#CRYING IN THE LIGHT OF THE TV STATIC!!!!

[rotisseries]

more appreciation for western nights by ethel cain. literally like i would hold the gun if you asked me to, but if you love me like you say you do, would you ask me to? and ok trouble's always gonna find you baby but so will i, crying only because i'm happy, hold me across every state line. and also i'm never gonna leave you baby, even if you lose what's left of your mind, cause you know i'll still be right beside you, riding through all these western nights. crying in the light of the tv static. please don't love how i need you. and know that one day you and i could be okay. alright. absolutely jawdropping lyrics to write

[upsidedownwithsteve]

[2.1K] Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

The week following your night with Steve, you’d had absolutely no problem getting yourself off.

Every night, you lay in bed before sleep took over, your hand shoved down the front of your sleep shorts, fingers slipping clumsily and a little unpracticed over yourself, eyes clenched shut and lips parted silently as you thought about your best friend.

His digits were longer than yours, thicker, able to reach places you couldn’t, filling you up in a way you’d never felt before. But you could hear Steve’s voice in your ear as you swirled messy circles over your clit, chasing that throbbing feeling as you remembered his words.

“Has someone done that to you? Has someone put their mouth here?”

Cheek pressed to the pillow, pushing low whines into the cotton, legs spreading wider, knees hitched up as you fought to catch that feeling only Steve was able to give you before.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?”

He’d whispered it in your ear, breath warm against your cheek, hitching and gasping when you had tightened around him.

“My girl likes hearing dirty things, right? Like when I asked you if someone had gone down on you? If you’d had someone’s tongue here?”

Stomach tensing, the hook there tightening, skin too warm, the idea of your best friend laying between your thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulders too much for you to handle. Would he do it real soft for you? Would he lick over you like a man starved? Only breaking away to talk filth into your slick skin? Would he tell you how good you tasted, how sweet you were?

You came hard, back arching, a gasp leaving your lips, fingers moving until it was too much and you had to stop, sliding slick over your bare stomach as you relaxed back into the bed, butter on a hot day.

The next day, you vowed to ask Steve.

Just half a beer, that’s all it took. A few long drags, a movie that was never started, the tape half in the VCR and Steve’s bedroom lights low. Lingering looks, mussed sheets, anticipation heavy in the air like summer, a growing heat that settled on your skin and it fucking buzzed. It fizzed, it glittered.

“Did you really mean what you said?” You asked out the blue, pulling Steve from the TV set, leaning back on his pillows like you belonged there. “The other night, last week? About how it was a shame that no one had— no had ever… gone down on me.”

Steve stopped, the tape forgotten, his eyes wide as he looked at you over his shoulder. He watched the way your thighs rubbed together under your dress, a thin summery thing, delicate straps and material cut out of the sides, your skin on show between the buttercup yellow cotton. You watched him swallow, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his gaze got a little darker, the words he remembered telling you coming back to him.

“Shit, you look so damn pretty, you know that? I could do that for you though, if you wanted.”

Steve cleared his throat, rose up from when he’d been kneeling in front of the television, blurry static crackling, forgotten about. His knees bumped the edge of his bed as stood over you, breath hitching as he took you in, eyes trailing over bare legs and upupup until they settled on your mouth, the way you licked at your bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah,” he croaked, his voice already shot. You looked so pretty. He remembered what you looked like when you came, head thrown back against his shoulder, crying out his name in soft, heaving gasps. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. “Yeah, yeah. I meant it.”

“Could put my mouth on you, let you know if you’re really as sweet as you look.”

“Have you been thinkin’ about it?” Steve asked, his voice sweet and soft. He smiled when you nodded, huffing out a breath like it was all too much. “Yeah? Fuck, sweetheart, so have I. Did you get yourself off, did you manage?”

He wanted to be filthier, he wanted to ask dirty, dirty questions. He wanted to know exactly what you thought about when you touched yourself. If you thought about him, if you got as wet as you had with him the week before. He wanted to know if you made the same noises in the quiet of your own room, if you whispered his name when you came.

Instead, Steve moved onto the bed, a little clumsy as the mattress dipped but he stayed by your feet, a hand reaching out to bravely curl around your ankle, your frill lined socks tickling his palm. One tug and he could spread your bent knees open for him, dragging you down his bed until your hair fanned over his pillows and he could push your thighs apart. Steve wondered if you’d let him.

Maybe he could find out.

You nodded, lips parted and already panting, barely able to form words. Steve’s thumb was circling over the skin of your ankle, slowly coasting upwards until his warm palm sat against your calf. He rubbed there too, fingers pushing at your skin like dough, all plush and soft and pliant for him. Your thighs parted, if just a little.

“Every night,” you whispered, eyes closing at his touch, the heated embarrassment creeping over your skin at your confession. You weren’t sure you were supposed to look your best friend in the eye when you told them you’d come on your own fingers, thinking about them. “Couldn’t help it, just- just needed to touch myself.”

You heard the boy groan, low and throaty, his hand climbing higher, laying on his side at your feet so you could feel his warm breath ghost over your shins. You let your legs fall apart again, inch by inch, eyes still closed until your feet slid across the sheets in opposite directions, knees parting. You felt Steve’s lips there, on the inside, at the sensitive skin, a barely there kiss.

“Did you come?”

You swore, breath hitching, nodding as you chewed on your bottom lip, hands coming up to press over your eyes, as if you could hide from him. Mortification was crawling over you, despite how Steve had had his fingers inside of you mere days before, how he’d watched you come, how he had a clear view of your spread thighs and the damp cotton clinging to your cunt, right now.

“Can I make you come again?” The boy sounded wrecked and the question made you open your eyes, gaze stuck on his like honey. “Please.”

You nodded, as if you’d ever say no to that. Like that wasn’t what you wanted.

You expected the boy to launch himself at you then, to grab and pull and kiss and nip. But as heavy as Steve’s gaze was, he moved slow, careful. His hands found your ankles again, one around each leg and he dragged them further apart, his eyes on yours. The static of the TV fizzed and outside the open bedroom window, you heard the Harrington’s sprinklers turn on.

“Lemme see,” Steve whispered, his tone that same sweet rasp as before. He nodded encouragingly when your hands found the hem of your dress, his smile soft, if not a little dirty. His chest was falling and rising faster and faster, his white t-shirt taught over his broad chest and shoulders. “There’s a good girl, fuck, honey.”

You flushed as you did as you were told, the hem of your sundress dragging up your thighs by your own hands. The material was still fisted between your fingers as you held it around your hips, legs spread obscenely, cotton underwear a cherry red, lace trimmed and with an obvious damp spot.

“Can I use my mouth?” Steve asked, murmuring, already moving between your knees, his stomach pressed to the bed. “Wanna taste you properly. Shit, can I do that? Please? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

You whined, high and needy, nodding enthusiastically as you sucked in a breath. “Fuck, can you? Please, Steve, I want that, god, I really want that, haven’t stopped thinking about it, imagining it, shit.”

You swore Steve’s eyes rolled at your words, his hands coming to curl around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him, nose pushing at where your hands lay over your stomach, still clutching your dress. He pressed a kiss there, lips grazing over the skin under your navel.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before the boy was bringing his mouth down, open and pushing against your clothed cunt, tongue a hot, wet press over your folds, prodding gently until he found your clit between them. It was an instantaneous reaction, your body seizing up at the unfamiliar touch, an electric sensation, your body a livewire under Steve’s lips. He hushed you softly when you gave a weak cry, pushing at your inner thighs to keep you open for him.

He licked up your cunt, tongue dragging over the cotton, soaking it more and more until the fabric was clinging to the outline of you, until he could tease the tip of his nose over the spread of you, bumping against your clit. The noise your cunt made as he finally pulled your underwear from you was filthy, a wet sound that made his cock kick up in his jeans.

“Feel good?” Steve cooed, voice sticky with affection and awe for you. Your dress was rucked messily over your stomach, one strap sliding off your shoulder as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, bringing your bare cunt closer than before. Each word settled over your slick skin and made you twitch. “Nice, yeah? You gonna tell me, honey? Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel, huh?”

“So good,” you breathed out, voice and words garbled between moans, your hands dropping from your stomach to clutch at the sheets on each side of you. But Steve wasn’t having any of that. He tsked, letting go of your legs only to coax your hands into his hair instead, hissing when you grabbed hard. “Fuck, Steve, please. More, please, feels so good, too good, I can’t, I--”

He wouldn’t have you begging, he wouldn’t dare. Steve wanted to give you everything you wanted, so he wasted no more time, surging forward the mere few inches it took to get his mouth back on you. Steve kissed over your cunt with the enthusiasm of a man who’d been starved of the one thing he wanted most. Lips pressed to you, tongue sneaking out to taste you, gathering up your slick only to press it to your clit. He hummed as you cried for him, eyes squeezing shut as you pulled on his hair, tugging him closer until his tongue was pushing into your entrance and his nose was nudging your clit.

He was shiny with you, mouth and chin wet and slick, eyes fluttering shut and rolling to the back of his head every time you gave his hair a good yank, your hips lifting to catch his tongue. He groaned, murmuring out pretty phrases like, ‘such a good girl’ and ‘so fuckin’ sweet for me.’

Steve lapped at you until you came, tongue soft but persistent, intent on you making you fall apart with just his mouth, groaning in want as he watched your entrance clench around nothing. He sucked and licked at your clit until you shattered, until you couldn’t take it any longer. Your back arched like last time, head thrown back into the pillows that smelled like him instead of against his shoulder, but Steve decided he liked this view just as much.

The boy tasted like you when you kissed him, half dragging him up your body as you panted, dress still messy around your waist, unabashed in your nakedness. Unlike the time before, Steve was miraculously still hard, desperate and aching under his jeans as he’d tried his best not to rut against the bed as he ate you out. Your palm grazed over his cock, smiled into his kiss when it twitched under your hand, his hips canting into your touch.

You only pulled away from his lips to press him onto the bed, switching your positions. Your dress fell back down, covering your sticky thighs and Steve was ready to protest, until you tucked your fingers around the button of his jeans and popped it open.

He let out a curse, breathing heavily, eyes half lidded and watching you. You quirked a brow, asking a silent question you were pretty sure you knew the answer to - this wasn’t a case of a friend helping a friend, not anymore.

You waited. Steve nodded.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hey! I really loved your Covkwarming with Alastor Story. Would you maybe want to make one where Alastor is busy and reader wants his attention? Maybe he even snaps at her only to later search for her and make it up to her? With lots of fluff and maybe nsfw?

Hope you have a nice day

-🌸🦇

BRODI! You waited a whole month for this and I AM SO SORRY. I love and appreciate you and your request so much thank you very much for being patient, i really really loved this idea but dang april has been a crazy month for me, i hope you’re doing well and enjoy this fic it’s a longer one!

i’m actually really happy with how this turned out

warnings: SMUT 18+, angst, fluff, mean alastor, you guys fight, gaslighting girl boss alastor, established relationship (you were together before he went missing), loyal reader described, codependency kinda, some horror aspects?, descriptions of alastors dead food, alastor admits his emotions and issues in an alastor way, brief descriptions of reader having self sabotaging habits- drinking smoking/potsmoking too, GN reader although clit is used, penetrative sex, slow sex, swearing, alastor doesn’t like pillow talk lol i think that’s it but let me know not proof read

5.1K words

Alastor was locked up in his radio tower, exhausted as he sifted through various forms of media coverage from his battle. Vox, the little electronic weasel, had his entire affair with Adam recorded and broadcasted around, which was frightful for Alastors image. Not only had he been gone for seven years, but he’s helping with a hotel that endorsed goodness. Needless to say Alastor wasn’t doing okay, his ears were constantly pulled back, smile strained, and he kept blowing the lights up and down. Hell, his static was so violent it even gave him headaches.

Even his shadows at this point began causing chaos, his own anxiousness and frustration bleeding off into them. Alastors isolation caused you to be extremely worried, you weren’t there while he fought Adam, you should’ve been, because since then he’s not been the same. You saw it on TV, the one Vox had broadcasted. Try as he may, Alastor didn’t keep it away long enough for you to not see, there was always someone else putting it back out there.

You didn’t bring it up to him- not that you could; he was too overly consumed in his tower. Incessantly shutting down broadcasts, throwing out power, attacking minor demons for spreading the information. It made you feel so very many unfortunate emotions, never in your many years of being dead have you ever seen him so erratic and emotionally disturbed.

Alastor would play pretend in public but you knew him, as did Husk, the two of you could tell he was tense, strained, constantly ready to snap, his poise was harder to keep. Lucifer presence in the hotel didn’t help at either, constantly trying to get into it with Alastor, which only furthered his isolation. You began to feel extremely lonely, it was rare in hell anyone was a good shoulder to cry on, or ear to hear, but you got used to going to Al after a long day, laying your head on his lap as he caressed your face and hummed you tunes, now you were alone most the time. None of his silly jokes filled the air, no you barging into your shared room and him attempting to hide his messy eating, no soft jazz playing next to you as you slept, no shadows trying to scare you, nothing.

It was incredibly lonely and the time without him showed how emotionally dependent you were on him. You wondered if he felt the same lonesomeness without you around, or if he didn’t even want you around? Maybe he was too wrapped up in his feelings to realize you weren’t around him? Did he have the same need for you as you did him? Did he miss little things about you as you did him.

Throwing your body off the couch and standing pin straight, you cut your thoughts off by marching towards Alastors tower on the far end of the hotel. You hadn’t been up there once since the battle, so this was bound to be interesting, and anxiety inducing. You could already feel the worry prickling your finger tips, making you even more uncomfortable. Knocking at Alastors door was, well, underwhelming, there was no sound, no movement, no indication he was even in there. Even shouting out at him normally would’ve gotten him to at least respond by now, it was rare he left people hanging like that, it wasn’t how he was brought up.

So you decide to cross the boundary you knew he loathed; intrusion. You entered with your breath held tightly making your throat clench, walking in you meekly hummed out his name. “Al? It’s been a long couple of days, I was wondering if you wanted some down time?” Your eyes bounced around the dark room, papers on the floor, radio frequency buzzing harshly in your ears, the low buzz of what sounded like hospital lights, it was all very creepy

Wringing your hands you came up toward his large table connected with cables and speakers, on the table was cups of coffee empty and half drank, corpses and bones of unfinished mutilated deer, and the smell of blood was something that suddenly hit you nearly knocking you back. As you covered your nose with your wrist, you back up and bumped into something, turning around with incredible speed. Alastor was there, taller than usual with his bones looking sharp and broken in his skin, his smile was stretched gruesomely making you nearly grimace, his eyes as well, wildly glaring down at you black and soulless. “Uh, I missed you.” You squeaked curling into yourself just at the sight of him.

Alastor hasn’t ever looked like this in front of you ever, it was such an abnormal and alarming look for you to set your eyes on. Alastor let out a jagged breath, his antlers growing in size with a nasty crunching sound to accompany it. “You disturbed my work, and snuck in, all because you missed me?” Alastor bent down to grab your attention, your eyes flickering to meet his own. You nodded at him, and he only hummed in return, standing tall and walking around his desk to sit at his chair. You turned on your heel to follow his movements, biting your lip with worry. Sure you were anxious before as you typically got with anybody, you weren’t confrontational and you weren’t one to cross the boundary, although you never expected him to look so angry with you.

“Perhaps, if that’s the case, you should find yourself another demon; I cannot be surrounded by the meek and emotionally stunted. My work, my image, will always come first my dear. Now, get out.” Alastor enunciated every word with his hands rested under his chin, and his head cocked to the side. Your stomach dropped and your cheeks watered like you were about to be sick, immediately your eyes widened, noises falling out of your mouth as you attempted to grasp at the words you were trying to say. “S-You’re breaking up with me?” Your voice was a wreck, struggling to expel the words past the sob that wanted to rip out of you, the disbelief evident in your tone. Alastor stood from his seat and leaned toward your face over the table, your lip quivered as he did so, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Heavens no! I’m simply saying if you can’t handle being a secondary priority perhaps you should take some time alone, remember what it is to be your own person! I will not bend my rules for some silly relationship.” His tone dripped with condescension and he finished his sentence with a boop on your nose. The only thing your mind could conjure was ‘how dare he?’ you never felt so insulted by him before. You always put him first, you waited seven years for his return defending his role in hell, and he sees you as secondary to himself. Does that mean he would save himself before you? Was this relationship only about his own desires, his own cravings and you weren’t important? You must be too sensitive about this?

“So you won’t spare me a moment because some stupid TV proved you aren’t invincible? Grow up Alastor please,” You could help the rage that slipped out in between your words, fists clenching, eyes narrowing. Alastor hissed statically at you. “Don’t for a second get it twisted up in your pretty little head that you are special, you are just like every other disposable sinner, i suggest you monitor your tone with me, dear.” Alastor crackled, his voice more electric than you’ve ever heard before. Your frown was deep, the tears silently falling down your cheeks. You didn’t even know what to say, instead you just shrugged with your head low, and turned around silently leaving him behind.

The moment you existed his tower you ran, your brain screamed to get away before somebody could question what was wrong or what happened. You couldn’t stomach the idea of being seen like this, and you didn’t want Alastor to come out and catch you, so you took off. You exited out the back without a trace, wandering into the streets of the pentagram. Eventually you found yourself back at your old apartment, which you still paid for as you really don’t plan to continue living at the hotel. When you got there you were finally able to let everything settle in you, it felt like the sadness slipped into your bones and weighed you down further into your sofa.

You didn’t move for hours, and eventually you ended up falling asleep. You left without a word, without your phone and without any of your stuff. Of course Alastor was very aware he made the choice to say the things he did, but he didn’t mean them, and after a short bit of reflection he could understand it was just an emotional response to the fear of being vulnerable. As well as the anxious thought dancing in his mind about the what ifs, what if he were to die, what if his plan fails and the deal goes wayward and you’re left with the pieces of his mess? What if Vox targets you, what if others do, do the citizens of hell see him as some weak mush because he’s dating you?

It’s all what led him to exploding; insecurity. Even the thought of having such a low tier emotion made his blood boil, but as long as nobody knew about it, he would find a way to quell it. Alastor waited, not wanting to impose while you were still going through thee emotions. However things started getting worrisome by the next day, nearly thirty hours into being gone and the patrons had begun to question him. Obviously Alastor didn’t know, and instead opted to sway the topic away from you and instead to something else.

The week came and gone like a blur, Alastor hadn’t seen you since you came into his tower and the rest of the hotel had set out to look for you with no luck. Alastor kept to his tower, telling himself if you wanted to be away that was your choice; he wasn’t chasing you like some lost puppy. Though he did find himself briefly wondering if you were still alive, after all Vox was out there watching through cameras on every corner and Adam’s corpse went missing and wasn’t accounted for, there was many threats to your safety he hadn’t thought of before.

With a sigh of static frustration, Alastor flicked his hand giving the okay to his right hand shadow to go find you, he couldn’t stand his thoughts anymore. And so it did, within seconds the shadow zipped and zoomed knowing exactly where you were, not that you were trying to hide. It slinked up against the paint peeling wall of your apartment, watching you on the couch, news softly sounding out as you read a book. Your home was a wreck, looking as though you’ve had fits upon fits of rage and lacked to clean after. Dishes piled, laundry scattered all across the linoleum floors. Alcohol, pot and cigarettes were a hefty scent in the room, it didn’t accompany the damp mold smell well at all. Oh what a thing you’d become without Alastor! The shadow watched like a fly on the wall for varying moments, studying you and your state before vaporising into the floor and taking off back to its master.

