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after-witch · 5 months

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The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret.

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful.

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled.

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves.

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war.

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol.

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games.

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win.

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could.

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes.

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs.

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you.

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it?

Her smile grew wider.

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze.

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue.

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.”

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else.

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples.

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you.

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.”

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead, you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned.

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors.

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash.

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats.

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom.

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked.

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it.

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm.

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father.

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets.

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there, unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated.

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it.

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl.

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little. You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not.

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up.

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans.

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.”

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.”

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home.

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University.

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment. You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber.

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy.

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject.

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?”

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.”

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested.

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone.

There was an Avox in the room.

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married.

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic.

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now.

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered.

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did.

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home.

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home.

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1.

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls? I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No. You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world.

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.”

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you. You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father.

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in?

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette.

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real?

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick.

“Good.”

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year.

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow.

Of course you would.

Your life depended on it.

#yandere coriolanus snow #yandere hunger games #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #/slaps trunk #this baby can fit so many references to the books & movie in it.#... well not SO MANY #but enough

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myth-blossom · 2 years

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Fanfic Writer Ask Game

These are always fun so I wanted to make one! Reblog this and let others send you an ask based on any of these emojis/questions:

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

🏷 Is there a tag you like to search for when looking for fanfics to read?

⏰️ Do you like to post fics on a schedule or at random?

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

🐇 Do you write for yourself, for others, or both?

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

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🧪 Do you research for your fics?

😎 What fics do you prefer on a scale of canon compliant to wildly original?

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🔥 Have you included any sexy scenes in your fics? If yes, do you find them easy or difficult to write?

💘 Is it easier to write angst or fluff?

🚦What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

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👑 Do you like writing short fics or long fics?

🎯 Do you have a writing milestone you’re working towards?

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

🤔 Would you ever want to write something canon if you got the opportunity?

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

#fanfic writer ask #fanfic writer #ao3 #fanfiction #ask game #writer ask game #fanfic ask #hitman fandom #fanfic writer ask game #ask meme

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scribble-dribble-writes · 11 months

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When the night calls

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Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Word count: 1800

Warnings: none

Content: hehe angst, love sick soft Miguel 🥹😌

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When the moon rises, so does your alternate life. The one you’ve kept hidden, the one that could cause damage and let people know of your weakness. Being a superhero meant having no loose ends, strings that you could get caught by, so in a life that was deemed for you to be lonely in, you had found a way out of it.

You evaded the street scanners and cameras as you scaled the building, your fingers itching to get to a specific balcony. The lights were out, it looked like no one was there but that was all part of the illusion. To distract and keep wandering eyes at bay.

Your feet touched the cold floor of the veranda and swiftly moved towards the sliding door to see if it was open. It was a sign, if it was locked, he wasn’t home. And if it slid open like now, it meant he was waiting for you. A web of secrecy. You both preferred it this way, away from all the attention, atleast you did. But with how busy he was with keeping watch over the multiverse, these rendezvous got a lot less frequent.

Sure, you saw him around HQ or worked on a couple missions together but it never amounted to how he let you see him during these nights. His tenderness and whispers, the sound of his bare feet padding across to the bedroom, his time in the kitchen as he made dinner with his headphones on utterly lost in his own world. Nothing could be more precious.

The moment you entered the premise, you felt your wrist get caught in the hold of his arms. You didn’t protest as he led you in deeper, away from the dark and into the candlelit room. You knew you were late and during these days, he didn’t like to be left alone. You were feeling his touch for the first time in weeks, you would pass by in corridors without as much a glance or a faint trace of your fingers. So to feel his warmth sink into your bones felt intoxicating.

Having concluded you were in a safe space, he spun you around to face him, his eyes taking in every glimpse of you, his fingers shooting up to the edge of your mask to softly remove it, he was tired of all these layers of security you had established within this relationship.

His gaze finding yours in the dim light and the thirst in it meant he wanted more. He pulled you close as mumbled in Spanish, frustrated he couldn't get enough of you, to pull down the zipper of your suit, removing it from your body as though he was allergic to latex. To then wrap his arms around you as if that was the only covering allowed, when your skin was free from being trapped and free for his hands to roam about. You rested your head on his chest, his white tank top smelling fresh with the scent of his cologne mixed with laundry detergent.

The mundane and ordinary seemed more exotic and addicting than this little stunt you both were pulling off.

“You’ve grown impatient.”, you hummed.

“No more games to play?”, you chuckled to which he grumbled.

“You’re the one playing games, I’m clear as to what I want.”, he spoke into your ear.

You pursed your lips, his fingers digging into your hips telling you in gestures how he didn’t want to be fed scraps of attention.

