#laughing jack oneshot

[rainrot4me]

Pretty Girl

Summary: The bar was Nina’s scene, her favorite place to be with you by her side. But when some creep tries to extract revenge in the middle of a crowd, you’re both forced to do what you do best. But when confidence falters, you have to show just how worthless guys like that can be.

Characters: Nina the Killer x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Alcohol, creepy guy, mentions of a gun, violence, harassment, depictions of death, murder, they have sex in the same room as a dead body, sex in a bathroom, public sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal eating out, scissoring

Words: 5.7k

Nina felt the most comfortable in a crowd.

Every creep had their own preferred environment: Jeff enjoyed the tight alleyways in dark streets, Toby and EJ liked the dense woods right before sunset, Masky and Hoodie felt the most comfortable in abandoned warehouses or dead buildings, and Slender felt the most at ease in his own mansion. Nina wasn’t any different, and neither were you.

When the two of you paired, the one place you always wound up was a dingy bar or way-too-loud club off the highway. They were always shrouded in darkness and colorful lights, packed to the brim with people of all shapes and features, nobody could ever tell you two looked different. Or at least they weren’t sober enough to. But you both preferred it that way.

Nina was a socializer for sure, caking on good amounts of makeup to disguise her smiling scars so the guys she talked to wouldn’t notice, acting giddy enough to get them to buy her a drink. You sat at the high-top table she had snagged, sipping slowly on your beer as you watched her, ensuring none of the guys got too handsy or pushy. While Nina enjoyed being in the crowd, you preferred to just watch it, surveying the drunks and their poor dates being left for the cute little killer. She stood out, that’s for sure. The bright rainbow lights accentuated her dyed hair, making her eyeshadow and hair clips look even more neon than they already were. She just looked right at home here, almost blending in with the smoke fogging the room.

“This guy got us some pineapple vodkas!” Her flushed face smiled at you, hauling up onto the stool perched in the corner of the dark club, sweaty bangs being pushed out of the way. Setting the tiny glasses on the table, you swirled them around, giving the liquid a small sniff before deeming the alcohol good enough to drink. “Havin’ fun?” You half-yelled over the blaring music, Nina leaning forward to read your lips. She nodded quickly, sipping the drink before cringing at the sour taste of the vodka and quickly setting it back down. She was more of a seltzer girl anyway. “Yeah! Real busy tonight, I don’t recognize any of the guys here!” Even though you frequented the same hotspots, it was unusual to see the same person twice. These bars were always off some random interstate exit with only those passing through interested enough to stop. Wasn’t much else in this town.

Nina pushed her drink towards you and you gladly accepted, smiling as she hopped down to the concrete floor and disappeared back into the crowd of sweaty nobodies. You decided your beer was more enjoyable, finishing off the freebies and swigging the stout alcohol down. The bar was littered wall to wall with trashy posters and signatures of singers you had never heard of, the loud music thumping in your ear as the lights flashed in your eyes. Even though it was overstimulating, you loved the feeling of just getting to exist in the crowd, accompanied by your favorite person.

Now, Nina and you weren’t anything serious. Sure, you shared drunken kisses and wrapped around her just a little too tight when she slept over, but it was just love for your closest friend. Despite her being an adult and fully capable of taking care of herself, you always felt called to watch over her and make sure nothing happened when she wasn’t looking. She was crafty with a knife, easily able to take down everyone in this room if she wanted, but to you, she was just a pretty, sweet girl in need of your protection. This stood evident now.

Her giddy expression pulled through the crowd towards you, your back already straightened as she stumbled to your side, wrapping her arms into yours. “Come dance, already! You just keep sitting here!” She laughed, tugging your jacket sleeve off of the stool and into the crowd, your half-empty beer still firm in hand as you playfully rolled your eyes. “I’m not much of a dancer, Nina…” You smiled, letting her hands intertwine in yours as she began to bounce along with the rhythm, her energy contagious. “Yeah, but you can try!” She teased back, tugging your arm over her shoulder as she sunk into your side, pushing your hips against hers as she giggled. The music thumped loudly, feeling the base under your feet as people pressed against you, shoving you two closer. You let her lead, jumping when she did and swaying to the rhythm, slowly sipping on your drink and trying your hardest not to spill it when she suddenly turned you around.

You laughed along with her, enjoying being in her presence, this small little moment in this big room, just you and her. Until she gripped the back of your shirt, holding tightly as her swaying stopped. You looked at her, confused as to why her excitement seemed to fade, following her eyes up.

A larger man had his phone held out, scrolling onto something as he stared at Nina, eyes glaring. Nina pressed closer to your side, looking towards the floor to avoid his gaze as you just stared back, wondering what the hell he even wanted.

“Hey, I know you.” The man shouted over the music just enough for you both to hear. You glanced at the girl beside you, letting your arm rest on her shoulders as you tried to figure out who he was and why he had his phone pressed in your faces. He was much taller than either one of you, dark hair and a stern look that felt like trouble. You had to find an out before he got to looking too close. “I don’t think so, man.” You returned, taking a step backward and pulling Nina along with you. But the man just shook his head, turning his phone towards you as you finally caught what he was scrolling to. This guy was sober, or at least, sober enough to recognize you two in the dark.

It was an older picture, a couple of years ago maybe. The shot was blurry and bright from the flash, but you could tell exactly what it was. You and Nina cringed, looking at a picture of yourselves in the middle of a mission mid-stab on some guy. Blood-soaked and crazy-eyed, your glares shot right into the camera, your faces disheveled. Your blood ran cold as you saw yourself half-crazy, already taking a step toward the person behind the phone. You couldn’t recall what you were doing it for, but it was very clearly the younger two of you. Looking back up at the man, his expression was more upset now, confirming his suspicion from your reactions and closing the space. You pushed Nina back, sliding your jacket off of your hip to show the revolver you had holstered to your belt, the man planting in front of you as Nina tugged at your sleeve.

“Found this on my buddy’s phone after he was killed. Filed reports, nothin’ ever came up. Guess the universe just wanted me to get to you myself.” He scoffed, leaning in towards your face and spitting his words, closing the distance no matter how much you backed up. The crowd pulsed inwards, pushing you closer as your headache grew from the music. You had to get you both out of there. This guy was insane, his demeanor switching on a dime, full intentions on acting some revenge he thought he was owed.

That’s when you remembered the beer bottle still clutched in your fist, flipping the glass over and hauling it upwards. Only a few members of the crowd noticed as you swung it up into his chin, the bottle shattering and cutting into his jaw. The man rears back, gripping his already bloody face. “C’mon!” You shouted at Nina, grabbing her hand and pushing through the patrons oblivious to your panic. Breathing heavily, you shoved your way to the bathroom, miscalculating which way the exit was and landing yourselves in a deeper part of the bar, swearing as you made it through the swinging door.

Nina followed in as you slammed it shut, turning the small lock and pushing her into a disgusting stall. The bathroom wasn’t any brighter than the bar, flickering linoleum lights shining just enough to see in front of you but doing little to hide the amount of trash and filth there was in there. Graffiti lined the walls, your pants loud as the music muffled in the other room. You had no clue if that guy had seen you come in here, but you shoved the stall door shut just in case, locking it as well and trying to push Nina back further. “[Y/N]...” She whined, her hands on your shoulders as she was crammed beside the toilet, pressing her into the corner as you both stared at each other. “Who the hell was that?” She gasped.

“Friend of some guy we killed, I guess. He has a photo.” You cursed as you heard sudden knocks against the door, and then the knocks turned to pounding. Nina gripped your shoulders tighter, her free hand tugging up her skirt to grip the knife she had holstered to her thigh, the weapon concealed. You reached for your gun too, cocking it as you pressed your back against her, shielding her from the threat that was coming.

Very obviously, Nina could hold her own. She was tough, a little demon when she needed to be. But your instincts overrode her own, some primal protective thing that made you throw yourself out in front, willing to take anything for her sake. “Just stay put.” You grit back, reaching to grip her thigh and rub your thumb gently across for comfort, your body tense as you hear the bathroom door finally slam hard enough to open, the door ricocheting off the concrete walls.

“Where the fuck are ‘ya?!” The man shouts, his voice loud as the muffled music becomes audible again, footsteps heavy against the tiled floor. You grit, pressing your shoulders back harder as you point your gun up, aiming through the closed stall door ready to shoot. Broken bottles and trash crunch under his shoes as the haze of smoke from the bar wafts through the open door, your senses overloaded as you breathe heavily, trying to stay concealed. “Fuckin’ whores.” He snaps again, tossing open a stall a little ways down and cursing when he finds nothing. You can see his boots stomping closer under the door, Nina panting behind you as she watches too, trying to hold her breath.

Another stall door slams open, closer this time. “I’m gonna fuck you both up. Little shits, show you who you’re fuckin’ dealin’ with. Show you what you deserve.” He growled, stepping in front of the stall you two were crammed in. Nina held her breath, clutching your shoulders so tight it began to sting, but you just held steady, pointing the barrel right where his head would be.

As his body slams into the door you scowl, finger heavy on the trigger. His chin was sliced up, blood still gushing down his neck and soaking his shirt, the shattered glass making deep gashes into his flesh. He was breathing heavily, fist clenched around the broken bottle you had hit him with, pointing it towards you. “Gah, you’re both fuckin’ freaks, too.” He spat, wiping his shirt sleeve across his chin and hissing at the burn, glaring at you. “This is what you get you fuckin’ demon.” He snapped, pressing forward. Gritting your teeth, you pulled the trigger, his stance shifting suddenly as he charged you and left the bullet to graze his shoulder.

“Fuck!” He roared, hauling back to grip the now torn clothing that was spurting dark blood, hunching over as you pressed off of Nina. You had a pretty nice silencer equipped onto your revolver, it was necessary for the work you did, especially now. Sure it made the weapon bulky and hard to sway, but it was worth it to drown out the noise with the music still thumping on the other side of the walls. “Move!” You hissed, toeing forward to push Nina in front of you, shoving her past the man and towards the door in a scurry. You followed, barely making it two paces before you were jerked back by your hair, his bloodied fist clamped into the strands.

“You bitch.” He panted, tugging you back towards him as he gripped the bottle, clicking his tongue in your ear. Nina turned, steady movements as she watched, trying not to make him react if she pressed too close. You panted, reaching back to grip his fist tangled in your hair but he only pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your neck. Pressing the shattered bottle to your cheek, you stilled, breath catching in your throat as he nicked your skin and smiled. “Maybe I’ll make you look like her? Carve some ugly-ass scars into your cheeks too, huh?” He snickered, gritting his teeth against your ear. This guy was so much larger than you, his arm taking up your entire neck as he choked you, threatening by pressing the glass at more of an angle. Nina cursed, you both at a standstill as she let her knife rest back into the holster around her thigh, her eyes focused on his movements. “Let her go. I’m the one who killed your friend, she doesn’t deserve this.” She grits, raising her hands to either side of her head in surrender, breathing steady. He only snagged you tighter, growling. “Neither did he, but you cut him up anyway. I think it’s only fair I take yours too, yeah?” You choked as he clamped his arm in, pressing the glass until it cut into your cheek, hissing as you tried to pull back. Hauling your knee up, you slammed your boot back into his knee, a curse ringing from his lips as he hauled you around.

Nina took the chance, brushing her skirt out of the way to grip the handle of her knife, closing in faster than you could see. It took no time before you felt that arm unwrap from your throat, the big guy being hauled back as Nina’s body jumped onto his, hooking her legs around his torso and latching on, her thin frame hooking around every limb as she gripped his jaw, turning his head to the side with a snap. Her knife flashed up, your disheveled breathing distracting you as you watched the blade cut into the skin of his throat, tugging the skin until it sliced open, warm blood splurting out. Nina hauled herself up, swinging her leg over his shoulder to get a better angle as she cut deeper, wrapping her fingers into his hair and forcing his neck open, making sure to catch his esophagus, cutting off his scream before it even had the chance to come out. He was sputtering blood across his lips, hands reaching to paw at Nina’s clothes as he kneeled, coughing for air.

Unhooking her legs, she let her feet hit the floor, stepping back as he clattered onto the concrete. With a few final chokes and blood pooling underneath, Nina gripped your arms, hauling you up as she checked you for any injuries. “You alright?” She smiled, swiping her thumb across the tiny prick the glass had made into your cheek, rubbing your cheeks. You nodded, still out of breath as you looked down at the lifeless body that was still jerking from the aftershock, kicking at his limp legs. “Go to sleep, motherfucker.” Nina groaned, bending down to wipe her blade with his sleeve, cleaning the metal, and repositioning it back into her holster. You did the same with your gun. Stepping over him, she stepped to the door, locked the bolt, and stepped back to your side to survey her work. “We gotta clean this up.” You groaned, letting her hand intertwine with yours as she leaned close. Nodding, you both sighed.

-

Locking the bathroom stall door, Nina climbed back under the opening at the bottom, wiping her knees off as she turned to you. There was no telling how many paper towels you had used to get most of the blood-soaked off the floor, but there were still noticeable stains in the tiles. In a bathroom this dark, who could really tell anyway? You had propped this guy up on the toilet, locking him in so someone would find him at a later date, unaware of the horror inside. There was still no telling who he was or why he had thought himself a personal savior of his long-dead friend, but the two of you brushed it off, stepping to the sink to clean yourselves up.

Blood sunk into the drain, your hands feeling less grimy as you looked over to Nina, her expression locked onto herself in the mirror. She was prodding at her scars, pushing her cheeks together and apart, watching the tissue separate as the insides of her mouth became visible. You dried your hands, leaning back to catch her view. “You good?” You teased, elbowing her as she snapped back, smiling and nodding. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” But her gaze kept catching back to the mirror, looking at her mouth. You elbowed her again, giving a more serious look as she groaned.

“Am I really, like… that ugly?” She shied away, looking towards the floor as you groaned, sliding your hands down her arms to grip her hands, squeezing tight. “Nina. That guy doesn’t know wha-” She cut you off, shaking her head and pushing back, tensing. “No, I’m being serious. Like, I know these were for Jeff and everything, but no one but him even likes them…” You scoffed, leaning down to meet her eyes, eyebrows raised in offense. “I like them!” It was awkward now, nothing you could say would bring her back from this hole she was digging herself. She just looked so defeated.