Honestly, you weren’t expecting Alastor to come knocking at your apartment door, so when you swung it open expecting your usual delivery guy, you were shocked and you didn’t bother fixing your depressed appearance. “Goodness gracious my little dame it looks like you’ve been dragged through mud!” Alastor laughed boisterously using his microphone to push you aside and barge in. You stood aside speechless, watching as he stepped inside with his hands rested just above his tail, surveying the room around him. His neck cracked disgustingly, his body forward while his head faced you, his grin tamed. “What happened here?” The words were simple but his tone was confusing, you couldn’t tell if he was angry, suspicious, or worried. You sneered at him, lip twitching upward as you slammed the door and wordlessly returned to your spot on the couch.

“I didn’t expect you to search, work come first yknow.” Oh yes, you planned to milk the words he said against you to berate him and his attempts to make up, you were in hell for a reason after all. Alastor huffed- like a buck would, something uncharacteristic for him to do outside of being alone with you, which sickeningly made your heart flutter, he still trusted you in a way, did that mean you were still his? You always told him he was more deer then he’d like to admit and those huffs were one of those deer attributes. “Hm yes, but you’ve been quite the work, I hope you know.” You clenched your teeth, trying not to snap instantly, but you did send him a glare.

You muttered about how that didn’t make things any better when he snapped his fingers, all things garbage vanishing in a pinch, mold included. “Ah, much better! My mother always said the state of the house is the state of the mind!” A round of applause sounds from his microphone as he laughed, rounding the couch with a slow stride. “Tell me, would you like to talk?” It felt more condescending then genuine, the way he was bent forward with lidded eyes and an eased smile, like you were some child having a tantrum. “No, Al, you made what you said pretty fuckin clear, i don’t wanna be with you if I am some chore or job, or secondary whatever!- i wanna be your partner and you want me to be a pet? Yeah, no thanks.” You punctuated your sentence with a dramatic scoff, flopping back into the cushions with your arms folded protectively across your chest.

“Ahhh my little doudou,” Alastor chided, sitting himself flush to you, arm around the back of the couch to trap you near him. “I want you to listen to me, and listen to me closely because i will never admit this again!” Alastor exclaimed this with what sounded to be false confidence and a slight hint of exasperation. He pinched your chin in between his claws forcing you to look at him, and of course you did, what else were you to do? “I have become a fool, all across the pentagram, I’m held by ball and chain— the devil my dear! The devil is- some frazzled little nitwit with all the power and no ambition!” Alastors fist clenched at the mention of Lucifer, abandoning your chin to do so. “I was feared my dear, nobody dared to test my authority, and now i’m an assumed bellboy for the princess and her gaggle of misfits. You,” Alastor paused leaning in so close your noses touched.

“My dear, were the only one i actually wouldn’t mind being weakened for.” You couldn’t stop the comical ‘huh’ that gargled straight from your throat. “What does that even mean Alastor.” You whine throwing your head back bumping his arm as you did so, an unknowing invitation to slide it down, hand caressing your shoulder softly. “It means dear, I didn’t mean what i said, because i’ve already done those exact things in the past! I’ve missed countless radio shows from you, refrained from eating deer around you- for your sake. I’ve held you to me on every block knowing Vox could see us perfectly! You were my chosen weakness, darling, but with all these other useless sinners belittling my role in hell, i took it out on you,”

Pausing Alastors static faded in and out, you watched his eyes closely, but the real give away was the way his ear subtly tilted to the side looking like a sad puppy. “I felt what i said, I felt weak and I knew you needed me and didn’t want to feel this weakness anymore, so logically-” You scoffed with a small smirk, mockingly muttering ‘logically’ back at him. “-I had to try to appear as though I am what I originally intended to be.” He finished giving you a pointed look. Shifting your body to face him more, you analysed his body language and face. Typically- no matter how long you’ve been together- he was amazing at hiding his emotions, always seeming to be happy. It seemed like he let his guard down however, his eyebrows were furrowed and pointed upward, his smile tight, shoulders rigid and his breathing shallow. Anticipation was evident by the way his hoof tapped against the floor with beat.

You finally let you emotion reignite, the tears slipped down your face like rivers as you gently shook your head. “What did you intend to be?” You asked softly, an unattractive spit bubble forming as you opened your mouth. “A ruler of sorts, i suppose. Emotionless, cruel, untouchable. I tried to reaffirm to myself by being cruel to you my dear, that i was still a demon, not the altruist teddy bear they all dubbed me as.” Alastors form had finally slumped, sinking into the cushions alongside you, his head falling back gazing up at the ceiling. You caved just slightly at his admission, and rested your head on his chest near his armpit, your body sinking into his. Suddenly he perked up, looking down at you, you reflexively shooting your gaze up to him.

“Yknow they made a mockery of my speech as well my dear! Preposterous, darling, many sinners posted about me being ‘cringe’, my speech was ‘corny’, my dearest can you believe that?” You almost took offence to the fact he sounded more distraught over being made fun of rather than hurting you, but you reminded yourself that Alastor was trying to open up, and you weren’t gonna ruin that. “Is that why you were killing randos instead of overlords?” You asked feeling more relaxed than you had before, obviously there was many words in between you two unsaid, but you wanted to bask in the small talk you craved for so long from him just a little longer.

“Precisely. I’m proud you noticed.” You hummed with a small smile, your head resting back on his chest. “Why did it take so long for you to come?” Despite not even thinking he would, you now had the knowledge he didn’t actually hate you, and if he didn’t why’d he drag it out? “Pride,” What would’ve been a hoarse voice to any other demon, was a staticy robotic sound that crackled out of his chest. “This is way out of my comfort my dear, i didn’t and still don’t know what to say or do, and i don’t like being out of control.” You whimpered at that, curling up into him, your legs slinging over his thighs so you could cuddle up next to him. Immediately his arms engulfed you, pulling you into him with a happy hum, his neck craning to kiss your head softly.

“i missed you, you really hurt me, bad. Don’t do it again.” You state firmly though it was muffled by the fabric of his coat, the one you had your face nuzzled into. Alastor hummed out softly petting you on your head, just like he would before. “Never again doudou~, you have my word, and i promise to make it up to you.” Tiling your head upward you yanked at his colar, and he immediately ducked down meeting your lips at will. The kiss was soft and Alastor could feel the dampness from your tears on your chin against him. After a moment you both pulled away, although not far from eachother your lips were practically still touching.

“Why don’t I give you some attention my sweet doe.” Alastor cooed against your lips, you could hear the mischief in his tone as his hand pawed your hips. You blinked slowly at him, an instant twist of desire appearing low in your gut. “How?” Alastors grin widened for the first time since appearing at your door, and you feared you’d truly be in for it tonight. “Oh my, have i neglected your needs so long you need to inquire how?” Alastor question was rhetorical only furthered by the way he kissed his teeth with his index finger coming up to shake side to side. “That simply will not do!” Standing suddenly, with you in his arms, made you gasp and clutch onto him instinctively. You smacked his chest playfully, muttering to him about being too heavy, he however ignored you, walking toward your old room with his head held high.

The room in question was a mess, and a thick layer of dust coated every object that wasn’t being continually used, like the nightstand, and the lamp. Alastor didn’t care much though, he never did care whether you were messy or super clean he’d always snap his fingers to assist you, and that’s exactly what he did. Slowly around the room things cleared up, his shadows slunk into the room with strange looking candles setting a romantic tone for the room. The bed was remade neatly when he set you on it gently, watching your doe eyes stare up at him with a familiar intensity that always made him fidgety. You let him flop you down without complaint, after all it wasn’t always that Alastor seemed so interested in getting down and dirty.

Standing above you, Alastor grinned down at you with lidded eyes, letting his long fingers dance down his chest to undo his buttons. He wasn’t really a fan of trying to appear sexually appealing to those around him, he’d never admit how out of the ordinary, and awkward it felt, but he knew you. You were his. You were loyal. You waited seven years just for him, never spilling a single secret. Secretly, he was way more comfortable with trying to appear “sexy” for you, because he knew no matter what, you wouldn’t look at him any differently. Alastor shrugged off his jacket, his button down shirt open exposing his chest to you. “Y'know dear,” A bit of southern drawl slipped out, as the mask he wore slipped away with his jacket. “You give me a very special outlet i do not think i’d have with any other sinner, you’re too kind to me.” Pulling off his shirt, he folded it and set it aside, kicking off his slacks right after, leaving himself in his boxers and long socks.

You watched him undress with wide eyes, you wanted nothing more then being pressed against the warmth of him, absorbing his touch. You however stayed still, letting Alastor relax into the mood as he rid himself of clothes. Alastor sat on the edge of the bed, right beside your hips, his hand traced lightly up and down your torso, occasionally dipping down to your thighs. You felt tense at the touch, both anticipation and insecurity making you feel stiff. Suddenly his claw hooked around the band of both your undergarments and pants, his eyes flickering up to inspect you when he did so. “May I?” His voice was soft, the usual uncertainty present as he felt out of his realm. “Yes, please.” You sigh, your tone nearly whiny. “I missed you so much Alastor,” You admit hushed as his claws brushed down your thighs with your clothes. Once off, Alastor leaned down, giving soft pecks to your thighs, eyes staring up to you through his red lashes. “Yes dear, my life been painstaking without you.” He whispered against your flesh, sharp teeth dragging up past your hips, nose bumping the cloth of your shirt. Sitting up slightly, you were preparing to slid your shirt over your head when Alastors body slid between your legs, claws coming up to pinch and lift the fabric exposing your chest.

With him now face to face with you, leaned over your body, you caved. Your hands slid around his neck guiding him toward you slowly, your lips met instantly like two magnets being held just inches apart. It was a sweet kiss for the most part, your lips meshed against his as you let him control the pace, it was nice with Alastor you always had enough time for the heat to simmer and grow, making foreplay unnecessary most times because he naturally took his time. You raked your fingers through his hair, nails scratching up his scalp causing ripples of goosebumps down his arms. Alastor slipped his tongue delicately licked at your lip, brushing as soft as ever. You were a bit shocked at this, typically he wasn’t into french kissing, lamenting that the whole tongue thing was messy and disgusting feeling. However you didn’t fight him, only allowed him access, which he immediately took with ease slipping his tongue against your own.

His body collided into yours, nose bumping your cheek as he angled his head. Your hands slipped down his back, smiling against his lips at the feeling of his tail wagging back and forth making small gusts of wind against your fingertips. Alastor nipped at your lips in retaliation, hands roaming your body as he pushed his hips up to softly grind his hard on into you. You hummed at the feeling of him against you, angling your hips back and up pressing your wetness against his briefs. Your body was buzzing while Alastor slowly grinded himself down on you, his clothed head travelling between your folds and back up to poke at your clit. The kiss had broken as he continued on, your breathing shaky as you enjoyed the slow motion of him above you, his teeth scraping down the length of your neck.

Alastor couldn’t help the groan that bubbled out of him. Not only could he smell your arousal but he could smell just you. He pressed his face to the nape of your neck, kissing and inhaling, loving the smell you had naturally on your skin. He also got quite the kick out of hearing the blood rush through your veins, it made him feel feral knowing you would bare yourself to him so willingly, he had you around his finger. Alastor let his lips glide down your body, leaving bite marks down your chest and neck as he did so, hips still moving slowly against you. You had soaked his briefs making the fabric feel absent, clinging to every ridge and vein of his cock slide through your folds. “Please Al, I need you.” You whined pathetically, pressing your hips up into his. Alastors choppy breath warmed your collar bone, his forehead rested on your shoulder, eyes closed as he slipped his hand down, yanking himself out of his boxers.

Sometimes he felt like an untrained dog, he couldn’t help but want to hump into you without restraint, but that wasn’t him, that was desire, and he knew how to hold back. As he sunk into you, slowly, he breathed out the quietest of noises against you shoulder, basking in you. You could hear his quiet noises clearly since he was so close, you bite your lip at the sound of him, loving how he always let you see him so wrecked. When Alastors hips were flush with your own, your legs came up around his hips, his tail stiff, while your arms wrapped around his neck, your right hand dragging up his scalp to his ears. “I like hearing you, Alastor,” You gasped as he jolted into you, like an involuntary reaction to your praise. “It makes me feel you.” You finished breathlessly. Alastor hummed against you, setting his pace slow and deep, barely pulling away before he pushed hard back inside you.

Your eyes were wide as he continued this rhythm, to you it was incredibly overwhelming, he never left you vacant always hungry to fill you right back up with him. His pants against you were also adding to your arousal, his eyelashes fluttered against your skin ever now and again as he attempted to contain himself. You knew he was sort of embarrassed with himself feeling pleasure, so you never egged him on when he did start making noise, but lord you wanted more. You tugged Alastors hair softly, pulling him up for a sloppy opened mouth kiss. He barely opened his eyes as he mushed his lips against yours, snaking his tongue against your own, bucking up faster into you at the warmth of your mouth. “I missed you, i love you,” You cried against his lips pathetically, your body’s both rocking on the bed as Alastor hurried his pace.

Alastor let out a low guttural noise, something from the back of his throat making your toes curl, pulling at his hips with your legs. “I couldn’t- stand you being away, dear.” Alastors face was inches from your own, forehead rested on yours, lips brushing against each other as he spoke. “Never again will i be such a fool, you’re mine forever.” Alastor growled through his clenched teeth, claws ripping into the mattress as he spoke. Your mouth hung open, eyebrows raised as you tried to from some sort of praise, but now his eyes were open looking down at you with such intensity and emotion, and his pace fast hard putting your body straight into the mattress. You didn’t even feel your orgasm coming on when it did, your body arching up into his, crying out his name alongside pleas.

The display of you in front of him was so pornographic, something he wasn’t fond of seeing but now understood why people were. You were gorgeous right now, your face red, your eyes watering, your body folded up towards his, all the scars, folds marks on your body, all for his eyes only. Groaning loudly, he fell back into his favourite place, your neck, and let out a deep breathless static moan as he came. You clutched him the entire time through watery blurred eyes, enjoying the feeling of him inside you post orgasm. Pulling away, Alastor was quick to pull out and away, snapping his fingers he began to clean you with a cloth. “Disgusting of me,” He muttered, seemingly angrily. “No, it was good Al, you’re allowed to. You’re not disgusting and neither was the sex, believe me.” You coo, sitting up from your position, a dopey look on your face. In a snap, Alastor was redressed as were you, in leisure clothing. “We’re going back to the hotel to sleep my little doe.” Alastor spoke softly, lending his hand to you, humming you took his hand letting him take you through his magic, back to the hotel. You knew Alastor didn’t like to lay sticky in the remnants of sex like many others, and probably would push you to shower before getting in his bed. But that way okay, you loved him regardless, and you really missed having his attention.

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike (Part 2)

☒ Summary:Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You awakened in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Having fallen into the clutches of your doppelganger's nemesis, you plan an escape, blissfully unaware that the Radio Demon himself now knows of your existence.

☒ Warnings: Alastor X Reader, Vox X Reader, hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Part I Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epliogue

Alastor sat in his usual breakfast spot on the balcony of the hotel, taking tea. Before him on the table sat an envelope, stamped and sealed with Voxtek logos. No-one sent letters in Hell these days, what with the smart phones that everyone seemed to love, but the weight of the item was such that it could only contain one thing. Photographs.

What was old Voxxy playing at? Alastor turned the envelope over in his hand, looking for anything out of the ordinary. In different circumstance, he might assume that this would be a threat or a blackmail attempt, but there was no-one in Hell he really cared about, and since his return after his seven year sabbatical he had committed no crimes worth speaking of- his deal made sure of that. Still, there didn’t appear to be a trap on the envelope itself, no microchips, not even a trace of Valentino’s irritatingly potent pheromone powder.

With a sigh, Alastor slit the envelope open with a single claw, and dumped the contents onto the table. What he saw took him a moment to register, and when he did he spat his tea.

What Vox had sent him were pictures of him. Alastor, naked and fucked out, electric blue cum dribbling down his inner thigh. Alastor on his back, eyes teary and pleading. Alastor with his knees hooked over the top edge of Vox’s screen.

Alastor crushed the first photograph between his claws, eyes becoming red dials, his grin extending to his ears. Vox had gotten him somehow. How? How had this happened? He’d been so careful, he’d never met in person, he’d brought his full mastery over technology to batter Vox back whenever they had interacted through screens. Yet somehow, here he was, splayed on Vox’s bedsheets. A hiss escaped him, angry static. Someone would pay for this violation.

“Hey, Al-” Angel Dust stuck his head out of the door but froze. “Oh fuck. See you’re having a moment here, I’ll go-”

“Nonsense.” With effort, Alastor forced himself down in size, his eyes returning to their usual form. “Just had a little surprise, that’s all.” With a little canned laughter, Alastor started to scoop up the photographs, in his haste scattering them more.

“So you finally fucked the TV, huh. Good for you, smiles.” Angel Dust squinted at the photograph that fluttered to land by his foot. “Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“I didn’t-” distress started to creep into Alastor’s voice, a high-pitched feedback tone as he snatched up more of the pictures, grinning with only his teeth. “I would never.”

Angel Dust gave him a doubtful look. “You know there’s nothin’ wrong with fuckin’, right? Hell I’m the last one ta judge-”

“I have no memory of this.” Alastor hissed, crushing another photo between his claws.

“Oh. Fuck.” Angel Dust gave Alastor a compassionate look. “Sorry, man, I shoulda listened. Lemme help you with those.”

“I am quite capable of gathering these-” said Alastor archly as Angel bent over to retrieve some of the pictures that had fallen under the table. To his annoyance, Angel held one photo up to the light, squinting at it. “Give me that.”

“Nah. Wait. Look, I’m a professional at this okay? Nothing I haven’t seen before. And this? This ain’t the tall dark and creepy I know.”

Your stay in Vox’s suite was enjoyable, but not something that could last. Mercifully the television demon worked long hours, which left you a good amount of time alone. It hadn’t taken much persuading for Vox to give you a phone, a shiny new model with his company’s logo emblazoned on the back. And once you had that, this place’s equivalent of the Internet was your oyster.

Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You’d even let him dress you, a fanciful blue outfit with a tailcoat and bowtie, and if that wasn’t a sign of co-operation, you weren’t sure what was.

what is hell pentagram city

As you suspected, you were in Hell. Though you had no clear memories of your death, you were fairly certain you had died. The memory of falling to the ground in darkness was there, along with the pain in the back of your head, a taste like metal in your mouth. And being here rather than the other place, assuming the other place even existed, was no real surprise to you. Heaven was for the meek and obedient, and you’d done things that were neither. Scanning the information online, and reading between the lines, you picked up the basics. Sinners were ruled by overlords, and Vox was one of these, in a coterie alongside Valentino, the man who had pulled you in and a third overlord you hadn’t met. Overlords gained power from owning souls, but a quick scan of the information told you little about what this actually entailed. Was owning souls like slavery? Did being locked in Vox’s bedroom mean your soul was already forfeit? All you found at first was that soul ownership required a contract of some sort, so you continued your search.

how to tell if you have a soul contract can you be forced into a soul contract how to get out of soul contracts

There was conflicting information on the exact nature of soul contracts, but the general consensus was that the contract required the participant to be cogent enough to sign their name, or at least shake the hand of their new owner. That meant that it was unlikely that Vox actually owned your soul. The bad news was that a person could be coerced into handing their soul over, and you still didn’t have much leverage on Vox. Eventually he would want a handle on you, and the thought of it made you uneasy. You needed an out. It looked like murder would work to break a contract, but Hell’s social media sites were full of people complaining about how difficult murdering a fellow sinner was. People, it seemed, could recover from nearly any level of injury. Fascinated, you followed the topic further.

can you kill sinners how to kill sinners

Unsurprisingly, you weren’t the only person on Hell’s internet interested in this topic. Aside from certain massive injuries, the answer that came up time and again was yes, angelic steel could kill sinners permanently.

what is angelic steel how to get angelic steel

The material was apparently from weapons dropped by heavenly exorcists, and highly sought after. It looked expensive, and you doubted that Vox would continue to buy your innocent act if you started asking him to bring you weapons. You checked the uses, scrolling down the list of applications until one caught your eye. Wire made from angelic steel was sought after by audiophiles for its use in the cabling of sound systems. And what was Vox, if not a man who would make for himself the best high fidelity sound system that money could buy? Stalking into the sitting area of Vox’s quarters, you surveyed his sound system. It stood about seven feet tall and a little longer across, the mesh over the speakers so black that it almost registered like a hole in your vision. You could almost imagine the sound it would produce just by standing there before it, the way the vibrations would run through your hooves and into your shins and through your spine. A shame, really. If you had been planning to stay longer, you could have asked Vox to play some music on it and sat there basking in the sound. Maybe even fucked to something slow and sensual, letting an external rhythm dictate your movements, letting the music override you.

With a sigh, you set the idea aside, opening one of the drawers set into the frame of the sound system. The thing was beautiful, so much so that you were reluctant to dismantle it unless you had to. Fortunately, a little rummaging led you to the spare cables that you hoped would be there, and running a talon over the protective coating, you slit one open. The metal inside was a whitish gold, braided thin enough to make a decent garrote. You tested the strength of it, winding each end of the cable around your hands and pulling it taut, and the feel of a weapon in your hands brought a giddy feeling to your chest. After days of feeling adrift, the tension of the wire between your fingers felt like finally hitting land.

You wouldn’t kill Vox. Not only was it a bad idea- you had no idea how much strength he had, and killing him would set Valentino and Velvette both after you- but you didn’t want to. Even if he had spent the entire time moaning the name of the man with your face, he was still a good fuck, and it felt like bad manners to repay those tender services with a red and sticky end.

After a moment’s hesitation, you took the bottle of Valentino’s pheromones from the dresser by the bed, slipping it into the inside pocket of your tailcoat as you tossed the Voxtek phone you had been using back onto the bed. Drugs had never been your usual route of attack, but who knew what would be waiting for you outside the walls of the Voxtek compound?

Getting out of Vox’s suite was easy enough- the override password on the door was fuckalastor, all lower case. But once you were outside, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Even with the length of angelic steel wire wound around your hand, you didn’t feel quite safe.

Alastor watched the V tower from the shadows, an ugly feeling in his chest. If the demon in the photos wasn’t him, as Angel Dust had claimed, he really had nothing to complain about. But the fact that Vox had seen fit to find a demon who was his doppelganger and then find fit to send evidence of those exploits to him? That was still an insult, a figurative glove across the face. His problem was twofold, however. Firstly, the constraints of his deal forbade him from undertaking violent action against anything not a direct threat to the hotel, which V tower very much was not. The second problem was that of his injuries from his fight against the angelic horde. He had lived, barely, but the rent across his chest was a persistent throbbing ache, a gap in him from which static escaped. It rendered him weak. It reduced him to watching and skulking like some street level cur.

It was in this state that he saw you exit the tower through one of the side entrances, your movements furtive and your ears down. You wore a copy of his own outfit in Voxtek blue, and the very sight of it brought a sour taste to Alastor’s mouth. How dare you, an impostor, a fraud, go round the city wearing Vox’s livery, as if the television demon owned you? It was embarrassing. He would make you take it off. Hissing rage between his teeth, Alastor followed you.

There was definitely someone following you. You could feel it. You had been on the other side of this equation too many times in your life, the fear of the other at the periphery of your awareness, chasing down with heartfelt and open-mouthed glee, that it was impossible to miss when you were the one being stalked. The shadows in Hell grew long and strange, studded with eyes and horns and mouths, and you took another blind turn into another darkened alley, grounding yourself with the sting of the angelic steel wire across your palm. You still weren’t wholly used to your new shape, and even now though you were no longer the trembling-legged fawn that Vox had half-carried to his bed a few nights previous, your gait wasn’t the steadiest. If you started running, you were fairly sure you would fall.

You would deal with it, whatever it was. That was how you had always done things. You chose the pragmatic option, you coped. You chose the righteous option, even if no-one agreed with you, even if it meant doing what no-one else could bring themselves to do. You chose the dangerous option, even if it meant staring down the creeping fear in your own heart. You slipped into the shadows, your back hard against the wall, garrote threaded between both of your hands, the pulse of your heartbeat a thunder in your ears, a pulse in your throat, the adrenaline of it making you almost dizzy, almost nauseous, almost aroused. In this your new body was the same as the old. You would catch your hunter, whoever they were.

He stalked round the corner, a figure in red, and with a start you recognized his silhouette as the same as your new body. Alastor. What had Vox said about him? A washed up radio host, a demon with no real power to speak off, feeding off the nostalgia of a bygone era? With a single motion you stepped behind him, looping the angelic wire around his neck and yanking it tight, pulling his body back against yours. He struggled, claws going to his neck, but his claws couldn’t shear the angelic steel any more than yours could.

Hissing, he twisted in your grasp, claws raking a symmetrical gash into your forearm, and you gave an involuntary, crackling cry, holding fast as you felt the blood well. Then two thick strands of shadow sprouted from Alastor’s back, pushing past your chest and wrapping around your own neck. You stumbled back in panic, back hitting the brick wall, vision blurring as the tentacle constricted your blood flow, your grip on the wire slackening. No! You couldn’t lose. There was no air in your throat but you still managed a noise, a soft whine like a capacitor failing to discharge, before your vision went truly black.

Well, that would have been an ignominious way to die. Alastor felt the mark at his throat and his hand came away bloody. His own blood. Sloppy. He gave a low noise of displeasure as he looked down at your unconscious form, the bright blue of that ridiculous parody of his suit now ripped and stained. He hadn’t been expecting a fight, not from Vox’s fucktoy. Had this been a trap after all? No, there were no reinforcements, no cameras. Not the television demon’s style.

Bending down, he took your chin between thumb and forefinger, examining your face closely. As it had been in the pornographic pictures that Vox had sent him, your face was a close match for his own, expression relaxed and naked in something close to sleep. What was more, it didn’t appear to be a disguise, your cervine features quite genuine.

Alastor ran his fingertip over your antler, freezing when he felt the velvet covering, the blood vessels just beneath the skin, a jolt in his heart. You were so vulnerable like this, a single cut and you could bleed out. No deer demon would go out like this. At least, not one who had knowledge of their own body. The implications sank in his gut like lead. How long had it taken for his antlers to mature, when he had come to Hell? A couple of weeks? Alastor felt his lips curl back further past his teeth, hating Vox a little more. Vox had nearly made him kill you, a newcomer to Hell, for the crime of being weak and confused enough to be dragged to Vox’s bed.

What should he do with you? Leaving you here so close to Vox’s domain would get you dragged back to the television, and you were an innocent, well, not quite an innocent, you had tried to garrote him with angelic steel wire, but few people in Hell were truly innocent. He couldn’t kill you, at least not now, with your supine form posing approximately no threat to him. With a resigned sigh, Alastor scooped you up in his arms, disgusting blue suit and all, and began his walk back to the hotel.

You awoke in an unfamiliar place, your face pressed into the pillows of a four-poster bed. It smelled like musk, a rich, smoky sort of smell, with an undercurrent of formaldehyde, and it was oddly comforting, wrapping around you almost like an embrace. Drowsily, you took stock of your body, the ache around your neck and a burning throb that seemed to cover your forearm, remembering the struggle in the alleyway. The scent in your nostrils pulled you back to the memory, with your hands at the back of your double’s neck. This was how Alastor had smelled. This was, unmistakably, Alastor’s bed. He had hunted you, and now he had taken you to his lair to toy with you. Your garrote was missing, predictably, as was the pheromone bottle you had stolen from Vox. You rolled onto your side to survey the room, and Alastor loomed from the shadows.

“Ah, the impostor rises,” chirped Alastor. His smile stretched practically ear to ear. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“My windpipe hurts,” you said, frowning at him.

“Oh, quid pro quo, dear child,” said Alastor, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and undoing the collar of his shirt to show the bandage at his neck. “Do you have any idea how long it has been since someone made me bleed my own blood?”

“You were hunting me,” you said, not bothering with any of the cutesyness you had tried with Vox. Alastor had felt you close a wire around his neck- he would never see you as harmless.

“And you were quite the game, little impostor.” Alastor leaned over, and with a slow, deliberate motion, pressed his fingertips to your antlers. You had done your best thus far to ignore the existence of the two prongs sticking up from the top of your head, and even Vox had avoided touching them, so the sensation took you by surprise.

Your antlers were incredibly sensitive. You felt every variation in pressure, every adjustment in position, through your antlers, through their connection to the bone of your skull and further, down your spine and into your loins. Alastor met your eyes, his own half-lidded, and gave a gentle squeeze between thumb and forefinger. You whimpered, feeling the prongs grow under his hand, feeling your face heat.

“Hm. Soft,” he murmured, half to himself, before bringing your attention back to him with another little squeeze, directing your head to his lap. “Not much fight in you now, is there?”

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, heart in your throat.

“My dear, where would be the fun in that?” Alastor replied, his tone shifting to genuine amusement. “A touch could kill you right now.” As it to make a point, he ran a fingertip from the tip to the base of your antler, and you shivered as you felt the touch echo through your body. “Do you have any idea how much blood you would lose, with just one little nick?”

With Alastor touching you like this it was difficult to think straight. It was as if he knew this body better than you did, each touch intense to the very edge of painfulness, the sensations continuing to resonate through your body. You swallowed, burying your face against his thigh. “What do you want?”

“Now now, little pretender. That’s my line, not yours.” Alastor gave a soft laugh. “Though I imagine I know what you might desire. A world where Vox has no ability to drag you back to his bedchambers would be a start, don’t you think?”

Slowly, you nodded against his thigh, and Alastor gave a soft noise of approval. With both hands now he worked his touch from the base of your skull to your antlers, each movement a vivid, carnal pressure through your body. It was like nothing else, and you felt your antlers grow still further, your pulse throbbing through them, your cock aching untended against the inside of your pants, your cunt clenching unfilled. You bowed your head to Alastor’s gentle, dexterous touch, your mouth open as you moaned against his trouser leg, a clipping edge to your audio.

“Oh my, you are enjoying that.” The growl in Alastor’s voice was salacious. “Is it your first time? Does the mean old television demon not know how to touch you like this?”

You weren’t in the mood to indulge Alastor’s fantasies about Vox, not after days of doing the inverse, so instead you whimpered, “Thank you.”

“Mm. At least you have manners, I suppose.” Alastor lifted his hands from your antlers, and you gasped at their absence, the air cold where his fingertips had been warm. With a touch to your chin, he indicated that you should rise, and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows before sitting back.

Sitting up, you noticed that you were not the only one who had grown an impressive rack. Alastor’s antlers extended like the shadows of trees in winter, his own arousal written over his smiling face. They curled, dendritic and beautiful and unmistakably tied to his own libido, echoing through his own body in the same way as yours did. The way he touched you told you that, if nothing else.

Your eyes glazed, head tilting forward. You wanted to lock antlers with him. You wanted to touch him, bone to bone, and feel the same waves resonate through the two of you. You wanted it very, very badly.

Alastor caught you by your injured throat with a hiss. “If you do that,” he said. “You will die. Your antlers are too fresh, and you will damage them, and you will bleed out on my bedspread. So instead, sweet little pretender, you are going to lay quite still and let me tend to you.”

“S-sorry,” you stuttered as Alastor released you, the pain from his grip bringing you a little way back to your senses, your heart fluttering as tears stung your eyes. What did he see in you, you wondered. Was it a way to get one over on Vox? Or simply a reflection of his own face?

“Silly creature.” Alastor sighed, pushing you onto your back, and crawling over you, a depraved gleam in his eye. “You strangle me half to death in an alleyway, risking damage to my precious voice, and now is when you are tearful and apologetic? When I am trying to stop you from hurting yourself?” He placed a hand at your neck again, though with less pressure this time, just enough to hold your head in place.

You didn’t just want to lock antlers with him. You wanted to feel his lips against yours, sharp teeth against yours. “Would you kiss me?”

“I suppose I don’t see the harm. Hold still, now,” Alastor warned, and you felt how carefully he closed the distance between the two of you, how carefully he avoided even a brush of his antlers against yours, though electricity sang in their proximity, the shivering static of not quite the barest touch as Alastor’s lips closed on yours.

Compared to Vox he was a chaste kisser, not bullying his way in but leading you to him, leaving you wanting him, touching tonguetip to tonguetip, nose to nose, needlepoint tooth to lip. It left you gasping, left you quivering, your cock straining against the fabric of your trousers. With an almost coquettish roll of his hips, Alastor pushed his pelvis flush with yours, and you felt his own matching tent. Through four layers of fabric it was still an aching kind of hot, his pulse through it as surely as it was through his antlers. With a slow, measured motion he ground himself against your length, making you whimper soft distortion into his mouth, the tip of your cock leaking wetness and your neglected cunt absolutely slick.

“Oh, this will be fun.” Alastor’s eyes creased at the corners as he pulled back a little, his cock still pressing hard and hot against yours. “Call me a narcissist if you will, but I know that expression. Are you really going to climax, just from a little kissing?”

You would have corrected him, but he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how well he knew your body, how adeptly he stroked along the tines of your antlers, sensation resonating deep and intense through your body to your core, a master on an instrument you had yet to learn. Locking smug eyes with you, he rolled his hips against yours, grinding against you further, and you mewled for him, hips bucking a little as sensation threatened to overcome you, fighting against the inexorable tightness that built. But just as in the alleyway, this wasn’t a fight that you could win.

You came, your cock pulsing wetly against the inside of your pants as the reverberations through your body sang, a static whine on your lips, absolutely understanding why Vox had moaned Alastor’s name.

Both of you stilled for a moment after that, your body still wracked with aftershocks, Alastor watching you closely, his expression contented. He made no move to please himself, but rather traced the edge of your face, from your temple to your jaw, with his talons. “Good?” he asked, nonchalantly.

Good didn’t begin to describe it. It was sublime, another aftershock hitting you even now. You closed your eyes. “The best. Thank you, Alastor.”

“My pleasure.” Alastor looked down at you with a pleased smile. “You’ve made a real mess of that suit,” he said, a tilt of his head, his own desire for release seemingly forgotten. “Allow me to take it off for you.”

Alastor grinned at the hidden camera on the suit’s lapel, saying nothing but making sure it got a good shot of his face before he crushed it between thumb and forefinger.

[hellfire--cult]

You two were laughing as you ate pizza on Steve’s couch. You are feeding eachother as he kisses you with saucy lips while you giggle like crazy.

The TV is on in the background, the loud noises fade into nothingness as you two keep talking and laughing. There are other noises outside, but you two shut the blinds closed, and locked the doors, because you just needed to be with one another tonight, just you two.

Steve looks at the watch on his wrist and he shoots a smile your way.

“Wanna go to bed?”

And you eagerly get up from the couch, grabbing his hand as you lead the way upstairs towards his room. You two stumble in, wiping the remnants of pizza away, and you both get ready to bed, already too late despite the noises outside. Yelling, cheering, screaming, it was all a mix.

The bed is comfy as you two lay down, looking at one another, smiles still on your faces as the tears start forming in your eyes. The memories just fill your minds as the loud sirens start blasting, wanting to break the moment, but they won’t. It’s just the two of you right now.

The cheering stops, the screaming remains, the red light of the sky shines through the closed blinds, the expired pizza you two ate downstairs because that’s all you could find in an abandoned 7Eleven.

It was the only solution because the upside down filled through the gaps, all around the world, consuming it in monsters and darkness. It was the only solution…

And as the earth burns to the ground…

“I love you Stevie…” Your tears are already falling onto the pillow as the sirens start going into a countdown. He nods as he pulls you close by the waist, pressing a shaky kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too Baby…”

Oh boy it’s you, that I lie with.

You smile up at him as you press a soft kiss on his chin, causing him to chuckle through his wet sob. The screaming is barely audible as the siren becomes louder and louder, the screeching of monsters trying to get into the house so they could escape the sound.

As the atom bomb locks in, oh boy it’s you…

The TV downstairs shows a static transmission of the news, the reporter crying as she counts down the final seconds of the human race, extintion just a moment away.

I watch TV with… As the world…

You two look up as the final long siren goes off and the red light becomes brighter and brighter, the sound of a loud explosion echoing in the distance as it becomes louder as it reaches you two.

And your lips finally meet, smiling in between as the tears mix with your lips, tasting them. It was the perfect last kiss. The perfect moment. The perfect situation. It was perfect, and you spent it with him. For the last time.

As the world caves in.

[bettyfrommars]

poltergeist!Eddie x Reader

welcome back to The Nightmare Factory

Masterlist

This is part of a collection of blurbs about Eddie only being able to communicate with you through your nightmares. This time, he uses his newly acquired skills to avenge you. wc:961

A/N: I've been having so much fun with this, and I always love getting ideas and feedback from you all. I have a feeling these blurbs will start to get longer as the story progresses, and we finally get to know the man behind the nightmares.

18+ONLY, mature content, harassment, poltergeist activity, nightmares

--------

When Eddie found out that one of your coworkers was harassing you and made you cry, he couldn’t let it go.  

The night he found out, he was on his way to haunt someone else’s dreams, hovering as a shadow person in the corner, and there you were— on the phone telling one of your friends about what had happened.  You weren’t returning the sexual advances of the guy at your office, and so he proceeded to tease you and spread rumors about you, and your boss wouldn't do anything about it.  

Eddie came to the Nightmare Factory on his day off to beg his supervisor Kevin—the ventriloquist doll in a sailor suit—for some overtime, and he got it.

Armed with his new and invisible job title, Eddie took his time to get to know the lay of the land in your office.  The co-worker in question—he discovered his name was Jared—worked three cubicles down from you.  Eddie found you hunched over at your desk, with your head in your hands.  You needed to go to the bathroom, but you didn’t want to walk in that direction because you knew Jared would say something snide to you or throw a balled-up piece of paper at your face and then laugh hysterically.  

When you finally did get the nerve to rush to where the restrooms were, Eddie knocked Jared’s full cup of coffee over so it slipped all over his keyboard.  Eddie chuckled to himself as he put his hands in his pockets and watched the guy scramble to clean it up.  

