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carniferous · 20 days

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hi dil beloved <3 i'm here to get a tiny bite out of ur brain <3 and be insane over ur writing once again <333

idk how vague u want the concepts to be so . jegulus sick fic??? or drunk shenanigans?? i'll take literally anything

laurieee laurie my love!! okay this ask made me remember something: when i was first drafting ibhfts, i had this vague idea that james would get sick at one point during the fic? it was going to be towards the end but i ended up scrapping this idea because it wouldn't really fit with how the plot has developed so far. but really the MAIN reason i wanted to include it so badly is bc i loveeee sickfics (like. i love them so much) so i decided to use this opportunity to write out a little scene that could've been in that version of ibhfts

just fyi this scene will NOT be in ibhfts but it does contain mild spoilers for ch 13 and potentially events that will happen in future chapters. this one is also completely unedited btw !!

It really does serve James right for laughing at him. He hadn’t even cast an Impervious before trekking about in the rain without a care, and then he’d had the gall to laugh in Regulus’s face, to clutch at Regulus’s hands as they toweled off his hair, say What are you so worried about? I don’t get sick! Regulus tries not to feel smug about it as James sniffles and shivers under the covers—and then, perhaps deservedly, James’s bleary, pitiful expression every time he opens his eyes makes it difficult to feel smug about anything.

“You’re such a baby,” he murmurs, practically croons as he strokes the back of his finger against James’s feverish face. “Seriously, who gets sick from being out in the rain? You’re supposed to be a Quidditch player.”

James groans hoarsely, “You’re being mean. Here I am suffering, and you’re being mean to me. What if I died? What then?”

“You just have a cold, for Merlin’s sake,” he replies, grinning, a strange glee rising up in him at James’s prone and vulnerable state. At how pitiful he is.

“How do you know? You’re not a Healer.”

“Your mother’s a Healer, you idiot, and she says you have a cold.”

“I’m dying,” James whines.

“Baby,” says Regulus, and he means it as a taunt, but it comes out strange and tinged with too much affection. James’s eyes open, his gaze heavy-lidded, curious. Regulus feels heat pool in his spine.

He shoots to his feet, cheeks warming. “Are you thirsty? I’ll get you some water.”

Somehow, James’s silence as he leaves makes him feel even more unsteady. He has to force his hands to stop shaking long enough for him to pour the water.

When he returns upstairs, James has fallen asleep. His eyelashes flutter as the door opens, his hand curls gently in the sheets. As quietly as possible, Regulus sets the glass down on his bedside table and leaves.

The day passes like that, strangely quiet without James’s usual energy filling the house. Sirius doesn’t come downstairs, which is simultaneously a blessing and something that sends anxiety skittering across his skin. Regulus keeps searching for him in his periphery. He can’t help it. Back at home, Sirius had the unsettling habit of materializing in doorways, hallways, anywhere to startle Regulus. Sirius’s loud boisterousness was mostly show; he could move as silently as a mouse when he wanted to. As silently as their mother.

It doesn’t matter, though. In the end, it’s Regulus who ends up finding Sirius.

He’s carrying a bowl of soup on a tray when he opens the door to James’s room. Sirius sits at his bedside. He glances over his shoulder at Regulus, surveys him impassively.

“He’s asleep,” Sirius says.

Regulus feels his grip tighten reflexively on the tray. He swallows, forces himself to set it down on the nightstand.

“I’ll leave it here for him.” A pause, then, “He slept the whole day?”

Sirius hums an affirmative, leaning over to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. He stares up at Regulus with a quizzical, probing look in his eyes.

Suddenly, Regulus is tired of it. The way that Sirius has been since he returned, neutral and observant—watchful gaze keeping track of Regulus’s every movement, every expression, as though looking to catch him in something. Silently judging Regulus for the space he takes up in Godric’s Hollow.

If you didn’t want me to live here, Regulus thinks, you shouldn’t have let me.

“You’re worried about him,” Sirius says slowly, with great finality.

“It’s a cold,” says Regulus. “I’d be stupid to be worried.”

Sirius arches a brow. Regulus feels himself flush.

“He was saying your name in his sleep. James,” as though he could’ve been talking about anyone else.

Regulus bites the inside of his cheek. His mind races for a response.

That’s what’s been irritating him. Sirius is too fucking perceptive. He knows Regulus too well. He knows James even better. And there’s nothing he hates more than being kept in the dark.

“He kept asking where you were going. He seemed upset.”

“What’s your point?”

“He dreamt of you, Regulus,” Sirius says, still with that slow and impassive finality, circling around some realization that he wants Regulus to confirm.

Well, bully for him. Regulus makes a show of rolling his eyes: “A fever dream. Again, your point?”

“I was gone for a while,” Sirius muses, almost to himself. But when his eyes flick upwards, they’re needle-sharp. “Not that long, though.”

“Are you enjoying being needlessly cryptic, or are you eventually going to say what you mean?”

“Something happened between you two,” he says. “Didn’t it?”

Another eye-roll. This is a practiced thing, indifference towards Sirius and his endless suspicions. Regulus was twelve years old when he realized that the more he cared what Sirius thought of him, the more Sirius could hurt him. He was twelve years old when he learned that Sirius would hurt him, given the opportunity.

“Lots of things happened. Like you said,” Regulus meets his gaze, “You were gone a long time.”

Sirius grins. It’s not a nice grin. If James were awake to see it, Regulus thinks he’d be shocked at such an expression on his best friend’s face.

Regulus says, eyes narrowed, “Besides, you asked him to take care of me. Didn’t you?”

The grin falls away. “Well, fuck. I didn’t think he’d tell you that.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” says Regulus. “Next time you ask one of your friends to babysit me, try to show a bit more discretion.”

“Piss off,” says Sirius, looking genuinely a bit abashed. “As if I was wrong to be worried.”

“Why? Because I’d ruin your darling reputation by being so horrible to the Potters?”

Sirius blinks at him, long and slow. “Because you’d just run away from home after our mother crucio’d you, you git.”

“Oh.” Regulus falls silent. His gaze falls on James’s sleeping face, still flush with fever, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

He doesn’t know what shows in his expression, but when he looks back up, Sirius is staring at him with wide eyes.

“Merlin,” he says.

“What?”

“You—”

“Reg?” A slurred voice, heavy with sleep, and Regulus turns immediately. James cracks his eyes open, and a grin spreads over his face. “Hi, Reg. Where’d you go?”

