded so perfectly to his. He didn't think he deserved any of it. Yet, here you were sitting right in front of him, looking just as beautiful as he remembered. Every time you laughed it made his heart race, the sight of your smile was enough to make him trip over his words. Conversation flowed effortlessly between the two of you throughout the entirety of dinner, Chris hanging on every word as you caught him up on what had been happening in your life the past couple months, wishing he could have been there to have been a part of it. You sat and talked for hours, the burning orange sunset being replaced by an inky black night, the sky broken up by a paint splatter of stars. He can't keep the smile off his face as he holds out a spoonful of the dessert you were sharing, watching as your lips delicately wrapped around the utensil, your eyes meeting his, causing something to stir in the pit of his stomach. “You've got a little–” he reaches out without hesitation, wiping the bit of chocolate from the corner of your lips. His heart pounds as he watches the flustered expression spread across your features. He quickly pulls his hand back, knocking into his glass of wine in the process. “Shit!” He curses, his white t-shirt now splotched with dark red stains. He groans, futilely dabbing at the mess with his napkin. “I was going to take you somewhere else after this, I definitely don't want to do that looking like this.” He sighs aggravatedly. You watch as his shoulders scrunch to his ears, his eyes unable to meet yours.

“Why don't we go back to my place.” You offer. “I'm pretty good at getting stains out.” You reach across the table, taking his hand into yours, his posture softens slightly at your touch.

“I'm sorry I messed everything up.” He apologizes.

“I don't think you messed anything up… I think today has gone pretty perfectly if you ask me.” You give him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand gently. “So, are you going to take me home, or what?” You ask playfully, making him laugh softly.

“Let's get out of here, baby.” He smiles, taking your hand and leading you through the restaurant, back out into the warm evening. You curl into his side the moment he sits in the driver's seat, he wraps an arm around your shoulders to hold you close. He fidgets with your sleeve, the ride back to your house mostly silent.

“You should take me back there some day.” You say as you let your head fall to rest against his shoulder.

He chuckles, “oh yeah?” You nod. He pauses for a moment, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze. “Being with you makes me really happy.” He admits quietly. You can't stop the dumb grin that spreads across your features. You lean closer to him, pressing a timid kiss to his cheek.

“I feel the same way.” You respond in a similar tone as you settle against his side.

Chris sticks close behind you as you make your way to your front door, his hands settling on your waist as your shaky hands fumble with your keys. “Come on in.” You welcome him inside. Curiosity gets the better of him as he peers around at all the knick-knacks and pictures in your entry way. Pictures of you with friends, your family, he couldn't help but notice there were quite a few of you and him together as well. He trails after you, nearly walking into you as you suddenly stop at your washing machine. “Strip.” You order, making him chuckle.

“I don't know, you didn't ask very nicely.” He teases, using his sheer size to pin you between your washer and his body. Your face burns as your words fail you, your jaw falling slack as you struggle to stutter out any sound at all.

“Please.” You eventually manage weakly.

“Much better.” He praises you with a wink. You're unable to tear your eyes off him as he peels his shirt over his head. He laughs when he catches you staring. “Like something you see, baby?”

You nod slowly, letting your gaze trail over his broad shoulders. “I think you should walk around like this more often.” You state playfully, making him smirk in response.

“Oh yeah? You think so?” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to stop your heart from racing as he leans in closer to you. He presses a finger to your chin, gently keeping you anchored in place. His lips hung just out of reach, a playful expression settling across his features as he stared down at you. “I think someone might get a little too distracted if I did something like that.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling back. “You're cute.” He mutters. His gaze traces over your face, a soft smile settling in his lips as he mentally listed off everything he loved about getting to study you so closely.

“What's that look for?” Your voice trembled as you let the question tumble from your lips.

“You're just so pretty up close.” His compliment makes you giggle. You attempt to look away only for him to gently catch your face in his hand, keeping your attention firmly on him. “Especially when you smile like that.” You reluctantly separate from him. You had kissed him dozens of times at this point, so why did doing so right now seem so nerve wracking? You cleared your throat, shaking your head in an attempt to free yourself from your racing thoughts. Chris hands over his shirt, allowing you to work your magic before tossing it in the wash.

“I might have a sweatshirt or something you can throw on in the meantime.” You offer.