Later that night, Eddie followed Jared home; he would’ve rather been spending time with you, but this was a worthy sacrifice.  The guy lived alone, which Eddie was thankful for, but other people being in the house would not have stopped him from doing what he needed to do.

He was patient; he waited in the walls for Jared to change out of his work clothes and relax.  

Eddie started simple.  When Jared returned to the kitchen area, Eddie blew the candle out that Jared lit.

And then he blew it out again

And again

And again

Until Jared used up the last of his matches in the box and threw the empty container in frustration. In a huff, he went over to turn the tv on, but it snapped to static and then returned to black, as if it had been unplugged.

“What the fuck?” Jared hissed.  There was a tv tray there next to his recliner and he knocked it over in his frustration.

The overhead lights flickered, and then the three ceiling bulbs popped in the kitchen and everything went dark.

“Son of a bitch,” Jared grumbled, pawing around in the dark for the light switch.

“What did you call me?” Eddie said in his ear.

Jared screamed and jumped back, arms flailing, tripping over himself until his back hit the wall.  

Jared’s adrenaline surged in the deafening silence as he tried to see around him in the dark, body frozen against the wall.

After a good minute, Jared dropped his shoulders, took a deep breath, and convinced himself that it was just a power outage, and his imagination was running away with him.

Across the room, the candle lit itself, offering a flicker of light in the darkness.

And then it flew across the kitchen counter, caught air, and the glass canister shattered against the wall.

Jared’s cry was bloodcurdling as he bolted for the front door, slipping on the throw rug, losing his balance, but then he had to stop short because Eddie propelled a kitchen chair along the linoleum to crash in front of him.

Choking back tears, Jared sprang in the other direction, down the hall to his bedroom and spun around to shut the door as fast as he could, locking it with a click.  

He leaned against the door, breathless, anticipating footsteps in the hall.

“Boo,” Eddie hissed in his ear.

Jared whisked his arms around as if trying to fight off a bug, hysterical, and charged ahead for his final line of defense which was to lock himself in the bathroom.

He flicked the light on immediately, pushing the lock in on the doorknob.  “What the hell do you want from me?” Jared asked through the door.  

That was when the mirror on the medicine cabinet fogged up as if someone blew hot breath on it.  Slowly, with a squeak of a finger on glass, an invisible hand spelled out three words, telling Jared to leave you alone.  

Jared sank to the ground sobbing, just before Eddie broke the mirror with his fist and it crashed to the sink.

—------

You were having so much anxiety about going back to work, you had to take a sleeping pill that night.

Eddie came by on his way back from Jared’s and hovered at your ear while you slept.  “I took care of it,” he whispered.  “You don’t have to worry about that guy anymore.”

His shift was over a while ago, and he could see the monster under your bed giving him a shrug like, “what are you doing here, buddy? This one is mine tonight.”

Eddie didn’t like how other workers from the factory got to spend time with you, and that was a problem he would work on solving in the near future.  

As it turns out, you had the best sleep of your life. 

You cringed when the elevator dinged open the next day at your job, waiting to see Jared there, making fun of your outfit or the way you looked—but he never showed up to work that day.  

You found out later on that he quit.

No one heard from Jared ever again. 

[florwal]

crying in the light of the TV static (🎵)

[scoutswritingcorner]

The TV Made Me Do It

Vox x GN!Reader

TW:HORROR AND DARK FIC!! Talks about murder, hypnosis, alcoholism, mentioned abuse, nothing too detailed. MENTIONS OF SEWERSLIDE. DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

A/N: First time writing for Vox! So please don’t hate me! Also if anyone has any ideas for any horror related fics don’t be afraid to drop them in my  Ask Box, just read my rules first please! Based on the song, ‘The TV made me do it’ By Moon Walker. SOMETHING ON THE SHORT SIDE SORRY- 

Flashing blue and red lights filled your dark house, bringing the bottle to your lips. You took a long sip watching as the TV in front of you flashed with static and loud buzzing as a flash of a light blue grin was burned into its screen. Why wouldn’t he talk to you anymore? Did he get bored?

You didn’t blame him. You got bored too.

The banging on your front door was louder now and the bloodied knife that sat on your lap felt heavier than normal. Your eyes stayed glued to the TV screen as the door was kicked in allowing the bright lights to invade your home. You wanted to forget how you got in this position.

~~

The day you got home from work was a normal one. Normal in the fact that the second you walked through the door you were being yelled at and a bottle was thrown at your head but missed significantly. Then they stormed up the stairs and started to yell at you as you cleaned up the pigsty that was your house, then it had hit you. You were being watched. Was someone else in the house? Was it your imagination?

You looked around once more and found nothing which made you frown, why was your tv on? You turned it off right before you started to clean. You walked over to the couch and grabbed the remote to turn it off but stopped seeing red eyes stare back at you. Was this just a sick prank? Why did it unnerve you? Walking back the eyes followed you unblinking. Then the tv flashed from different shows and channels spelling out the words, ‘turn..around…I’m…behind..you.’ Your heart dropped to your stomach as you watched the tv turn to static before you. You closed your eyes and turned around, only to be met by darkness and an empty wall.

Then..a laugh track sounded, the TV was laughing at you. It was mocking you, ‘Silly…human….such…a…fool.’  Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment as you stared back at the glowing red eyes and the now prominent blue sharp teeth that formed into a smile. 

~~~

It’s been like this for weeks. No sleep, just going to work, getting something thrown at your head or slapped across the face and then staying up at night to watch the tv mock you and your existence. It made you want to cry- you did cry some nights, it was too much. But then the mocking changed as you sat on the couch one night, drinking your spirits away. ‘..stop..drinking….you damn fool.’ You rolled your eyes but put the bottle down onto the coffee table, you wished to close your eyes and sleep forever. “Just leave me the fuck alone. All you’ve done is mock me every night, all night long. What the fuck do you want me to do?!” You yelled out tears collecting in your eyes as you looked down at the carpeted floor. 

‘..pathetic.’  the tv mocked once more causing you to glare at it. “Oh yeah you wise fucker? Tell me what the hell am I supposed to do then?!” You snarled out standing up before going quiet as the phone in your kitchen rang, you sent one more glare towards the TV which was playing some old cowboy movie. Storming into the kitchen you grabbed the phone putting it to your ear.

“You’re losing yourself, Human..”  The voice was rough but was so cheery that it reminded you of a celebrity. You could definitely hear the smirk plastered on the person's face or..was it a person? “Who is this?” You asked quietly, hearing footsteps upstairs, “..You’ve been talking to me through the tv for weeks…I think you should know by now.” The voice responded before chuckling as the footsteps ceased, “Such a sad sack of shit the world has become huh? Don’t you wish you could do something about it?” You paled at the words, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I don’t? Please I’ve watched your ass sit on that couch drinking away your sorrows and sobbing out after every little fight. Telling me how you wish you could just fucking end that piece of shits life.” The voice on the other line called out and you sighed, staying silent. “I say do it. Kill the bastard.”  That caught you off guard, “Wait no- I can’t-” You hissed, “You can. You just have to throw away your morals.” You look behind you and then out of the kitchen windows, the night looked so inviting the voice was right. You could do it but then what? You’d have to be on the run forever. Right?

“What do I do after?” You asked your hands clutching the phone like it was a life line. “Be on the run forever?” There was a soft chuckle from the other end of the line. “That’s up to you..but..if you decide to just..end it..I’ll be down here waiting for you. Besides..I always needed a co host.” Was..Was this mysterious voice flirting with you? Co-Host? Down there? What the fuck was it talking about??

“Down where exactly?” You asked, glancing at the knife drawer and there was a loud laugh from the other end of the line. “Oh you’ll find out shortly..just think about it. Remember..I’m watching.” Then at that the line went dead and you groaned, that didn’t answer any of your fucking questions.

~~~

It was only a day later when you were staring into the dead eyes of your abuser, knife sticking out of their chest and a bruise forming on their neck. Your body covered in blood as you tore the knife out, slowly making your way downstairs and to the tv that was showing static, your tv friend had left. Your phone sat on the couch, screen showing texts from your closest friends. The friends that mocked you, told you that you were off your fucking rocker. ‘The tv can’t make you do anything.’

You walked to the kitchen to grab your favorite bottle of your poison, the phone rang once..twice..three times before it stopped and you made your way back to the couch. “I did it. If you care.” You called out to the tv, “Don’t think you do. You got what you wanted, no?” You brushed a bloodied hand through your hair and groaned, “Of course you don’t..you never did. I was a fool to think that you did.” You called out taking a sip from the bottle, sirens and bright lights flashing outside.

Looks like you were finally caught. “You’re a fucking bastard.” You hissed out, playing with the knife laying on your lap.

But he did care. He cared too much and he wanted you to be next to him so badly. He’d just have to wait a little longer.

[cvoq]

In Commemoration of Her

Synopsis ﹐ You and James Sunderland are at Lakeview Hotel, planning to stay the night when he unlocks a key memory.

content ﹐Rated R (MDNI), SPOILERS! darkfic, smut, angst, non-con, pwp, descriptive/smut sex, somno, grinding, fingering, squirting, rough sex, p n v sex, james sunderland x fem!reader

╰╮wc 3.3k

Mary was a bright, sweet woman. Illness plagued her body when she was young and died 3 years ago from what you’ve heard. Apparently this “Maria” looked exactly like her, but where was she? You’ve heard so much about Mary this Mary that, that you knew James really did love her; For that reason he and you are at their special place, hotel room 312 looking outside of the illuminated Toluca Lake.

“James,” The name rolls sweetly off your tongue admiring the lakeside view. “It’s beautiful here..”

The cool moonlight hits your skin, reflecting you off the window. You’re wearing a white frilly sundress with spaghetti straps. As soon as you came off of work a few days ago, you took a trip to West Virginia with your bags packed heading to the homey-tourist-attraction; Silent Hill.

James was seeing something completely different. You turned around getting a glimpse to check on him, he previously placed a cassette tape into the TV that the room provided but it was just static. He was engulfed in what he was watching though. You chose to let him be in his thoughts and focus on yours.

As you recall, many strange things have been occurring ever since you came. While following James around, a little girl by the name of Laura tagged along with the two of you. She too was fond of Mary, however not so much of you. All you could remember was the girl's words that she exchanged with you in private while at the bowling alley.

“–James would never replace Mary!” She exclaimed clearly upset, her eyes welled up with tears ready to spill.

“I’m his friend,” You reply quietly trying to give the young girl reassurance. You watch her hold back from crying, feeling guilty. “Nothing will happen between us, everything that I’m doing right now is for her.”

“Rea-lly?” Laura asked, stifling through her words, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

“Really”

If only that were true. You wonder to yourself what the hell you were doing alone with a man in a hotel room during the dark. You really can’t pretend that you weren’t attracted to James. Ever since you’ve met him at the gazebo after wandering in the town for what seemed like hours, you’ve become “travel” buddies.

You choose to snap out of it, turning your attention towards James. He was on the armchair, slouched forward. He looked as if all life had been erased from him. Melancholy, miserable, you felt the feeling emanate with the void of silence.

“James?” You call out, taking a step closer to him on his right side.

“Mary’s,” James muttered with a pause. You pay close attention to what he’s trying to say. “Mary’s gone.”

You stand in silence, watching as James takes time to reflect on himself. You follow his eyes to see that he’s looking at the bed behind him tucked away in the corner with the night lights, staring at the pillows. You knew and took account of how lost and unstable James came off to be, but it never occurred to you how severe it was.

You pressed your lips, speaking softly to him. “Is everything..-Are you doing alright there?”

He stayed still in the same position, still not responding. It pains you to receive silent treatment from him but all you can do is wait for him to open up.

“I killed her,” James tells her with a defeated voice. His head stayed down as he looked at the floor right in front of him, not bothering to look up at you.

Your eyes widen and you respond with nothing. Didn’t he love her? You try to reason that maybe James was imagining things from all the pent up guilt he must have felt, but it really did seem that yes. James killed his late wife.

You’ve never felt more convicted.

“I’m going to wash up..” You say after a minute of pure silence between the two of you and James nods in response. Hopefully a quick shower would drain away all your worries. You promptly leave to the bathroom, leaving James all alone by himself.

For almost an hour, you stood under the shower thinking to yourself. You continued with the regular routine of brushing your teeth, combing your hair, and putting on a fresh pair of clothes which you had thanks to hauling around your suitcase everywhere you went. You felt refreshed that you were in new clothes but felt a dawning sense of pressure and guilt still there. You’re also a bad person if you somehow still manage to like him, a murderer, after all he’s done right?

Finishing your alone time, you swing open the restroom door stepping outside of it. “The bathrooms free for use,” you spoke while looking around the room to spot for James. There he was, on the bed without a blanket on top of him, fast asleep.

James' shoes weren’t even off.. he still had his jacket on, he was knocked unconscious. You scurry to his side of the bed he was occupying. The last you could do was get his shoes off for being able to book a room for the two of you. So you take off both his black leather boots from his feet carefully, trying not to wake him up. After placing them down nearby his bedside you look at his military jacket.

You contemplate if you should change him out of it but you wonder if it would be considered overstepping. You furrow your brows with your eyes lingering in his state. When James slept, you came to notice how his face was definitely more relaxed. His hair fell out of the way he styled it and his crease on his forehead seemed to vanish. He glowed under the warm light of the lamp, but he was a stressed guy.

Sighing to yourself, you move your hands to clasp onto James' jacket. Although you had to maneuver his arms and had to tug a lot, you managed to get it off revealing his gray long sleeved shirt. You place the coat on the nightstand beside you and get ready to tuck him in the sheets when you notice something.

A bulge, a bulge in his jeans. Your face flushes, staring at it for quite some time. Who knows what would’ve happened if you tried to take his pants off? What’s surprising is the size of it. It looked as if it was uncomfortable resting there.. but you just quickly covered James in a blanket.

You wonder where to sleep. The couches only seated one person and the night was cold. Surely, if you slept on the right side of the bed it would be fine. So you chose to climb in the sheets, on the far side facing away from James.

After turning off the lamp, you try to close your eyes but that led to you thinking about what you just saw. You smothered your face into the pillows but can’t help feel your cheeks warm up. You know it’s wrong. James only has love for his wife and you should respect that, so you doze off to sleep.

You wake up in a daze, feeling something press up against you. There’s a weighted feeling lingering on your back. A pair of hands hold your waist and- Shit. Who was doing this?!

Your eyes open slowly to catch a glimpse of your situation. It was James, rutting into you.

He grinded into your ass pressing his hardon into you. Grunting softly into the crevice of your neck that you felt his scratchy stubble rub against you.

What was worse is that you were turned on by this. He was in such close proximity, you could feel the heat emitting off of him. You tightly press your legs together clenching your thighs for dear life, feeling something build up inside of you.

“James..-”

“Help me with this, please..” He begs breathily, pressing you tighter onto himself.

“Al..” You hesitate for a bit. “Alright.”

James reached for your chest, groping onto you. You can feel his rough hands through the fabric, much larger compared to yours. He’s pressing them and messaging them with his palms, running his fingers over your now hardened nipples as you jolt at the sensation.

“I’ve needed this,” He admits grudgingly, taking in your smell. You’re so clean, floral.. so different from him.

You don’t know whether to feel relieved or shameful.

By now your top is ridden up, so James takes his time to place his hands on your stomach to feel your bare skin. You feel so hot, it’s suffocating. His calloused hands slide further to reach your supple breasts. Having you hitch your breath. He takes his time toying with them, squeezing your buds in between his fingers in a firm manner.

“-You’re teasing me..” You manage to utter out, embarrassed.

“Just a few more minutes,” James mutters, still rubbing your skin.

He then moves his hand down into your pajama pants, trailing to your soppy cotton panties. Running a finger up and down your slip, sometimes visiting your clit. You try to suppress your reactions but you can’t help bucking your hips into him.

“You’re -wet there.” James remarks in a quiet tone. It came off as he was flustered or akward, maybe a mix of both. You felt your heat pulse from his words.

“..I want more,” Communicating to him sheepishly. Afraid of seeming whiny and demanding of doing too much while doing too little, you reach your hand back touching his clothed erection. Then pressed your hand on it, trying to feel his girth through his jeans. His warmth emanated off of it.

James groans in response, nodding his head in affirmation. He moved your undergarments to the side revealing your glistening folds, slick from it was still strung onto your panties like a string. He’d blush, admiring how messy you were and rubbed his fingers up and down your hot pussy.

He slid a finger in, watching as you suck it in. Wetness seeped out from you onto his hand as he watched your face contort. You really did put lube to shame..

James worked his way to getting two fingers inside you. You let out soft “ohs” and “ahs!” with a flushed face. Your body felt so hot but your core was even worse, it craved for more and latched onto his fingers as he tried to pull out. Filthy noises spilled from your pussy, embarrassing you from the wet sound you were producing.

He rubbed his pads on the walls of your soaked cunt, noticing you tense up around them as he’s preparing to slide a third finger into you. There James feels a spongy area, feeling it and pressing his fingers on the spot.

“James-!” You yelp, tossing your head up. You feel yourself gush from your pussy, not used to the unfamiliar feeling.

He clenched his jaw feeling himself throbbing with need. The way you said his name was so endearingly erotic. James' pants felt so tight that any friction he felt within his confines almost had him losing it.

You clench around his fingers, gripping his hand placed on your waist as you let out a whimper. However all James does is tighten your grip on you, pressing down on your stomach continuing to fingerfuck you. You bury your face into the pillows as you feel the need to urinate as pressure builds up.

James then stuck another finger in, thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace watching as you go slack in his arms and your hips wiggle trying to escape his grasp. Did you have to be this sexy?

“Auh-Shit!” You moan, coming undone.

Warm clear fluid expels from your cunt as your abdomen tenses up, arching your back like a cat. You're so tight, trying to keep James fingers in as you shudder through your organsm. All that pressure is gone as you begin to feel a tingling sensation across your body.

After a couple of seconds of rest, you hazily look down to see the sheets drenched by you. James looks at his pants, wondering what he just did to you seeing all your essence on him. You squirted.

It took a lot of self control for James to not end up cumming hands free. His dick is pulsating like crazy as he tries to not succumb to the cloud of lust impairing his decisions. It’s too late.

You feel the mattress and sheets shift as you try to come back to your senses as your eyes wander around the hotel room, you see him on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I can't—” James exhaled in a shaky voice while looking down at your body. “Can we.. for tonight..”

You kissed him boldly for the first time, pressing your lips against his somewhat chapped ones. James' eyes widened but he eventually closed his eyes just as you were doing. He relaxed, getting more comfortable with touching you by rubbing your thighs. When James had the chance, he prodded his tongue in your mouth. You and him shared spit and saliva as your wet tongues went back and forth with each other. Messy like a makeout session but more intimate.

You run your hands over his chest, pulling off for fresh air as a string of saliva connects both of your mouths.

“Please,” You plead in a needy tone, looking into James’ green eyes. You toss your soaked panties to the side, spreading your legs apart feeling your slick coat the insides of your thighs. “Take me..”

Quickly, James unzipped his pants, although fumbling and took his cock out from his boxers. James sighed at the feeling of the cold air, giving his dick a few strokes spreading the leaking beads of precum across his shaft.

God, it looked so pretty. All you could focus on was how lengthy it was. He was well groomed too. You’d clench around nothing thinking about that thing being inside you.