“I—” Regulus darts a half-panicked glance towards Sirius. “I was just letting you sleep.”

“I couldn’t find you.”

Sirius clears his throat loudly. James blinks, and some awareness seems to come back to him.

“Padfoot,” he says, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“Hey, Prongs,” Sirius says, full of warmth. “When’re you getting out of this bed, huh?”

“Not soon enough. How long were you sitting there?”

His smile turns blithe, “A while. I’m starving, though, gonna grab something to eat. Rest up, okay?”

James nods as Sirius gets up and leaves, sending Regulus a long, searching look on his way out. Regulus can’t help the breath he releases when the door clicks shut.

“He suspects,” says Regulus.

“Who, Sirius?” James tilts his head to the side, unconcerned, and pushes himself into a sitting position. “Probably.”

“I wish you’d sound more worried about that.”

James hums noncommittally. “Is that soup?”

“James,” Regulus sighs, but he still takes the tray and places it carefully in James’s lap.

James spoons the soup into his mouth thoughtfully, “He’ll have to find out eventually, you know.”

“You and I share different opinions on that.”

“Yeah, and your opinion makes no sense. How would we keep it from him? Logistically, how would that work?”

“I’ve kept bigger things from Sirius.”

“I haven’t.”

A pause. Regulus looks down at his lap, at his hands laid over one another, murmurs, “I know, James.”

James sets down the spoon. Wordlessly, he reaches over and brushes his thumb down the side of Regulus’s face, a soothing gesture. Regulus leans into the touch, drops his cheek into James’s waiting palm. Lets the solid warmth of it seep into his skin.

“I just don’t see the point,” James says softly. “The longer we keep it from him, the harder it will be to eventually tell him.”

“It’ll always be hard to tell him, no matter what.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he’ll think I’m trying to take you from him.”

James looks at him incredulously, guilelessly, “But you’re not.”

Regulus’s mouth twitches, and he turns his face into James’s palm to hide his tiny smile. He presses a kiss there—once, then twice. He thinks of being eleven and watching Sirius walk away from him with an arm slung around James’s shoulders. Of being thirteen and knowing desire, real desire, for the first time: at the sight of James laughing at a joke Sirius was telling him.

“No,” he whispers, and he presses his face deeper into the skin of James’s open hand. “Of course I’m not.”

#thank u laurie i had fun #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #my writing #ask #ibhfts

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marzipanandminutiae · 1 year

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Mind you I've never read LW but i kinda enjoyed the 2019 movie, why did you hate it? (Maybe i just wanna put Timothee Ch on a leash) feel free to go off 🌷

So, the costumes sucked from a historical perspective. Which would be less Objectively Bad and more Just Not My Thing...if the designers hadn't gone ON AND ON AT LENGTH about how ~Authentic~ they tried to make everything.

Didn't claim accuracy and didn't do accuracy: meh, whatever

DID claim accuracy and didn't do accuracy, AND won an Oscar for it: urge to kill rising

the hair design was particularly egregious, with the designer at one point saying they chose [checks notes] insane flyaways and half-up hair on adult women (who would have worn their hair entirely pinned up, for practical reasons and as a cultural marker of adulthood) because that seemed "more authentic than coiffures"

MORE AUTHENTIC

THAN THE WAY ACTUAL WOMEN BACK THEN

WORE THEIR ACTUAL HAIR

AS DEMONSTRATED IN PHOTOGRAPHS- EVEN CANDIDS -AND PORTRAITS

"blee bloo they didn't have hairspray!!!" THEY HAD POMADE. HAVING YOUR HAIR VERY SMOOTH WAS THE STYLE IN THE 1860S, EVEN FOR POOR WOMEN, AND MASSIVE FLYAWAYS ARE HUGELY IMPRACTICAL, AND NOT ALL FIXATIVES ARE HAIRSPRAY YOU ABSOLUTE-

[Marzi.exe has encountered a problem. please hold]

apart from the hair, there were fit issues and at least one case of Trying To Copy the 1994 Movie, But Worse (Amy's black and white dress in Paris).

1994. the pattern is soutache, a kind of applied trim done with flat cord that was very popular throughout the mid-late 19th century

2019. You cannot tell me the choice to have her in a white dress with black floral patterning, in effectively the exact same scene, was a coincidence.

also I'm pretty sure there was one shot with an actress visibly wearing Uggs. (EDIT- thankfully I am informed that this is a set photo and the Uggs were not visible in the finished film. i had forgotten this. good to know! leaving the pic there because STUPID HAIR and HATLESSNESS)

also the Pretty Pastel Princess Dresses (with overly fluffy attempts at bertha collars) and Matching Long Gloves (wrist gloves were popular for evening back then, and they were almost always white) in the Concord ball scene.

is it a Civil War-era ball, or is it a parade of "southern belles" at Cypress Gardens in 1995? leaning towards the latter.

once again, the choice to put Meg in pink for the ball instead of her book-described blue dress is something 1994 did first, and did better IMO

also Meg's 2015 Coachella wedding look, the fact that none of these girls from a poor family seemed to wear each other's old clothes ever, and the lazy choice to dress Jo in half-menswear instead of actually looking into menswear-inspired women's clothing in the era (which was a Thing!). but more than just the costumes pissed me off

they just...didn't seem to understand the era, or want to, or care? it was a bunch of little things that served to make it all more #relatable to modern audiences but ultimately undermined the setting:

Marmee telling a random young man she's never properly met to call her Marmee, because "everyone does." her DAUGHTERS call her that. her ACTUAL CHILDREN. who the hell else would? it's not a derivative of her name; it's a variant of Mama. Laurie can graduate to Marmee when he's an actual family friend

Jo wearing some of Laurie's clothing because "she stole it when they were hanging out in his room," according to an interview. um, NO NO AND NO, they are teenagers and that would distinctly not fly on several levels even in her progressive family. I might actually buy this if it were like "he gave them some clothes for an amateur theatrical and she kept them;" the actual Alcott sisters had a costume trunk for their plays, which is still on display at their house. but these writers clearly think a teenage boy and girl could be in his bedroom together unsupervised, for long periods of time, habitually, in 1860-whatever. which is absolutely incorrect

Jo saying "okay" in refusing Laurie's proposal. this is so tiny, I know, but while that term did already exist, it was a joke phrase only. this would be like saying "lol" while turning down your best friend's proposal today. once again, it's an example of Relatability mattering more than actually understanding the world these characters lived in

there are more, but I've blocked them out. I just really, really hated it on many levels

#ask #anon #lw19 #long post #rant

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zippiestdraws · 5 months

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Choking Curiosity Ch 18

Michael Myers x ftm reader

Read on ao3

Laurie picks up on the last ring sounding out of breath.