“That would be great, baby.” He follows you as you make your way up to your bedroom, chuckling under his breath as he looks around. Everything in here was just so undeniably you, from the comforter on the bed to the bureau overflowing with trinkets. You open your closet, digging through your sweatshirts while trying to keep your mind from wandering to Chris’s half naked form behind you. You couldn't stop your eyes from settling in him, your motions slowing as you took a moment to drink in the sight of him. The muscles in his back flexed as he stretched, his tattoos only adding to the contours of his strong arms. His jeans were held up by a tightly cinched belt that pressed into his soft stomach. The thought flashing through your mind about how you'd like to have your lips on every inch of him. You quickly snap your eyes away when he glances in your direction. You hear him chuckle, a shiver running down your spine at the sound. He starts in your direction. Slow, heavy footsteps stalk closer at a deliberate pace. You feel the heat radiating off his body once he's close enough to you, his tall frame blocking out the light behind you. Your breath hitches as you feel his fingers spread across the expanse of your throat, his thumb hooking under your jaw to hold you in place as he cautiously restricts your air, not wanting to rush into anything too quickly. “You just can't seem to keep your eyes off me, can you baby?” The slight teasing tone in his voice makes your cheeks grow warm.

“Can you blame me?” Chris can't help but smile at the sound of your voice trembling. He turns you around, guiding you backwards until your back presses against the wall, his hand still wrapped firmly around your throat. There was a hesitancy behind Chris’s usual confidence, treating you like you were made of porcelain. His lips hang just out of reach, his breath warm as it bounces off your skin. His eyes meet yours, searching for any sign of hesitation in your expression. “Chris?” The sound of you saying his name was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It took you a moment to find your voice, “I want you.” Chris’s heart stops at the three simple words. His lips easily find yours, your eyes fluttering shut as you fall into a slow, easy rhythm. He planned on taking as much time with you as he could, wanting your first time together to be special. But, there was also a part of him that planned on ruining you for any other man. The feeling of his lips on yours was intoxicating, your hands wandering over his bare torso. You can't stop the soft gasp that slips past your lips at the feeling of his fingers tightening around your throat. You pull your bottom teeth between your lips, squeezing your thighs together as Chris stares down at you hungrily.

“You're sure about this?” His breathing was ragged, his voice husky as he struggled to keep himself in check. “We can always stop–”

You push yourself into your toes, crushing your lips against his. Chris quickly took the hint, kissing you back with a ferocious intensity. Your fingers hook into the belt loops on his jeans, tugging him closer. He lets out a sound somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. His hands slide under the backs of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you from the floor in order to guide your legs around his waist. You moan as you feel him nip at your bottom lip, his hand leaving it's your position resting on your throat to pin your hands above your head. You shiver as the scruff of his cheek brushes over your skin, angling your face out of the way to give him free range of your neck. He presses his lips to your pulse, the electric feeling making your legs tighten around him. “If that's all it takes to get a reaction out of you, you're going to be a mess by the time I'm finished.” He chuckles, pressing another gentle kiss to your neck. You feel him smile against your skin, your pulse racing against his lips. You whine as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, sharp teeth pressing harshly into the muscle, undoubtedly leaving a mark in their wake. You struggle against your gasp, every nip of your sensitive skin sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He sets you down just long enough to free you from the confines of your clothes, his lips crashing against yours as he guides you towards your bed, fumbling with his belt before kicking out of his pants. He wraps a string arm around you, keeping your body pressed to his as he lowers you to the mattress, the only barrier left separating you was Chris's boxers and the thin material of your lingerie. He curses under his breath as he drinks in the sight of you, the delicate lace beautifully complimenting your skin. He delicately trails his fingers down your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “You are so beautiful, baby.” He whispers, his head dipping down to trail kisses along your collarbones, the tops of your breasts, slowly making his way down across the expanse of your stomach, soft words of praise tumbling from his lips and time you remotely tensed up. A warm hand slides under your back, expertly undoing your bra with his nimble fingers. He eases the straps from your shoulders, discarding it on the floor. Your back arches from the bed as his lips latch around one of the sensitive buds on your chest, his tongue swirling around the bundle of nerves as his fingers made quick work of the other one. You were a moaning mess in his hands in a matter of moments. You had never been touched like this before, your body reacting before your kind has the chance to, keening into Chris’s expert touch. Your hands slide over his shoulders, he hisses as your nails dig into his skin. His fingers hook into the waist and if your panties, dragging them down your legs at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Please,” you whimper, “want to touch you too.” He chuckles, moving himself to be more available for your reach. Your hands wandered his body, mapping every curve of his strong torso before pulling his lips down to yours. Your fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxers, eventually daring to do within the confines of the soft fabric. Chris groans as your hand gently wraps around his member, his skin hot to the touch. He eases his boxers down his hips, freeing his member with a soft hiss as you give him a few tentative pumps. He presses his lips to yours, guiding you down onto the mattress as he settles himself in between your legs. Your heart raced, his head member resting heavy on your stomach. He takes your hand in his, carefully intertwining your fingers. He lines himself up with your entrance, you gasp as you feel the head of his member press against you, collecting your arousal with a few agonizing swipes over your already soaked core. Your voice dies in your throat, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as Chris eases inside of you.