You watch as he rubs himself on you, coating him with your slick. You gasp at the feeling of friction whenever he hits your clit and couldn't come to ignore his little grunts of pleasure.

James slid into you, bullying his cock into you halfway. He’d sigh at the feeling of how tight you were around him. Wet walls encapsulating him as he’d groan at how much he’d missed this feeling. You however, felt the stretch as you gripped onto the sheets. Legs shakingly wrapped around his torso.

He continued to bottom out, forcing his way into you. Hearing the audible squelch that came from you and James from doing so. You hissed at sensation, feeling so filled up as you place an arm covering your eyes arching your back.

-And that’s when something happened.

As you were still adjusting to his size, he quickly pulled out and slammed into you.

James' rapid thrust did not stop. His balls hit you each time he went in and out. He was completely infatuated looking at your body, watching your breasts bounce everytime he did that. You easily accepted his cock because of how drenched your little pussy was. He treated you if you were a fleshlight, something to be taken out on.

“Wa-it-! Too -rough!” You wail, not used to the fast pace. Your hips couldn't keep up with the pace as they quivered, having yourself being pounded by this man. Was it supposed to sting this much?

He ignored your request, drinking up the site of you as he let out a suppressed moan. James watched as your expression grew on your face, showing how lewd you were. Gripping you by your waist he fucks yourself onto him as he plunges into you. More focused on the heat of the moment than the lasting consequences.

Skin slapping echoed off the walls of the room. You try to get a hold of yourself, but your body was reacting in different ways. Your sloppy cunt leaked out onto the messy bed sheets, dirtying the vicinity more. You felt your pelvis rub against his, which already got sticky from you. So many moans left your mouth, but you can’t help but wonder what was going on in James' mind for him to be treating you in this way with the little amount of thought you had left.

“Hah..—You’re -driving me crazy,” James’ exhaled in between grunts having a tighter hold on you. He leaned his head down to your chest and latched onto your nipples. Sucking hard onto your tit as if he was expecting you to lactate out of nowhere or something.

Your head rolled back into the pillows, getting so much stimulation as your body jolted from his assault. The way James treated you during sex was like a cheap hooker and you couldn’t help but feel disgusting for loving all of it. Your legs at this point were in the air and about to give up. You just needed more time to experience this, but based off the way there was buildup of pressure in your core, it wouldn’t last too long.

His saliva coated your chest as he managed to hit the same rigid point in your walls. You let out the most salacious sound as you bucked your hips into him, urging James to do it again. Everytime he managed to grind himself against that one spot you’d tense up and clench around him with your gummy walls. All this time he was holding off the urge to release right in you. You were too good for a guy like him.

James had to reciprocate in one way or the other, so he moved one of his hands from your waist, trailing down to your pelvic region. He got his hands lubricated in your hot slick, and began circling your bundle of nerves sending you ablaze. You tighten around him like a vice, feeling yourself gushing all over his cock. He managed to try and go as deep as he could go, as if he was trying to reach your stomach.

Pleasure hit him like a flood. Warm ropes of semen filled you as he groaned, waiting for his load to empty inside of you.

You feel the substance flow into you. Suddenly, realization hits you and began pressing your hands on his chest.

“-James’ pull-out!” You urged quickly, unsure if Plan-B was available around these parts of town. Even so, James wouldn’t budge off of you. He instead gave a few pumps, riding out his orgasm while rubbing your clit, coaxing you to your bliss in which you quickly followed.

“I’m-!” You sob with a hoarse voice. You held onto James’ shoulders for stability reaching your peak. All the buildup crashes down on you as a pulse is sent all the way from your spine, making you bend your back from the mattress. Milky fluid bubbles out of the seams around his cock. You almost get knocked out from how powerful it was. Crashing onto the sheets.

You both stay in silence, catching your expirated breaths trying to regain yourselves. You hear James heavy breathing as he rests on top of you, engulfing you in a hug.

Moonlight shunned through the windows, being the only source of light in the room. You couldn’t make out his face but he clung onto really hard. Your face went cold after the afterglow washed over. James just came inside of you.

You tried to get him off but he was too heavy, his grip increased more. Almost enough to bruise you. You felt warm splotches on your shirt, looking down at James, beginning to apprehend your situation.

“Mary..” He crooned, burying his face into your chest. “Mary..”

authors note ︵ ✦ Didn’t see that much works for Silent Hill 2 so I thought I’d contribute! Interpret the ending however you like, first fic! Once I get my AO3 account, I’ll probably post this..

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Could we get a fic where Retro's sick?

I feel like after Retro came into the Vees' lives that the trio would basically forget how to do the tasks Retro took over and enter full blown panic mode if Retro ever got sick.

Not a fic, but here’s some ideas as to how it’d go!

-When Retro gets sick, they are dying from like, everything. Remember, sea bunnies have high tolerance to poisons toxins, and I’m pretty sure, germs. Like everything else with Retro, it doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s bad.

-they are super sensitive to everything. From touch, to sound, to smell, taste and seeing. The lights have to be dim.

-they hate bright lights (Vox has to dim his screen and Val’s not allowed to bring a lamp) silence will probably lead to crying, they’ll need some background noises. Static or ambience will do the trick.

-above all else? They cannot be trusted to be left alone.

-Retro wants food, but their stomach hurts. They specifically want the food that only they can cook, so they can’t even have the food they’re craving because they can’t cook because they’re sick.

-they want cuddles, hugs, and kisses but can’t have any because touching them is the equivalent to touching an actual sea bunny- which means you’ll be poisoned. Vox is the only one who’s immune because he’s biomechanical.

-They sleep walk and hum a bit, which terrifies Valentino. They’ll wander around and try to clean, but it’s just a bunch of stumbling and half hearted tunes. They try to take a shower but can’t manage on their own and end up calling Vox in for back up (He’d be watching the cameras in their room and realize when they’ve been in there for too long)

-Retro will probably be very clingy and whiny, on the verge of tears at all times. They want love and affection but they can’t have it! They just want love and snuggles. Being sick sucks.

-Alastor comes over when he finds out, much to Voxs dismay. He cooks, gets Niffty to help clean (Val is stuck in Voxs office, or leaves the tower altogether, trying to avoid her wrath) and Alastor stays with Retro a good amount of the time. He plays little show tunes and sets up a radio in their room so they always have some music or white noise to keep them company if he isn’t around.

-Vox visits as often as he can manage, trying to soothe Retro. He sings little lullabies sometimes, giving them little kisses and assuring them it’ll be okay.

-Retro likes the hum of Voxs TV static (and the noises his TV head makes in general) better than the same tunes playing on the radio on repeat. They’re grateful that Alastor is helping and was thoughtful enough to gift it to them, but the sound of Voxs static is more familiar and comforting to them.

-Velvette gets stuck with laundry, and she soon realizes why Retro is always complaining about Val’s outfits. She’s also very stressed and panicked and constantly asking Vox how Retro is holding up.

-Val is in charge of cooking and doing dishes, when Alastors not around. There are notably fewer glasses broken than usual when he’s cooking, since he’s making an attempt to keep calm and quiet so Retro can rest.

-Vox doesn’t take on many more responsibilities, he’s with Retro most of the time. If he’s forced to actually go to work, he’ll spend the entire time worrying and doing research to find out what he can do to help.

[moon-fics]

The Lime Light (prologue)

A/n: I had to reupload this bc I messed up some editing but now it's up for good!

Summary: After disappearing from the spotlight you finally return. However, a rough night and a scandalous paparazzi photo causes you to forge a new PR relationship with the beloved actor, Peter Parker.

Rating: PG 13

The light is too bright in the questionably damp room as your agent's, Elizabeth Allen, voice blurs into the background. Stress drones out all noise from the outside world, filling your ears and mind with tv static. You rub your forehead to ease the unsteady feeling inside, your heart beating louder than a drum. 

"So, you'll do it right?" Liz asks, her voice full of hope. You know that you've been letting her down recently, avoiding roles that would boost your audience. "You can't keep turning down roles or they'll stop requesting you," She warns, wagging a finger at you.

If she was anyone else you'd snap at her, telling her you just aren't feeling the role. However, you both know you've been using that excuse for months and she's too sweet of a woman to yell at. 

It's a good plot, one that would win awards if done right. A love story with tragedy that isn't expected until the last act. A girl in love with a man with a double life, but she's in love with his secret identity and hates the man behind the mask. It's cliche beyond belief, but almost everything has already been done in Hollywood. 

"Have they gotten anyone relevant in the cast?" You ask with a heavy sigh, sitting up straight in the chair. You're now alert and invested in the conversation, at least as much as you can be. "I mean, I'd rather not work with a cast full of new faces," It's a harsh thing to say, especially since you started out in the same spot as them.

Liz nods, a burst of energy coming through her, “So you’re actually interested?” She squeaks as you nod in hopes it’ll satisfy her. It's the first time in a while you've shown interest in any gig she's gotten you, which to her, is a huge deal. She quickly shuffles through a file which you can see contains an out of order script. 

"Here we go," She hums, placing a paper with a list of names on it. You hesitantly reach for it, sliding it off her wooden desk. It's covered in scratches from her pen pressing too hard on paper, a few coffee stains as well. You smooth out the paper, starting on the first name. 

Felicia Hardy is the first name you recognize and you're surprised she isn't the lead. Instead she's stuck as the supporting actress who eventually dies off to progress the plot. From what you've heard about her, she'll throw a stink about it but eventually agree to her character's fate.

Your eyes scan over names of actors you've neither met nor heard of. You're relieved when you finally land on Harry Osborn but it's gone when you see a question mark drawn next to his name. That could mean many things but the two most likely is that he either hasn't decided or the casting director is still looking.

"Is Harry still dropping roles after what happened?" You ask, glancing up from the paper. You should know the answer, you should be asking Harry himself. But after witnessing something as gruesome as his incident, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him once he was discharged. Liz is no longer sitting in front of you, instead she's organizing her desk. She's nervous, why wouldn't she be? 

"From what I've heard from his agent," You forget that she has connections, that she's no longer a young woman struggling to keep actors. Just like how you're no longer a child sitting in a chair you can't fit in; your mother making sure you can't speak for yourself. Her words still echo in your mind telling you to cry on que and to never get close to your co-stars. "He's debating giving up acting entirely." She shrugs, tightening her bun. 

The news doesn't surprise you in the slightest, what happened was traumatizing. Even though you had only watched what happened you still have flashes of broken bone and blood on an expensive set. Even now you cringe at the thought. 

"I know you get along with Harry and I really think he might accept the role!" She cheers up, placing her hand on her desk. You wait for an explanation, already knowing she'll tell you without a prompt. "His best friend, Peter Parker, is the lead role." She squeals. 

Liz is a huge fan of Peter Parker and often laments about how she regrets not signing him to her company,at the time she thought he was a one shot wonder. He's a brilliant actor who has a great streak in the industry and a huge following of fan girls. Somehow every movie he's been in has been a hit, something an actor can only dream of. 

As much as you want to continue to pretend like you aren't known by millions, you have to suck it up. You can already feel the all nighters and coffee on your breath. As the buzzing in your mind slowly begins you hold out your hand.

"Hand me the script."

-  -  -

You stare at the boy in front of you, at least a year older maybe two if you’re generous. You’re examining him from afar, imagining how he looks at every angle just so you can get a feel for him. You’ve never worked with a boy around your age, not in such a serious role like this.

His hair is well kept and he never leaves his father’s side. A part of you knows he only got this role because his father is directing the movie, I mean, Norman Osborn always gets what he wants. So why wouldn’t he want his son to become just as famous as him?

You’re so transfixed on taking note of his every feature you hardly notice your mother approaching you. Your first big role and she’s not letting you out of her sight, she calls it a precaution, but you know she just wants to keep her strings attached to you. Even at the ripe age of thirteen you understand her love is purely based on your achievements. 

Eventually, you’re thrusted onto set to practice your lines with the boy… and holy shit you’re nervous. You’re too new to acting to have any fame get into your head but you have no clue how this boy will act and honestly, you’re terrified he’ll get you recasted.

As you approach the set decorated to be a middle class kitchen your hands are sweating. You’re lucky Mr. Osborn has allowed you to hold onto your script or you might forget every line even after the hours of late night practices. Before you know it you’re standing a few feet away from the red, no brown, wait maybe both haired boy. 

“I’m Harry,” The boy speaks first, holding out a hand. He isn’t even holding a script, he’s confident he knows his lines which only makes you feel worse. You hesitate to shake his hand, worried he might crush your hand or secretly tell you how out of place you are. “I heard this is your first time in a position like this!” He continues, a genuine and bright smile spreads across his lips.

Finally, you use your voice and take his hand, “I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” You’re taken aback by how soft his skin is and how he doesn’t insult you for being nervous. Something about him is warm, he’s like a fall candle that you light at night when you can’t focus. 

“You shouldn’t be nervous just because my dad is the director. He can’t replace you,” He assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You don’t understand what he means, actors get replaced all the time for the simplest reasons. “I specifically chose you to work with and my father won’t risk my career over something as small as forgetting lines!” He gestures to your script, his head tilting to the side. A strand of hair falls out of place and suddenly you’re reminded that he’s not some big shot, he’s a kid same as you.

With a new determination in your chest you give him a solid nod. You feel special, you feel wanted for the first time in a while. Harry chose you to work with out of who knows how many other girls. He must see something in you, something he wants to work with. With a yell of ‘action’ and a snapping sound, the flame between friends is ignited.

[cemeteryspider]

Dearie~ Part 5

Alastor x Singer! Reader

Summary: The end of a deal, and a new beginning.

Trigger Warnings: Abusive Relationship, Recovery, Emotional Distress, Trauma, and Captivity

Word Count: 952

Previous

Alastor ascended the stairs to the control room of Vox Tower, watching each TV along the way static and eventually the circuit board go up in flames.

His grin widened with each step and each television went up in flames. It meant that his plan was working. Approaching the door he pulled on his overcoat and straightened his sleeves, and pushed the door open.

In the center of the room Carmilla was smiling over Velvette and Zestial over Valentino. Vox was on the ground, his screen cracked by all the blows to the main frame.

"How bold Alastor, y̴̍ͅo̸͑ͅṳ̵̂ ̴͓̊k̴̳͝n̴͉̏o̶̦̽w̵̖͝ ̵͔̉I̸͉͌ ̵̲͐s̴̤͗t̵̢͑i̵̭̓l̸͎̂l̷͉͝ ̴̢͛ô̸̭ẃ̷̱n̷͖̋ ̵̺̑h̵̯̓ẻ̵͜r̸̘͝ ̶̡̾s̷̱̒o̶̟͊ú̵̫l̸͎̏ ̸̢̀r̴̼͋i̸͓͌g̸̠̎h̵͕͂t̷̨͠?̶̥͗?" Vox's desperate pleas stumbled from his lips, a last-ditch effort to salvage what remained of his crumbling empire.

"Ah yes, that is what I've come here to discuss. Let's make a d̷͓̀e̵̛͇á̴̦l̵͍̑", A triumphant grin spread across Alastor's face as he extended his hand to Vox, offering a deal that echoed with the satisfaction of a well-executed plan, "My Dearie, for the remains of your empire. Sound fair?"

Vox's gaze shifted to Velvette and Val, their cries of pain piercing through the air. The cost of their agony weighed heavily on him, a stark reminder of the consequences he faced, and everything he still had to lose. 

"Yes, Alastor, I'll take it" Vox grabbed Alastor's clawed hand and shook. The contract he made years ago with you burned up into a green flame, and a new contact appeared before him which with a flourish he signed.

"Good, I'll be seeing you old friend" Alastor disappeared into the shadows along with Zestial, and Carmilla stalked out of the room laughing.

~~~

The shaking stopped and after a moment you opened your eyes and removed the hands from your neck. The chains you continuously felt around your wrists and neck vanished from your senses.

You heard light footsteps approach your door, and you summoned any strength left in your bones to get your voice ready.

However, when the door gently opened it revealed Alastor, and not your former captor. A mixture of relief and joy erupted in a cry from your throat as you stumbled to your feet, rushing into Alastor's waiting embrace.

You allowed your body to be lifted from the floor and wrapped your limbs around Alastor. He twirled you around in his arms and took a deep breath.

You allowed Alastor to guide you through the shadows to a place you'd never seen. A bright lobby of a hotel materialized around you and your eyes adjusted to the light.

For the first time in a while you felt perfectly safe, and for Alastor he could feel the weight of the world slip off of his shoulders.

You untangle yourself from his arms and look around and the rundown hotel lobby. A crappy bar, an ugly reception desk, and a small Television surrounded by couches. The lone television in the rundown lobby sent shivers down your spine, but the reassuring presence of Alastor beside you comforted your unease.

~~~

After a couple of day recuperating in Alastor's room, now your bedroom as well, and his recording studio you felt comfortable enough to meet the others who helped you.

Charlie Morningstar, the Princess of Hell, surpassed your expectations. Her infectious joy filled the air as she animatedly spoke about the Hotel and her altruistic aspirations. Alastor was about to interrupt her, but you just put your hand in his. Looking up at him, your eyes conveyed content with the conversation. You could listen to the girl speak all day, just for her passion.

Vaggie tried to be as accommodating as she could. She constantly checked in on you and allowed you to talk to her about anything on your mind. You liked her company and allowed her to talk to you about her past. She talked to you about being used as a weapon, you knew there was something she wasn't telling you, but you wouldn't push.

Husk was wary of you, but understood that his life became much easier and much better when you came about. You convinced Alastor to loosen the chains that held him and Niffy in his service. You couldn't convince him to let them go completely but Husk saw a visible difference in his "employer".

You and Angel became fast friends. Within his contact with Vox, he managed to secure Angel's safety. You allowed yourself to trust him with the worst of the abuse you faced at the hands of the Vees, and he trusted you with his abuse from Valentino. You bonded through the trauma you shared, and through your shared love of performance.

Collaborating with everyone, you transformed the hotel's basement into a haven, a small club that defied the typical Pride Ring establishments. No loud music, no strippers or dancers, no drugs, only a small bar with Husk's expertise behind it.

The stage was the star of the space. You and Angel frequently were the celebrities of the night, singing for hours until eventually the club closed down for the night., out of respect for Charlie and the guests of the hotel.