“Nina. You are the most beautiful girl ever, and if some asshole with a savior complex is going to let you get all down on yourself, then you have seriously got to re-evaluate.” You grit, reaching your hands to cup her cheeks, running your thumbs across the healed scars, her actual smile spreading slowly. “Thank you…” She quietly smiled, letting her hands grip your sleeves as she looked at you, gazing slowly from your eyes and across your features, landing on your lips. You then realized you hadn’t let go of her face, suddenly very aware as you tried to think of something to say. It all got lost when you realized she was leaning in.

You followed, eyes hooded as you watched her eyes close, fingers sliding up your shoulders and wrapping behind your neck. It was brief, but you pecked the other, disconnecting as you breathed each other’s air slowly, contemplating.

But Nina pressed forward again, letting her lips spread across yours as you groaned, wrapping your arms around her waist. It was slow, desperate movements that had your heads turning in rhythm, kissing so gently but so hard as you both panted. “[Y/N]...” The killer breathed against your lips, letting her hands tangle up into the back of your hair as she pushed further, her tongue sliding against your bottom lip. You groaned, pushing yours into her mouth and sighing at the feeling, the sweet kisses turning heated way too quickly. You both clawed, palming at the other until you were dizzy, clinging for more.

You pulled back first, lips wet with her spit as you panted, gazing into her eyes. She was so pretty, you really did think so. Pretty and insanely dangerous, perfect in her little way.

You pressed back, missing her mouth to kiss against her scars, humming as she gasped. “So pretty…” You smiled, planting another kiss at the jagged corner where the tear ended, letting your hands run along her waist. She was blushing pretty badly, tugging at the back of your shirt and giggling at every press of your lips, her smile growing. You giggled, letting yourself pull back to face her again, hugging her close. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, Nina. No matter what you think.” Her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes caught in the flickering ceiling lights, casting a nice glow on her cute face.

Her hands tugged you closer, pressing her lips against your cheeks and down your jaw, planting onto your neck. You gasped, her hands hooked around your waist as you pushed against her shoulders, confused. “Nina? What’re yo-”

“Let me thank you.” She smiled, sucking gently onto your skin, tugging your jacket down your arm, and pulling your shirt to expose your shoulder, peppering the skin with gentle kisses. You blushed, her actions throwing you off, her eagerness unclear. “Thank me? For what?” You groaned as she nibbled into your skin, the area reddening as she kissed again, moving back up to your jaw. “For being so brave… For being so sweet…” She slid your jacket off of your shoulders.

“For being so kind… For being so strong…” Her hands pressed up into your shirt now, your skin riddled with chills as her nails grazed your skin, your jacket now pooled onto the floor. “Nina…” You whined, hands planted onto her shoulders as she pushed up further, letting her hands palm against your bra. Gasping, you looked at her, the mischievous expression lacing her smile easing you back against the wall as she tugged your shirt over your head.

It was cold in this bathroom, her warm hands rubbing against your arms, lacing down to your belt. “Nina.” You warned now, watching as she slowly sunk to her knees, your eyes going wide as you leaned back into the concrete wall, hands planted behind you. “For being so pretty… For being so loving…” Her hands tugged at your belt now, unlooping the mechanism and tugging the leather out from between the loops, careful to lay your holster down carefully as she returned to your jeans. You could only stare as she ran her palms against your thighs, leaning forward to kiss your lower abdomen, planting kisses every couple of inches until she was at your crotch, mouthing at the area. “Let me thank you, okay?” She smiled sweetly, her words full of thick desperation. You couldn’t stop yourself from nodding, lips parting as you watched her slowly unbutton your jeans, tugging them down your shaky thighs.

You were already wet, panties bright in the dark bathroom as the music continued to thump outside, the patrons oblivious to what had happened in here. Or what was happening now. Nina kissed against the cloth, her hands palming at your thighs as you gasped, shoulder blades pressed back into the concrete as your hips angled, desperate for her to move those kisses downwards. “Nina…” You whined, nails digging into your fists as she looped her fingers into the waistband of your panties, ever so slowly tugging them down, pushing past your knees. She smiled at the view, kissing her way closer again.

You died at the anticipation, legs spreading as she kissed right at the crook of your thigh, lips grazing your soft cunt. You hissed, letting one hand come off of the wall to wrap behind her head, cupping her jaw as she smiled up at you, finally pressing in.

Your head fell back against the wall as her tongue slid through the folds of your cunt, spreading you around the muscle and driving your hips forward to chase the sensation. “Fuck-” You groaned, hand gripping her jaw as she rolled her tongue up, pressing against your clit and stimulating it to life. “You taste good, too…” She giggled, letting her nails clench into your thighs as she slid back in, pushing her tongue across your folds. You gasped, jaw loose as you watched, her mouth sucking and lapping at the arousal that was spreading, your cunt already aching. She pushed up, letting the muscle press against your entrance, your hips pushing forward as she slid in. You moaned, both hands lacing into her hair as she slowly rolled her tongue, collecting every lovely taste that poured from your cunt until she was moaning too, the vibration overwhelming.

“Oh god…” You moaned, hugging her head closer between your thighs as she grinned into your folds, her lips becoming soaked with your juices and her own saliva. Probing her tongue, she slowly tugged it out, your groan soon cut off as she found a new home latched onto your clit. You whined, her tongue flicking at the sensitive nub as she sucked, your hips jerking with her. “Yeah, oh fuck, yeah-” You gasped into it as you felt her hand trail off of your thigh and up towards your cunt, her fingers sliding through the wetness she had created and pushing your folds apart. They slowly circled your entrance, her tongue flat against your clit as she pushed two digits up, curling them immediately.

Gasping, you lurched forward, your fingers tight in the strands of her hair as she began to slowly pump her fingers, dragging louder moans from your lips. The bass echoed through the walls, Nina feeling the vibrations under her knees as she worked, desperate to make you feel good. Her fingers pressed against your walls, angled to push your insides and make you whine, the sensitivity a wonderful feeling. You rolled your hips in time, her tongue focused on your aching clit as she sucked, arousal soaking her fingers the deeper she went. You were falling apart, eyes half open and voice tired as she drew you closer, every movement a step closer to driving you mad. The worst part: she looked so pretty between your legs.

“Keep going…” You mewled, gritting your teeth as you let your hips grind in time with her fingers, dragging each sensation out as she smiled, popping off of your clit. “Cum for me, love… There you go…” She teased, eyes wide as she looked into your eyes, her doe eyes making you moan as she reconnected with your clit, keeping her gaze steady. You blinked quickly, eyes slowly beginning to roll as you felt your cunt clench down, your abdomen swelling as you cried out, her fingers driving you past your limit. “Nina-” You grit, cumming on her fingers as your hips pressed down, dragging out the stretch the best you could as she lapped at your orgasm, tongue pressing around her fingers and relishing in the sweet taste. Her fingers tugged out of your cunt as you panted, popping the digits into her mouth and smiling. “Thank you.” You rolled your eyes.

Regaining your breath, you stood straight, Nina still perched between your knees as you kicked off your pants, sliding them to the side as you hauled her up to her feet. With her fingers still latched in her mouth, you turned her back towards the wall, pressing her back and quickly pushing your hands up her shirt, tugging at her tits. “My turn, sweet girl.” She giggled, hands wrapping around your neck as she melted into your touch. Her panties were next, reaching under her skirt to tug the lacy fabric down, kicking them off as you pressed between her legs.

Nudging your knee in, you planted your hands onto her hips, pushing her down until her wet cunt made contact with your thigh. She gasped, fingers gripped into your shoulders as she began to rock her hips, grinding herself down onto your leg and nudging her clit, her gasps so sweet. You kissed her cheeks, letting you guide her to get herself off on your thigh, hips desperately jittering as her arousal soaked your skin. “You gonna cum like this?” You teased, pushing her down harder and digging your nails into her skin, her answering whine enough to make you wet again. “I know you can…” You grinned, tugging her off of the wall and turning her around, her chest pressed against the concrete as you repositioned your knee, pushing your leg up to meet her cunt again.

She immediately began to thrust her hips, grinding her hips back against the sensation as she arched, digging her nails into the concrete. “[Y/N]...” She mewled, your hands pressing her skirt up to grip her ass, the view stunning as you watched her arousal spread across your thigh, her movements getting faster. “Come on, Nina…” You teased behind her, the indents of your nails appearing on her ass, little red marks contrasting against her pale skin. Reaching around her hip, you pressed your fingers to her clit, swiping the bud until she was whining and leaning back against your chest. “Oh, fuck…” She smiled, reaching behind to wrap around your neck, stuttering her hips in time with your fingers, chasing her orgasm that was quickly approaching. You let your fingers dip into her cunt, pushing past her clenched entrance and stretching her, her orgasm quickly following.

She clamped down around the digits, hips jerking up off of your thigh to chase the feeling, grinding her clit against your palm. You smiled, her whines and moans fluttering to your clit again as you rubbed yourself, fingers swiping across your clit as Nina panted against your chest. Turning back around, she chased your touch, tangling her fingers into your hair as she smashed her lips to yours, her body sinking down the wall to the floor. “I need you, love…” She mewled, reaching down to tug your hips closer, thighs spreading. You smiled against her lips, desperate tongues swiping against lips as you cupped a hand under her knee, pushing it back.

Her legs stretched, knee pressing back to her ribs as she held her leg, spreading her cunt wide for you to see as she sunk into the wall, contorting for you to climb on top of her. You pressed in, wrapping your legs intertwined, gripping her shoulder as you rolled your cunt against her, clits grazing. She moaned, leaning in to latch her lips with yours again, rolling her hips as your folds slipped between the other, arousal damp. The floor was cold, goosebumps riding up your bodies as you moved, desperately trying to sink your cunts in closer.

Her face was dark, the flush of her cheeks desperate as she jerked her hips, chasing the post-orgasmic feeling until you were panting into her mouth, biting her lip. “So good at taking me, yeah? Such a pretty girl when she’s falling apart on my cunt…” You teased, her lids heavy as your clits fluttered, folds soaked as they slid, thighs shaking. She blushed deeply, dragging her lip from your teeth to plant kisses across your neck again, fully jerking into you as you sped up, grinding her cunt down against your own as she reached up to grip the sink counter. “Faster-” She breathed, panting against your skin, sweat dripping down your brows.

Obliging, you angled differently, clits catching sideways now and drawing even louder moans from her lips. “Nina…” You groaned, legs getting tired as you stretched, determination and arousal driving you both as you clawed at the other, hips stuttering. “Feels so good…” She smiled, her mouth finding its way back to yours as you breathed deep, letting her kiss swallow you as you felt your cunt clench, clits grinding statically against the other.

Gripping your shoulder, Nina began to sit up, pushing you down to the tiles as she climbed on top. You smiled, her arms wrapping around your leg and holding close to her chest, arching her back to sink down again. “Gonna cum…” She whined, slowly sliding her hips back and forth, arousal spreading across your folds and making you jerk, moaning. She was antsy now, clawing at your thigh and digging her knees into the ground, redness blotting her skin. You watched, sweaty and exhausted but so willing to keep going. “C’mon hun, c’mon…” You groaned, reaching to wrap your fingers into hers and angle your hips up, clits bumping and jerking against the friction of your movements.

Gazing at you, she hissed, rutting down until she lost eye contact, pupils rolling back as she came, biting into her lips while her nails dug into your skin, clawing. Muffled moans echoed against the concrete walls as you did the same, hips locking in place as you rode out the feeling, cunts soaking and dripping down the other’s thighs and onto the floor.

Gasping, you both held the other close, insides rippling with your orgasms and exhaustion, chests heaving. You panted against one another, hugging whatever you could touch close and just breathing the moment. Leaning forward, you swiped her colorful bangs out of her face, her pale skin patchy with redness as she smiled at you. “Still pretty.” You grinned, and her smile answered enough.

Dragging your clothes back on, it was impossible not to wrap your arms around each other as you sauntered through the bar. The stench in the little bathroom was already getting bad with rot, but that was someone else’s problem now. You would never be able to tell the killer was this cute girl with rainbow clips in her hair and loud makeup slightly smeared across her eyelids. The crowd had dwindled, the lateness of the night getting to you both as you pushed through the still-present crowd, holding hot bodies close.

Even as she climbed into the passenger seat of your car, pushing your hand away from the wheel and climbing onto your side, straddling your lap, you still thought she was so pretty. Her hand reached to the side of your seat, pushing the lever to lay your seat back, your hands already pushing up into her shirt as she giggled, unbuttoning your jeans again.