You frown towards the phone. “You good?”

“Yeah, I just had to run up the stairs to reach the phone.” She breathes out. “So, you want to talk about yesterday?”

It’s less of a question and more of an expectancy with a verbal cringe.

“Mhm” you grimace, remembering. “Was he always like that? Because I can’t imagine you wanted to work with someone so…”

You blank on the descriptor. Perky. Flirtatious. Touchy.

“-Pushy.”

You can hear Laurie’s twitch over the phone “Ugh, He wasn’t like that when we met. He actually sounded smart, like an investigative reporter, ya know?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d send him over if he was creepy.”

“What do you mean?”

“He came over while I was decorating outside a couple days ago and said you sent him, for like, an interview and stuff.” You gently remind her.

“I didn’t do that.” Her tone was grim, but your brain quickly rationalizes it for you.

“Well, it’s not like he couldn’tve just found the house on his own after talking to you, so it’s not that bad.” It wasn’t great either, but it’s easy to accept.

There’s a pause before Laurie responds.

“Hmm, maybe, but I still don’t like how he treats this like a game.”

You open your mouth to reply but she cuts you off in a fury.

“-use you as bait? Is he crazy?-”

“-Yeah, I didn’t like that very much. I mean, how does he expect me to-” you interject but then look around and speak softer like someone might hear. “Get a picture with his mask off?”

“Exactly. The shape wouldn’t take its mask off if it was on fire.” She sounded annoyed and angry, so you’re glad she couldn’t see the reaction on your face.

You draw a blank on what you were going to say next as the weight of her words hit you. The image of Michael’s face under the mask floats into your mind followed by a seeping guilt. The heat of attraction and shame burns across your cheeks as you spit something out to keep the conversation flowing.

“Do you- do you think we could pull it off?”, before you even finish your sentence you’re shaking your head and clarifying yourself with a stutter. “I mean, like physically take it- the mask- off, but I guess it could be the same thing if we could get away with it at all? anyway…”.

“Geez, you need to take a breath. But…I know how you feel. How scary the idea of seeing him again is after what he’s done to you.” Her jesting tone softening with empathy.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” The resoluteness of her statement is jarring, and you agree almost too quickly.

“I know. I mean- I trust you and I could always get a taser, so…” you end with an awkward laugh.

You already know that you aren’t in any danger. Or at least much danger.

Laurie makes a disapproving noise at your confidence but doesn’t say anything further. You suspect that she wants to quip about a taser not working against the shape, but holding back so as not to scare you. Thinking back, if he can stop a bat with his bare hands and survive gunshot wounds, you don’t think a taser would stop him either.

You have to excuse yourself to get ready for work later, but with a promise to get together at some point. Just the two of you, no Jed.

Your hands pull at your hair. It sucks to have to deceive Laurie, but now it feels like betraying Michael. Talk about a rock and a hard place.

He wouldn’t take his mask off if he was on fire. But he took it off for you.

Your shift ends after the library closes, but you put the books you borrowed in your bag to return through the book drop. Michael’s room is a mess and you find the one you gave him underneath the blankets where he sleeps, luckily not too worse for wear.

He isn’t home, so you don’t know how he’d react to you touching his things, but a small fantasy plays in the back of your head as you step out the door to work.

You can’t help it- living together is intimate and every so often your mind will wander to that tight black t-shirt and soft pink lips. And your hands will wander when you hear Michael’s soft groans under the shower spray…

The nippy weather is enough of an excuse to shield your flushed face with your hands by the time you arrive for work.

***

A steady stream of shoppers keeps you and Quentin pinned to the registers while Dwight makes the rounds and maintains stock. By the looks of it, Halloween is still on, considering nearly every customer has snagged one of the bulk candy packs from the sale section.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a child run towards the candy aisle.

“Oh-hey no running!-'' your words don’t land. You, Quentin, and the child’s parent watch as the child runs gracelessly into the M&M's display. The child hits the ground first, followed by the crash of cardboard and chocolate 3 long seconds later. After the kid notices everyone watching, they begin to cry.

Dwight, appearing at the other end of the aisle, simply sighs and heads toward the broom closet.

Finishing the last transaction at your checkout and flipping your light off, you nod to Quentin-the two of you have an almost nonverbal understanding at this point- and start performing first aid on the cardboard M&M man.

Dwight returns with a broom and dustpan and scoops a split bag of loose candy into it, before stacking up the intact ones to pile onto a spare shelf.

As you work, Dwight looks in your direction once before making some conversation.

“Oh, by the way, you left early from the cookout…”, he states rather neutrally.

You sweat, it had just seemed like time enough had passed that it wouldn’t be brought up.

“yeah, sorry about that, I was a little nervous to drive home after it got dark. I got lost a couple times trying to find the place.” you’re glad he isn’t looking you in the eyes. Had he seen?

“No wait, sorry, I mean-”, he apologizes in return, “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, I was going to ask cuz you missed it, David wants to throw a halloween party. Do you want to come?” Dwight stands and wipes his hands on his kakis.

You chuckle in relief, thinking of David, “you didn’t seem like the halloween type, but I’d love to. Where and when?” Laurie’s plan flashes in your mind after you reply, so you quickly tack on that you can’t make it on the 31st.

“I’m not! I had to have David promise not to jump out at me.” he looks exasperated. “Same place, on the 30th. Don’t worry, I have to work until six on Halloween, so I’m not going out either.”

He promises to tell you the time for it when he figures it out himself, and you head back up to the registers.

You stop, confused for a moment, when you see that there isn’t anyone up there. More specifically, Quentin isn’t at the register, but there’s only one person who seems to be waiting.

“Sorry about that, I hope we didn’t keep you wait-”

Brown curls, square glasses, beanie, smug looking face.

“Hmm~ hey (Y/n), fancy meeting you here.” Jed looks at you like you were exactly what he was waiting for.

“Yeah, hi…”, you log into the register to look anywhere but him, “I didn’t know you lived in the area.”