Your presence and the club allowed more patrons into the hotel, and more and more sinners were given a chance at redemption.

~~~

"Dearie, you have no idea how much I missed you"

"Al, I was gone for an hour to help Angel clean up" You giggled at his remarks, and tucked yourself into bed beside him.

"I am aware, but I would stop at nothing to make you happy"

"I know that dear. Al?"

"Yes, Mon Cherie?"

"I love you"

“I love you too, Dearie," Alastor whispered, his words carrying the weight of their shared struggles and triumphs.

[livpaige]

crying in the light of the tv static

[viviseawrites]

So I’m writing this now, apparently, like I don’t have three other projects I’m working on. Oops! 

Steddie Twister AU 

Part 1 — Before the Storm | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

When Steve Harrington is 16 years old, the course of one storm changes his life’s trajectory. He wakes up that morning without knowing, could never have known, and that’s the problem. That’s the start of it.

Because Steve Harrington is a dumb high school boy at that point. He cares about his reputation and his sports and his car and his hair and, inexplicably, Nancy Wheeler. He’s never let himself care about someone else before. 

So he breaks when he realizes Nancy is cheating on him with Jonathan Byers, the creep who took creepy stalker photos of them under the guise of “capturing the storm clouds” behind Steve’s house. 

Steve acts out. He’s an asshole. He knows that. Tommy and Carol encourage him, play into his insecurities and vulnerabilities, and before he can even think, he and Jonathan are throwing punches at each other in an alleyway. Jonathan kicks his ass. And Steve probably deserves it.

He needs to apologize. So he heads out to the Byers place, only to find Nancy and Barb there too, and they’re all arguing and shouting and no one hears the wind chimes acting up. None of them notice the TV screen fading to static. 

Jonathan claims he and Nancy are just working on a project for their science class; Nancy backs him up, but Barb accuses her of ignoring their friendship too; Will Byers slips out into the backyard. 

And Steve Harrington stands in the middle of that house and has no idea what’s about to hit them.

Barb stomps out of the house; she’s crying, and Nancy wants to run after her, but Steve steps in her way and demands to know what the fuck is happening. The tornado siren cuts through the argument like butter. Fear strikes down their spines. 

Nancy darts forward like she’s going to follow Barb, wide-eyed and terrified, and Steve has just enough sense to grab her around the middle and bodily haul her toward the Byers storm shelter. 

She screams and beats at his back, but Steve won’t let go, can’t let go, and just prays Barb finds somewhere to hunker down. Jonathan leads them, nervously watching the lights flicker in the house. 

It takes them a moment to realize Will is missing. Jonathan runs back out, slipping by Steve, and he makes a split second decision to try and catch him. Will’s smart, he says, he’ll find somewhere, you can’t go out there, this is fucking stupid. 

But he goes to bring Jonathan back anyway. The wind howls like a terrible monster. Debris flies through the air. The sky is a sickly shade of gray and green and horrifying purple, red. Unnatural. Hail pelts the ground.

Steve finds him struggling to pick up Will’s unconscious body in the backyard, because the kid got hit by a branch. Nancy saves Steve from the same fate. She’s still looking for Barb, head on a swivel, desperate, as they all flee back to safety. 

They find out later that Barb never made it. And so starts the obsession.

[meiozis]

parallels & almosts

♡ pairing: vernon x reader

♡ genre: friends to lovers, light angst

♡ word count: 10k

♡ warnings: slight description of panic attacks, alcohol consumption, slow burn-ish lol, occasional cursing, a little sad bc i wrote it in winter, yearning

a/n: i wrote this last christmas inspired by my first sem at uni, and finally got around to proofreading :) hope you like it, and if you have any thoughts about it id love to know <3

masterlist

♡ ♡ ♡

One day you’ll inevitably fall for someone. Someone, who will touch you for the first time like no one ever did before, and maybe no one ever will again. Full of love, admiration, and tenderness. Your chest is going to fill with pain and unending yearning, a fleeting moment that’s going to feel like nothing and everything whenever you think about it. And you’ll fall hard, hard enough that if any of it was real it might break your body in unspeakable ways.

When you wake up the next day you realise you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime.

Then it’s over.

You’re sitting in the bathroom, staring at the uneven paint where the tiles meet the wall, wondering if you could ever manage to crawl into one of the cracks there and disappear forever. No clichéd metaphor seems fitting enough, even though you understand you are not the first, and you won’t be the last either, to experience heartbreak quite like this. Something that squishes your heart until it feels numb, catches in your throat in a way that you can’t even find the words to explain the pain, a constant gloss over your eyes, like tears you can’t blink away.

Your upstairs neighbour is just a little too loud, the static of the tv humming just a little too much, drunk people screaming outside just a little too close, and it all feels so overbearing. You close your eyes, skin buzzing with all the loudness of the inside and outside combined. It’s hard to focus on one thing when it feels like the whole world is happening at once without you in it.

Then the phone rings.

The world stops, but your breathing quickens as panic takes over. It’s all so much in a way that seems impossible to deal with. At least for now, in this passing moment, even if it feels like an eternity. The ringing gets more and more deafening, your breaths quickening, and you know it won’t stop. It never really does. The cacophony of sounds slowly fades out, the only thing you can hear is your own body; your heartbeat, your own breaths, tired gasps for air. It’s okay. You claw at your skin, anything to distract yourself from the ongoing panic attack, even if you know it won’t help. It never does.

It’s okay.

Tears burn the corners of your eyes, even though you don’t know how long you’ve been crying. The world is slowly closing in, and it’s just you on the cold bathroom floor at 2am.

Is it okay?

It’s silent. So suddenly and so loudly, it almost knocks the air back into your lungs, as if the ground is being pulled from underneath your feet. The hot tears suddenly feel ice cold against your burning skin, and exhaustion crashes down on you. The sink is dripping again.

You’ll have to get it fixed.

Everything.

It’s a slow process to drag yourself from the bathroom to bed. The rain knocks politely on the window and you’re tempted to let it in, but instead just stare out into the cold night. The snow is slowly melting away, and you wish it washed away all the thoughts plaguing your mind too. It’s never that easy, you’ve always found it hard to let go of routines. The habit of waking up, turning over to give him a kiss, making coffee together. You don’t even like coffee that much, but for him you would’ve learned to love anything. For him, you even learned to love him. With all the pain and hurt. 

Despite him, you loved him.

It’s all gone, and it’s okay.

-

“You didn’t pick up all weekend,” Vernon says in his usual nonchalant tone without as much as looking in your direction.

After you finally managed to calm down, sleep seemed much more inviting than looking at your phone. The next few days felt so peaceful in isolation, that it wouldn’t have been right to disturb it.

“Sorry.”

He only hums in response, quietly scribbling away in his notebook next to you. His hair is hidden behind one of his many beanies, one earphone in his ear, the other one between the two of you on the desk as a silent offering from his part. It’s the middle of the lecture, but you wordlessly take it anyway, knowing well that you won’t pay attention today no matter what.

Vernon is hard to read, even if you’ve been friends for a few years now. He mostly keeps to himself, barely showing if something is going on in his life. He occasionally lets you in on the big things, like when his sister graduated high school, or when his family got a new cat. You weren’t completely sure if he shared these things with you out of common courtesy - you were glad when he did anyway. He was a little more curious and attentive when you told him about something, but never asked on his own.

Vernon knows your coffee and takeout orders by heart, and you do his. Even if he’s a worse texter than talker, you still very much enjoy his company, and mostly the ability to exist together in comfortable silence.

You get lost in thought, only coming back to reality when your favourite song quietly starts playing in your ear. Vernon is putting his phone back down, giving you a small smile before returning to the paper in front of him. His eyes twinkle in the cheap fluorescent light of the lecture hall, and even if the thought makes your chest feel tight, he does look beautiful even at 9am on a Monday.

He furrows his eyebrows, tapping his pen against the desk to the beat of the music. You rest your head on top of your barely started notes, glancing at Vernon from the corner of your eye before getting lost in thought for the rest of the lecture. You only notice that it’s over when the boy next to you is already leaving, gently tapping your shoulder and giving you a small wave  before walking off into the cold fog of the morning. The professor starts turning the lights off, and you scurry to gather your belongings, making your way to the exit. Suddenly you hear music in your ear once again, and you realise you forgot to give Vernon his earphones back.

However, music means he’s near, so you try and remember which way he went, and spot him a few benches over in front of the building. He’s standing in a lopsided circle with his friends, their laughter visible in the crisp air. You shuffle over to the group, standing a little awkwardly next to Vernon, who’s too invested in whatever conversation they’re having to notice your arrival. One of the boys spots you, and you give him a brief smile before deciding to finally tap Vernon’s shoulder. He quickly turns to you, the corners of his lips quirking up just enough for you to notice. You don’t want to overstay your welcome, so you quickly take the earphone and hand it back to him. His mouth turns into an O shape, and you can feel your cheeks warming up, so you look back down at your palm to avoid staring at his face even longer. He takes it from your hand, his cold fingers igniting fire in their wake. His eyes search for yours, and as soon as they meet you feel a little wobbly, a little warm, and a lot vulnerable.

You only decided on attending any classes you had that day to avoid sitting at home even longer, stewing in your own sadness and tears. When sitting in your bed that morning you felt as if you’d be okay, as if you’ll be able to get through all this without anyone knowing or noticing. As Vernon’s eyes bore into yours, you just knew that he could see everything. You were never sure how close he considered you, and you were always too scared to assume that you are close in the first place.

Your knees feel like they’re about to give out, so you shake your head a little, trying to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks behind your scarf. 

“There’s gonna be a party later tonight, if you uh- If you wanna come,” Vernon tells you.

“It’s Monday,” it almost comes out as a question, eliciting a laugh from the boy.

“I’ll text you the address later, in case you change your mind. I’ll be there.”

His smile always makes everything a little easier, so you nod and turn to leave. For a second he looks like he might say something else, a concerned look on his face, but he fades back into the conversation instead.

As soon as you’re out of earshot Vernon’s got multiple curious eyes on him, waiting for some sort of an explanation. They all know you to some degree of course, but they haven’t seen their friend like this in quite some time.

“Dude,” Seungkwan is the first one to voice his thoughts.

“What?”

“Did we miss something?'' His tone is enough to make Vernon’s eyes widen. “Just a heads up, I’m gonna keep an eye on you tonight. And I’m gonna be updating the group chat constantly, too.”

A round of laughter and general agreement follows Seungkwan’s statement, and though Vernon loves his friends, he has to admit that they can be too much sometimes. Even if he considers himself a private person, he does still keep them up to date most of the time, except at times like this. At times when not only his feelings are concerned.

He could see even during class how out of it you were, certainly he could, but he didn’t want to bring up something you were not comfortable sharing on your own. So all he did was slide a lone earphone over, and put on a playlist he made for you. Of course, he would never tell you that - or anyone for that matter. His feelings and his playlist were kept as his most treasured secrets, even if they’re only meaningful to him. He would be lying to himself if he tried to deny the crush he’s been nursing on you since you met in your first Monday morning class, sitting in the same spot as today. He immediately memorised your name during the quick introduction game the professor insisted on, making use of it as much as he could during class, and right after, too. Grabbing coffee seemed like the logical choice at the time, texting all his friends for recommendations as soon as he could. Once class was over he made his move, striking up conversation with you, albeit a little awkwardly. Surprisingly even to him, you agreed, and shortly after you found yourselves at a small café just off campus. The impromptu hangout felt almost too comfortable for it to be your first time meeting, and Vernon couldn’t think about the way you laughed at his terrible jokes without getting butterflies in his stomach, not even years later.

He later had to face the fact that you’re taken, and even if it broke his heart a little, he enjoyed your company a lot more than for something like this to keep him from you. So here you are, almost 3 years later, still looking at each other with the same unmistakable tenderness that only you two seem to ignore. Always smiling brighter, laughing louder, and whispering even more quietly when the other is around.

You are his first love, even if he would never admit it to anyone, not even himself.

- 

The dim orange street light illuminates the kitchen in a way that squeezes your soul just a little too tight, making you feel nostalgic for things that maybe never really happened. Snowflakes land on the window and melt away slowly, racing down the glass. Lately it only snows at night, so you decide to stay up late, the party Vernon invited you to long forgotten.

Tonight it’s a little different somehow. The air feels heavier than usual, and the streets are fully empty, which is an exceptionally rare sight this close to campus. You open the window, and climb up to sit on the sill, dangling your feet into the night. The crippling pressure on your chest doesn’t seem to cease, and you wish to be able to cry and scream, let it all out while it’s dark and quiet.

In the distance you spot a figure slowly treading through the snow, dressed in all black with their hands in their pockets. Their steps are completely silent except for the occasional crunch of the fresh snow. The knowledge that someone else is just this restless at the same time as you brings an odd sense of peace. Wordless company on such a lonely night.

For a fleeting moment you feel like everything’s going to be okay.

That night you fall asleep wondering what it’d be like to hold Vernon’s hands on a 2am walk. You dream about your kitchen window being gone.

-

Vernon waits for you patiently at the party that night, checking his phone way too often to make sure he doesn’t miss any of your calls or texts. A few drinks and too much teasing from his friends later he’s already getting ready to leave when some girl sidles up to him, giggling drunkenly right into his face. He remembers her from one of his classes, but not her name, and he doesn’t bother asking either.

“Heeey,” the girl chimes. “Are you uh- are you here uh- alone?” She stumbles a little, both with her words and her steps.

Vernon hesitates, but nods anyway.

“Really? So am I, that’s uh-” Vernon gets nervous that the girl might end up ruining his shoes. “That’s so cool. Wanna, do you wanna-”

She closes her eyes for a second and blindly reaches out for something to steady herself, so he grabs her arms on instinct.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re sooo cute, come with me, please?” She tries to pout at Vernon, but it comes out as almost every other emotion instead.

He shuffles through his choices mentally, deciding to make his way back into the living room with the girl clinging to him for dear life. The mind numbing music makes him wince a little, and he makes his way upstairs as fast as possible to get away from the hardcore party scene, not really in the mood for the smell of sweat and alcohol combined with the loudest room he could imagine in this moment. He manages to find an empty room on the third try, having seen a lot more naked people than he’s comfortable with in the span of the past few minutes.

He helps the girl lay down, and she mumbles something similar to a “don’t go, you’re so cute”, which Vernon decides to ignore, and turns her on her side instead - just in case she gets sick. He quickly makes his leave, and he can hear retching from the other side of the closed door as soon as he’s outside. It makes him wanna leave as soon as possible, so he does just that, bidding bye to some of his friends before vanishing into the dark. He’s never been so happy about silence before.

The night is tranquil, even his own footsteps barely audible as he makes his way home. When he hears rustling he looks around to find the source, finding someone climbing into the windowsill in a nearby building. He gets worried, immediately wondering if he should call someone, or maybe yell out to the stranger to stop, the 5th floor is a long way from the ground, it’s not worth it. He decides against it when he sees the stranger quietly settle down, but watches for a bit longer anyway before deciding to continue his journey. 

That night he falls asleep wondering if he should’ve texted you, if you’re even okay.

He dreams about the stranger falling from the window in slow motion, and wakes up in cold sweat before they could hit the ground.

-

You find yourself spending more and more nights in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the fridge and lone passersby keeping you company as you watch the world go by. It was peaceful in a terrible way, one which you were sure was no good for you. That window became your survival, even if it made your chest ache with the sights it presented occasionally. Some nights were different. Some nights your phone buzzed to life with a new text from Vernon, asking about your day or just trying to make conversation. With how unavailable you made yourself he suddenly became better at texting than talking. You had to admit that it always made you a little sad when you didn’t receive his almost routinely ‘hey :)’ just a little past midnight. You always started by scowling him for being up late again, to which he responded by telling you the same.

It’s around 1am when your phone almost buzzes off the countertop.

Vernon: hey :)

Vernon: its finally snowing!!

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that the snowfall at night has been almost the only constant in your life lately.

Vernon: where r u???

Vernon: i know ur up we’re gonna go build a snowman

Vernon: dress warm!!

You’re about to force yourself to lie and turn him down, but something snaps inside of you and you find yourself asking for a location before hurriedly pulling on some warmer clothes. To your surprise he asks to meet in the park about a block from your complex, so you make your way over, waiting a few minutes for Vernon to arrive too.

He greets you with a warm smile, barely half his face visible from his beanie and scarf, his hands tucked deep in his pockets.

“Why are you even up this late?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“My roommates threw a party,” he closes his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, his breath drawing the prettiest shapes in the crisp air. “But I could be asking the same.”

“You could, but don’t,” he laughs at your response. “It’s really fucking cold tonight though, so let’s hurry up with that snowman.”

He grins at you and gently bumps his elbow into yours as you set off to find a good patch of snow. It starts out mellow, rolling snowballs around until you get to a size you’re happy with. However, Vernon gets bored quickly and decides to start targeting you with his snowballs instead. The park is quickly filled with your laughter and screaming, chasing each other around until you’re both too tired to run anymore. He flops down into the snow onto his back, sprawling all his limbs out. He’s still laughing quietly, interrupting himself with a scream when you throw one last snowball at his chest, half of the snow ending up in his face as it falls apart on impact. Your eyes widen as he jumps to his feet, an excited squeal leaving your lips when he sets off running in your direction. You try to make your escape, but of course he’s quicker and tackles you to the ground almost immediately. You both end up on your backs, your heads almost touching and the quiet night comes to life as you burst out in giggles almost in perfect harmony. 

“I think there’s a convenience store a few blocks away,” Vernon says once he’s calmed down enough to talk, and turns his head towards you.

“You hungry?” You move your gaze towards him, and suddenly his face is way too close - you could count his eyelashes or maybe get lost in his eyes forever. For a brief second it’s silent except for the pounding of your heart that you’re sure even he can hear.

“Yeah,” he whispers in response, not breaking eye contact. You swallow nervously and your eyes flicker to his lips. “I- Let’s go.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. Neither of you move.

You feel like even the world stops moving for a second, out of politeness, to give you time to think about what to do. You wonder what you’re so scared of, what is it about him that makes your brain short circuit with a single look. The thought of ruining your friendship with Vernon climbs to the front of your mind and suddenly it’s all you can think about. Your body moves on its own as you finally get up, dusting your clothes off and reaching down to help Vernon up. He stares at you dumbfounded, but takes your hand anyway and stands in front you in silence, watching you chew anxiously on your lower lip. Even if he doesn’t know all that’s been bothering you the past few weeks, he can clearly see that something isn’t quite right.

Suddenly you find himself in his embrace, his head squished to yours and his fingers tangled in the back of your coat. He holds you like this for a bit, playfully ruffling your hair when he finally pulls away.

“There’s nothing convenience store ramen can’t fix,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Especially since you’re paying,” you grin at him, and he only laughs at you, shaking his head a little. You never want this night to end.

The walk is quick and goes by in comfortable silence, only stealing glances at each other occasionally. You’re sitting under the flickering neon sign of the store, waiting for your ramen to finish cooking, Vernon almost falling asleep over his food. You offer him your couch for the night, but he politely declines, since surely the party must be over by now. You give him a small nod, poking away impatiently at your noodles, deciding to dig in whether it’s done or not, too hungry and tired to care. The clock above the cashier reads a little past 4am. 

With your stomachs full you’re standing outside the shop, mesmerised by the way the green neon highlights Vernon’s face. Even like this, he looks tired and almost a little sad. Your thoughts wander to how little he has said since you left the park, and it leaves a weird taste in your mouth.

“Thank you.” You spot the perplexed look in his eyes. “For tonight. It was… nice. So, thank you.”

He has way too much to say and way too little consciousness left in him for the night. He tries to string his thoughts together in an order so that they make sense, but the lack of sleep takes over and he only manages a tired smile. He can see something in your eyes that’s new to him, but he decides to save that conversation for another time.