The prettiest.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thank you to my wonderful editors, @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[eyelessjackspuppyshark]

LAUGHING JACK HEADCANONS? 👉👈

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 YES! Okay so my Laughing Jack isn’t 100% planned out due to him not being a main muse. But I have quite a few head cannons!! These may be quite messy so bare with me! :3

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack originated as a Angelic shapeshifter. He was made to be a “imaginary friend” to help sad and terminally children. Used to make children happy or enjoy their last moments. He was fairly weak during this period of time, feeding off the little emotions around him.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Although due to being trapped in his box for years due to Isaac leaving he began loosing his colour due to his box feeding off Isaac’s mothers negativity. And eventually watching Isaac torture people he was corrupted. LJ lost his colour turning him monochrome, and his body began only feeding off the negativity and souls that were in the house. Due to this he was corrupted and ended up turning into a demonic creature instead of an angelic creature.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack is a shapeshifter and has multiple different forms he takes. One of those forms being “Laughing Jill”, I personally headcanon them being the same person. He also will occasionally shift into child like versions of both of his forms, along with turning into animals for convenience. He’s Genderfluid!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack doesn’t kill children. He doesn’t believe children deserve to suffer. Although he kidnaps children after killing their abusive parents. He typically takes the children and drops them off in completely different states, and sometimes different countries in hopes that they’ll have a better life. Sure it’s strange but he just wants to help children get better.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jacks box is what keeps him alive, it’s like his soul to him. He often keeps it safe with Sally whenever he’s not helping another child. He can morph it into different things as well. He turns it into a small necklace for Sally to wear, Sally also feeds off of the energy from the Box to have a physical form; so without LJs box she wouldn’t be able to touch anything. If his Box is broken he’ll die with it.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Speaking of Sally. Laughing Jack adopted her almost immediately after they met. He felt bad for her due to her situation and promised he’d help and protect her. They’ve got a Father Daughter bound.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 The inside of Laughing Jacks box is like a huge carnival! It used to be colourful but unfortunately it lost all of its colour when he was corrupted. Although LJ is a Kleptomaniac and often steals things from his victims. He also has a compulsive hoarding addiction so his carnival is a mess.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack claims to be Pansexual but in reality he isn’t really attracted to people. He often finds himself accepting dates just for convenience and too have fun. Never being fully interested in people. He’s too busy being a Dad to care about others

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack sees nearly everything in black and white, although he sees the colour red. He’s often fascinated by anything red and will gravitate towards it to check it out. Due to this Him and my OC ARK have a fairly confusing relationship. LJ with randomly touch his hair and he’ll panic.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack often doesn’t understand personal space. He finds himself leaning against people and using them as shoulder rests. Or getting in their face without realizing.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack can sense people’s emotions and will often make his body admit certain pheromones to cheer people up or to make them feel other emotions.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack has a never ending pocket that he keeps candies and small toys in. Often handing them out to the people around him. If you need a fidget toy just ask him and he’ll give you one! He often will drug the insomniacs with melatonin candies just to get them to sleep.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack is only at the mansion due to Sally enjoying it. If Sally wasn’t with him he would continue to do his own work alone.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Laughing Jack can teleport, along with being telepathic. He knows almost everything and it’s scary.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 If Laughing Jack finds a love interest (although it’s very unlikely he would) he’d be obsessed with them and grow very clingy of them. He’d honestly do anything for his partner. Also he’s one loyal MF…

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

[t00snuff3d]

hiiiiiii i’m back to taking requests for hc and one shots!!!! pls send stuff in i would LOVE to get to writing again!!!

- ghost

[hauntingkiki]

Ultimate Despair! BEN Drowned with Ultimate Hope! Reader.

ooo i’m guessing it’s a danganronpa AU, but if not then i apologize >~< I’ll also do GN! Reader

Hope Carries On?

Ultimate Despair! BEN Drowned x Ultimate Hope! Reader

Creepypasta (Danganronpa AU)

2nd pov

Ben smacked the table with his fist, groaning in disappointment before slouching in his seat with his arms crossed. “Ugh! I want something…something interesting!” He whined, throwing his arms up. “Can there be some….some-uh-some murders?! Right, babe?” He sat up in his seat, looking at you with a grin.

You scoffed, looking at the short boy with a sigh. “Ben, you can’t be saying that!” You scolded. “We almost already lost someone just a few days ago! Thank god our medic got to him!”

Ben laughed at the memory, clapping his hands a few times before glitching and contorting. “Jeff almost had him!” He rolled his eyes as blood seeped out of his eye socket. “I mean; he IS the Ultimate Killer after all! He deserves that title 100%!”

“We almost lost our Ultimate Homicidal because of this!” You cried, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Our Ultimate Medic had to save him. We can’t afford any more accidents like this!”

He looked back at the cameras, watching as the group of people moved around, half of the crowd wanted to turn to Despair while the other half wanted to turn to Hope. “I get that you’re our ‘Ultimate Hope’ and all.” Ben paused, glancing at you. “But you have to stop interfering with this game. We both agreed to this.”

You shook your head vaguely as you walked over to the boy. “And I get you’re the ‘Ultimate Despair’ but, you came up with this on your own. There was no ‘we’ in that discussion.” You watched as the group fought with one another from the cameras, sighing sadly as punches were thrown and weapons were drawn. “This is a shit show, Ben.”

Ben nodded, smiling. “Entertaining to say the least.” He threw his arms behind his head as he kicked his feet onto the table, leaning back in the chair whilst laughing.

The two of you were slightly, watching as people started to hit the floor. People wrestled with one another, either trying to survive or trying to kill.

Tears swelled in your eyes, the screamed echoed through the computers as blood splattered everywhere.

A tear slid down your cheek, watching as the Ultimate Jokester threw himself in front of the little Ultimate Prophet, saving her from a blow from the Ultimate Killer. The two fought with one another, the tall, black and white clown winning the fight, scarring off the blood covered boy off.

You held your breath, looking at the blond before placing your hand in his messy hair. “You know I still love you, right?” You whispered.

He sighed softly, gently grabbing your hand and faintly kissing your knuckles. “I know.” He whispered back. “You know I still love you too, right?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

IM SORRY THIS IS SHORT!!:(

[darringdosie]

Accidents happen, don’t they?

Welcome to the ancient dreams of a modern land, enjoy the poison, or cough up roses 🌹.

Requests are open 24/7!

Twisted wonderland~ (master list)

Creepypasta~ (Masterlist)

Dialiok Lovers~ (master list)

Obey me~ (Masterlist)

Mystic Messenger~ (Masterlist)

[joostsblog]

I love love loveee your writing for Joost!!

Could you do a longer one shot, where Joost is playing the reader his album (preferably Fryslân) with Florida 2009, a she comforts him? Would be amazing <3

Leyla, write one fic as it was requested challenge, level impossible 😅 so I altered your request to be about Liverpool bc I didn't think I could do it justice with florida 2009 being such a personal song, I hope you understand ❣️

Liverpool ~ Joost Klein oneshot

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader

Description: Your boyfriend Joost shows you his new album and the end of Liverpool holds a little surprise for you which will change your relationship forever.

Word Count: 0.8k

A/N: Here I am still writing something while I said I wouldn't do so on vacation lol ☀️ if you liked it, you can show your support by leaving a reblog 🫶

Warnings: not proofread

"I think I'm ready," Joost stood in the doorway of your shared apartment.

You looked up from your phone and your face lit up as you knew what this meant. Joost was a perfectionist and avoided showing you rough mixes of his songs because he wanted you to experience them as they were intended - perfectly finished. He had only shown you two finished songs from the album he was working on and now he was finally ready to play the album front to back for you.

"Are you sure?" you asked as you got up from the sofa and walked towards him. He nodded and you could tell that he was nervous. "I'm sure it's gonna be amazing," you said and gave a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Don't sing your praises too early," he laughed.

You sat down in his makeshift home studio and he handed you a pair of headphones, putting some on as well. You put your hand on his knee as he was looking up the files on his computer. Just as he was about to press play, he looked at you again.

"I'm not sure I should even look at you," he laughed nervously. You gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

"Do whatever feels comfortable to you," you said with a smile. "I'm gonna love it."

Joost nodded took your hand into his and pressed play. Before you closed your eyes to focus on the music you gave a quick peck to Joost's cheek.

As you were listening through the album, you bopped your head along, smiled and noticed all the shy glances Joost was giving you to check for your reaction. You were right, you did love it. As the last song Liverpool slowly came to its end, you could tell that Joost was watching your face very intently now. The song ended with a series of shout-outs to Joost's friends and collaborators, which warmed your heart.

Shouts-out to Tantu Beats

Shout-out to Joost Klein

Shout-out to Dylan meine brudi

Shouts-out Stuntje shouts-out Wim Hof

Shout-out to Jack Parow out in South Africa

Shouts-out to Apson

Shouts-out Nathan Vandergunst

Damn, shouts-out Enzo Knol

Shout-out to (Y/N)

Shout-out you for listening to my album

I fucking love you man

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard your name appear in the song and your eyes immediately began to water.

You and Joost had both agreed pretty early on in your relationship to keep it private. No one knew that Joost was in a committed relationship and especially no one (except for your friends and family) knew that the person he loved was you. It was the right decision at the time because it allowed you to love and live in private without any unwanted attention. But the longer you had been with Joost, the more the both of you had talked about wanting to actually express your love for each other publicly as well. You just didn't expect that Joost was ready for a step like this - putting your name in one of his songs.

As the song finished you both put your headphones down. Your eyes were still welling with tears and your smile was wide.

"I can take it out if you want to," Joost offered hesitantly and you shook your head no immediately.

"No, please keep it," you said and cupped his face with your hands. "I love it," you said before kissing his soft lips which curved into a grin.

It didn't take long for fans to pick up on your name in Liverpool after the album dropped. Fans took to Twitter, TikTok and Tumblr to voice their opinions of the album and also their confusion about that unknown name.

"Who tf is (Y/N)?"

"IKR? I swear I've never heard that name before"

"Maybe she's his manager???"

"I doubt it, why would he thank her last after all of his friends?"

"Wait, let me check something, I think I've seen her Instagram account before!!"

To your surprise, it also didn't take long before fans found your Instagram account with just a few hundred followers just because you appeared on Joost's follow list and he commented on your posts frequently. There were no pictures of the two together on your account but through puzzling together locations and outfits, some fans quickly found out that you spend a lot of time together.

The follows, likes and comments slowly came flooding in and you realised that your relationship wasn't so private anymore. But even the few nasty comments didn't make you regret your decision.

So when a few days passed and the comments persisted ("is she Joost's gf?") you decided to upload a picture to your story.

the cat's out the bag, you captioned a picture of you happily cuddling with a cat in your arms, another hand also visible stroking the cat. A hand with a 1983 tattoo.

[mariasont]

I was wondering if you could write a Hotch oneshot smut. I was thinking like babysitter or even team member. And reader comes onto/flirts w Hotch and he doesn’t know how to act at first lol. Either way, I know it’ll slay (also no rush!)

p.s. Love your work dude 🫶

Negotiating with Mr. H - pt 1

pt 1, pt 2

A/N: I LOVE YOU! thank u 4 requesting angel face <3 i promise there will be a smutty part two ;) i just got so excited writing this i wanted to put it out b4 i went to bed lolol

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!nanny!reader

warnings: suggestive flirting, suggested age gap (reader is in 20s, hotch is in 40s prob)

wc: 1.2k

As you curled up on the couch, your feet hidden under the warmth of your legs, a soft yawn escaped your lips. The room was silent save for the slow murmur of the television, which seemed to grow dimmer with each passing moment, fighting the inevitable pull of sleep that threatened to overtake your best intentions to stay awake.

Being the live-in nanny, you typically followed the soft patter of Jack's footsteps to bed, but tonight the clock ticked past and light in the living room remained defiantly on. Your gaze occasionally drifted to the empty hallway, the cushions of the couch bearing the imprint of your tension. The fabric pulled tight beneath your fingers, every creak of the front door causing your heart to skip a beat as you awaited the turn of the lock. 

You couldn't even explain what had gotten you so worked up. Maybe it was pent up frustration of living with a man that was so attractive, so powerful. Maybe it was the quiet intensity that lingered in his frown, or the way his suits seemed to be a second skin, tailored to perfection. And the beard--oh, that fleeting shadow across his jawline--gone way too soon.

You wanted him. Bad. You had an ache for something more than stolen glances and casual words. You weren't sure of how you would go about it, but you knew you needed to see him, to feel him. It was worse when each case that took him away seemed to stretch time, pulling at the seams of your patience. Every time he got back, you fought the urge to jump his bones. 

You weren't even sure how he felt about you. You knew he probably had hundreds of women, all vying for a glance, a smile, anything. And there you were, just the nanny, invisible even in plain sight. The thought of him sparing you even a second glance seemed impossible.

Your train of thought screeched to a halt at the click of the door's latch. Turning, you found Hotch's eyes, a drowsy grin gracing his features. A thrill of nerves shot through you as he quietly said your name. 

"Everything alright? You're up late," he observed, his voice a low timbre that filled the quiet room. He eased out of his jacket, movements unhurried, and placed his briefcase down by the door. He glanced at his watch. "And definitely past your bedtime."

A soft smile curled at the corners of your lips. "Did you just make a joke, Mr. Hotchner?"

The chuckle that followed was more of a breath than a sound, a sound almost foreign in the stillness of the hallway. He moved towards the kitchen. "Must be the lack of sleep," he offered, pausing to glance back at you.

The simple act of him loosening his tie held your gaze. His hand, reaching for the scotch, moved with an ease born of repetition. You may not have been a profiler, but you prided yourself on understanding the subtle tells of his body language. You knew that when he starred down the glass for a moment too long before drinking, the case had been particularly grueling, and when he set the bottle back with a contented sigh, it was the opposite.

Today he took that contented sigh.

The gentle interrogation in his eyes drew you from your daydreaming. The sudden heat that rose to your cheeks betrayed your momentary lapse in attention. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked how Jack was."

"Oh," you said with a small laugh. "He's been an angel, as always, not a single toe out of line."

His nod came with a sip of scotch. You mustered your courage and stood from the couch, the chill of the floor seeping into your bare feet as you walked towards him. "How was work?"

"It was... surprisingly manageable."

"Manageable, huh?" you teased, resting your elbows behind you on the island, meeting his gaze. "Well, I hope that means we'll be seeing more of you. It's been too quiet."

One brow arched in mild amusement. "I wouldn't count on it too much. That might just put you out of a job."

"Jobless, maybe. But it's worth the risk to see you unwind a bit more. I'll take my chances," you said, a playful challenge lacing your words as you stood a little straight, tiredness melting into a newfound alertness. "And between us, I suspect you'd be calling me back before lunchtime."

He paused, his gaze momentarily caught in the soft light that seemed to frame you. "I can't argue with that," he conceded with a soft chuckle. 

You were beautiful, undeniably so, and it wasn't just the kindness in your eyes or the gentle curve of your smile. It was the radiance you carried, a contrast to the shadows he had grown accustomed to. 

Your conversation, light and unexpectedly intimate, was a balm to the solitude that had become his norm. For a fleeting second, he allowed himself the luxury of imagining coming home to this--your lively chatter, your laughter--but he quickly quashed the thought. As much as he was drawn to you, he couldn't help but feel the gap between you--a gap carved by years and experiences that made him believe you belonged to a world far brighter than his own.

"So, I suppose this means it's time for me to negotiate a raise, or perhaps some extra perks, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Hotchner?" you suggested, edging closer with a pivot on your toes, eyes dancing over his form with undisguised interest. 