“You were the one who suggested this… this setup.”, you pushed away from him to catch his gaze. His arms not letting you go out his hold.

“And now when I want it to end, you keep it going.”, his eyes narrowed down on you, the candle light giving him a golden glow.

“porqué es eso?”, he leaned closer, his lips almost on yours. But you tilted your head, causing his lips to land on your cheek.

What should have been a fun night was already turning into an argument.

“Because…”, you couldn’t meet his worrying gaze, his tender eyes had a way of undoing your heart.

“If we stop this, then what are we?”, you bit back what you wanted to say and instead asked him a question in return.

He was thinking through his answer, you could tell by the way his brows furrowed but when he met your gaze, he didn’t give you an answer either.

“Exactly.”, you got out of his hold because he let you go.

Picking up your suit that laid on the floor, you made your way towards the bathroom. A warm shower felt better than continuing this conversation. But to your surprise he trailed behind you, his large frame blocking the doorway as he leaned on it.

“We’re friends, Miguel. This is all there is to offer.”, you said looking into the mirror as you tied your hair up.

“We’re more than that, amor.”, he said with certainty.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with me.”, you laughed but he didn’t.

“And what if I have?”, he asked which made you pause as you reached for the face wash.

Your throat ran dry, all your worst fears were coming true, this setup with him worked well because deep down you both had lost your families. You lost your fiance to a freak accident much like how he had lost his home.

So this deep rooted fear never left your system, that if you began to enjoy your life, it would be ripped away from you.

“What do you want me to say to that?”, you shook it off, continuing to set up for your shower.

“I want you to tell me why you keep fighting this?”, he held a towel out for you and with every small gesture it was beginning to get difficult.

Difficult to lie to him, difficult to not confess that you loved him. But, his honey glazed eyes were on you, the fear, the anxiety, losing him would be..

You didn’t want to finish that thought because even thinking about it would lead to another heartbreak, one you weren’t strong enough to survive.

You couldn’t answer him either, you turned away taking the towel and pulled the shower curtain to a close. Maybe if you turn on the water, you could cry in peace, without leaving evidence. But it was clear that nothing was going to stop him, he peeled away the screen to join you as he got out of his clothes.

His eyes softening seeing your hurt expression, his hands slipping onto your waist again to pull you close, that his constant need to touch was somehow to reassure himself that he had hope to save this relationship, resting his head on yours the water cascaded over you both in an attempt to wash away all the distress.

“What are you so scared off?”, he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“How aren’t you afraid?”, you sobbed, his calm voice working it's way into your soul.

“We’ve both loved and lost it all.”, you wrapped your arms around him, like he was the anchor to your storm.

“How are you so sure about this?”, you questioned him, his hand traced up the curve of your waist reassuring you of his presence. That he was here no matter how heavy your grief was.

“Because its you.”, he said confidently and you braced yourself to look up at him, his eyes warm and sure.

“You’re worth the risk, mi vida.”, he wiped the water droplets on your cheeks but only you knew that he had seen the invisible tears.

Here in his arms, here in the myrrh of his words, it felt safe and secure. That this was truly possible, loving each other and living to see where it went, to hold onto him forever.

“But you don’t seem to miss me as much as I miss you.”, he confided in you, the thoughts that he had held back had now come up to the surface.

“You don’t answer my calls, you don’t let me in.”, he continued, communicating his hurt, hurt that you had caused and now you couldn’t hold back either. You placed your hand on his jaw and watched him lean into it.

“Now I can’t sleep, I can’t work, you’re always on my mind. Making me constantly worry about finding us a cure.”, you see the pain in his eyes and you were angry with yourself. Your actions had caused you to withhold the love he craved, the love he deserved, from him.

As you traced your thumb over the edge of his lips, you felt your heart break. It was inevitable, that he was so strong having survived through the worst and then here you were, given the privilege of being held by him only to let your fears to wreck it.

“So do your worst and tell me the truth.”, he turned serious and you could feel it, that if you didn’t fight for this, you were going to lose it. You were going to lose him.

“Dime que no me amas.”, he demanded but the way he held you by your shoulders and stared into your eyes, he was begging you for an answer.

Your lips parted, he was convinced you didn’t love him when you were fighting your past to let yourself to embrace a future with him. So you stayed quiet, his eyes glimmering with the faintest hope.

“I’m growing tired of this distance you maintain, querida.”, he pushed away the strand of hair that followed the flow of water to get stuck over your forehead.

“So go easy on me and tell me you don’t feel the same.”, he pleaded again, his voice turning soft, losing the authority he had when he was in HQ.

You couldn’t run from this anymore. The other truth was, you wanted this, the easy ordinary moments he cultivated with such ease, showing you that he was capable of loving you. Where you didn’t have to question his admiration or demand his affection. He gave it freely, so it was time you did as well.