Once you say your goodbyes you slowly make your way home, walking past the half finished snowman. Once you reach the other end of the park you let out a sigh and turn around. You pull your freezing hands from your pockets and get to work once again, rolling a head for the snowman and looking around for some twigs for the arms. You put on a few pebbles as decorations, a smile adorning the snowman’s face now. You take your phone and quickly snap a picture to send to Vernon, even though you’re sure he’s already fast asleep.

It’s past 5am once you get home, managing to fall asleep without tossing and turning for the first time in weeks. You don’t have a dream that night.

When Vernon stumbles through the front door he’s greeted by Seungkwan and Soonyoung watching some movie in the living room, probably half asleep as they don’t seem to notice his arrival. He takes off his shoes and coat, quietly moving towards his room when he hears a tired yawn from the couch. Seungkwan blinks at him sleepily, Vernon greeting him with a small wave that either goes unnoticed, or the boy really was asleep.

“You missed movie night,” Seungkwan croaks out. “What time is it anyways?”

“It’s really, really late. I just had to check on a friend.”

“A friend…” Seungkwan studies Vernon’s face. “You look like shit, dude.”

Vernon only looks back at him with a tired expression, letting out a low sigh before disappearing into his room. He flops down on his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He thinks back to your face so close to his, all the things he could’ve said and done. The moon peeks through his blinds, and he wonders if he kissed you would you have kissed him back.

He dreams about the feeling of your lips on his.

-

Vernon never replies to your finished snowman, and somehow it bothers you a lot more than it should. For the first time this winter the snow didn’t end up melting by the morning, and it’s even there covering the ground in a plush white layer a few days later.

It’s one of those nights again where the dark amplifies your loneliness, and you find yourself in the park again, sitting on a bench in front of your snowman. It’s leaning to the side a little, the daytime sun not taking mercy on it. You stare into its pebble eyes, your elbows resting on your knees and your chin in your palms - almost studying the little creature you made. You know it's going to melt and be gone in a few days, and the thought puts a frown on your face. You wish you never got attached to something so impermanent.

You check your phone for the time, but instead have to face a missed call and a message from Vernon. All it reads is “r u up?”, and you mentally cringe at the tinder-esque nature of his texting habits. You decide not to reply.

You get up to leave, but fix the snowman up before you do so, wrapping your scarf around its neck. You zip your coat up as high as possible and set off with silent steps. Being alone feels suffocating, even though you’re the one who turned Vernon down once again. It’s been weird seeing him around at school, only being able to think about how pretty he looks under cheap neon lights. He doesn’t make much of an effort to reach out either.

Later that week one of his friends invites you to some party he’s hosting, but you politely turn the offer down. You do end up buying a bottle of the cheapest grapefruit soju you can find that very same night, laying drunkenly on the floor and singing along to every song that comes on. You are glad that your phone is dead and you are too out of it to get up for the charger, because all you can think about is texting Vernon. It’s way past midnight when you finally feel well enough to get up, realising that you’ve been ignoring how hungry you are for the past few hours. The kitchen sounds like the worst place to be, so you get dressed and decide on the convenience store that Vernon showed you.

-

Vernon isn’t much for parties, but he realises that he’s in dire need of some socialisation, so when Mingyu invites him over he says yes without thinking. He regrets it just a little when he can hear the blaring music from outside the house, giving himself a mental pep talk before walking inside. He’s immediately met with a crowded room, barely able to squeeze past the swarm of sweaty bodies. Finding any of his friends seems impossible, but the kitchen is right on the other side of the living room, so he beelines there. He grabs a beer from the fridge, and almost jumps out of his skin when he closes the door to find someone standing right next to it, expectantly looking at him. The girl is familiar, but he can’t quite remember her.

“Hey,” she says with a shy smile. “I don’t think we’ve met, at least not when I’m sober.”

The memory suddenly hits him, and the look of realisation on his face makes the girl laugh. She does look different when she’s not about to throw up all over Vernon’s shoes and the floor.

“Oh yeah, that was… A night, for sure. Hi. I’m Vernon, by the way.”

He leans against the counter next to her and cracks his beer open. The girl reaches a free hand towards him, the other cradling a cup of something, and introduces herself as Seohyun. They make small talk for a while, both of them finishing their drinks before she asks Vernon if he wants to dance. He hesitates a little, but nods anyway, and she immediately grabs his hand with a giggle before pulling him into the crowd.

They dance like that, bodies pressed a little too close together, laughing over the music and singing along to every song they know. Vernon feels weird anyway, like something is missing, even if he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

He has no idea how long he’s been there when he finally spots Seungkwan in the kitchen, mixing multiple drinks at once. He excuses himself for a second from Seohyun and makes his way over to his friend to greet him. Seungkwan only nods at him, and the response puzzles Vernon.

“What?” Seungkwan asks when he notices Vernon silently staring at him.

“Nothing. Having fun?”

Once again, he only nods. Vernon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but doesn’t press on, knowing fully well that Seungkwan will eventually tell him whatever is going on.

“Have you seen Mingyu?” Vernon shakes his head no and watches as Seungkwan somehow lifts all the cups at once and disappears out of sight without as much as a bye. He wonders if he should’ve stayed home to sleep instead.

He finds Seohyun on the couch, her head lazily thrown back and her eyes glistening in the dim light. She flashes a small smile when she spots Vernon, gesturing for him to sit down.

“I’m getting kind of hungry,” she pouts at him, and he feels like this is his chance to get out.

“I know just the place.”

-

You’re waiting for your ramen to finish cooking, sitting in the window of the convenience store with the neon lights lazily blinking down at you. Those 5 minutes feel like forever, but you’re not hungry enough to eat raw noodles.

The street in front of you is peaceful, even though there’s barely any snow left outside once again. You wonder how your snowman is doing. You wonder how Vernon is doing.

You look up at the clock above the cashier and notice that your food is finally done. Loud giggling grabs your attention from outside the store, and you wish you got more drunk so that you couldn’t be sitting here right now. Vernon’s eyes bore into your own through the glass, an unreadable expression on his face. The girl next to him is obviously lost as to what she’s witnessing, but doesn’t say anything. You quickly gather your belongings, grabbing your dinner too, before rushing out of the store. You glance at the boy one more time, and even though he’s clearly about to say something you rush off home. Tears blur your vision and leave burning trails along your face, but you just want to be home already.

Vernon is too stunned to move, only coming back to reality when he hears Seohyun’s voice.

“Who was that?”

“Just a friend.” A friend. “Let’s go eat.”

Seohyun beams at him, but he wishes he ran after you.

-

New Year’s Eve comes a lot quicker than you wish it did. Fireworks start going off way before midnight, and you can’t help but be annoyed. Maybe more sad than anything else, not really knowing how to feel excited about the new year. It used to be something you found exciting, but over the years it turned into peak isolation and anxiety season for you. Not out of choice, of course, life just happens sometimes.

You haven’t talked to Vernon at all since the convenience store. You haven’t really talked to anyone lately, except for a short call with your family to wish them happy holidays. You weren’t sure what went wrong, or where, but winter always brings a crippling feeling of cosmic insignificance into your life. Loneliness slowly turns into a black hole that absorbs all light and happiness in your life, and you find it harder and harder with each passing day to reach out. By the end of the year the light is barely a pinhole, and you’re sitting in the kitchen once again, watching the fireworks in silence.

-

Vernon can barely recognize their apartment after Seungkwan and Soonyoung are done with decorating, even less once it’s filled with music and all their friends. He doesn’t know most of them, but for one night he can find it in himself to be okay with this arrangement. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he finds a text from Seohyun telling him that she’s outside. Vernon takes the elevator down to the first floor to let the girl in. He unlocks the door for her, and she hugs him with the brightest smile on her face. Guilt immediately floods Vernon’s chest, but he doesn’t want to back away now, after all he was the one who invited Seohyun to this party. They make their way up in silence and enter the bustling apartment, Seohyun finding Vernon’s hand quickly at the overwhelming sight.

It’s still a few hours until midnight and Vernon wonders why he ever thought this to be a good idea.

A few drinks and a lot more dancing later he already feels worn out. He’s almost a hundred percent sure that there’s people doing the worst thing imaginable in his room, and the thought alone makes him want to leave for the rest of the night. He’s way too close to actually ditching all his friends and his sort-of-date, when Seungkwan suddenly yells over the music and the crowd, telling everyone to get to the rooftop. Vernon’s never been so relieved to hear his friend yell. He lets the crowd go out first, Seohyun still by his side. They leave last, Vernon making sure to close the door behind them. He catches a mischievous glint in Seohyun’s eyes, and she challenges him to a race to the staircase at the other end of the building. He lets out a tired sigh, but the girl tugs on his arm - and possibly his heartstrings - in a way he can’t resist. So they run, giggling and being just a little too loud.

It’s only a few minutes until the new year when they finally join the others, out of breath and still laughing. He can see Seohyun’s lips moving, but can’t make out any of it over the noise of all other people present. Suddenly the cacophony turns into clear chanting, and he can faintly recognise Seungkwan who yells “ten” first. They join in to the countdown, fireworks already going off in the distance.

Three. Two. One.

The crowd erupts in cheers, fireworks going off all around them as they enter a new year. Seohyun looks up into Vernon’s eyes, getting on her tiptoes and gently grabbing the collar of his coat. It feels wrong, so wrong, to lead someone on like this, and somehow Vernon still decides to kiss her, his hands settling on her waist as their lips meet. She smiles into the kiss, one of her hands gently moving up to rest on his cheek.

“Happy new year,” Seohyun whispers, still out of breath, resting her forehead against Vernon’s. He doesn’t say it back.

His phone buzzes away on the kitchen counter, your name weakly flashing on the screen. The call disconnects, and the house falls into darkness, before lighting up once again, this time with a text.

“happy new year”

Then it’s dark again.

-

Soon the days start getting longer and you finally say goodbye to snowy nights. You still dream about draping your scarf around Vernon, late night grocery runs, a kitchen window that’s brighter and doesn’t make you feel like the shell of who you used to be.

However, sleep still doesn’t come easy, it never really did. You occasionally find yourself looking out the same window, the sight comforting you with its continuity. Sometimes all you have is the view and the sill where you dangle your feet into a reality where you don't feel so left behind by life.

Tonight is no different, a blanket over your shoulders as you watch over the city. The distant noise of buzzing life makes you feel at peace, and you’re about to crawl back inside when you hear someone yelling your name. The word almost sounds unfamiliar, not having heard it in a while. You look around for the source of the sound, finally spotting Vernon who blends into the night in his usual all black outfit.

“Hey,” he yells once again, and he continues before you can stop him. “Come down? Please?”

You quickly climb inside, Vernon’s voice drowned out by your heart hammering in your chest. You only put on some slippers as you run out of your apartment, fuzzy sucks on your feet and the same blanket still over your shoulder. The elevator ride seems to take forever, but you finally get down, finding Vernon right outside the building sitting on the stairs. He scrambles to his feet when he hears the door behind him open, staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Even though it’s dark, you can see he looks different somehow. Maybe more tired, maybe a little more sad.

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out almost as a whisper.

“I recognized your socks. That sounded a little weird, I’m sorry, I just… Haven’t seen you in a while.”

It’s true, you were focused on your exams and skipped most of your classes whenever you didn’t feel like leaving your apartment for the day. It’s also true that Vernon never called you back or replied to your text since new year’s. He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes after kissing Seohyun, even though he told her everything a few days later. She was very understanding, albeit understandably sad, and they did find good friends in each other with Vernon after all that happened.

“Is that my scarf?” You step closer to him, gently touching the soft fabric.

“I found it in the park. I was gonna bring it back, but then things kind of… happened,” His voice is barely above a whisper and he looks a little too deep into your eyes.

“How’s Seohyun?” You take a step back, and Vernon visibly gulps. Somehow he just knows that you’ve been talking to Seungkwan.

“I think she’s got a girlfriend now, actually. How’s your boyfriend?”

You’re taken aback by his question, his words sharp and purposeful, making you wince. He doesn’t say anything else, holding your stare as if it was a challenge. You feel the tears welling in your eyes, but neither of you move.

“Happy with someone else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You called me down for this? Really, Vernon?” You snap at him, unwinding the scarf from his neck, tears freely racing down your face and you almost miss the front door as you push it open.

“Fuck you,” you spit at him before slamming the door shut.

-

Monday morning classes roll around once again, and you find yourself in your usual spot in the lecture hall. For a few weeks you sit alone, Vernon vanishing out of your life along with winter. It’s not until spring finally arrives that a familiar head of messy hair is occupying the seat next to yours by the time you arrive. You quietly settle into your chair, choosing to look everywhere except for the boy next to you. There’s still time until class starts, and you consider leaving to avoid whatever is about to happen, but Vernon is quicker, sliding a lone earphone in front of you on the desk. He patiently waits for you to pick it up and place it in your ear, one of your favourite songs already softly playing. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the class, doodling away in his notebook as usual, and it feels like winter again. When class is over Vernon hurries to leave, but you proceed to stop him in his tracks to give him the earphone back. He almost looks disappointed.

For a moment it’s only the two of you, getting lost in each other’s eyes and wondering when things turned like this, so distant and unfamiliar.

“Wanna go grab some coffee?” Vernon asks suddenly, even though he sounds a little unsure himself. It all feels like the first Monday you met.

The walk is quiet, but not in the comfortable way you’re used to. He still knows your order by heart, and somehow it just makes your chest feel even more tight. Vernon feels like a stranger and your dearest friend at the same time. Sometimes when you look at him too much you go back to the night where things still felt okay and you wonder if he ever thinks about it - about how badly you wanted to hold his hands, kiss him still lying in the snow.

“Your face is gonna stay like that if you frown so much,” he says nonchalantly as he hands you a to-go paper cup.

“I wish,” your words make him snort into his drink as he’s about to take a sip, and it makes you smile too.

You let Vernon lead the way through the neighbourhood, making small talk about all the things you missed in each other’s lives, although you don’t have much to offer having mostly sat at home. You end up on a park bench next to a small lake, and you watch as the ducks peacefully swim along. You wonder if the water isn’t still too cold for them. Vernon is still fiddling with his cup, almost looking somewhat nervous. 

“I missed you,” he says quietly.

“You could’ve texted me.” He doesn’t reply. You do your best not to raise your voice. “At least say something now.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? Confess my undying love for you? Tell you how I think about you every single day? How guilty I feel that I can’t even bring myself to look you in the eyes?” He’s looking for something, anything in your eyes, but you’re too angry to give it to him that easily.

“Maybe.”

“Oh you’re one to talk, like you’d ever tell me any of it!”

Vernon lets out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the cup in his hands until it buckles. His words fill your head, then your whole body, and you feel like your whole being is vibrating and slowly vanishing at the edges.

Maybe you’ve already fallen hard, hard enough that it did break your body in unspeakable ways. You get up to leave, barely standing on shaky legs, not completely aware of your surroundings. The ringing in your ears gets louder and the air feels a little too thick and the sink is dripping again, and you know you’ll have to get it fixed.

Cold hands come to rest on your face, Vernon’s forehead against yours and you wonder if love is supposed to hurt like this. You close your eyes, the snow is falling and your snowman is smiling at you warmly, your scarf around its neck. A teardrop rolls down your face and you open your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?”

“Kiss me.”

A sad smile appears on his lips, his hands moving from your face and he wraps his arm around you instead, tucking your face into his neck.

“I promise I will,” He pulls away just enough to see your face. “Another time.”

Your head is still buzzing as he walks you home, gently holding your hand, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. You’re reluctant to let go when you reach your building, and your hesitation draws a faint smile on Vernon’s face.

He leaves a kiss on your forehead before saying bye.

That night you dream about being a duck, floating on glimmering ponds in the early spring sunset. You wake up crying at 2am.

-

You’re on your way home after a late night grocery run when your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. Vernon’s incoming call confuses you at such an odd hour, but you pick it up anyway. It’s loud on the other end of the line, loud music and even louder screaming drowning out Vernon’s voice almost completely.

“Where are you?” He yells into the phone.

“Out. Why?” You’re not sure if he’s sober.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then suddenly it’s entirely quiet. You check if he’s ended the call. A loud bang reassures you that he’s still there.

“Someone’s having the worst sex I’ve ever witnessed right in my room. Are you free?” The distress in his voice makes you laugh, and you can imagine the frown on his face too well.

“You can come over if you want to, I’ll be home in a bit.”

He doesn’t need much convincing, so you hang up to finally focus on your groceries, grabbing a few extra drinks and snacks for your sudden guest. He’s sitting on the stairs in front of the building when you get home, listening to music that you can faintly make out from his headphones. He notices you as you halt to a stop right in front of him, a tired look on his face as he looks up at you. He smiles at you still and you can’t help but return the gesture.

You blindly reach into your bag, shuffling around for a can of cola that you bought for him. Your fingers finally wrap around the cold metal, and you hand the drink to Vernon, taking another one out for yourself. You take a seat on the stairs next to him, your knees slightly touching - he doesn’t move, so you don’t, either. The wind quietly shakes the barely-there leaves on the trees, and it moves something within you, too.

“I thought you like parties,” you tease him.

“You don’t know what I saw there. Consider yourself lucky, honestly.”

“I mean, you’re lucky that I’m nice enough to offer you my couch for the night.” He scoffs in response, and bumps his knee into yours.

You wonder if Vernon only exists on Mondays and at night.

His profile is sharp and soft at the same time in the flickering, orange light blinking at you from a nearby street lamp. He seems lost in thought and you don’t have it in yourself to bother him right now, not when everything feels so at peace for once. A few faint stars twinkle in the sky, and the moon looks as full as your heart feels. Spring always knew how to take your troubles away - it even happened a little too easily, the ice around your heart melting with the first golden rays of sunshine. 

You know you’re going to be okay.

Almost on instinct you lean your head on Vernon’s shoulder, and you feel his arm circling your waist and squeezing gently, his head coming to rest on top of yours.

Maybe he could help you fix the dripping sink in your bathroom, too.

The lack of sleep finally finds you, the gentle breeze making both of you shiver just enough for you to make your way inside. The elevator has never felt so slow as you wait for it, but when Vernon carefully takes your hand in his, you don’t mind as much anymore. You can feel your face heating up a little, thankful when the elevator dings open. Vernon doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can also tell that his eyes are barely open, so you do your best not to think too much of it even if your skin feels like it’s on fire. You put in your passcode and walk into the small apartment, both of you kicking off your shoes before you lead him into the living room, where he collapses on the couch immediately.

It’s a little endearing somehow, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he struggles to keep his eyes. You fetch him a blanket and leave a toothbrush on the side of the sink, but he’s fast asleep by the time you get back, a throw pillow tucked under his head. You gently cover him with the blanket, and leave to get ready for bed after whispering a “good night” into the dark room.

You have a hard time falling asleep, wondering if he’s going to be there in the morning.

You dream about having his toothbrush in your cup next to yours.

You wake up to the smell of breakfast, worry flooding your mind before you remember that it’s most likely just Vernon. You slowly open your door, peeking into the kitchen to see him in front of the stove, fumbling with a pan and a pair of chopsticks.

“Smells good,” your sudden voice makes him jump, and he almost drops the pan.

“Just because I don’t know how to unlock the front door you don’t get to scare me to death.”

His focus is back on the eggs in front of him, so you slip into the bathroom to brush your teeth. You grab everything without even looking, but the toothbrush feels foreign in your hand. You look at yourself in the mirror and realise that you’re holding the one that you left out for Vernon last night. Then it hits you, he put it in the cup himself.