“You are so fucking perfect.” He growls against your lips, your head spinning as he captures you in another mind numbing kiss. He takes his time working his way inside you, carefully rocking his hips to ensure he wouldn't push too deep inside of you too quickly. Every inch he managed to push deeper into you only added to the pleasure he felt. His free hand drags along the curve of your waist, memorizing the way you felt writhing underneath him. His lips trail along your jaw, hand dipping in between your legs to toy with your clit. You moan, your back arching off the bed, pressing your body to his. “That’s it, baby, just let me make you feel good.” He whispers, his lips finding their way to your neck. You cry out his name as he bites down harshly on your sensitive skin, his tongue running over the spot in order to ease the sting. He curses under his breath as he finally bottoms out inside of you, his hips pressing snuggly to the plush of your thighs. He slowly eases himself all the way out of you before slowly easing himself back in at the same agonizing pace. He repeats the process a few times, you can't stop the moans he easily pulls from you, feeling his full length drag deliciously over your walls, your nails clawing down his back as you attempt to pull him any closer than you already had him. “You're doing such a good job, taking me so well.” He takes your face in his hand, crushing his lips to your in another kiss that leaves you completely breathless. You moan as you feel him press as deep inside of you as he can manage.

“I love you.” The words fall from his lips before he has a chance to stop them. Your eyes meet his, widening slightly as his confession settles in your mind. You open your mouth to respond, but he doesn't give you any time to do so. Whatever you were about to say was replaced with the scream he tore from you as his hips snap against yours. His pace becomes unrelenting, sloppy heated kisses making your head spin as he slams into you at a steady pace. You quickly lose yourself to the pleasure building in your core, the only words you're able to form being his name and the string of curse words that fall from your lips every time he buries himself deep inside you. You tangle your fingers in his hair, attempting to roll your hips in time with his sharp thrusts. He wraps his hands around your thighs, pressing your knees into your chest, allowing him to press even deeper inside of you. It felt as if your body was made especially for him, the way your velvety walls would perfectly stretch around him threatened to send him over the edge with every stroke. Your breathing grew more rapid, your moans getting loaded with every snap of his hips. “That's it.” He praises, tracing tight circles on your clit with his thumb. “Are you going to cum for me, baby?” All you could manage was a weak nod in response, making him chuckle. “Such a good girl, letting me fill her up like this.” He curses, losing his rhythm for a moment as his hips stutter. “I don't think I'm going to last much longer either, baby.” He chuckles, one of the bead of sweat that had gathered in his forehead dripping off of him and splattering across your skin. He looked so good, you can't stop your eyes from trailing up the veins that stood out prominently on his hands and forearms, bright blue eyes hazy with lust as he chased his own high. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” He groans. You crush your lips against his, muffling your cries as your climax rips through you. Chris grabs into your hips, lifting you from the mattress in order to fuck into your mercilessly. You clung to him, your legs falling limp as they lost their hold on him. He curses, moaning your name as his hips stutter to a halt, he jolts a few times, soft moans tumbling from his lips as he finishes inside of you. He carefully angles your chin upwards, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. He eases out of you, taking extra care to be gentle with you as he gets you cleaned up. He slides into her next to you, pulling you into his arms. Your whole body felt heavy, your eyes slowly falling shut as the smell of him completely overwhelmed your senses. You missed being in his arms, you missed being able to bury your face against his chest and the feeling of his fingers tangled in your hair in the early morning. You pull his lips down to yours for one final kiss before you drift off in his arms.

When you woke up the next morning your first instinct was to reach over for him, your chest tightened when you found the other side of the bed empty. You sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you glanced at your clock. It was almost noon, you never slept in this late. You picked up your phone, holding your breath as you called Chris’s number. You cursed as it sent you straight to voicemail, his phone was off. In one final hope of saving your feelings you called Mick, once again your call went straight to voicemail. You let out a sigh of relief, that meant they had rehearsal today. You picked at the edge of your case, you still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Your heart leapt into your throat as your mind wandered back to last night. The hushed ‘I love you’ falling from Chris’s lips making your heart race. You swallowed thickly, typing out a message to him.

‘Hey, can we talk about last night?’

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