“If I say I do feel the same?”, you asked and finally observed the stress melt away from his features. He sighed with relief to slowly place his forehead on yours.

“What happens next?”, you asked quietly, like you wanted to know the start of the next chapter having finally put an end to the hold your past had on you, to look ahead. To dream again.

“I would then ask you, if you would like to marry me.”, he spoke the words that seemed to reassure you that you could in fact expect the best in the years ahead.

“Here in the shower?”, you laughed as the sound of the rushing water and the haze from the steam that encircled you made it all the more magical, right here in the ordinary.

“Well when you lose a universe, you don’t exactly wait around to lose the next one.”, his eyes were alive, his smile reaching the corners of his face. Hinting to the fact that he didn’t want to lose you. His new universe, the one full of his hopes and dreams.

“So will you?”, his question hung in the air between you. His hair dripping wet over his eyes. You smiled, pushing them away to hold his gaze. You didn’t want to run anymore.

“Yes.”, you whispered and as though he wanted to seal his forever right this instant, he kissed you gently, grateful that you had granted him his only desire.

A chance to start again.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099

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bhaalble · 7 months

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This isn't a fully fleshed out thought yet but I do feel. Weird. About how Wyll's arc antagonist is handled compared to the others in the party. Like imagine if you just had Cazador or Viconia at camp hanging out three feet away from Shadowheart or Astarion's bed.

Like ok in the interest of absolute fairness: the closest in terms of scale to Mizora is Gortash. In that both have harmed their respective companion, taken advantage of their trust, and isolated them from their loved ones. However, in contrast to someone like Vlaakith or Mystra or Cazador, they don't wield intense physical and spiritual pull over their victim. Karlach and Wyll have a little more freedom to act against them even without player help than say, Shadowheart or Lae'zel. They also entered into their circumstances at least PARTLY by choice. Obviously this doesn't excuse anything that was done to them, they were both young and vulnerable and had that taken advantage of. Its just a little different than "literally owned me for two centuries" and "has been my goddess and my mentor since I was a child and later we developed increasing intimacy in even more personal ways".

And the game let's you go pretty far with siding with Gortash! Far more than it lets you do with Mizora even. But the thing is you can still. Kill Gortash. In like a half dozen different ways. And also! Again! Even if you maintain a positive relationship with Gortash until the end. He's not in camp at the foot of Karlach's bed. You can't hook up with him ten feet from Karlach and have her walk in on it.

This isn't even me saying it was bad to have either of these things. Not every abuse story has to end in "kill your abuser" there's room for a lot of good options. But as an extent of Wyll's quest overall feeling a little underdeveloped. Its weird to me that we generally don't get a lot of the catharsis and grief and intense emotions that we get from the other companions when they confront their abusers. There's not a lot of processing for Wyll about everything he went through! He gets a little "nyah nyah" moment if he saves his father from Mizora but even then. Whether he chose in the first place to save his father or himself wasn't even truly up to him! It was player choice in either direction with no option to even ask him what he actually preferred.

I do genuinely understand: Wyll is a character who doesn't seem to particularly enjoy self-pity. He's very consistent that he doesn't regret pacting with Mizora and that he wants to give his all to his father and the Sword Coast. He doesn't have to be Astarion 2 to be Good Character Writing. But the absence of those big cathartic character moments really do contribute to Wyll feeling like an afterthought character writing wise and make me wonder again what was initially planned in EA

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #wyll ravengard #if anyone clowns on this post they are getting blocked

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lovingmattysposts · 4 months

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You don't know me 2

P1 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16 P17 P18 P19 P20 P21 P22 P23 P24 P25 P26 P27 P28 P29 P30 P31 P32

pairing: y/n and chris sturniolo

summary: you and chris came from two different sides of the spectrum when it came to the social scale. You had the perfect life, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect parents, but when you start to peal back that layers things got messy. Your life was set and stone, your future was set and stone. That was until he comes and changes everything.

warnings: MAJOR mentions of toxic relationship, suggestive, there is one part where she guilt trips herself into doing something sexual BUT THERE IS NO DESCRIPTION OF IT ACTUALLY HAPPENING!! if that bother you it's very clear when it starts and you can just scroll past that part I was just trying to get a point across and it does not involve chris whatsoever!! nothing crazy, i promise you guys❤️ smoking, cursing, mentions of cheating

hope you guys fall in love w this series

xoxo, autumn

Max was almost passed out against the window after we dropped off Cayden and Sydney. I was staring straight through the window. Not glancing over at him. My hands gripping onto the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were turning white, trying not to think about what just occurred.