“Oh you know, I just had to pick up some stuff to get ready for the holiday, that’s all.” You look at his items. Bulk assorted candy, duct tape, trash bags, bleach. You swallow thickly.

“Now that I have you, is there any chance you’ve had a change of heart? I know you probably think you’re safe, but you never know what could happen.” He leans on the counter with his forearms and looks up at you with a pout as you finish the transaction. “I’m here to help you, (Y/n), but you act like you have some huge secret you’re keeping.”

You’re thankful that another customer enters your line and you don’t have much room for more than a ‘see you later’.

You finish your shift with a cold anxiety in the pit of your stomach and don’t look at Quentin whenever he returns.

*** Hugging your jacket close and looking behind you often, home doesn’t run up to greet you as fast as it should. Crossing the threshold suddenly drops the exhaustion of the day on your shoulders and you trudge up the stairs, wanting out of your work clothes an hour ago.

It takes a second to register in your brain, the sight of your bedroom door wide open with Michael in the middle of the room. Caught red handed (though, not literally) with his hands in your underwear drawer.

#michael myers #slashers #michael myers x reader #slasher x reader #male reader #trans writers #choking curiosity

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

Rock Bottom Ch 5: Taste of God

3.5k words | Corey x Allyson (thinks about y/n & Michael), Corey x Michael (x2),

Corey is no longer in control of his actions, blinded by an incapacitating lust that overpowers his will to live. He grabs the bulge in Michael's jumpsuit with his bloody hand, and his other hand begins to unzip it. Corey is so hungry for Michael's cock he doesn't even stop to free his own from his pants. As he lowers Michael's zipper, the large, calloused hands around his throat relax a little but don't fall away.

Rock Bottom Index - All Chapters

Check out the art by @cordelium here 💙💙💙

please don't repost their work without permission. commission info

I really got into Corey's POV as you could tell from my recent surge of Michael thirst-posting lol. NSFW

Corey gets on his motorcycle and takes one last look at the entrance to the sewer. That really happened. They killed Doug Mulaney together, then they stood together against the wall, Michael's knife at Corey's throat, raging erections pressed so hard up against each other. The feeling of Michael's hard length against him lingers, and there's a new hope swirling in his soul. He rides to Allyson and Laurie’s house, exhilarated, reliving it all. He keeps seeing Michael coming right at him, stabbing Mulaney on his chest. Michael, jacked full of dark energy, engorged by the kill.

Corey has a completely different life than he did just days before. Michael found him at the edge of darkness, grabbed him by the throat and said, "let's go!" Corey has been in free fall since then, enjoying every seedy minute of it.

As Corey gets closer to Allyson and Laurie's house, he has intrusive thoughts about the web he's weaving. He really doesn't want to introspect - it's such a buzzkill. But the old Corey is still hanging on somewhere inside him and loves to brood. His feelings are a tangled mess of joy and gloom. Lust and bloodthirst. And in the heat of each moment, he's okay with it. But in the back of his mind as the high fades just a little, the possibilities spin like a mobile above a crib. He wants to sleep with Allyson and rub it in Laurie's face. He wants to feel Michael inside him. He wants to be Michael inside of (Y/N). He wants to fuck (Y/N) until she cries. Why should he have to choose?

He wants it all, but of course it's not that simple. Most of the time, he’s graphically sure about what he wants from Michael, but there are moments where he wonders what could possibly come next. He thinks about the things (Y/N) has said about Michael and wonders. Really, how could she possibly know? The fact that (Y/N) is supposedly off limits only makes him want her more. He wants to find out. And then there are the moments where he thinks Michael would be enough - that Michael could own him.

His thoughts turn to Allyson as he parks his motorcycle outside her house. He feels hope for who she could become - who they could become together. And if he's honest with himself, he wants to take her from Laurie. His core is pulled in so many directions. He imagines himself in the Donnie Darko wormhole with multiple paths coming out of his core.

Anxiety takes over. By the time Corey knocks on the door, he's in tears. Allyson's face says he must look like a wreck. He's even more banged up than the last time she saw him. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he says. Her eyes blaze with desire. She lets him in.

Corey’s inner turmoil fades away the moment their hands meet.

***

Allyson unbuttons Corey's shirt on the way up the stairs, opens the door to her bedroom, then pulls Corey by his jacket onto her bed and he takes off the jacket and button-up. She kisses him hungrily, pulls him into her with her legs, and as soon as she feels his hardness through his jeans, she unbuckles his belt. There’s an urgency about her that Corey can relate to. He wonders if it’s contagious.

Corey kisses Allyson’s soft lips and pulls her tank top over her head, then she pulls his undershirt off. He palms her breasts as they grind into each other desperately. Allyson’s pale cheeks flush red as she frantically unbuttons and unzips him and her small hand grabs his package. At the touch of her hand, Corey can only think of Michael, and his sense of urgency returns.

In Corey's mind, Michael chokes Corey, stabs Mulaney, pins Corey against the wall, slices his jaw. . .

Allyson gropes Corey needily. Her tongue thrusts into his mouth as he unbuttons her jeans and she kicks out of them. She looks so beautiful when she’s needy for him. Her eyes are wild. Her lips are red like a pin-up. Corey pins her to the bed and sucks at her neck. The hardness in his briefs meet the warmth of her panties.

He grinds his arousal into her and thinks of his cock against Michael. Allyson frees his stiff member from his briefs. He shoves a massive hand into her panties and is greeted with the wettest warmth. He needs to taste her. He backs up as he pulls the garment down slowly, kissing her stomach, and aims head downward, but Allyson yanks him back up. She wants him inside her.

Corey thinks of Michael inside (Y/N) and his cock hardens even more.

“I need you,” she says as she pulls him up by the underarms. He kisses her ribcage before he obliges. Once he’s close enough, she grabs his swollen package again. She closes her eyes as she massages it and spreads her legs, bringing it close enough that her pinky grazes her wetness as she moves the skin of his shaft. Corey lays his cock down against her pubic bone first, then she moves it to her entrance and he hears her loud and clear. With one thrust, he plunges into Allyson. She gasps at the stretch of his girth.

He has intrusive thoughts about killing Allyson's ex, Mulaney, with Michael.

Corey’s cock swells even thicker. Allyson feels it and her lips part with a small sigh. He thrusts into her, and she pulls his body into hers. She wants it all, and he doesn’t hold back. He plunges into her with all the power and passion that’s pent up in his core, and he does it again, and again. She melts and moans and mewls, and he only pushes harder.