"Considering you keep this place running like clockwork, a raise doesn't sound unreasonable," he admitted, the clink of his glass punctuating the silence as he set it down, arms folding across his chest in a relaxed barricade. 

You moved within arm's reach. "Or, we could discuss a more... personal kind of bonus."

"A personal bonus?" Hotch repeated, his eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in dawning realization. The analytics part of his brain momentarily offline as he tried to reconcile your words with his own feelings. "I'm not sure that's...appropriate."

You took another step, almost toe-to-toe with him, your breath a tease on his skin. "Maybe not, but I think I've earned it, Mr. H. Don't you?"

"Yes, you've... certainly earned it," Hotch managed to say, clearing his throat, his eyes briefly losing focus as they drifted to your lips and back to your eyes. "You're very impressive at what you do."

With a boldness that felt natural, you reached up, toying with the knot of his tie. "I'm eager to impress in other ways too, Mr. Hotchner. Care to oversee?"

Hotch felt a sudden tightness in his chest, the air seemingly thinner, not able to focus on anything but the soft touch of your fingers against his tie. "I... yes," he said after you, the name he'd heard countless times before now igniting an unfamiliar fire within him. "Overseeing... seems necessary."

You offered him a smile, tender and guileless, your eyes shimmering in the kitchen light. "I'm glad you agree. We should definitely discuss the details. Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner."

Hotch remained motionless, his breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sigh. The kitchen seemed somehow louder now, your words echoing in his ears, every sense attuned to your presence even as it faded. What just happened?

[bad268]

kimi x toto wolffs daughter like fluff of their families and how they reacted and how they treat kimi

+ can you do a kimi antonelli oneshot where the reader is Toto and Susie's daughter and its when Kimi came to watch Jack's race (if you know what I mean) and him and reader are already together but it's just all adorable.

thank you!!

I've Never Lost (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Wolff! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I combined these two, hope yall don't mind)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1191

Summary: What started as a family outing has turned into a bet, and Kimi doesn't lose.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Ever since you were teenagers, it was a tradition to go out karting with your family. It was standard procedure to go karting during the off-season or non-race weekends. Granted, you were never a driver, but once you started dating Kimi, he said he would drive you around the tracks. Before you and Kimi started dating, you would just watch Jack and your parents race, but now, you were finally able to join in the fun.

It was the middle of summer break, and Kimi was leading the F2 championship and ready to sign a contract with Mercedes for 2026. It was time for your regularly scheduled karting competition. 

This was the first time Kimi was going to be joining. You had told him before that you wanted to race with your family, so he made sure he would be able to go out with you and get to know your family as your family and not his boss. 

“I’m gonna win,” Jack boasted as he led the way into the karting track. Your mom and dad laughed, following hand-in-hand behind him. You and Kimi were just behind Jack, chasing him toward the entrance of the track. “I’m gonna bet you and Kimi and Papa and Mama because I’m the best.”

“I bet you are, Jacky,” You laughed as you caught up behind him and threw him over your shoulder. Kimi fell back a little as he chuckled at your antics with your brother. He knew this was what you two were like, but it was always funny seeing it in person. It only happened a few times around the paddock since you two were more conscious of your images in front of so many cameras, but in the track in the middle of nowhere, you two were free to be as rambunctious as you wanted.

Jack and your parents never complained. You didn’t have the most normal childhood with growing up surrounded by fast cars that could kill you. You had nothing holding you back out here, and Jack loved to mess around with his older sibling.

“You better not go easy,” Toto chucked as he and Susie walked passed Kimi who had stopped and watched you spin Jack around upside down from your shoulders. How he got in that position, nobody knows. Kimi’s attention snapped over to Toto at that moment in confusion at first before he continued his advice. “They’ll both be mad if they find out you went easy. They’re both extremely competitive. And this is Y/n’s first time in a kart after some time, so you should make it memorable.”

“You won’t be mad if we win?” Kimi countered with a smirk. He had grown up around Toto and Susie enough to view them as second parents, but he also had to remember they were his bosses. However, right now is a family outing, not a work event. It was everyone for themselves.

“You say that like your double seater is going to beat three single seaters,” Susie laughed when she came back into the conversation with passes for everyone to get on the track. “But go ahead and think you still stand a chance.”

“Oh bring it on,” Kimi challenged as he held his hand out for her to shake, “Why don’t we place a bet? Loser buys dessert?”

“Just you and me or if any of us beat you two?” Susie teased before agreeing.

“I’ll take my chances with all three of you,” Kimi replied with a smirk since he couldn’t keep a straight face. He gestured down to his outstretched hand again, “So, do we have a deal?”

“Consider it made,” Susie responded as she shook his hand before handing him the two passes for you and him to get the kart. Kimi turned around to see you and Jack still messing about, so he went over to tell you what was going on.

“Jack, come over here,” Toto called, causing you to almost drop him, but you gently set him down on his back on the asphalt. Jack jumped up and ran over to Toto, thinking something was wrong. “We need to strategize.” Toto and Susie then took Jack down to the track and started planning for how they were going to win.

“Did we do something wrong?” You asked as you walked in step with Kimi and took your pass to show the marshals.

“No, but I made a bet with your parents, so they need to strategize,” Kimi explained as he threw an arm around your shoulder while you sat trackside until the session before you were finished. 

“You? Made a bet? With my parents? Your bosses? Willingly? Who are you?” You joked as you placed the back of your hand on his forehead, checking for a temperature. “You don’t have a temperature. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” He chuckled, pushing your hand away from his forehead and instead held it against his cheek. “You always say to let loose around them more. I’m just taking your advice.”

“You’re learning, I’m impressed,” You teased, moving your finger to tap his nose. “Next, you’ll be rough-housing with Jack and me.”

“I think I’ll stick with things that don’t hurt me,” Kimi scoffed with a smile as he pulled you closer into his chest while you watched the karts go around.

“Oh, and bets don’t hurt your pockets? I see how it is, rich man,” You joked as you leaned your entire body weight into him. “Do I at least get to know what the bet is before the race?”

“Loser buys dessert after,” Kimi chuckled.

“We’re in a double seater, dummy!” You exclaimed in shock. “They’re gonna be so much quicker than us! You made a bet you know you’d lose!”

“One, you underestimate my driving ability. Two, you think that wasn’t the point? Think how much harder Jack will try to win knowing there’s something at stake,” Kimi explained, and your jaw dropped. This reverse psychology was going to win your brother over in a heartbeat. “Plus, I know Jack and your parents are insanely competitive. I know you. They’re gonna do anything and everything to win, and it’ll be a real race.”

“You are crazy, but I love it,” You whispered as you left a kiss on his cheek before standing up and moving to the karts. You two put on your helmets and everyone took their places in their karts. Jack looked back at you and Kimi and signaled that he was going to catch you. Right as you sat down, you looked up at Kimi, who was still adjusting his helmet. “We’re not going easy on them though, right?”

“No never,” Kimi answered quickly as he took his seat in the driver’s seat. He fiddled with the seat and wheel for a second before the look in his eyes told you exactly what he was thinking. “This is technically a championship, and I’ve never lost. Buckle up because you’re not breaking my streak.”

You tightened your belts and braced yourself. This was the best (and only) way to get back onto the track.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[flowerandblood]

Rip my heart, heal my soul

[ Jack the Ripper • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, stalking, violence, mention of murder and body mutilation, manipulation, obsession ]

[ description: Driven by his hatred of women, who in his opinion are mere whores, Aemond delights in killing them when they least expect it - during their rapture with him. He meets a girl whom he chooses as his next target, but it turns out that this time he is the victim of a feeling he has never known before in his life. Murder, mutilation of his victims, obsessive, poetic, dark!Aemond. ]

This oneshot is an Anon Request and is created with Halloween in mind, so unlike what I usually write, these fisc will be very dark and uncomfortable. Keep this in mind before you start reading.

Next chapter: Rip my heart, heal my soul (2)

Aemond Inside Alphabet

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He hated how two-faced women could be − with what ease they pretended to be sweet, innocent, warm, looking at him with dreamy eyes, only to fuck him a few hours later in their flat, moaning loudly like butchered animals.

Whores.

He loved to see their expressions of surprise when they suddenly felt a fishing lines tighten around their neck as he fucked them from behind − he smiled broadly choking them, pleased to hear them stop making those sickening sounds, trying helplessly to grab air in their lungs.

Only then did he cum into a condon with a loud sigh of relief.

He loathed them.

He abhorred them.

Women like them laughed at him when he was in highschool, after he lost his left eye − they avoided him, calling him a cyclop, considering themselves superior, beautiful inside and out.

He knew how simple their mechanism of action was − all they had to do was meet a well-built, mysterious, charismatic man and they were all wet, suddenly forgetting about his artificial eye, ready for him to fuck them anywhere and any way.

They wanted to be the unique ones, the special ones.

They kept repeating to him that "they weren't like other girls" and he looked at them with a smile, nodding.

He'd gouge their eyeballs out of their eye sockets, grinning to find that it suited them to look like this − suddenly they seemed to be some kind of terrifying beasts, demons from the innermost abysses of darkness that had come to devour him.

He quartered their bodies with cleavers, packed them in great black sacks into which he placed stones and drove many hours ahead, finding some lake into which he threw their remains, their empty shell, as he liked to think of them.

His first target was his schoolmate who mocked him, but then he began to observe women and girls outside clubs, hunting down those who behaved similarly, pretending to be inaccessible, hard to get.

He knew this was nonsense, a cover for a guy to want to try harder.

Because of what he did, he changed his address frequently, catching light seasonal jobs. Mostly he was employed in cafés, because there he could observe people, often finding new targets. Women would frequently pretend to come to work there with their laptops, but would glance at him surreptitiously, checking if he was looking at them.

One day he heard the ringing of a bell hanging over the door and felt hot in his chest at the thought that this girl was perfect.

She was wearing an oversized pastel jumper, light-coloured shorts and mid-thigh-length woollen socks, her hair partly pinned back − a typical sweet pastel girl making big eyes, thinking he didn't know who she really was.

Whore.

She smiled warmly at him as she approached the counter, but he didn't reciprocate the expression − he looked at her expectantly, throwing a cloth over his shoulder in a gesture of impatience.

"Good morning. A large hot chocolate, please." She said softly, pulling her small rucksack off her back, searching in it for her wallet.

As she opened it, looking in it for banknotes, he saw out of the corner of his eye a student card from a university an hour away from their town.

He pressed his lips together, thinking it was a perfect match.

He scooped her order onto the till and glanced down at her − she reached his shoulder height.

"Anything else?" He asked indifferently and she shook her head, undeterred by his coolness she was still smiling.

Stupid bitch.

"No, thank you." She said calmly, and he told her the amount she had to pay. She placed in front of him exactly as much as he had said, and he walked over to the machine and busied himself filling her order.

"Did you come here on holiday?" He asked her, standing with his back to her.

He heard her move uncomfortably, surprised by his question.

"In a way." She said lightly, but added nothing more.

He handed her a cup and she took it from him − she looked him in the eye and thanked him, then sat down by the window, setting down her chocolate, pulling a laptop from her backpack.

He wandered between tables cleaning them and collecting orders from other guests, glancing at her screen out of the corner of his eye each time, wanting to find something that might give him a clue as to who she was, what she was doing.

He saw that she was constantly typing something in an open text document with quick, sure movements, clicking loudly on the keyboard, taking a sip of chocolate once in a while. When their gazes met she smiled at him, but immediately went back to work again.

Despite his hopes that she would order something else, after half an hour she packed up and left, wiping her table with her handkerchief beforehand and bringing him her empty cup, throwing over her shoulder to wish him a good day.

He felt all tense and bit his lower lip, knowing exactly how he would spend the evening.

As soon as he walked into his flat, he opened the internet browser on his laptop and typed in the name of her university − it was a private institution of higher learning, so she either had to have an outstanding academic record or a great deal of money.

Another fucking nepotistic child, he thought with amusement and mockery.

He started browsing the university's website, its Facebook page and Instagram hoping to see her somewhere, but found nothing. The only thing he found out was that the university specialised in the humanities, psychology, history and literature.

That would explain why she wrote so much.

He felt impatience and frustration when she didn't come for days, unable to concentrate, thinking only of her.

Standing outside the clubs, smoking a cigarette, he caught himself not observing what was going on around him at all, replaying for the hundredth time her visit to the café − her smile, her cordiality, the fact that she had cleaned up after herself so he wouldn't have to.

He knew it was all just a shell, underneath which there was only disgusting meat.

He couldn't hide the gleam in his eye, the grimace of satisfaction that ran suddenly through face and disappeared a moment later when he saw her again in the doorway of the café − this time she was wearing a summer blue dress, her hair tied up in a braid.

She walked up to the counter and ordered the same hot chocolate again with a sweet smile.

He felt he needed to start any light conversation.

"Wouldn't you prefer something cooler for such a hot day? We have freshly squeezed juices." He suggested, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

She cocked her head, curious, and hesitated, involuntarily pressing her lips together.

He looked at them, at their pink, fleshy, moist structure, at her graceful, long neck, and swallowed loudly, feeling the pulsing in his trousers at the thought of tightening the noose around it.

"Do you also have orange juice?" She asked softly and he nodded.

"Of course." He replied.

"In that case, I'll have the juice." She said, taking out her wallet again − this time his attention was caught by the small photos she had slipped into a translucent pocket, a picture of some boy, a dog and an older man.

He wondered if she had a boyfriend and furrowed his eyebrows as he pressed half an orange to the juice squeezer, recognising in his mind that this would complicate things a lot.

He set the glass in front of her and took the banknote she handed him.

"Thank you very much for your suggestion." She said lightly, with a wide, warm smile − she moved ahead to the same table as before and took out her laptop again, starting to type something.

He circled around her for half an hour until he finally decided he couldn't stand it.

He walked over to her table with a cloth and spray, pretending he had to wipe the top − she picked up her laptop, wanting to help him and make some space.

"Do you work even on holidays?" He asked her indifferently, and she blinked, surprised by his question. She grunted quietly, correcting herself in her seat.

"I have to publish academic articles if I want to keep my place at university. But I like doing it." She said, shrugging her shoulders, not even a trace of displeasure on her face. She put her laptop back on the table when he had finished, and he analysed quickly what she had said.