How do people do this so causally? Cheat on their significant other then feel no guilt? It's eating me alive and I did it accidentally. I felt like he knew subconsciously and was going to call me out on it at any moment, but he didn't know. There is no possible way that he could know. Yes Max was a lot at times, but he would never cheat on me. I cheated on him. God what did I do?

"Y/n"

My head snapped towards him and then back towards the road. Could he read my thoughts? I was starting to think he could. I was sweating. Freaking the fuck out. I swallowed before answering him.

"Yeah?" I whispered back. His eyebrows furrowed and he leaned over grabbing one of my hands that were tight against the steering wheel and interlocking our fingers and started massaging my hand with his. He took his other hand and slid it on the inside of the thigh and leaning his head on my shoulder. I felt myself begin to relax. I let out a shaky breath.

"What's stressing you out babe?" He asked quietly. I collected my thoughts. I can't be suspicious. I was being way too suspicious. I needed to relax, but I couldn't get myself to. "W-What do you mean?" I asked not looking at him. He moved his hand up and down my leg, attempting to sooth me. I didn't deserve him. Oh my God I'm awful. I'm an absolute awful human being. An awful girlfriend.

"You're gripping the steering wheel for dear life and you look like you're gonna puke and you've been stuttering all night" He chuckled. God no. I shook my head, finally taking a deep breath. Think of something, anything. "Just worried about Cayden" I lied shaking my head. "I feel bad for Sydney" I said leaning my head against his as I drove. He hummed. Silence fell between us.

"I'm sorry" He said silently. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked down at him. "For what?" I whispered. He didn't look up at me. He sighed and leaned up from me and took his hands off of me. "I know why you're stressed y/n/n" He said looking back at me. Heart rate quickening. Face pale-ing. Pulse weakening. I swallowed. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, trying to act like I didn't know what he was talking about.

"You think I'm mad at you for the fight" He said shaking his head. I sighed of relief but quickly recovered by looking at him nodding. Yes, that's it. You're exactly right. He frowned. "Babe I'm not mad at you. But you have to know that people expect you to come to my games. If people notice that you aren't coming they might think we had broken up or something. That doesn't look good on me" He frown. Asshole. I bit my tongue. Pick your battles. Pick your battles y/n. "I don't want people thinking you're available" He chuckled. I forced myself to laugh at him, then quickly shut my mouth.

"I'm sorry too" I said genuinely. I'm so sorry Max. He leaned over and kissed my cheek and went back to leaning his head on my shoulder. "For what?" He breathed as he began to kiss my shoulder up to my neck. I sighed.

For cheating on you.

"For giving you a hard time about the game. I'll go. I know you want me there so I'm gonna go and I won't give you trouble about it again" I said giving in yet again. Mostly because of my guilt. I didn't want him to question me.

"That's my girl" He whispered. He replaced his hand on my leg, moving it up higher this time, rubbing his thumb back and forth slowly. He was still kissing my neck. "Are we almost there?" He whispered as he kissed me. I let out a shaky breath.

"I'm pulling into my neighborhood" I whispered quietly. A few seconds later I was pulling into my driveway. Max stumbled out of the car as we walked up to my front door and I put in the code, letting us inside. He walked in after me and shut the door. The house was dark, quiet. To be fair it was past 2 in the morning at this point. I looked around for any sign of my parents. I felt Max come up behind me and pull me against him. He bent his head down his kissed my neck from behind before leaning up and pressing his lips against my ear.

"Where are your parents?" He whispered. I swallowed. "Asleep" I whispered back. He hummed back before grabbing my hand and walking me up the stairs to my room. I couldn't shake the thoughts no matter how hard I tried to. Chris. His lips. My lips. How he tasted. It should be illegal. The things that I'm thinking of this boy that I don't even know. A boy that's not even my boyfriend.

What was he thinking right now? Did he think that I just kissed him because I just genuinely wanted to cheat on my boyfriend? I'm not that kind of girl. I didn't want him to think I was that kind of girl. I'm not a bad person. I never step out of line. I never did the wrong thing. I always apologized even when I probably shouldn't have. I obeyed my parents. I obeyed my boyfriend. I was loyal. I was faithful. I have a reputation to keep.

I was blinded my anger. I wasn't thinking. I acted on my emotions. What did he think when he saw me with Max right after? Was he going to talk? Was he going to tell Max? Brag about it to his friends? Was Nate going to talk? God I was freaking out.

I had to talk to Chris. I have to convince him not to tell anyone. He went to my school, I've seen him around before. Fuck it was Saturday. I had to wait until at least Monday before I could even see him again. He could ruin my entire life by Monday.

Stress. Anxiety. Guilt.