Corey lasts longer than he has in days. Allyson comes, whining his name, fingering his hair. Clenching around his cock again and again, moaning obscenely – he hopes Laurie can hear – until her whole body relaxes under him and she looks at him, her eyelids heavy with love or lust. Corey tells her he’s close, and Allyson slides out from under him, releasing his cock. She pushes him down on his back. She puts her hair up with a ribbon from her wrist, and promptly replaces her warmth with her pretty little head between his legs. Her ponytail starts to come loose as she sucks his cock with gusto.

As Corey gets ready to come, his mind is just Michael stabbing - his knife into Mulaney, his cock into (Y/N).

His ass clenches and the tension releases all at once with a pulsing deep in his ass and an eruption – no, several — of cum into Allyson’s mouth. She looks up at him with doe eyes as she swallows, her eyes watery.

Corey looks at Allyson and sees an angel. One he doesn’t deserve, but one that can fall – or, preferably, is already falling. He snuggles up behind her and puts his arm over her. She takes his hand in hers and traces the wound. Corey thinks about the way the doctor spoke to her and his veins run cold.

***

As Corey drifts off, he falls off a bridge and into a dark river as warm as it is violent. He has no desire to swim to shore. He's swimming lazily, almost floating, with the current. It carries him from fuck to kill to fuck with flashes of the last few days.

Then, he dreams of Halloween 2019. The opulent front door is open. Corey is searching desperately for Jeremy and worrying more and more about Michael Myers as he steps into the attic. Jeremy’s nowhere in sight, but Corey’s mother, Joan, is there. The door slams behind him.

"Corey, there's my baby. You want some custard?" Joan unbuttons her sweater and takes his head in both hands. As she tries to pull his head closer, Corey's muscular neck stiffens in disgust.

Out of nowhere, the huge, silver knife from the kitchen gleams behind Joan and her face contorts as it penetrates her back. Joan begins to fall into Corey, then the mask comes into focus behind her. Michael Myers catches Joan by the hair and yanks her head back toward him. The knife slices Joan's neck, and as blood splatters onto Corey’s glasses, a wave of relief showers him, too. Michael lets Joan’s body fall to the floor in a heap and steps over it. Michael and Corey stand still and Corey gazes through his blood splattered glasses into the warm dark holes of the mask for what feels like forever until he forgets all about Joan.

Michael lets the knife fall to the ground and outstretches his arms. Corey steps forward, hesitantly, into Michael’s broad chest, then relaxes as the large arms engulf him, and Corey feels the strong embrace of a man for the first time in his adult life. The arms tighten around Corey and his core tingles. As soon as Corey’s cock begins to stiffen, the arms tighten more and he can't breathe. He begins wriggling and thrashing, and Michael abruptly lets go, but then Corey feels cold and desperate for his arms. Michael grabs Corey by the throat and slams him into the attic door, and Corey's arousal swells stronger.

Corey reaches for the mask. His fingers tremble as they lift the bottom edge of the off-white rubber, then Michael’s large hand grabs the mask by the face and removes it. Michael’s face and hair looks exactly like the mask. His skin is chiseled but leathered. The should-be whites of his eyes are a glistening black. Michael stands perfectly still and breathes heavily as Corey reaches for the zipper of Michael’s jumpsuit.

As he begins to pull Michael's zipper, Corey finds himself nude. Michael turns him around and violently shoves him against the door face-first and Corey’s breath hitches. Michael breathes loudly in Corey's ear and Corey feels a stiff, pulsing heat meet the small of his back then drag wetly down and up his crack. Corey's lungs are floating in his chest and pleasure shoots from his shaft, through his balls, to his ass, and pulses. He’s rock hard.

Michael's cock wedges head-up between Corey's cheeks, grinds against him, then slides down, finds his hole, and forces its way inside. Corey shudders as he's impaled and feels every bit as full and alive as he knew he would. Michael thrusts again and hits Corey’s most sensitive spot, the one no one has ever touched before, not even himself, the one that throbs at the thought of Michael who continues to bury his length in Corey again and again, banging him hard against the attic door until the door begins to weaken as Corey erupts in his sleep.

The attic door disintegrates and Corey falls over the bannister. As he tumbles through the air nude, he looks up at the attic door. “Michael,” he tries to call out, but the shape in the attic door is Corey himself holding the mask.

Corey wakes up just before he hits the floor. His briefs are damp and he’s grateful he never fully discarded them. Allyson is stirring.

Allyson rolls over toward him and speaks. "Did you. . ."

Heat washes over his face.

"Did you say 'Michael'?"

“It was a nightmare,” he tells her.

She kisses him and falls back to sleep, but Corey doesn’t. He slides out of bed and gets dressed. He doesn’t wake her up, but he leaves a sweet note: “Great night. See you later <3”

When he goes downstairs, he smiles smugly at Laurie on his way out the door. “Nice seeing you again, Laurie.”

When Allyson’s clinic is about to close, Corey rides his motorcycle there and parks out of view with his scarecrow mask in tow. He watches as Dr. Mathis gets into his Porsche with Deb from the Halloween party, then follows them to the doctor’s house.

Corey creeps around the doctor's property and into the courtyard. He grabs a drycleaning bag from the garbage and waits. When the doctor goes inside, humming obnoxiously, Corey grabs a corkscrew from the faux romantic set-up by the fire pit and hides on the other side of the sliding door waiting for him to come back out. As the doctor reemerges and starts crossing the courtyard, Corey sneaks up from behind and covers the doctor's head in a drycleaning bag.

The doctor grabs at the bag and gasps for air and Corey tightens the bag around him with one large hand, coming down to his knees as the Doctor weakens and his considerable weight falls against Corey. Corey then holds the corkscrew between his thick fingers and stabs him in the neck through the plastic. The doctor's chest rises and falls as he tries desperately to breathe. As he squirms and thrashes his head, blood smears around inside the bag. Dr. Mathis finally stops struggling.

A sliding door opens and Deb sticks her head out. "Dr. Mathis.?! " She steps forward and sees Corey in his scarecrow mask holding Dr. Mathis in the dry cleaning bag full of blood. As Deb panics to get back inside, Corey drops the doctor and races to the sliding door. She slams his injured hand in the door several times before managing to close and lock it and grab the phone to call 911. She recognizes Corey's mask from the Halloween party, and no one could mistake his strong, husky figure and curly hair. Deb looks at Corey like he's the psycho she always thought. The look wounds and enrages Corey.