So it was a scholarship after all, she wasn't paying tuition fees.

"What are you writing about this time?" He asked, feeling that this was his only chance.

He glanced at her nervously, wondering if he was crossing the line or being too persistent − she lifted her warm gaze to him and cocked her head.

"I'm writing an article on the prose of Edgar Allan Poe. Do you know him?" She asked lightly, and he involuntarily bit his lower lip at her question.

Prose in which men cut out their beloveds' entrails, collected their teeth, confessed poems over their cadaverous faces, professing infinite love for them, raging with desire, with despair, with the darkness that was tearing them apart.

Of course he fucking knew him.

"Yeah. It's a pretty dark choice." He admitted, looking at her, recognising with surprise that it didn't match either her clothes, her manner or her personality.

She giggled at his words, placing her elbows on the tabletop, not taking her bright gaze off him.

"It is true, however, there is something captivating about him. His darkness is filled with pain, his inner struggle, as if he still lived in agony even when he loved, even when he seemed happy. Each of his poems, each of his stories, is a dark work of art that I could analyse endlessly. He is an inexhaustible source of inspiration for me." She finished her explanation.

He stared at her with his lips pressed together, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen and the painful throbbing in his trousers at her words, thinking that he was about to throw himself at her like an animal.

She was perfect.

"Which of his stories do you like the most?" He asked finally, feeling with surprise that his voice trembled slightly, his heart pounding like mad.

He had the feeling that he was looking at her as if something possessed him.

She thought about his question, lifting her gaze upwards and hummed under her breath.

"Black Cat. This is his first story I've read. I couldn't get over it, had trouble sleeping afterwards. I promised myself I'd never go back to it again, but I couldn't stop thinking about it and ended up reading the whole book." She said with a smile and some kind of excitement.

"And yours?" She asked, continuing their exchange, and he felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that he had succeeded.

He had intrigued her.

"The Fall of the House of Usher." He whispered, thinking of the woman locked in the coffin alive, unable to get out, whose moans were heard by her own brother, but he chose not to help her, horrified by what he had done.

He thought that perhaps he too could lock her up like this, keep her for himself, only not underground, not in a coffin, but in his arms.

He shuddered when an impatient customer called out to him if he was going to serve her, and he gave her a furious look.

"Of course." He said lowly, walking up to her, asking what he could help with.

Usually if someone frustrated him so much, spoke to him in the way she did when she paid him, complaining about his tone of voice, the way he looked at her, he would find her and do to her what he did to everyone else.

However, now that he had met her, he didn't want to have to change his residence again and decided to hold back.

He saw with a sting in his heart that she had closed her laptop and started packing.

He didn't want her to leave.

She approached the counter and he felt a squeeze in his throat, his whole body tense.

"I'm very sorry this woman treated you this way. I worked as a waitress last year too and I know what a thankless job it is. Don't worry about it. See you later." She said lightly and waved at him.

He led her away with his eyes, watching as she disappeared around the corner, throwing him another happy smile.

From that moment on, he felt that he was completely crazy about her.

He stopped going under the clubs and stalking other women, deciding he didn't need to waste his time with whores when he found her, his Berniece, Morella, Eleonora, his muse, his dark inspiration, his elusive lover, the object of his desire and desperate, hot affection, his obsession.

Never before in his life had he felt so wonderful.

He had the impression that his insides were filled with fire.

After what she had told him, he realised that she must have been studying fiction − he searched for academic works published on the internet about Poe's poetry, hoping to come across her name by chance.

He was not mistaken.

He involuntarily licked his lower lip as he typed another name into the browser and her Facebook profile picture came up.

He bit his lip as he entered her profile, seeing that apart from basic information he couldn't see anything else. However, he already knew that she was three years younger than him and that she was in fact studying fiction.

He went back to her article, starting to read curiously, wanting to see if she really was that good, if her words weren't just haughty, populist feminine gibberish.

The Black Cat is the story not of a madman who murdered his cat in an act of rage. It is the story of a progressive illness and trauma, a proceeding inner agony and schizophrenia that the main character is unable to cope with − his mind and his feelings measured against his animal aggression, his desire to vent his urges and frustrations purely physically. He begins to lose his memory, able to wake up suddenly in a different place, not knowing what he was doing a few days before, losing his grip on reality completely. It is very likely that the other cat he sees does not exist at all − it is merely a figment of his imagination, his remorse, his progressive illness. The protagonist, falling into a spiral of his own madness, is unable to distinguish between his imagination and reality, terrified and filled with aggression, like a feral animal he collapses into himself, eventually leading to tragedy, in his madness walling up his beloved wife. We observe a phenomenon of slow dehumanisation − the protagonist discarding piece by piece all sorts of brakes that on a daily basis stop us from sudden, brutal, cruel acts, leaving only pure reactions, filled with anger and frustration. Despite his actions, the reader, being inside the protagonist's head, involuntarily sympathises with him, understanding that he cannot control how his own mind, that he cannot stop the inevitable, that he is doomed to fall apart completely.

He swallowed loudly, feeling the dryness in his throat, stroking his chin with a nervous, anxious gesture of his fingers, wondering why his heart was pounding so hard, why he was so tense.

He thought that he felt as if she had written about him, as if she had looked into the depths of his inner emptiness and described with tenderness and care what was happening to him.

He bit his thumb thinking that he felt understood, not judged, that there was warmth emanating from her text and what she wrote.

He thought with horror that he might have fallen in love with her.

He waited for her every day, taking more shifts at work than he had to, afraid that he wouldn't be there that day when she came again.

He felt a tickle in his fingers at the thought of seeing her again, of talking to her again, of looking at her soft, happy face.

When, a few days later, she walked into the café in a black top and shorts, he felt immediately what he saw in his trousers, ready to fuck her in his back room.

He thought he couldn't treat her that way − she hadn't done anything through which he should show her such disrespect, treat her so objectively.

She approached him with a light, pleased smile, her eyes shining with joy − he thought, feeling heat in his chest, that she was glad to see him.

"Good morning. I'll have the same delicious juice as last time, please." She said in a calm, warm voice.

He swallowed quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching in a shy smile, which didn't escape her notice.

"Coming right up, ma'am." He said softly, and she blinked, shifting from foot to foot.

He had the impression she was blushing.

She lowered her eyelids meekly, her eyes covered by a veil of her lashes, looking down at her hands.

He tried to focus on his task and prepared her juice, handing it to her as she gave him a banknote.

"Further article writing today?" He asked her in a calm, light tone.

She nodded.

"Yes. Would you like to read it? I want to hear other people's opinions. Maybe you could give me some advice, or hint at your observations." She said softly, with no undertone or attempt to flirt in her tone of voice.

This turned him on even more.

"I would love to. Unfortunately, working here, I won't have as much time to sit down and read everything at once." He said uncertainly and she waved her hand, smiling broadly.

"I don't mean to disturb you while you're working. Give me your email if you want, I'll send you my file." She said with a smile and he nodded, pulling a piece of paper from a drawer and quickly wrote down his address, feeling his hands quiver.

He couldn't find the words with what excitement he was waiting to hear from her.

He paced around his flat taking deep sips of coffee, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart pounding like crazy.

He refreshed his messages once in a while, and when he finally saw a mail from her he sat down rapidly, opening it quickly.

Hi, thank you very much for deciding to devote your free time to me and reading what I have written. Feel free to write me what you think, perhaps you have some comments or suggestions. I am sending a PDF of the article as an attachment. Greetings!

He swallowed loudly, immediately opened the document she had sent him and began to read − this time she was dwelling on Poe's love literature and he felt hot at the thought.

She wrote about how he describes women in his prose, seeing them as phantoms, statues, demigoddesses, elusive to him, being his constant object of boundless adoration bordering on madness.

He agreed with everything she wrote, but one thing caught his attention. He thought for a long time how to put his thoughts into words so as not to scare her away.

Hi, you've done a wonderful job, I'm very impressed. It's great to read what you write and I agree with almost everything you've written. However, I am puzzled by the wording you used when you question the sincerity of his feelings, assuming that what the protagonist felt towards his women was not in fact love, but only an obsession for an unmatched ideal − that he did not see human form in her. I disagree with this statement, looking at the fact that when she ceased to be this ideal, when she died his interest in her did not diminish, his feelings did not fade and his despair, but widened. I think his obsession stemmed from his emotionality, from loving her too much, from not being able to draw a line, sinking into his feeling instead of taming it. I hope you don't find what I've written upsetting and don't take it as criticism. Once again, very well done. Greetings.

He sent it at last and stood up, walking around his living room as if in a trance, on the one hand filled with euphoria that he had had contact with her, that he had been able to talk to her, on the other terrified by what he had written, that he had evinced in those words a hint of who he himself was, that he had shown her too much.

He started to feel anxious when he didn't get any reply for half an hour and literally threw himself at his laptop when suddenly an unread message from her appeared glowing white in his inbox.

He clicked on it quickly and began to read, licking his lips.

Your observation is quite interesting and I partially agree with your statement. I think it is true that a feeling on the part of the protagonist cannot be ruled out, as his inner dilemmas often concern matters of beauty, his remarks on the smallest details of their appearance or behaviour that rejoice him every day. Indeed, perhaps my assessment was too harsh. What I mean is that I believe − but this is my subjective opinion − that when it comes to true love, even when it is wrapped in obsession, the safety of the beloved person should be the overriding thought, the priority − and yet sometimes the protagonist chooses his desire, his psychosis at the expense of the object of his adoration, who, after all, he supposedly loved. If I were to be loved, I would want to be able to feel safe and not wonder every night if my beloved would clamp his hands around my neck and strangle me, whispering that he loves me.

He felt a shudder seeing her last sentence, reading what she had written again and again, feeling the heat in his chest, his heart pounding like crazy, feeling the tension in his trousers, his erection pulsing hard in shock.

If I were to be loved, I would want to be able to feel safe and not wonder every night if my beloved would clamp his hands around my neck and strangle me, whispering that he loves me.

He thought that he would never hurt her.

That he would make her feel safe, kissing every inch of her beautiful, soft body with adoration every day, enclosing her in the embrace of his arms, protecting her from the darkness of the whole world, including his own.

He didn't know what he should answer − what she had written seemed so private, intimate, his hands hovered over the keyboard in uncertainty.

If he could he would find her, go to her and not fuck her, but make love to her all night.

He would have cuddled her close and whispered reassuringly to her with each deep, peaceful thrust of his hips, stroking her soft, warm skin, sinking his hands into her hair, drawing in her scent with his nose.

He quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, putting his hand under the material of his boxers − he grasped his throbbing, hard manhood between his fingers, the tip of it already leaking with his wetness.

He began to jerk himself off with quick, aggressive slaps of his hand against his balls, panting hard, closing his eyes, thinking about what he would do to her, how tender he would be, how much he wanted to be affectionate, for her, just for her.

He came with a low, helpless groan, panting loudly, resting his forehead against the top of the desk he was sitting at and swallowed loudly, concluding that he had never felt anything like this before in his life.

He took a quick shower afterwards, thinking hard about his answer. He sat down in front of his laptop in only his trousers with his hair still wet, opening the window beforehand and lighting a cigarette, taking a drag thoughtfully, then began to write.

In this case, too, I have to agree with you. You don't really love someone if you can't protect them from themselves. The protagonists fight each other and fail, but does that mean that they didn't really love, or however, is it simply madness that prevails, the fear that fate will take their beloved away from them, so in order not to feel that fear anymore, they end their life first? Whatever it is, they are driven by despair.

He finally wrote and sent the message, letting the smoke out loudly with his mouth, shaking the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray standing by his computer. He received a reply from her after about fifteen minutes and managed to make himself a cup of tea in the meantime.

I think that's the key word in understanding their dilemma. Despair. Their beauty, their wonderfulness frightens them − they can't bear how much they love them. They are despairing that while their affection may be eternal, their bodies are not so, cruelly destroyed by time, that every second brings them closer to their death. This realisation seems unbearable to them. I will amend this paragraph and expand on what we have been talking about. Thank you very much. Will you be at work tomorrow?

He blinked, reading the last sentence, pressing his lips together, writing back quickly.

You're welcome, it's been a pleasure. Yes, I will.

She wrote him back after a moment.

In that case, I'm glad. See you tomorrow!

According to what she wrote she came the next day. This time it was he who smiled at her first, and she reciprocated the expression, walking up to the counter with a light step.

"The article has been sent. Thanks to you I think it's perfect. If you don't mind, I would like to invite you to a temporary exhibition at the museum as a token of my gratitude. It concerns neo-Gothic illustrations for horror novels, including Poe's, and I thought it might interest you." She said, lowering her gaze with a kind of embarrassment, playing with her fingers.

He felt a shiver ran down his spine, his legs suddenly as soft as cotton wool.

Was she asking him out?

He swallowed loudly at the thought, feeling like his heart would burst out of his chest.

"When?" He asked, glancing down at the glass he had just poured her juice into, feeling his hands trembling.

He saw out the corner of his eye that she lifted her gaze to him, hearing with hope that he hadn't declined her offer.

"And when do you have the day off?" She asked softly − he could see that she was smiling, embarrassed and happy at the same time.

He felt a squeeze in his stomach at the thought.

"Tomorrow."

Women often invited him to meetings and he came to them with relish, braiding them into his web, but this time he was terrified and flustered inwardly, outwardly maintaining his icy mask.

He combed his fair hair back, put a black turtleneck, black trousers and a watch, and decided he looked good enough − elegant but at the same time not pompous.

When he arrived at the agreed place she was already waiting for him in front of the entrance, waving at him − she was wearing a light summer strapless dress, a small rucksack on her back, part of her hair braided at the back of her head.

She ran up to him with a smile and they stood in front of each other, unsure of how to greet.

"Hi. Here, this one is for you." She said, handing him his ticket without suggesting a hug or a handshake.

Her approach was very open, but physically she kept her distance.

The fact that he couldn't touch her was driving him crazy.

They both walked into a beautiful neo-baroque building that must once have been a small noble residence and followed the signs. They stepped across the creaky wooden floor into a black room, lit only by spotlights set on each of the works on exhibiton.