You quickly finish your morning routine and walk back into the kitchen where he’s sitting at the table, two plates of food set out for both of you. The sun filters in through the sheer curtain, painting everything golden, and you feel like your heart might rip out of your chest with how it’s hammering away.

Breakfast is quiet and peaceful, Vernon showing no signs of being in a hurry. You thank him for making you food as you place the dishes in the sink, only to find him staring at you when you turn back around. His eyes are soft, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and you feel almost naked under his gaze.

“What?” You know you’re blushing, but you have nowhere to hide in the small kitchen.

“Nothing.”

The smile doesn’t leave his lips still, and you quickly excuse yourself as you rush into your room, feeling too overwhelmed. It’s weird to have someone, especially him, in your kitchen, looking so domestic and so pretty in the early morning sunlight. You can hear him doing the dishes in the other room and it almost makes you cry. By the time you gather yourself enough to face him again he’s getting ready to leave, one of his shoes already on his feet. You watch in silence, and unlock the door for him when he stands up straight.

He’s halfway out the door when he turns back around and presses a kiss to your cheek; your mouth opens and closes as you try to say something. Vernon says bye with a laugh and leaves you standing there, way too flustered to even close the door.

A neighbour appears in the hallway which prompts you to slam the door shut way too quickly and loudly, pressing your back against it and sliding to the floor.

You wonder if you’re still dreaming.

-

You’re running late to your morning class, having missed your alarm, feeling kind of asleep still. The seat next to yours is empty when you arrive just a few seconds before the professor, and you wish you went back to bed instead of running all the way to school.

The class is halfway through when the door quietly opens and Vernon slips in, two to-go cups in his hands. He looks completely unbothered by the fact that he’s this late as he takes his usual seat. He slides one of the drinks in front of you, your name scribbled on the side of the paper cup. You give him a confused look, but he only nods at you before taking a sip of his coffee. You do the same, quickly realising that he bought you your favourite. Maybe coming to class wasn’t the worst idea.

You leave the lecture together, coming to a halt in front of the building as Vernon spots his friends huddled together in their usual circle.

“There’s gonna be a party tonight,” he turns to you suddenly. “I want you to come.”

His eyes are intense and it makes your heart flutter.

“Okay, I’ll be there. Thank you for the drink.” You give him a soft smile.

“I was gonna be late anyway, so I figured why not.” It’s obvious that he’s not telling the truth, his cheeks turning red along with his ears. It makes you feel warm inside. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Will you watch the sunset with me before?”

With the way you’re looking at him, he doesn’t think he could say no to you, so he nods and turns to say bye. You stop him, your fingers wrapping around his arm, and you press a quick kiss to his cheek before walking away. He looks even more flustered, his feet glued in place as he watches you disappear into the morning mist.

You can hear his friends faintly as they cheer for him from afar.

-

It’s already getting dark when you rush out of your apartment towards the address that Vernon texted you. The air is crisp against your skin, and you realise you didn’t dress nearly warm enough to be sitting out in the cold, but it’s too late to go back home. You will yourself to a jogging speed, finally spotting Vernon in front of his complex.

“Please tell me the elevator is working,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “My body was not made for this.”

“Well…” Vernon starts, but the look in your eyes makes him burst out in laughter. “I’m just fucking with you, it’s fine.”

“You better hope it’s fine, or you’ll get to carry me up to the rooftop on your back,” it’s his turn to give you a distraught look.

Lucky for both of you, the elevator is in working condition, so you only have to take the stairs on the last two floors. Vernon makes a show of opening the door leading up to the rooftop, a fond look on his face as he watches you take in the view. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this happy. You turn to him and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, muttering a “thank you” into his coat. The pink sky, along with the last few rays of sunshine make Vernon look even more angelic than you usually find him, and you wonder if he too can hear how fast and loud your heart is beating. He says something that you can’t hear from being lost in thought, but before you can ask him to repeat himself he’s pulling a blanket from his backpack and putting it down on the ground. You both take a seat, sitting close enough that your thighs are touching, your head almost immediately coming to rest on his shoulder.

The city is quietly buzzing away in the distance, glass buildings glistening pink, birds flying across the horizon. Vernon feels warm and familiar, his head on top of yours and his arm around you. You don’t remember the last time you felt so at peace.

The top of the sky is fading into blue, the last bit of sun still poking out from behind the city, but the stars are already visible. It feels like a moment you’ll remember forever.

You’re getting ready to leave, Vernon reaching a hand towards you to help you up. You watch him fold and put the blanket away in silence, and he freezes when he turns around, his backpack in his hands, finally noticing that you’re looking at him.

“What?” 

He looks confused, but you simply step closer instead of replying. Your mind is a mess of incomprehensible thoughts no matter how hard you try to regain control over yourself.

“Can you kiss me?” It’s barely a whisper, your thoughts somewhere far away, somewhere where you’re lying in the snow, eating ramen under neon lights. Somehow, Vernon looks the same kind of dazed.

His bag lands on the ground with a thud, his hands cupping your face as he leans in without thinking, his lips crashing against yours almost hungrily. Your fingers find his collars easily even with your eyes closed, pulling him closer, closer, closer. Your lips move perfectly together, your hearts beating in unison. He tastes like how it feels to wake up next to someone you love, and even though his lips are cold, a warm feeling floods your whole body. You only pull away when your lungs beg you for air, and as your eyes find Vernon’s you can’t help but smile. With his hands still gently resting on your face he wipes away a few stray tears, and you turn your head to the side to press your lips against his palm.

The air feels thick from all the words left unsaid, but they can wait. For now, you’re okay with this.

“I don’t wanna go to that party anymore.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

-

You’re sitting at your usual table under the flickering neon lights at the convenience store, already having finished your food. For the first time in months, your chest feels light, and you’re not sure if it’s because of spring or Vernon. You don’t mind either way.

He walks you home, almost kisses you goodnight, but you pull away. He looks at you anxiously, waiting for something to happen.

“Sleep over,” you say in a small voice.

“Your couch isn’t that comfortable,” he’s only half joking, a smirk on his lips and his hands reaching to find yours.

“But my bed is.”

The smile vanishes off his face, his eyes widening, and you’re about to make up an excuse, say that you were only joking, when you notice that he’s blushing. Suddenly he nods, beaming at you, and you mimic his expression, pulling him towards the entrance.

It’s odd, having him this close, especially in your own home after having been alone in it for so long. He smells like your shampoo, and tastes like your toothpaste, and it makes you nervous and excited at the same time, your heart feeling too big for your chest.

You watch with a fond look on your face as he moves around in the apartment, and somehow it feels like this is how it’s always been, his comfortable presence filling a void you weren’t even fully aware of.. 

In the dark of your room, under the warm covers, he holds you against his chest as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He looks at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” His question makes you let out an airy laugh, but he waits for your answer patiently.

“Only if you promise that you’ll do it again.”

With that, his lips are on yours, softly and slowly. He’s touching you like no one did before, with so much love and patience, that you can’t help but think about how this will break your body in unspeakable ways.

-

When you wake up, his bag is in the corner of your room, his toothbrush is still next to yours in the cup, and the sink isn’t dripping anymore. He’s still asleep, and you trace his features in your mind, trying to memorise how beautiful he looks even like this.

You know you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime.

A fleeting moment of everything and nothing.

[frequentlysecondo]

The Fall Festival || Primo

Get lost (and found) in the Ministry’s annual corn maze with the first Papa 🎃

Contents: ≈ 3K words, SFW if you’re not a coward, primal kink if you squint, Vampire?Primo, Primo x gn!Reader

The first in my Autumnal Papa collection to celebrate the season and Halloween!

Your shoulders slump down as you round yet another corner of the labyrinth. A dead end. More corn. Dry husks of leaves crackled like TV static in your ears as you purse your lips in attempt to focus and retrace your steps. How many right turns had you taken? Left? Counting how many times you had run in to impenetrable walls of crops was useless, more times than you had fingers by this point surely. How long had you even been in this corn maze now?

Blood starts pumping through your body just a bit faster as you study the sky, how much darker had the orange clouds gotten? Had it been this cloudy when you arrived? Would it be dark soon? No phones or flash lights were allowed in the maze and all of a sudden every stalk of corn had begun to feel like its own living entity, crowding together and creeping in on you like a pack of over zealous hyenas stalking a gazelle.

Slow down, think rationally. Inhale through your nose, then exha-

The sharp splintering of snapping twigs and hay over gravel stiffen your spine within a fraction of a second, the swift river that was once running rampant through your veins suddenly curdles under your skin as the warmth of weathered palms settle over your shoulders.

“Dolce mostro, it is only I.” The air that had been lodged in your throat suddenly escapes as the familiar, accented drawl reaches your ears.

Swiveling on your heel to face him, the flicker of a pout crosses your face as you let out a huff. Papa Primo must have wandered off at some point during the past ten minutes when you had rapidly walked the aisles, swearing up and down that you definitely knew where you were leading him this time. And then still had the nerve to sneak up and frighten you like that right after!

Without hardly a moment to process the events of the past 60 seconds, you were taken aback by the sudden light touch of Primo’s hand against your face. A warm, damp streak wiped under his thumb over the height of your cheek bone. Not that you maybe had shed a tear or two, no you weren’t crying because you weren’t scared. You were in a field, dust got in your eye. Or something like that.

“It is not very becoming of a young monster to be so spooked, eh?”

Even if his words were a playful jab, his voice felt like a soothing balm, smoothing and curling over the rough edges of your nerves.

A wrinkle of concern marks his brow as he swipes the green make up from your face off from his thumb and on to his opposite palm where he rubbed his hands together to warm them before grasping on to your shoulders. The expression doesn’t last long without his gaze softening as he takes in your painted face once more.

Roughly an hour had been spent earlier that evening, batting your eyelashes at the older man and giving him your best pleading puppy dog eyes in attempt to sway him into giving in to your wishes. You wanted to dress up in costume together, be in spirit while you walked the course of the Autumn Festival.

Eventually, at your rather dedicated insistence, Primo gave in. And although it was far from out of character, you had to admit that he did look a bit out of place now in the fields with a dark colored tail coat draped over a smooth, red satin vest and a frill collared shirt that was only barely more ruffled than his usual garb.

You had rolled your eyes at his dress choice that past afternoon. Io sono Dracula, he had uttered in a feigned rasp of a whisper as he slinked towards you sat in front of the mirrored vanity, he had hardly even succeeded in leaning down towards your neck before being swatted away. Only a few more flutters of your eye lashes were needed to gain his help when you requested he put on your face paint as a favor. He was the expert, after all. 45 minutes later and you had been transformed with creamy green cosmetics applied with sweeping brush strokes, a few gentle smudges with the heel of his hand. So what if your lip stick came off with a little kiss mark or two on his cheek? That was the price to pay to become Frankenstein’s Monster.

Now that once vibrant face paint had dulled over the hours, cracking through your laughter and now smeared over your cheeks as you stared defiantly up at your Papa.

“I wasn’t scared.”

“No, no. Of course not, amore.” Normally the soothing coo of his voice would be comforting, but the bare minimum effort being put in to hiding the teasing smirk growing on his face put that illusion to rest immediately.

“Molto coraggioso.” It was futile to try to resist leaning in to Primo’s hand as he smoothed back your hair lovingly and your eyes drifted closed momentarily before remembering that he still was in fact teasing you when his voice practically purred next to your ear.

“Come now then, I know the way out.” The sentence came out so casually that for a moment you could only stand and stare in bewilderment as he patted your shoulder and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Primo had given up his guidance right at the entrance of the maze and told you to take the reins. Had this god forsaken old man just accepted the aimless wandering this whole time and said nothing?

“I know you did not believe I would allow us to be lost, mio sole.” He commented with a dry chuckle after you had finally swallowed your pride and followed his lead, trailing behind by several feet while peeking around each corner that was passed by. All pouty comments were withheld, even if all you really wanted to do was ask how much better he thought he was if he still allowed the two of you to delve in so deeply into the fields. He could be interrogated once you were a safe fifty feet from this unnerving excuse of a bonding activity.

Time moved slower and slower as the corn stalks blurred together, seeming to grow even taller as the rays of the sunset began to diminish. It had only taken a few minutes of retracing your steps to lose track of the never ending twists and turns of the maze. Gradually you crept closer to Primo, now almost following directly in his footsteps while grasping at the sleeve of his jacket. The arm that he wrapped around your torso is of little comfort as yet another corner is rounded to be met with a dead end.

An unexpected warm breath against your ear cements you into place, the gentle nuzzle of an arched nose against your jaw without being given a chance to process. Primo’s face buried in the crook of your shoulder may have been enough to hide Cheshire cat grin growing over his face but nothing could conceal the shiver that ran down your spine at the feeling of his leather clad finger tips teasingly trailing over your sides.

“Are you plotting something? I thought you knew where we were going.”

“Hmm?” A soft hum reverberates from his chest while he trails his lips over the corner of your jaw, evidently unbothered by your doubts. The chill of the autumn air was quickly rivaled by simmering heat that pushed through your veins upon being pulled closer to Papa followed by a tantalizing flick of his tongue over your ear lobe.

“Tell me, how does that old folk legend go? Of being caught in the wilderness with a vampire?”

“As much as I would adore a retelling, we need to get going. Everybody else we started with has already left us in the dust.”

“Precisely. All the better, no? No one around to hear you gasping for me.” Every nerve in your body tingled, whether it was from the adrenaline of being lost at night or Primo’s words was impossible to differentiate.

His fingers gently trace over the edges of your face as if to wipe away the smudged makeup but the question of if he simply intended to make it even worse arose when a smug smirk came over his face.

"I quite like a little fright on your face." He whispers, his tone taking on a darker, more seductive turn as his thumb brushed over your lower lip before moving back down over the nape of your neck.

“There is nothing wrong with trembling at the thought of what lurks in the dark..” the fluttering of his breath over your skin is enough to coax out a whine while Primo presses in closer to you, crowding over your figure with his own.

“After all, what is prey who is not fearing of the hunt?”

“Is that what you’re doing? Hunting me?” The opportunity to taunt him while he’s on his high horse is impossible to resist and you jump on it, eager to gain back your confident footing. An amused laugh, dark and creaking comes from Primo as the grip on your sides just under your ribs tightens.

“Of course I am, amore.” His nose runs along the vein of your neck in a way that was enough to believe he could drink in your scent in a single breath.

“And I will always catch you.” The threat falls at the small of your throat, as sharp and pointed as the fangs of the creature your Papa imitated. Barely audible whispers breeze against your skin causing goose bumps to wash over your flesh even more effectively than the autumn chill in the air.

“Always watching you. Pursuing you. Always chasing you.”

“Have you forgotten, piccolo mostro?” The small sliver of space between you felt electrified, your breath caught frozen in your throat.

“This is the part where you run.” That rolling R vibrated a blooming fear into your chest, and with one well timed glance only to see the satisfied smirk on the man’s face, you bolted in to the endless twists and turns of the maze.

"Oh, Girasole, where do you think you're going?" Primo laughs as he watches your retreating figure take off, the sound thick and near menacing as it reached your ears. Always playing hard to get, but Primo was not one to let that stop him from having his way.

"That's it. Run." He whispers to himself as his muscles tense in anticipation, the words falling on deaf ears as your foot steps mix with the crunch of gravel further and further away. But the chase has only just begun.

All at once the Papa's instincts kick into gear as he races after you, weaving through the rows of maize while his eyes scan every angle possible to track any sign of movement that didn’t originate from the ground underneath his feet. With every move he makes, his breath catches as he chases after his prey, his heart still thundering in his chest well after pausing to listen for any hint of motion. The faint rustling of dried leaves feels closer to an assault on his ears considering the silence that had now blanketed the field and the pursuit resumes once more as Primo stalks closer to the barrier that separated him from his prize.

Several yards over, just mere rows away the searing burn in your legs finally demanded that you stop to calm the panting breaths that were heaving from your chest. Spinning around to try and gain your bearings seemed fruitless, every intersection of this place was identical to the untrained eye. The thought of surrendering to whatever your Papa had in mind grew more appealing as your head sunk into your hands in an attempt to focus on what routes you had already taken, from entering the maze up to now. Had you passed the scarecrow that sat guarding its own pumpkin head at the dead end to your left before? It’s carved grin seemed to mock you and without a second thought your shoe connects to the side of it with a quiet thud and a grunt of frustration.

“What’s wrong? Can’t find your way out?” Immediately your head snaps up but no time is wasted searching for the source of the taunt, instead opting to rush directly into the wall of corn next to you regardless of what was supposed to be a blockade. There’s a flurry of footsteps and a grumbled accusation of cheating but nothing, no one, trails behind you as you continue to push your hands through the crowded corn stalks. Rigid stems whip across your face and forearms relentlessly with a force that was almost certain to leave sore welts once the adrenaline filled excitement wore off.

The thrill of this renewed game of cat and mouse begins to wane as the realization of having no idea where Primo was hiding hits you. Perching precariously on top of a tree stump a few feet away allows you to stick your head above the top of the maze, hunting the hunter. Without the sight of any movement to give away his location, you settle on swiveling around to see if any route to the finish line can be found. If you kept testing your luck pushing through the walls it would be almost a straight shot, but the noise of doing so is a dead give away itself. A blurred flash of red in the corner of your eye freezes you in place, the wood beneath your feet now more like a sticky glue trap than a look out as you rapidly cycle through your options.

Now that your research time had been cut short, simply memorizing the path to freedom seemed as good of a bet as any and you hop back down to the ground as quietly as possible while repeating the directions to yourself. Left, straight, right, left, straight, then right once more. Then you were done. You win. You would win and could hold it over Papa’s head, gloat a little, see what you could get away with and the possibilities brought a blush to your cheeks.

Getting through the first three intersections was easy enough, effortless, even considering the way your lungs were practically begging for relief once more. Your wits returned after that second left turn and an eerie quiet washed over the fields once more. With how quickly the nagging feeling of being watched was building you nearly expected Primo to pop out from right behind you once more. The once gentle autumn wind had built into what felt more like a glacial freeze as the sun went down while the only sources lighting your path now was the strings of small bulbs hung through the sides of the maze. It was getting harder and harder to differentiate between the rustle of a breeze and foot steps creeping up on you.

All of 50 feet and one more turn was all that was separating you from victory but it still felt a world away from where you stood in place like a statue, fervently wringing your hands and listening to the chatter of drunken festival goers that were beginning to drown out any hope of pinning down the location of your Papa. Keep going straight. One more right turn.

A few stalks of corn being violently shaken roused your attention back into the real world, the sound carried through at least a few turns, hopefully. He was trying to weed you out, scare you out of the corn with enough noise to make you think he had found you. The threat was enough to jolt you back into movement, sprinting on through the intersection and hanging that very last turn in the matter of a minute.

Rows of glowing Jack-o-lanterns with crooked expressions marked the approach to the exit and a preemptive smug sense of confidence took over you. You slowed down as the crowd’s noise filtered back in, gleeful couples of love birds and groups of people passing by the tiki torches that were lit at the end of the path. One young teenager even stopped to cheer for you as she saw you approach, clapping her hands and whooping dramatically before her face contorted into a grimace. Did you really look that rough? Sure that run through the corn probably did a number on you but you couldn’t look that bad..

As quickly as that confidence had appeared, it went up in flames in an instant when the air was drained from your lungs in a vice grip. Greedy fingers latched onto your sides as you stumbled backwards with a swift yank of your weight.

“Caught you, amore.” A familiar growl rumbled like thunder in your ear and sent a trembling shiver down your spine as his body pressed against you.

“You’re mine.”