Corey sees something. Yes, behind Deb, Michael Myers lurks in the shadows. Corey's heart swells and his whole body feels warm and light. He bangs on the glass for Michael to let him in. Michael lumbers toward Deb and snatches her by the throat, not missing a single beat in his heavy stride toward the wall. As Michael slams Deb up against the large, abstract painting, Corey lifts up his mask and watches intently, unraveling his bandage, giving up on healing, letting the blood flow out, letting all of Michael flow in. He wants to absorb as much as he can from Michael. An incapacitating need floods Corey's body and thickens his cock as he watches his master effortlessly lift Deb by the throat. He holds her against the wall, her feet off the ground.

Michael stabs Deb in the chest with an enormous knife, pinning her through the art to the wall. Her feet dangle from the ground. Corey doubles over in arousal and presses his huge bloody hand to the glass, gazing lustily at Michael. Corey is utterly his, soaking up Michael’s warm, thick, dark energy. Michael slowly turns his head to return Corey's gaze. The intimacy and intensity of the moment between them sends Corey to another level. His chest heaves and he palms himself with his free hand. Michael holds the gaze for a moment then admires his work on the wall before abruptly walking through the kitchen and exiting into the courtyard.

***

Corey needs him so bad he can hardly breathe, but Michael is walking away. Corey can't let him leave. "No!," He yells Corey hobbles, tripping over himself, scrambling to reach Michael while he's still in the courtyard. He manages to catch up and cut Michael off. Michael swiftly grabs Corey by the throat, slams him up against the outside of the house, and pins him to the wall with his thigh, adding his second hand around Corey’s neck. "YES," Corey croaks, and locks eyes with the dark holes of the mask. His arousal throbs into Michael's thigh and he can feel the hard shape of Michael's length against him once again.

Corey is no longer in control of his actions, blinded by an incapacitating lust that overpowers his will to live. He grabs the bulge in Michael's jumpsuit with his bloody hand and his other hand begins to unzip it. Corey is so hungry for Michael's cock he doesn't even stop to free his own from his pants. As he lowers Michael's zipper, the large, calloused hands around his throat relax a little but don't fall away.

With Michael’s jumpsuit open, rays of light might as well burst from between his legs. It’s Corey’s first time seeing what Michael’s packing up close. Corey's massive hands wrap around the stiff, veiny shaft. Pre-cum beads at the monstrous tip and Corey salivates. He looks back and forth between the mask’s eye holes, his brows furrowed, silently asking, begging for his cock. Michael lets Corey's head slip through his fingers as Corey begins to fall to his knees.

Corey admires the monster cock head-on just briefly before wrapping his mouth around the head desperately, like it might slip away. He thinks to himself, so this is what God tastes like. He unhinges his jaw and curls his lips over his teeth. He slurps the cock into his mouth, sucking hard enough to pull his head down on the shaft. The girth barely fits in his mouth, and the length certainly doesn’t. It requires his hands. Corey sucks from the back of his throat and his eyes water. He slowly drags the O of his mouth up and down trying to fit a little more of Michael down his throat each time. The head nudges past his tonsils. He unseals his mouth briefly to collect some drool as lube for his hands to stroke the rest that doesn't fit. He even dares to cradle Michael's balls for a moment.

Michael, initially frozen, cradles Corey's head, nestling his large fingers in Corey's locks, causing the scarecrow mask to fall off the top of his head. The gesture of acceptance has Corey feeling high as a kite. He looks up with his dark, watery eyes and the mask looks down at him. He can hardly believe this is happening. Michael Audrey Myers is gazing down at Corey, cradling his head as he sucks him off. Corey feels chosen.

He wants to please Michael better than anyone else possibly could. He lacks experience and relies largely on instinct, but it seems to come naturally. He uses his tongue and the pressure of his teeth through his lips and sucks with his throat, creating a vacuum around the shaft. Michael is tall. Corey sits up higher on his knees to try more of a downward angle. Michael moans softly and looks upward as his abdomen flexes against Corey's forehead. The tears in Corey‘s eyes threaten to overtake his waterline already. Corey's throat bobs as he continues sucking and stroking, then feels a twitch in his mouth, followed by a pang in his taint and that special place.

Michael's hands begin to move Corey's head, shoving his length down his throat. Corey gags and he likes it. He’s grateful for every thrust, every inch. His mouth is stretched so wide the corners hurt. And he's drooling. His eyes prickle and tears run down his cheeks. Then, Michael’s cock pulses and Corey’s mouth pulses with it.

Michael places one hand against the wall and his other hand engulfs the crown of Corey's head, forcing him down on his cock as he erupts in Corey's throat. The pulsations are so strong, bursting every two seconds, the swell of his cock filing Corey’s mouth as cum trickles down his throat. Corey struggles to keep his mouth sealed, not wanting to waste a single drop of Michael's seed. He swallows with every pump.

When Michael is finished, he takes his hands off the wall and Corey's hair. Corey lets go of this cock with a kiss and looks up again, desperate for Michael's approval. But, Michael doesn't look back. He merely zips up his jumpsuit and continues walking the same direction he was going, like nothing happened. Corey is left on his knees, painfully hard, alone, and rejected. And yet, he’s also brimming with joy that Michael is inside him, in a way. Such a vital part of Michael is inside him, and he can feel it in every part of his being.

Corey uses his sweater to wipe drool off his mouth and massages his jaw. Then, he unbuckles his jeans. He closes his eyes and his large hand strokes his throbbing, aching member, still feeling the ghost of Michael against his body and in his mouth. He's startled by the sound of faint footsteps and opens his eyes to red and blue flashing lights illuminating the fog over the fence toward the street.

The lights go dark, and the footsteps grow clearer. Corey puts his dick away, crouches low to the ground, and scurries into the shadows, past the sliding door, against the outside wall of the house. He's squatting down next to the glass, still in need of relief, but he tries hard to focus. As he looks for somewhere to hide, static sounds from a walkie talkie.

"Haddonfield Sheriff's Office," (Y/N)'s voice announces. A bright light approaches.