For the most part, they were etchings and lithographs with depictions of agony, death, loving embraces, figures full of anxiety, ghosts, symbolic scenes, executed with great precision and care.

They both bent over each work, looking at it carefully, not rushing anywhere, wanting to analyse exactly what they were seeing.

"Amazing how artists can capture the spirit of prose, isn't it? Looking at it I immediately feel what the author wrote about, the same anxiety even though I don't have the text in front of me." She said quietly with some kind of admiration.

He listened to her but had trouble concentrating, smelling the pleasant scent of her girlish, floral perfume.

"Mmm." He hummed under his breath and nodded in agreement, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He saw that she was looking at him too and they both turned away, embarrassed.

He couldn't help himself − his hand involuntarily burshed hers as they moved on to the next piece of work − he felt her flinch, but she didn't move away.

He heard her quietly draw in air as his fingers tentatively intertwined with hers, feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. He pressed his lips together as her fingers spreaded, allowing him to grab hold.

They watched further.

He didn't let go of her hand then or when they left the building, talking about what they'd seen, pretending that nothing had happened between them, that it was a simple friendly gesture.

He saw that her face was all flushed, her gaze lowered, a gentle, warm smile of happiness on her face − he felt a squeeze in his heart at the sight, at the thought that he was not repelling her, that she was not disgusted by him.

He walked her to the tenement where she rented a room and immediately memorised the number, knowing in the back of his mind that he would surely be passing this way often over the next few weeks. They looked at each other and he wondered if she would want him to kiss her, to go inside.

He wanted it and didn't want it at the same time.

"I hope you had a nice time. Thank you for everything." She said softly looking at him at last, her eyes big and filled with something that made him hot, their fingers still entwined in a light, non-committal embrace.

"Very nice." He murmured, looking down at her thoughtfully, at her soft, pleasant face, at her pink lips and red cheeks.

She swallowed loudly and let go of his hand, embarrassed.

"Goodnight." She whispered and opened the wicket, closing it behind her.

"Goodnight." He replied and led her away with his eyes, watching as she opened the door and disappeared behind it.

He stood and waited to see where the light would turn on − after a moment the warm glow of the night light illuminated a room on the second floor of the house.

From that day onwards, she spent long hours every day in his café, not knowing that every evening he arranged to walk around her townhouse, watching her window from afar, sometimes seeing her silhouette as she walked from place to place, or as she opened the window to let in some cool, fresh air.

Since he met her he has not killed anyone.

Since he met her he had felt no need to kill anyone.

She filled his every thought, his every breath, the vision of her and her face brought him sweet relief, the touch of her hands, their entwined fingers kept him awake.

He felt that they had formed a bond, that she reciprocated his affect − he could see it in her gaze, in the way she smiled at him as she crossed the café door and spotted him behind the counter.

One day, he couldn't stand it and such a direct proposal came out of his mouth that he felt embarrassed for himself.

"I need to spend an evening with you or I'll go crazy." He said standing over her table and she looked at him surprised, her cheeks lit up with a hot blush.

She lowered her gaze, knowing exactly what he wanted, what he was implying, and swallowed loudly − he looked at her helplessly, thinking only of the fact that he was an impatient idiot.

"I need that too." She confessed and he tightened his lips at the words.

That same evening he found himself at her door.

When she opened it for him he clung to her lips as if starved, enclosing her cheeks in the tender embrace of his hands. He pulled away pressing his forehead to hers, her gaze at once fearful and thirsty, warm and dreamy, her lips twitching in uncertainty and fear.

"− I know −" He whispered, kissing her again, capturing her lower lip between his own, releasing it with a loud click, her fingertips running through his hair. "− I know − I won't hurt you − God, I would never hurt you −"

He was delighted by her sweet, innocent sounds as he placed slow, tender kisses on her neck, her shoulders, as he laid her down on her bed, running his fingers over her body, taking his time − he let her calm down, let her feel that he would not take her by force, that he would wait as long as she needed.

"− it's okay − it's okay −" He whispered soothingly, running his hot lips, swollen with desire, over her soft skin, laying between her thighs, letting her feel how hard he was, how much he needed her.

"− oh −" Rippled out of her mouth when she felt it, and he chuckled under his breath, delighted by her reaction. He raised himself up on his elbows and looked at her face, running the tip of his nose over hers.

"Will you let me kiss you down there?" He cooed, lowering his hand to her bare thigh, running his fingertips over it, feeling goosebumps forming where he touched her. She nodded, and he hummed before kissing her again.

They undressed slowly and unhurriedly − as he lowered the straps of her dress and exposed one of her breasts he began to place tender, light, butterfly kisses on her skin, barely brushing it with his mouth, feeling her breathing fast, her lips parted in delight.

She helped him pull off his black t-shirt and his trousers, and after a moment they were both wonderfully naked, like Adam and Eve in paradise before they picked the forbidden fruit.

He looked at her adoringly and kissed her deeply − she reciprocated his gesture, weaving her delicate hands into his hair, drawing him close, his chest pressed against her plump, soft breasts.

He began to slide his lips down her sternum, to her navel all the way down, leaving a moist, sticky trail of his saliva, feeling her writhing beneath him with arousal.

With a gentle, slow movement, he spread her thighs in front of him and noticed her glowing, sticky folds from with her moisture dripped onto the sheets beneath them.

He didn't hesitate for a moment − with a groan of pleasure he pressed his lips to her heat, running his nose over her puffy clit − his tongue slipped tentatively between her fleshy walls and teased in a circular motion what was between them. Her wetness and her taste spilled over his palate, her whole body trembled, her hand tightened on his hair, a shy cry came from her throat.

"− shhh −" He hushed her tenderly, sinking deeper into her hot flesh, his tongue with sure, intense flicks began to invade between her slick folds, licking and rubbing her upper wall just at her entrance, feeling her hidden, spongy spot from which her thighs trembled in his hands.

"− please −" She mumbled, but he shushed her again, knowing exactly what she needed, how he should caress her.

He'd been thinking about this for weeks.

He let her come on his face, felt her body lean back with a loud, pleading whine, trying to push him away − a purr of satisfaction escaped his throat when he felt how much of her moisture flowed out of her − he licked it all off with devotion, teasing her over-stimulated, throbbing walls.

"− such a good girl −" He praised her with admiration and heard her sigh of pleasure. He kissed the inside of her thigh rising up, wiping his face, placing his hands on either side of her head.

"− I need to feel you − alright? − I will take it slow −" He breathed out and she nodded, allowing him to grasp her hips in his hands and cross her legs around his waist.

When he guided the fat head of his cock against her opening she moaned helplessly, trying to fit it in − he kissed her tenderly, pushing against her opening, stretching her throbbing, wet walls with himself.

"− that's it − ah − I know, baby − I know −" He muttered, hearing her moan of effort, trying hard to take in what he was sliding into her, pushing her insides to their limits − her body tensed like a string, one of his hands on her hip, the other holding her cheek, his forehead pressed against hers, her hands entwined around his neck.

They both sighed loudly when he finally filled her fully, feeling her core clench hungrily against him on all sides. He slipped his tongue between her lips as he slid out of her slowly, only to fill her to the brim again with the buck of his hips, their hands clenched tightly on their hot, naked bodies.

"− yes −" She gasped and he groaned into her mouth, feeling his cock pulsate inside her at her words, his thrusts faster but still calm, deep, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a sticky smacks.

"− just like that − oh, baby −" He gasped out loudly, losing control, slamming into her faster and more aggressively − her head tilted back and her eyes clenched shut, her mouth wide open trying to catch air loudly, her breasts bouncing up and down with each of his thrusts.

He felt her hands tighten on his hips, her body reaching out and literally impaling herself on him, her walls clenching against him, driving him crazy.

"− yes − please −" She sobbed pleadingly, as if she was going to cry, as if she was going to die if she didn't experience fulfilment with him.

He slipped his tongue between her lips, their kisses sticky, greedy, the tips of their tongues teasing and licking as his cock pounded into her brutally with every sure, deep push of his hips.

"− fuck − m' close −" He uttered, and she stroked his hair, reciprocating his kisses with tenderness and devotion, clamping her hand on his buttock, directing him deep inside her, as if that was where he belonged, as if the fact that he was taking her was the most natural thing in the world.

"− yes − please − inside me −" She mewled, and he growled loudly at her words, letting go at last, coming inside her so hard that for a moment he went dark before his eyes. Their bodies were still moving towards each other in involuntary motions when his warm cum spilled into her hot core, giving him a feeling of fulfilment and peace.

He opened his eyes with difficulty and looked at her face, finding to his surprise that she was still alive, that he had not strangled her, her breasts rising and falling in accelerated breath, her gaze warm and hot, her lips trembling slightly.

She lifted her hand and touched his scarred cheek, running her fingers over it.

"− you are so beautiful −" She whispered, and he felt a squeeze in his throat at her words, unable to get the phrase out, enchanted by the sight of her − he merely breathed loudly, letting himself be touched by her.

He couldn't find the right term, the right confession to describe what he felt for her.

He kissed her all night, finally feeling accepted, beautiful, loved, her tender hands stroking his hair, his cheeks, his body all night, praising him, telling him how good he was, how tender he was.

He whispered to her that she was beautiful, that she was his Eleonora, Ophelia, Helena, that he would never hurt her, that she would always be safe with him.

When he returned the next day to his flat, he packed his knives, his fishing lines, his photographs, his mementos of the murders into a big box and drove for hours, finally turning into the woods.

He poured everything he had into a big hole − dozens of blank white eyes, photos of women, their documents, phones − and doused it all with petrol, then threw a light inside and watched his past burn.

Finally, he buried it all back, covering it with mulch and moss and drove back the way he came, promising himself that he was done with it, that he would change for her.

That he would protect her.

From the world.

From himself.

_____

Next chapter: Rip my heart, heal my soul (2)

[rainrot4me]

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viewers discretion is advised

⇢ ˗ˏˋMiniseries/quickies:

good vibrations - jeff the killer | ben drowned | eyeless jack | ticci toby | masky | hoodie | slenderman

in which you own a vibrator

⇢ ˗ˏˋKinktober:

kinktober 2024

⇢ ˗ˏˋJeff the Killer:

blurbs - one |

in which I have random ideas and make them into tiny little somethings

steam roller - chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six

in which Jeff attacks your campsite and finds you very intriguing

do you think about her? - oneshot

in which Jeff gets jealous and teases Toby (by using you)

clean knife, bloody blade - oneshot

in which you’re on your period and Jeff wants to help

three's a crowd - oneshot

in which Jeff and Ben have to settle a tie

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Eyeless Jack:

headcannons - general

blurbs - one |

in which I have random ideas and make them into tiny little somethings

on unholy terms - oneshot

in which you’re an exorcist who is overtaken by a very hot demon

just relax - oneshot

in which Jack shows you how orgasms are good for stress relief

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Ticci Toby:

headcannons - general

blurbs - one |

refuge for two - oneshot

in which you visit your family’s cabin for the weekend and an injured Toby stumbles upon you

do you think about her? - oneshot

in which Jeff gets jealous and teases Toby (by using you)

return the favor - oneshot

in which you buy drugs for Toby and he thanks you, personally

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Ben Drowned:

three's a crowd - oneshot

in which Jeff and Ben have to settle a tie

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hoodie/Brian Thomas:

keep it rolling - oneshot

in which you record your trip to a haunted asylum but Hoodie thinks recording you is better

behind the veils - oneshot

in which you're a photographer who stumbles upon two masked men who put you to good use

outrun, undone - oneshot

in which the boys challenge you to a little game of cat and mouse

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Masky/Tim Wright:

behind the veils - oneshot

in which you're a photographer who stumbles upon two masked men who put you to good use

let me hear you - oneshot

in which Masky is obsessed with your voice, so he forces it out of you

outrun, undone - oneshot

in which the boys challenge you to a little game of cat and mouse

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Slenderman:

whispers in the woods - oneshot

in which you’re a ritualistic offering to the monster that haunts your family

take it - oneshot

in which Slenderman gives you horrific visions, so you decide to investigate why

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Nina the Killer:

better than him - oneshot

in which teaching Nina how to kiss turns into something much more intimate

pretty girl - oneshot

in which Nina’s confidence dwindles

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Laughing Jack:

don’t close your eyes yet - oneshot

in which Jack manipulates your dreams to make you want him

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Clockwork:

smoke and a light - oneshot

in which Clockwork gets you high

[delayed-affection]

Yours is Mine

Navigation Oneshots

Jack Hughes x reader

Word count: 0.9k

Warnings: Petnames (baby, sweetheart)

Wearing your boyfriends clothes was something you could never get over. Especially his hoodies, they’re soft, warm, and smell good.

As of right now you are sitting on the couch in one of Jacks many hoodies. It’s one that’s supplied by the Devils. With their logo on the front and the players last name on the back.

It was honestly one of your favorites to wear. Especially during the games you couldn’t go to, like tonight.

With it getting pretty late you decide to lay down on the couch, letting the tv continue to play the post game interviews.

Your eyes begin to grow tired you, unable to keep themselves open.

~

Luke walks through the door first, lugging his way to his room. Jack goes to follow but stops in his tracks when he sees the tv is still on.

Walking over he sees your body being lit up with the tvs light.

Kneeling down besides you, he rubs your back.

“Baby.” He coos, “You need to get up, you can’t sleep on the couch.”

He watches as you stir, “Come on baby.”

You move onto your side and that’s when he takes notice of the hoodie.

The bright light from the tv makes you squint at him.

You rub your eyes, “Hello?”

He laughs at your confused state, “Well good morning gorgeous.”

You let your eyes close again and give him a soft smile.

He place his hand on your face and softly strokes your cheek.

“Hey, you can’t go back to sleep. You got crimes you gotta confess to.” He tells you

You let out a confused hum.

“You don’t know what you did?” He asks

You open your eyes again and shake your head. Finding the energy, you sit yourself up on the couch.

He sits next to you and tugs at the hoodie, “I don’t think this is yours.”

You shrug, “It is, though.”

He leans in close to you, “Last time I check you don’t play for the Devils and your last name isn’t Hughes.”