He has all the power in the world to ruin my life in the next 48 hours, and there was nothing I can do about it. Max would break up with me. My parents would shun me for screwing up my relationship with an Hastings. I would lose my friends. I would be known as a cheater. My reputation would be ruined. Chris has my life in his hands right now and there was nothing I could do about it until Monday.

Max led me into my room and I turned and closed the door. He sighed before walking over to my bed and laying back on it. I leaned up on his elbows as I turned back around and looked at him. He smiled at me. I smiled back. I needed to do this. Maybe this could make me feel less guilty about the situation I've found myself in. I love Max. I do. I love him.

I walked over to him before climbing on top of him and sitting on his lap looking down at him. He just looked up at me. "Whatcha doing baby?" He asked reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I smiled down at him. I reached my hands under his shirt and ran my hands up his body. He just watched me. I shrugged. "Nothing" I whispered. I leaned down and started kissing his neck slowly. He groaned and placed his hands on my leg and moved them up before placing his hands on my ass pulling me up against his hips instead of his legs.

"Thought you didn't want to hook up after I drink" He mumbled. Yeah, I don't. Not at all actually. I hate it, but I feel so guilty I can't think of anything else to make me feel less guilty other than to prove that I actually I love you right now Max. "I changed my mind" I whispered before leaning up and connecting our lips. He stuck his tongue directly into my mouth. I hated when he did that. Straight to the point huh? No build up? Alright. Chris didn't do that.

Stop. Y/n. What are you doing? Change your thought process right now.

I grind my hips against his making him groan into my mouth. He parted our lips. "Eager are we?" He smiled. Eager to forget this night ever happened, yes. I smiled and nodded. He smiled and but his hand on my cheek. "Just want to show you how much I love you" I whispered. He smiled. He looked down at our position.

"Will you stay on top?" He asked raising his eyebrows. I wanted to groan. I wanted to hang my head and complain. No I don't want to stay on top. I hated being on top. I never finished that way, not that Max knew that or ever noticed. I liked being taken care of, not the one doing the taking care of. I swallowed my pride and nodded smiling.

"Of course" I smiled leaning down and connecting our lips. Whatever made this move along as quickly as possible. He reached up under my shirt and took off my bra. I disconnected our lips before shrugging off my bra and taking it off under my shirt and throwing it on the floor. He smiled leaning up against my headboard. He reached under my shirt before feeling me up and leaning against my lips.

"God, you're so hot" He mumbled against my lips. Beautiful? No, I'm hot. Y/n stop. Why was I dreading this so much? It wasn't normally like this. I normally some-what enjoyed this. Sometimes. I forced a smile and reached down and started to undo his belt with my hands as we kissed.

"Condom" I whispered against him. He parted my lips and groaned. I furrowed my eyebrows at him. He rested his head against my headboard. "Can we go without?" He asked looking at me. I scoffed. Yeah this is where I draw the line. I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry enough to risk getting pregnant, I'm only 18. It gave me too much anxiety to go without. The last time we went without I bought two plan B's and took five pregnancy tests within the span of two days. I wasn't pregnant but the thought scared the shit out of me. I shook my head.

"No" I said looking at him. His demeanor changed. It turned cold. This is why I don't hook up with him when he drinks. He can change emotions in a matter of seconds. If he was sober he probably wouldn't fight me on this. It would be me that it affects if something went wrong. Not him. He should understand.

"But you're on the pill" He said looking at me. I leaned back. "I don't care" I said looking at him. Were using a condom or were not doing this at all. He groaned again. Like a child being told he can't get the toy he wanted. He's 18 years old. Man up and use the Goddamn condom. He frowned at me. If I wasn't doing this to feel less guilty I would yell at him and say forget it.

"Do you want to be a dad?" I asked glaring at him. He narrowed his eyes at me and licked his lips. He looked me up and down before grabbing my neck and pulling my lips back to mine. Another thing when he drinks, he's more aggressive and I hate it. I kept kissing him but reached up and pulled the hand that was around my neck off.

Don't do that I hate it. I wanted to say but I kept kissing him. He reached down between us and started undoing the rest of his belt before pulling it off and throwing it on the floor.

He started undoing this zipper when I pulled away. I looked at him with stern eyes. "Come on Y/n" He groaned. This was starting to hurt my feelings. "No" I whispered. He sighed before looking away. "Then I don't even want to do this" He said looking at me.

Wow. I felt a lump in my throat. You know how to make me feel so special Max.

"Why?" I whispered afraid that if I spoke any louder that tears would start forming. He bit on his bottom lip looking down at me. He shook his head.

He wasn't normally like this. Whenever I demanded a condom, he would gripe and moan, yes, but he always obliged. It's because he's drunk. Add it to the list of reasons that I don't do anything when he's drunk. When he doesn't get what he wants he turned mean, cold.