_______________________________________

Continue with Chapter 6

_______________________________________

#corey cunningham smut #michael myers smut #corey cunningham x michael myers #michael myers x corey cunningham #rock bottom fic #rock bottom ch 5 #custard #corey cunningham #michael myers #toxicanonymity ☠️#rock bottom ☠️#rock bottom fic ☠️

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ditipatri · 1 year

Text

This year's Saturnalia is in less than a week, meaning that the time of feasting and indulgence is not so far away either. Food was a very important part of the festivities in the Ancient Times because the entire holiday season in Ancient Rome was meant to give the people a chance of tasting delicious meals and otherwise indulging.

I am covering a few of the Roman Saturnalia recipes and, in order to give everyone a chance to celebrate, some modern recipes that match the theme and requirements of the holiday.

Some of the recipes included contain ingredients not everyone can eat, such as meats, nuts, or dairy. I will be offering substitutes for these ingredients. For cheeses, I'd like to suggest some recipes of dairy-free cheese substitutes you can make if you are allergic.

The first recipe I'd like to go over is Mustacei, or Roman Must Cakes. The first notion of it comes from Cato's De Agricultura where he says:

Mustaceos sic facito. Farinae siligineae modium unum musto conspargito. Anesum, cuminum, adipis, casei libram, et de virga lauri deradito, eodem addito, et ubi definxeris, lauri folia subtus addito, cum coques.

Translated, this recipe sounds like this:

This is how to make Mustaceos. Moisten 1 modius of wheat flour with must; add anise, cumin, 2 pounds of lard, 1 pound of cheese, and the bark of a laurel twig. When you have made them into cakes, put bay leaves under them, and bake.

While this recipe is relatively simple, the measurements is where difficulties arise since Cato uses Roman modius. There are many methods of making these cakes, here's the one I'd like to offer:

INGREDIENT LIST

400-500g plain flour (you can use gluten-free flour)

150-200ml of 2-3 day old grape juice (can be fresh)

1/2 tsp dried yeast (optional)

25-60g cheddar or pecorino cheese, grated (or vegan pecorino or cheddar)

2 tsp ground aniseed

2 tsp ground cumin

50-80g pastry lard or hard vegetable fat

olive oil

bay leaves (15 or 20)

DIRECTIONS

Prepare a bowl and add the grape juice in. Dissolve yeast in the juice. The yeast is optional, you can use just the must (grape juice).

Take a bowl, put in the flour, cumin, and aniseed. Mix. Add grated cheese into the flour mix.

Add lard or vegetable fat into the flour mix, mix until it comes together. Add the juice mix.

Knead until the dough is done. Roll the dough up and cover it with a towel. You can let it stay overnight.

Prepare and oil up your baking tray. Place bay leaves on it.

Roll the dough on a floured board until it's about 1 cm thick.

Use a pastry cutter to make individual cakes around 5 cm in diameter each.

Place the cakes on the bay leaves and bake for about 45 min at 180°C.

Serve warm.

The second meal idea follows another Ancient Roman cookbook, this time by Apicius, De Re Coquinaria. He says the following:

2Elixatas cucurbitas exprimis, sale asparges, in patina compones. Teres piper, cuminum, coriandri semen, mentam viridem, laseris radicem, suffundes acetum. Addicies cariotam, nucleum, teres melle, aceto, liquamine, defrito et oleo temperabis, et cucurbitas perfundes. Cum ferbuerint, piper asparges et inferes.

Which, if translated, sounds approximately like this:

Press the water out of the boiled pumpkin, place in a baking dish, sprinkle with salt, ground pepper, cumin, coriander seed, green mint and a little laser root; season with vinegar. Now add date wine and pignolia nuts ground with honey, vinegar and broth, measure out condensed wine and oil, pour this over the pumpkin and finish in this liquor and serve, sprinkle with pepper before serving.

Some people replace date wine with grated dates moistened with wine, some don't: that part is up to you. However, there are some general methods of cooking this recipe with modern measurements in mind:

INGREDIENT LIST

1 pumpkin, squash, or gourd

1 tsp peppercorns

1 tsp cumin

1 tsp coriander seeds

3-4 mint leaves, shredded

1 garlic clove

3-4 tbsp vinegar

30-60 g dates, finely chopped

45-70 g blanched almonds, finely chopped

2 tbsp clear honey

4 tbsp Wine or Grape Juice

15-30 ml olive oil

Sea salt to taste

DIRECTIONS

Cut the squash or any alternative you're using. Place into a steamer or cook on the stove until done.

Remove the excess water. Transfer the pulp to a saucepan or skillet. Whilst the squash is cooking, grind the spices or prepare them if you're using grinded spices.

Add the mint and garlic, grind or mix together with spices. Add the mix to the squash.

Next add the oil, dates, almonds and the honey. Mix it all together.

Place the final mixture back on the heat and simmer for the flavours to combine.

Serve sprinkled with salt and black pepper.

The last recipe I'd like to describe is that of a beverage. You don't have to have any sort of alcohol to enjoy Saturnalia, this is completely optional. This is purely for educational purposes.

Disclaimer: Do not do this unless you are of age, completely certain you know what you're doing, and know how to properly store it.

In the original text by Apicius, or Apicio, the following is said:

Folias rosarum, albo sublato, lino inseris ut sutilis facias, et vino quam plurimas infundes, ut septem diebus in vino sint. Post septem dies rosam de vino tollis et alias sutiles recentes similiter mittis, ut per dies septem in vino requiescant, et rosam eximis. Similiter et tertio facies et rosam eximis et vinum colas et, cum ad bibendum voles uti, addito melle rosatum conficies, sane custodito ut rosam a rore siccam et optimam mittas. Similiter, ut supra, et de viola violacium facies, et eodem modo melle temperabis.

If we translate this passage, it becomes this:

Make rose wine in this manner: rose petals, the lower white part removed, sewed into a linen bag and immersed in wine for seven days. Thereupon add a sack of new petals which allow to draw for another seven days. Again remove the old petals and replace them by fresh ones for another week; then strain the wine through the colander. Before serving, add honey sweetening to taste. Take care that only the best petals free from dew be used for soaking.

INGREDIENT LIST

A bottle of dry white wine 1 1/2 cups of rose petals Honey, to taste

DIRECTIONS

Take a bottle of premade or store bought wine and pour into a large pitcher or jar.

Pluck the rose petals from the flowers and place them on a piece of cheesecloth. It's best to use freshly collected petals but you can use dry ones, too.