“That’s crazy, I’ve been on the team for like three years.” You say

He slightly chuckles, “How come I’ve never seen you at practice then, thief.”

“Because I’m so fast on the ice that if you blink you’ll miss me.” You claim

He playfully rolls his eyes, “Oh yeah.”

You lean into him letting your head fall onto his shoulder, “mhm.”

He wraps his arm around you and pulls you even closer, feeling your warmth against him.

He smiles to himself as he watches your eyes slowly close again.

The two of you sit there for a while, silently enjoying each other's company and the peacefulness of the moment.

Eventually, he gently nudges you, "Come on, let's get you to bed."

You nod and slowly stands up, still a bit drowsy.

He takes your hand and leads you to the room.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, okay?” He tells you, “Don’t wait up for me.”

You wave him off as you get into bed, knowing that you will be awake until he joins you.

~

He quickly changes clothes, trying his best to be quiet not wanting to wake you.

Except you heard everything, from him tripping over his shoes to him looking through his drawers for something to put on.

He sighs out of relief when he finally hit the bed. Pulling you closer to him he tucks one of his hands under the hoodie.

The warmth of his hand heats up your body. In response your body moves towards his.

“You’re warm.” You mumble into his chest.

“Warm enough to make you want to take off my hoodie?” He snarks

“My hoodie.” You correct

“Okay our hoodie.” He huffs, “We can share it.”

You feel his hand move from under the hoodie. He sits up making you do the same.

He grips the end of hoodie, “Only if admit to being a thief.”

“What?” You ask

“Tell me that you’re a thief and then we could share the hoodie, all my hoodies at that.” He demands slowly lifting the hoodie.

Even though it’s dark you know he’s smiling trying to bargain with you.

“And if I don’t?” You question

He pulls the hoodie higher, “I’ll have to take it back from you.”

You look down at the hoodie you’re wearing, feeling the soft fabric against your skin. If you except the deal you get to wear more than just this one.

Even his favorite hoodie, the one that’s absolutely forbidden.

“Okay…” you sigh with a slight roll of your eyes.

"I know it's your hoodie." you says, your voice is soft and teasing, "And… I am a thief."

You can hear him chuckle, and feel his hands leave you.

"So you admit that you’re a thief." he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I guess that means we could share the hoodie."

“And all of the other ones.” You remind

“All but my favorite one.” He counters

You groan letting yourself fall back onto the bed, “That’s not all of them.”

He laughs positioning himself over you, “It’s basically all of them, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You mumble

“Don’t be like that.” He tells you

He places a hand on your face and leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You could wear it once.” He offers

You try to bargain, “Five times.”

“Three times and one of the times being to a game.”

“Okay, you have yourself a deal Mr. Hughes.”

He chuckles kissing you again, “Don’t ever call me that again.”

[johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend]

embarrassing... (smut) oneshot

SOFT GALLY! (rare occasion tbh)

word count: 0.7k - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - fluff, smut

you hadn't seen your boyfriend all day. he was busy fixing another part of the homestead while he told you to get some wood. while you were grateful he wasn't as tough on you, you didn't mind helping him with his work. moving the logs all day had made your back and shoulder ache. being mentally and physically deprived from exhaustion, you didn't even realize someone behind you. "BOO" he says, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. you let out a scream and then see that it was Gally. "I thought I was gonna die, you scared me so bad," you say while punching his shoulder playfully. he laughed at you, making you scoff a little. "Did you miss me?", he smirks. "Yeah actually, I did." you say, pretending to be sad and giving him puppy eyes. "Well how can I not resist that? Come here." he kisses your forehead and embraces you in a hug, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to the shared hut.

Gally places you down on the bed, making you wince. your back was hurting so bad from today, so you decided to ask him; "Baby, can you please give me a massage?" he didn't know you felt this miserable, so of course he agreed. you turned over, facing down on the bed. he started on your shoulder and almost immediately, you moaned out of pain. but, it also felt kinda good. the boy was confused and let go, but you reassured him, "Gally it hurts right there, can you do it harder?" he was lucky that you couldn't see how red his face was. "Uh- sure babe." he said. kneading your shoulders out harder from your request. it had gotten worse from there and you couldn't help the strange noises coming out of you. a string of 'ngh, yeah right there' and 'mm fuck Gally please keep going-' was let from your mouth. you squeezed your eyes shut and started gripping the sheets lightly to keep you from squirming at the pain.

the tent in Gally's pants was almost painful for him at this point. as he moved to your back, you practically screamed. "Okay, okay, that's enough I'm good." sighing as you felt alleviated.  turning back around, you see him in the chair, quickly hiding his obvious boner. he has a shocked expression as he stumbles to try and leave the room, saying "I-I have to go-" you smirk, "Gally. You did something for me, it's only fair if I return the favor.." you get up from the bed, insisting he lays down on it. you climb on top of him, straddling his body and give him a peck on the lips. you take off his shirt and start trailing little kisses from his neck down to his v line.

"Can I take these off?" you ask, he hurriedly nods his head, eager for your touch. you pull his pants down, leaving him in underwear. wanting to tease him a little, you grind on him still fully clothed. "Don't tease me Y/N, please" you take his boxers off as you take in his length, it always manages to shock you. you grab his member, slowly jacking him off as you kitten lick his tip. he groans out, giving you motivation to make him feel good. you licked a long strip up his shaft, taking in as much as you can in your mouth, your hands touch what you couldn't. "Fuckk Y/N-" he moans out, which surprised you as he was never the vocal type. he grabs a fist full of your hair, pushing you down deeper. Gally loved how beautiful you looked, sucking him off. he rolled his eyes back into his head, "Holy shit- you know how much your voice turns me on Y/N?" this made you look up at him, still bobbing your head. "Just the way you look at me", he forces you down even deeper. "'m so good that you're only mine." that sentence makes you moan on his dick, sending vibrations that brought him to the edge as he groaned and came in your mouth. you jacked him off the rest of the way so most of the cum would be on your hands and face.

"I love taking care of you." you smiled at the boy.

"You look so pretty with my cum all over your face, I should give you massages more often." he smirked.

"Way to ruin the moment, Gal."

remember this is all on my wattpad <3 (link in bio)

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

---------

for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

-------

Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[love-note-musings]

✶⋆.˚꩜ eyeless jack x reader | creepypasta oneshot

word count 1.9k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     He did not particularly enjoy his specific lifestyle. Nor did he have a choice in the matter, really. The first time he realized what he had done, when the senses came back to his head and he felt human again, he couldn’t control himself from lashing out. Trying to slash and cut wherever he could on his body, and it didn’t do anything but make him weak and feeble, causing him to have to hunt again. No, he definitely didn’t enjoy any part of his new life, there was no control when he became too hungry, too weak, and it was like a motor firing up in his body that forced him to move forward, to devour. There was always a feeling of emptiness in his stomach that he couldn’t fill. He was Trapped. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, and he couldn’t hurt himself enough either. 

     It took such a long time to adapt to it all, he wouldn’t have called it “acceptance”, it was more like compliance. This compliance was crafted out of guilt whenever the ‘human’ side of him resurfaced, and he saw all of the blood dripping down his mouth and chest, the flesh caught in his teeth and the stench of death that hung on him, that he carried with him. In all honesty, he found himself disgusting, he couldn’t handle seeing his reflection, wanting to just go around forgetting who he was and only remembering who he had been. But even that small piece of liberty had been fading from him. The part that had once made him human. And he was livid that it was being taken from him too. 

     He’d hope you’d understand his anguish, his one last withering tie to humanity, one last glimpse into that lifestyle. Jack had kept many things about himself hidden, preferring to listen to you speak while he sat next to you on rooftops in the night, he wanted to hear every small and excruciating detail about your mundane day, even if it was almost exactly the same as the day before. He ate up your stories, hanging onto your every word and basking in it. Every time, he reminded himself what he could and what he couldn’t tell you. 

     They say that naturally meeting someone was the best way to start a friendship. ‘Find things in common’, ‘make small talk’, all of those types of things. Like, say you see someone at a coffee shop, you approach them and ask if they come there often, and when they say no you bashfully try to pull off some off-handed joke that ensues more awkward laughter. That’s how you made friends, apparently. 

     You were not like most people. You didn’t find small-talk engaging, you didn’t try to meet people spontaneously or go out of your way to talk to them. In general, you kept to yourself, laying low and apart from the crowds. More often that not you’d be the person approached in cafes, being the one to awkwardly laugh until the other person walked away. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to make acquaintances or that you thought you were “too good” for company, you just didn’t find it easy to talk to people, not exactly ‘shy’ and not exactly a ‘social butterfly’ either.

    And, you’d suppose the one friend you did keep was quite strange, maybe a bit “out of the ordinary”, but he wasn’t bad by any means. No, you’ve known Jack for a while now, meeting him while you sat on your rooftop. Every since then, you met each other there in the night, chatting and conversing about everything you couldn’t say in the daytime. You weren’t able to talk to many people and to be completely honest, you were excited that someone as attentive as Jack was your friend, he listened to what you said with great interest, even if you couldn’t completely figure him out. 

     His physical appearance was the most jarring part, and he wore the same thing every night. A black and blue mask with a dripping substance coming from the eyes, quite an unnecessary detail if you asked yourself. The rest of his attire was all black and consumed his body. It made you wonder if he ate right and worry for his health.

     So whenever he’d stop by, you’d offer if you could get him something to eat, some snacks or maybe buy him a meal. Jack always declined, claiming that he had already eaten earlier. Unbeknownst to you, he never lied when he said that he had eaten either.

     You see, he wanted to keep himself composed around you, calm and steady with no temptations. Thats why he always ate before meeting you, and if he couldn’t, he simply wouldn’t show up. It helped that you had never fully seen his body, otherwise he knew that you’d truly hound him for not eating more, and he knew that you wouldn’t stop until he gave in. No part of caring for him was your fault, you didn’t know the effects “regular” food had on his stomach, about how he had wretched and writhed for days after trying to gorge himself on anything remotely apart of the human diet shortly after his transformation. The only thing his new body had an appetite for was everything he craved to feel like: human. He only ever felt human around you nowadays. Regardless, all of those feelings you gave  him went away whenever he had to eat again. 

      Alas, tonight was a new night after all.

      “How are you doing tonight, y/n?” Jack asked as he clambered next to you on the roof, sitting with his knees to his chest. 

     You let out a hefty sigh and remained fixated on something on the ground, “I’m doing fine, I guess.”

     He observed your expression for a moment, the way your legs dangled off the side and your back was hunched over, arms slack. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you had a far-away look in your eyes. It seemed that you finally went somewhere he couldn’t quite follow you as easily, and you certainly didn’t look “fine” to his guess.

      “Okay, I’m not actually fine.” You admit curtly, trying to regain your composure by straightening your back and turning your focus onto Jack. “I guess you could say that I’ve had a bad day today.”

     Jack listened as you began your rant, raving about the different factors of your day, everything from the mildest inconvenience to… the not so mild ones. 

     “Sometimes I don’t know why I can’t just be normal. Or talk to people normally. I don’t know why I can’t realize that I’m lonely until it happens and I’m really alone then.” Choking out the last couple of words, a few tears dropped from your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks and neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what’s happening to me.” You muttered, wiping your eyes frantically with your hands. 

     “I don’t feel it until it hurts sometimes, too.” Jack said. “Nowadays,” he hesitated, “nowadays, I feel it almost all of the time. I understand you. It’s okay if you need to cry, I know that I feel the need too.”

     More tears threatened to fall and you try your best to keep it bottled up inside of you, but your chest hurt and you needed to release that pressure. Your chest strained as you finally allowed those tears to fall, and you hiccuped up and down, suddenly feeling small. You turn to Jack and wrap your arms around his shoulders, hiding your face against his body and allowing the sobs to rack your body more freely, feeling shielded away from the world. “Thank you.”

     Jack tenses. Feeling you so close to him. You. Close to him. He wills whatever control he still has over his body not to tear you open right then and there. “Y..” he swallows a lump in his throat, using every ounce of self-control he still has to remain there, his mind screaming at him to run, or worse, eat you. “You’re welcome.” Shaking and hesitant, he places his hand on your upper-back, guiding you further into him, sharing body heat. Your body shook and you started crying just a little bit harder when you felt him return the gesture, clinging onto him even tighter.

     It took him a couple moments to trust his movements, pleading at himself in his mind to not mess this up, reminding every cell in his body how much these interactions mattered. It took a couple of moments until he fully enveloped you in his arms, catching you off guard as you felt his full embrace. “It’s okay,” he whispered to you softly, “it’ll be okay and you’ll survive. You’ll be good.”

     He wanted to say everything he had been hiding to you right then, to tell you how close you were to dancing with death as you held him close and he listened to your heartbeat. He also wished that he’d never have to tell you, but as he was holding you there, feeling you close to him, feeling how your body reacted, he knew that he’d have a hard time leaving if he didn’t. Jack was attached to your being fully, and he hoped for now he could communicate everything that he had to with this moment. Just you and him, human only for the night.

     And he knew there wouldn’t be any more nights like these in the same way as they were once he told you everything. Once he showed you all of the parts he had come to despise about himself. There was still some bleak glimmer of hope that told him that maybe you would accept him, and that he could learn to trust himself more, and that the two of you would have more nights with your arms wrapped around each other.  

     “Thank you, Jack.” You said murmuring. Not ‘EJ’, you said Jack. Just Jack. And he felt himself swoon. 

     Even if this was just another dream that would dissipate into the night, getting lost and tangled amongst all of the other lovers’ requests to the moon and stars, it wouldn’t matter. Jack tightened his hold on you, drawing you in as close as possible. He didn’t want to feel so far away from you, like the two of you belonged to separate worlds, but you did. And if they would only ever intersect this one time, then it would have to be enough for him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[ieatedyourcrayons]

Midnight snacks

eyeless jack x fem!reader

part 2 is up. this can be read as a oneshot, this will be a multi chapter fic!

tw for stalking, slight yandere, slight violence, and minor kidnapping

You woke up with a groan, not expecting your dream to end so suddenly. As you open your eyes you struggle to see through the darkness, the only thing your eyes can make out is the small “2:46 am” on your clock. 