I looked away from him attempting to swallow the lump in my throat. I slid off of him and sat next to him on the bed and sighed. "Can you do something though?" He asked turning his head towards me. I looked at him.

Is he serious right now? I just looked at him. I wanted to yell at him. Tell him this is exactly why I don't do this when he's drinking. That he's proving my former decision correct, but it wouldn't be worth it. He wouldn't listen.

"Can you top me off at least?" He asked looking at me. At least? I closed my eyes getting ready to scream at him. He knows I hate doing that. Makes me feel gross. It's not something I enjoy. We'd been dating a year and I've done it maybe two times.

You cheated on him tonight y/n. My mind raced. Guilt filled me again. I looked at him and nodded, forcing a smile. He smiled down at me before kissing my forehead. I wanted to cry. I hated this. Why did I put myself in this position?

"Thanks babe" He breathed. I nodded before sitting up and leaning down over top of him again.

I'm never letting myself feel guilty enough to do this ever again.

Max's been asleep for a while now. I can tell because of the way he's breathing. Not me. I'm wide away staring at the wall as I laid against my pillow. I'd gotten up to brush my teeth three times. I fucking hated it. I felt tears start to form in my eyes. I feel so bad for cheating on him, yes. But not as bad as I felt about the fact that the entire time I was doing it I was thinking about Chris.

I was thinking about his laugh, the way his lips tasted, the way he looked at me when he saw me with Max. All of it and it was overwhelming. I wondered what Chris was doing right now. Was he asleep? Was he wide awake like me? Did he even think twice about me? About our kiss? Was he hurt? Did he not care? Does he even know my name? I never even told him.

I sighed reaching up and wiping my eyes. I just need to talk to him. To close this so I can stop feeling like this. I finally closed my eyes allowing this horrible day to come to an end.

Chris pov

Nate and I had gotten back to my house over two hours ago. It was around 3 in the morning now. We were sitting on my back porch. "Are you even going to acknowledge what happened back there?" He asked me. My eyes shifted over to him and back to the fire in front of us. I licked my lips. No I wasn't. I was hoping to forget about it actually.

"You've barely said a word since we've gotten back and you've smoke like five more cigarettes" He said looking at me. He's right. I don't normally smoke as much as I have tonight. I've almost smoked an entire pack. But I can't stop thinking about how she took the cigarette out of my hand and the way she wrapped her lips around the one that was just previously in my mouth.

I swallowed and sighed throwing the last cigarette on the ground that was only half gone. Nate looked down at the cigarette then back up at me. "Talk to me. We have to tell her bitch ass boyfriend right?" He asked looking at me. I looked up at him. "No" I said sternly. He threw his hands up.

"Why not?" He asked suddenly, annoyed at my response. "We're not telling anyone okay? There's no reason to get involved" I said looking at my hands. He huffed. Nate is definitely the one that stirs up the most trouble out of the two of us. I'm the one that fixes his messes.

He pisses someone off and I'm the one that ends up having to fight them. It's fine. I'm happy to protect my friend. That being said when we both agree how to handle something the other one has to oblige. It's how this friendship works. It's why we're so close. Why we're basically brothers.

He leaned back against the chair shaking his head. "Think about the look on his face when we tell him that your tongue was down his girlfriend's throat, it would be gold" He said looking at me. My eyes snapped up to his. "I said no. That's final. Drop it" I said sternly. He bit his lip and sighed turning away from me.

I knew Nate was thinking the same thing as me. Why did you do that? I don't know. I hated all of them. The ultimate assholes, of all assholes. The rich bitches. I hated all of them, they all looked down on me. On everyone else that wasn't them. The party was full of them. That's why I didn't want to go, but I saw her. From across the room. Her asshole boyfriend was basically groping her in a room full of people. I couldn't help but look. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she attempted to get out of his grip.

Her eyes fell onto mine, I wanted to look away but I couldn't. Her gaze was strong. I couldn't look away if I tried. I recognized her. She was a Labraut. Their only daughter. They held the biggest law firm in the state of Michigan. They were the richest people in town, with the white house on the corner of Henderson and Alfred pike. The one with the 'L's' plastered on the doors and the gate that led up the driveway.

She was wearing a white dress and shoes that were so ugly that they had to be expensive. I thought it was funny that she wore a dress to a party. It was cute. It looked like she was dress more for a formal event than a house party, but then again it was a rich people party. Yet despise the fact that she was dressed to the nines, hair perfectly curled, she looked miserable. She looked tired. Annoyed. Mad. Until she looked at me and her demeanor shifted. She studied me until she decided to looked away.