Tie the cheesecloth and submerge it in the wine, leaving to sit in the refrigerator for a few days up to week. After the time has passed, fish the sachet from the wine and replace with more fresh rose petals in new cheesecloth.

Repeat this twice, so the wine steeps for a total of three weeks.

Once it is done sitting, serve the wine with honey to taste (and optional rose petals for garnish).

Before we speak on modern dishes, I'd like to mark down a few honorary mentions of Roman foods that are taken from Ancient cookbooks and follow Ancient recipes but were not included in the list above to save space and time.

If you want to follow Ancient Roman recipes and have the ingredients to do so, you can make: Arrosto di maiale con salsa allo zafferano, Aliter Ius in Avibus, Dulcia Piperata, Chiacchiere, Globi Dolce, Prosciutto in crosta dell’antica Roma, and more. I will be linking all sources on these recipes as well as some cookbooks on my Navigation page.

I also want to recommend some wines as mulled wine was a very prominent part of the celebration. Here are some wine types, not brands, that I personally recommend for the Saturnalia: Chianti Riserva, Sangiovese, Primitivo, Nero d'Avola, Montepulciano, Pinot Grigio, Candoni Moscato. Only get those if you're an adult and know how to deal with alcohol.

These are modern recipes that fit the general theme of the Saturnalia. All of these recipes contain typical ingredients of the festive feast. You don't have to use meat, you can replace it with cauliflower, tofu, and any meat analogues you'd like. For sweets, you can replace eggs with yogurt or heavy cream whereas flour can be non-gluten. You absolutely can replace other gluten-containing ingredients with gluten-free alternatives, and replace nuts with crushed dried fruits or other ingredient with a similar texture.

Links to recipes will be in my Sources.

ANTIPASTO & MAIN COURSES

Rotolini di speck e fichi - Speck and fig rolls

Lonza di maiale in salsa di noci - Pork in walnut sauce Carré di maiale alle mele - Pork with apples Honey Garlic Pork Tenderloin

DESSERTS & BREAD

Struffoli - Honey Balls Noci Dolci - Sweet filled walnuts Crostata di mele - Apple crust cake Buccellati - Sicilian sweet fig pastry

Lievito madre or pasta madre - Classic Italian sourdough Libum or Focaccia al Formaggio - Cheese focaccia Focaccia morbida - Soft focaccia

Sources are in my pinned.

#𓆩𝕍𓆪 ˣ 𝐅𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖆 #hellenism #helpol #theoi #hellenic polytheism #roman polytheism #religio romana #roman festival #witchblr

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coltrainbat · 1 year

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Ok what about where Andy barber, Jacob and his (Andy)'s wife, reader lived together happily and peacefully. Until one day, lauri who got out jail and visits them.

Our Home

A/N: FINALLY. enjoy. 💕☘️

Life was bliss with you and the boys.

Jacob was getting home schooled, Andy moved to practising law privately and you got to cook them dinner every night when you came from work. With Laurie securely in jail, while worries clouded your mind in the middle of the night, they were also subdued when Andy rolled over, wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

“Ok so this guy walks into a bar…” Andy waved his beer over the cleaned plate in front of him.

It was a regular Wednesday night dinner, the plates of your delicious dinner cleared, warm artificial light filled the room as the boys took turns trying to make you laugh with bad jokes.

“No, you used this one last month, that isn’t fair!” Jacob groaned.

“Hey hey, let me finish!” Andy hushed him.

“Ok so he walks into-“ Interrupted by a knock at the door.

You all froze. No one ever came to the door anymore. Especially not this time at night.

Andy rose from his seat; you grabbed his forearm.

“Wait maybe it’s not a good idea honey.”

“It’s fine.” He kissed your forehead and patted Jacob’s head as he made his way to the front door.

You put your hand on Jacob’s, rubbing it softly “Hey, you’ll be ok, he protects us remember.” He gave you a small smile and nod.

You heard him walk to the door and the shuffling sounds of the door opening.

“No no no don’t do that! Don’t fucking touch me.” Andy’s voice rose and you got up in instinct.

“Yeah Laurie, look I don’t care you’re not allowed to be here it’s a court order.”

“Please don’t let her in here Y/N.” Jacob gave you a pleading whisper.

“Go up to your room, ok honey? We’ll come and see you soon. It’ll be ok.” You pulled his fringe back from his head.

He nodded, holding back tears. Getting up quickly and moving up the stairs.

You came up behind Andy, putting your hand on his lower back.

“Oh, so you’re with her now? That fucking slut?” Laurie spat at your presence.

“Hey! Hey! You don’t get to talk to her like that. You don’t get to come here and disturb the peace. Now if you don’t get off OUR property in the next 2 minutes, I will make sure you go straight back to jail.”

You cowered behind Andy, trying to hide your tears at her hurtful words, you weren’t a homewrecker by any means. Your relationship started as colleagues, you were a shoulder to cry on, with Andy everyday through all the tribulations and trial. He slept on your couch 3 times a week to get away from it all, never once pulling a move. Your relationship started after she went to jail and the divorced was finalised.

Laurie growled, lunging for you, deep rage in her eyes. She didn’t make it far before Andy’s quick reflexes pushed her back with minimal effort, back out the door.

“THAT’S IT I’M CALLING.” He slammed the door, marching to his phone in the kitchen.

“Andy, she’s not worth it… she’s harmless.” You followed him.

“I don’t care! Nobody lays their hands on you in your own home. That’s not fucking ok. She may seem harmless but I’m not going to let her get away with that.”

He picked up his phone, holding it to his ear. Hand on your wrist, pulling you close.

“Hi, I’d like to report an attempted assault… yeah we have cameras.”

Once the police arrived and you filed the report with Andy closely by your side refusing to leave. You both made your way up to Jacob’s room.

Sound asleep in bed, you both decided you’ll talk to him tomorrow, both exhausted and not wanting to wake him.

You crawled up against Andy in bed. His grip on you still tight and tense.

“I’ll never let anything happen to you, you know?”

“I know, she won’t bother us again we’ll get the restraining order.”

“Not just her, anything in life. My top priority will always be keeping you two safe.”

“I know. That’s why you’re the best baby.” You smiled up at him.

He placed a small kiss on your forehead. Pulling your chin up to meet him with his thumb and his pointer, he placed another soft, deep kiss on your lips.

“I love you Y/N.”

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber fic #andy barber angst #andy barber one shot #chris evans characters #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character #andy barber fluff #andy barber x reader angst

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