Your body is full of energy suddenly and you groan knowing you won’t be back to sleep for a while. You roll over in your bed and crawl out from the warmth of the covers. You make your way through the darkness and find your lamp on the dresser.

You turn the lamp on and the click of the lamp turning on echos in the quiet room. You eyes shut in response to the sudden bright light. You wince as your eyes adjust to the light, and you get a glance of yourself in the mirror after your eyes adjust.

Your hair is messy from all your tossing and turning, your clothes hang loosely and comfortably on your body, your bra had been taken off from the second you got off work last night.

You weakly walk out your room and make your way to the kitchen, hoping to find something to satisfy your slight hunger.

The only light in the kitchen being the one from the microwave above the stove. You aren’t aware of your surroundings, as your brain is still foggy from all the sleep, So you didn’t catch the figure standing in the corner of the kitchen.

The figure in kitchen wasn’t expecting you to wake up, especially not wake up and enter the kitchen. He doesn’t move a muscle as he watches every move you make, hoping you don’t find him.

As you open the fridge the room is filled with light, the light hits the dark corner, revealing the man hidden in the shadows. He goes still as he hopes you don’t turn around.

You glance over the fridge before you get this uncomfortable feeling and look over, just to see a man in your kitchen. Your face goes pale and it feels like your heart stops as you stare at him.

The man stands at a tall height, he’s dressed in all black with a blue mask on his face that has a yucky black substance leaking out the eye sockets.

Both of you stand there, not making a move. You’re hoping that this is just a dream or a hallucination from your sleepy brain, but nope, He’s real.

“Who are you..” You ask with fake confidence as you stare him down.

The figure tilts it’s head and something about it sends butterflies in your stomach that your quickly shut down.

“The names jack.” He eventually huffs out, “I know your name darling” he adds, grinning behind the mask. He’s been stalking you for months. He’s memorized all your patterns, routines, and even the people you have over.

Your heart sinks further into your stomach as he tells you that he knows your name. “How do you know me?” You ask with caution. Your not scared facade dropping.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now, you intrigue me darling.” He says as he steps further to you. The fridge starts beeping, letting you know you need to close it. You hesitate as you shut it. The only light in the room is the microwave light again.

“That’s not funny.. get out of my house..” you stutter out, shying away as he steps closer. The only way you can go is back into a wall.

He lets out a low laugh as you shy away from him, he steps closer, your back now against the wall. His height is intimidating yet attractive, the fact that he towers over you sends butterflies to your stomach again.

“I don’t remember implying that anything was a joke hm?” He says, teasing you as he looks down on your scared figure, taking in your relaxed attire.

You stand your ground, not letting his unusual attractiveness mix you up. “Get out of my house.” You reply sternly as you put your hands on his chest and push him back.

His demeanor drops as you attempt to push him away. “No.” is all he replies with before grabbing you and putting a cloth over your mouth.

You struggle in his grip as the disgusting smell of whatever is on the cloth slowly weakens you. “Shh, i’m not going to hurt you..” He whispers as he strokes your head. The chemical eventually knocking you into a dreamless and restless state of unconsciousness.

Jack sets your limp body on your couch before running to your room and packing you a bag of essentials. He throws the bag on his shoulders and picks you back up.

He heads to the door and leaves your house, set on taking you to his cabin to keep for himself.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode one - the Yankee Dodge

Loved the the middle daughter oneshot.

can i request Jack Dawkins x Belle's older sister!Reader story (I have not seen any sister!reader) same thing as the oneshot instead of Belle being sick, the reader is. Reader is strong-willed, smart and stubborn as Belle, and Belle being a concerned sister to Reader, almost mothering her. Of course, Jack being an overprotective lover. I just want the story to stay the same way as the The Artful Dodger series is, just following the story only replacing Belle with Reader

A/n: I will do this as a long series following each episode per part. ❤️❤️

You follow your youngest sister into Belle's bedroom, Fanny jumped seeing her in the plague mask.

"Don't do that!" She gasped. You laugh from behind her.

"What?" Belle took the mask off and dropped it on her desk.

"Whatever that is." Fanny huffed, you passed behind her and slid onto the chaise lounge.

"You stormed in on me." Belle reminded her sister.

"What's that ungovernable stench?" Fanny scrunched up her nose. You started to lose interest in their conversation, a tightening of your chest took your attention.

"Your perfume?" Belle joked, "No, it's ether. The new Lancet reports the most extraordinary thing. You can give the patient ether, and they don't feel a thing. I mean, you can perform surgery without pain. It means we could finally help-" she had turned to face you finally seeing you clutch at your chest. Both of your younger sisters came darting to your side.

"y/n, what is it? Do you need a doctor?" Fanny scrambled.

"No, no I'm fine. I just need to lie down." You rest back against the couch and close your eyes. Belle reaches behind you to loosen your blouse and corset. You breathed slowly as Fanny once more tried to get Belle to meet a suitor. She had long given up with you, at six and twenty you were already considered a spinster.

The afternoon was spent much the same. Your mother insisted you take a small walk around the gardens. That would clear your lungs and head in her opinion. It only formed to make your legs ache if anything.

Soon after Fanny had you all standing outside the door waiting for the suitor she had found for Belle. The pompous dandy slid out of the carriage and started resiting awful poetry. You had to stifle my laugh.

You walked down the staircase that afternoon daydreaming to yourself.

"Belle?" You whisper. She shushes you and pulls you against the wall to listen. Your mother was talking about a surgeon, a navel man. Belle had that hopeful look in her eyes that always made you feel sad. She wanted so much to help you, had dedicated her life to finding a cure for you. Even when the numerous doctors told you it was nothing and you'd be healthy soon you both knew different. The strange pumping of your heart kept Belle's nose in the medical texts. A plan was forming in her mind, you could see it.

Your mother and father ushered you both into the parlour were Mr Smales was sat reading. Fanny followed you all in. Lady Jane all but shoved Belle to the chair beside Smales and he began reciting more poetry to her. He asked if she'd like to play the harp, little did he know that it was only you who played the harp amongst your sisters. Belle had once played the violin but it had been years since she had picked it up.

My sister huffed and marched across the room. Your mother stopping her.

"talk to him about hospitals." She hissed.

This finally peaked her interest.

"Come, we're going to see the hospital. I've never been, and I've always wanted to. We should take Y/n as a chaperone." She sent you a grin. You followed her out to the carriage with Smales tottering along behind you both.

"Belle, what are you playing at?" You whisper to her.

"I just want to look at it." She grinned once more

As we rode along Smales kept trying to talk with her.

"do you like to dance?" He asked.

"No." Belle's voice was flat.

"Croquet?"

"Snore."

"Fox hunting?"

"Very much, no!"

"Oh. Why?"

"It's mindless, barbaric, and cruel." You interject. Smales turns up his lips at you.

"What about you? Chemistry? Geology?" Belle asks.

"Oh, yes. With the maps." Smales said animatedly.

"No, the rocks, but close."

You hear the Carriage rider urging the horse.

" Anatomy?" Belle continued.

"Poetry?" She suggested in a tired tone.

"Yes!"

"Yes! Anyone other than yourself and Wordsworth?" She groaned.

"Such as?"

The Carriage Rider shouts for someone to Move aside, but you all feel the tell tail bumping of someone going under the carriage.

Both you and Belle are quick to jump out. A young boy is on the ground his leg broken open with the bone protruding from his skin. The poor lad was screaming. As Belle checked the wound you kneel behind him and place his head in your lap, attempting to comfort him.

"Help! We need a doctor!" Belle called out.

"Okay. Um, you're okay. You'll be all right. You're doing great." You hold the boy's hand.

"Coming through, coming through! Here." A tall, thin man came rushing up with a leather bag.

"Thank God. I've put a tourniquet on." Belle explained.

" It's not tight enough. I need something to tighten it with. Um... " he looked around, Charlie, the boy whimpered. The doctor put a hand on his face, his fingers brushing yours.

" It's all right. I'm gonna sort you right out."

"Can you fix it?" You ask.

"I'll need to amputate."

" What about Bircher's procedure to save it?" Belle pulled his attention

"Miss, please."

"M'lady." She corrected him.

"To do that, I would need to drill into his leg bones, and insert pegs to knit them back together again. He would die of shock and pain." The doctor explained hurriedly

"Not if you take the pain with ether." Belle said. You shot your eyes between them.

"The Yankee Dodge? That is unproven." He bit back at her. As they argue you quickly run to your driver and speak with him before going back to the doctor.

"lift him into the carriage, he cannot stay in the street." You command him. The doctor looks up at you and nods. He scoops Charlie into his arms and you help get the child into the carriage. Your sister climbs in after you both and the carriage pulled away. The pair continued to argue with each other as Charlie squirmed on your lap.

"for goodness sake, will both stop your squabbling. This child will not be losing his leg today. You are the surgeon we have heard about and as such I assume you will be able to do the operation." You say commandingly.

"the prof does not allow it." The doctor finally admitted.

"well, we aren't going to the hospital." You smile as the carriage pulls to a stop.

"Why? He doesn't have much time." He looked out the door, "What are we doing here, you ridiculous woman?"

" This is the Governor's residence." You say.

"Oh, God. You're the Governor's daughters aren't you."

"yes. Belle go in and make sure the way is cleared." You tell your sister. She nods and runs off to the house.

"This is completely arrogant of you both." The doctor growled. "I can't perform an operation here. I need surgical equipment."

You turn round to him, causing the doctor to retreat back toward the carriage.

"there is no need to threat, Doctor. My sister has all the supplies you could need." You say with a finger in the middle of his chest.

"oh, hello looks like we're good to go." Fagin said pointing behind you.

The doctor and Fagin grabbed the boy by his legs and arms, carrying him into the house. Belle had her arms full of her equipment. You can hear your father and his guests beginning to descend the staircase.

"There's no time. We're gonna have to do it here. Set him down." The Doctor said.

" What?" You and Belle said together.

"It's not ideal... Fagin, clear that table. It's all right, Charlie. Okay, all right. It's all right."

In a moment of panic you stepped away from the doctor and addressed your father's guests.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The entertainment. For our main event, I have a very special treat for you." You look over your shoulder at the trio, "Dr. Dawkins will perform an operation, never been done before. Where an inferior cowardly surgeon might just simply remove the leg, Dr. Dawkins will make a thousand years of history by trialling surgery with no pain. The Yankee Dodge!"

A murmur of adoration waved through the crowd. The Doctor's eyes locked with yours for a moment. You nodded to him and he began his work. Fagin, the older man with him, tiptoed away from you all, up the stairs. You step closer to the table stroking Charlie's hair as he whimpers again. Dawkins lent closer to you and Belle.

"If I get hanged for this I'll haunt your every waking moment. I'll be that face you see in your nightmares and trust me, you will only have nightmares."

You can't help but smile.

"Do shut up and ether the patient." Belle quips. You stay at Charlie's head letting your sister address the crowd.

"Watch closely, everyone. As Dr. Dawkins anaesthetises the boy, takes his pain..."

"You're fine." Dawkins reassured the boy.

" ...and then operates with no sensation." Belle had a flare for the dramatics you thought to yourself.

Holding the either mask in his hand Dawkins spoke once more to Charlie, "Now, just breathe. There, we go. That's it. Good lad. Right."

The operation began

Belle was able to find an ivory stick to use as the pin for the bones. You had to admit he was impressive in his work. The crowd oohed and ahhed at his every movement. When he was done and the wound stitched Dawkins reached up to Charlie's face, " Now, ladies and gentlemen, can we rouse him from living death? Charlie? Come on, Charlie. Charlie. Come on, Charlie. Come on. Charlie. Charlie. Come on, Charlie boy."

You were all beginning to panic, your eyes flicking to your father's disapproving face.

"Don't cut me, Doc! I need me leg!" Charlie called out. You released the breath you were holding and smiled at the Doctor.

There is a moment where the room is in awe, every man and woman there thought to congratulate the Doctor until one woman spoke up. Her ruby necklace had been stolen from around her neck. You sighed, knowing instantly what had become of it. Captain Gaines began searching people. Your chest tightened and you put a hand on the table to steady yourself. The Doctor took hold of your arm.

"You all right?" He asked his professional concern showing.

"Yeah. Yes, it's just the ether fumes. Take me upstairs?" You say leaning into him.

" I've got you." He says beginning to lead you away.

"All right. I'm sure you won't mind if I search you?" Gaines says to Dawkins.

Belle steps between them, "Captain Gaines, move aside. My sister is not well. Move aside."

You pant and rest more of your weight on Dawkins. Gains reluctantly stepped aside allowing Dawkins to escort you upstairs to your room. Belle hot on your heels.

"Are you well? Who's your doctor?" Dawkins asked once in your room.

"Prof." Belle answered.

"Has he ever examined you?" He helped you to sit in a chair.

"He's too scared of my father to get it wrong." You say, your hand is still in his. Dawkins glances back at Belle.

"Take off your dress. I need to listen to your back. Take off your dress."

Belle comes over to help you remove your clothing until you were in only your bloomers and chemise. She grabbed a stethoscope from your table and handed it to Dawkins. The doctor sat behind you on the lounge sofa, placing the cold metal to your back.

"Now, just breathe steady. Just breathe with me. In," his voice is low and soft, his breath fanning over the back of your neck, "And out. Good. Again. In. Out. Okay. Gonna come around the front. Once again. In. Good, and out. In. Out."

Belle frowned, she knew what he was hearing.

"You're a common thief. Shall I call Captain Gaines now or later?" You say glancing back at him.

Dawkins drops the stethoscopes "No. No, no. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait." He runs to stop Belle from leaving the room, "Darius cheated me at cards. He's gonna take my hand if I don't pay him a ludicrous debt."

"Then pay him with your own money!" Belle argues.

"With what money? I get paid in pennies and thimbles." He is almost begging.

Footsteps can be heard down the corridor.

"You've got two options. I yell "guards" and you get hanged." You begin.

"Not ideal."

"Or you make my sister the first female surgeon and we keep your secret. That or the noose." The door knocks. "Well?"

" I'm thinking."

Part two soon.

@fandomfan-102