Just her gaze made me feel vulnerable. I needed a smoke. I went outside. She came outside a few minutes later. She didn't notice me leaned up against the wall. I watched her for a second. Her head was tilted up, looking at the sky. I looked up, looking for what could be so interesting in the sky. It was just a sky. But she studied it, like she studied me earlier. I didn't want her to turn around and see me watching her so I walked up to her.

I scared the shit out of her. I have that effect on most people, so I was used to that reaction. Her voice wasn't what I was expecting. I don't know what I was imagining. Girls normally steer clear of me. They think I'm scary I guess. They all love Nate though. I'd be jealous, but I didn't really care. I wasn't interested. Yet, she intrigued me. It made me happy that a guy was all over her and she was less than interested. I don't know why. I think it was because it was Hastings, but if you're dating the guy, you can't be much better of a person.

So I gave her kind of a hard time. I don't regret it, kind of. I think now I do. If you have to deal with a guy like Max 24/7 I don't think you should get shit from anyone else either. Max was enough. She yelled at me. I found it amusing. From the choice of words It doesn't sound like she yelled at people very much, it was a cute attempt. I backed off, only a little. Still called her princess, because that's how she's always treated. Like a goddamn princess.

I could see the glimmer in her eye slightly when I said it but she quickly turned away from me. Told me to stop calling her that. It caught me off guard, the glimmer, so I stayed looking at her. Did she like that? Her face lit up in a shade of pink and she looked away. The way she blushed I felt it in my stomach. I covered it up by looking away.

Her annoying bot of a friend comes bursting out of the house to drag her away. I watched her as she was pulled away from next to me. I wondered to myself if she would look back at me. Give me even a second glance or if she was just speaking to me because I was standing right there. To my surprise she did. I just looked at her before she disappeared back into the house. Somewhere that I never wanted to enter ever again. A bunch of rich kids getting drunk, not my idea of fun.

As I finished the last of my second cigarette, which I would go on to finish six more, I wondered to myself if we would ever come in contact again. She didn't even ask my name, but she didn't tell me hers either. I guess she assumed I knew it. I did, it was Y/n. Everyone knew her name, and If they didn't know her first name they definitely knew her last.

Nate found me shortly after I escape the inside and after Y/n left. I didn't tell him about the interaction because I knew he would push me on it. I didn't liked being pushed. He rambled on about how at the last hockey game, they kept giving him penatlties for bullshit calls. I just listened as he rambled. I've learned that when Nate gets into rants, he doesn't want solutions, he just wants someone to listen and nod and throw in the occasional "That sucks. No yeah, you're definitely right".

He was deep in a story when someone came bursting through the back door again. I turned and saw Y/n walking towards me. I didn't want Nate thinking that I was being somewhat nice to her because of how much shit I talk about her kind of people.

So I threw out the first insult I thought of, it wasn't nice. I regret that. It wasn't cool. She didn't give me attitude back like I expected. No, instead she marched right up to me. I didn't step away as I looked down at her. There was a different look in her eyes. She was angry. For a second I thought she was going to smack the shit out of me.

I started to think I should probably back up, but she reached up and took the cigarette out of my hand. What was the deal with her and me smoking? It wasn't your lungs. I just watched her. She brought it up to her lips without hesitation, taking me by surprise. I looked down at her about to question the fact that she was inhaling nicotine and tobacco after giving me a quick health lesson earlier, when she reached her hand up to me, again I think to smack the shit out of me.

She didn't.

The next thing I know we're engulfed in one another's mouth. It was slow for a second, I was shocked. The last thing I expected was for her to kiss me. Her lips tasted like cherry lip gloss. It was heaven. They were so soft. How does Hastings get so lucky to kiss these lips everyday? Fuck. Hastings. She has a fucking boyfriend.

I almost pull away when I felt her tug on my lip ring. Oh my God. I hummed, muffling a moan. No one has ever done that before. I got lost again, the thought of her boyfriend leaving my head. I swipe my tongue in her mouth. Like a cigarette.

I pulled her against me as we kissed, completely forgoing the fact that there are two other people watching us devour each other. Her hands went up to my hair pulling slightly on the strands. I breathed in. All preconceived ideas I had of her were now out of the window. A bad person can't be this good of a kisser. I've convinced myself of this.

"Y/n!" Her friend said making her part from me. I could have killed her friend for making her stop kissing me the way she was. I didn't let her go when she parted from me. We both just looked at each other. I think both shocked that that just happened. My arm dropped from her back and she pulled her hands off my hair. Her eyes shifted from mine to her friends.

"Alright then" Nate said from behind me. If I could tell him telepathically to shut up, oh my god Nate shut the hell up. She turned from me and started walking towards her friend. She quickly snapped back around. Her cheeks were red and she looked disoriented. I could have fallen to my knees. Embarrassingly.

Instead, I kept my composure. "What was your name again?" She smiled, breathless. This would have offended me, but the way she looked clogged my mind instead.

"Chris" I was able to breathe by the grace of God. She nodded and turned around grabbing her friend and walking back inside. I didn't immediately turn to Nate, knowing how red my face probably was.

I reached up attempting to fix my hair. "What the hell was that?" Nate asked after a few seconds. I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to wipe the smile off my face. I can't show how much that effected me. I turned around with a straight face.

"I have no idea" I shrugged. He just stared at me and then his eyes shifted to the door then back at me. He was speechless, and believe me I was too. He looked down at his feet then back up at me. "So you were saying" I said clearing my throat. He looked at me with wide eyes and shook his head. He laughed lightly. I bit back a smile.

"No I was interested, please keep going. So the empire said..?" I coughed. Please take the focus off me. "The referee!" He corrected me. I shook my head laughing. "Right the referee" I said looking at him. He smiled and rolled his eyes and started on his story again. I wasn't listening, I was trying to fight the urge to march into the party and find her and beg her to let me relive that moment.

Anything to feel like that again. But I couldn't, and I wouldn't. It's not really in character for me. Was it a one time thing? My mind started to race. Her boyfriend. Did they break up? Why did she march out here and kiss me? Why was she so angry? Why did she kiss me like that? I finally started to calm myself down and my face was no longer red when I heard the door open again a few minutes later.

I looked over and saw some guy with blonde hair throwing his guts up into the grass and the girl I recognized to be Y/n's friend leaned down next to him, yelling at him. I almost laughed when I turned and met Y/n's eyes. Then her boyfriend's. I involuntarily felt his presence in my chest. All of the good feelings that that kiss just gave me dropped to my feet as her eyes wouldn't meet mine for more than a second. She stood behind him with her eyes directed to her feet.

I wanted to scoff. I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to shake my head. They hadn't broken up. They were in fact still together. He was right there. What was I thinking? I don't even know this girl and she's exactly who I expected her to be. I just looked at her waiting for her to look at me. To face the fucking consequences to her actions that I doubt she had ever before. But she didn't look at me. Her boyfriend did though.

"What are you looking at freak?" He spat at me. I wanted to smile and shake my head. These people, I swear. Why do I try? I stopped giving people the benefit of the doubt a long goddamn time ago. Why did I suddenly want to start now? They were all exactly the same. Stuck up, entitled assholes. Every last one of them. I looked at Nate and motioned and him towards the back gate. I was done with this. I needed to get out of here. I turned and he looked at her shaking his head. I grabbed his arm violently pulling him with me telling him "Let's go." sternly.

We walked home. It was a far walk. "I didn't realize that was Y/n LaBraut" Nate said as we walked down the street. I shrugged looking down at my feet as we walked. Why did I kiss her back? What was I thinking? I fell into her so instantly. What is wrong with me? Giving someone like her what she wanted in that moment.

I'm just like everyone else. Giving in because she's her and she wanted it so she got it. Fuck that. I kicked a rock down the street. I didn't talk much on the walk home. I didn't have much to say. I was disappointed in myself. Giving into it so easily. Wanting more. I shook my head at myself as we walked. I can't believe I let myself kiss her of all people for my first kiss in three years. The first one, after her.

She's probably shaking her head at me right now. I wish I could apologize somehow.

That brings us to right now. I suddenly felt bad for snapping at him. He looked down at his lap. "And stop talking about my tongue it's weird bro" I said chuckling shaking my head. He laughed lightly across from me. As good as I would feel to see the look on Hasting's face to let him know the way his girlfriend's hands were tangled in my hair drove me crazy, something about the way that she hid behind him in defeat doesn't sit right with me.

I felt like there was something deeper to the reason she decided to kiss me, but it wasn't any of my business. So I wasn't looking to make it my business. I had enough problems that I didn't need to add rich people drama to the list.

"You know" Nate said looking up at me. I looked over at him. "That was the first girl you've kissed since.." He trailed off. I loved Nate. I really did. But sometimes he didn't know when to shut up. Which is why I had to fight someone new every other week, normally another hockey player he got into it with. I looked down at my feet.

"How are you feeling about...that" He whispered. I clenched my jaw, staring at the ground. I wanted another cigarette to relieve the stress, but I restricted myself. I'd smoked more than enough tonight. I stayed silent. I took a deep breath before standing up off the metal chair. Nate looked up at me.

"It's getting late" I said looking at him. He looked sadly at me. "You staying?" I asked pointing towards the house. He stood up, shaking his head. "No, I'm gonna head back. Told my mom I'd come home at some point" He smiled. I nodded looking over to my house. Nate stepped toward me.

"Look man" He started. I looked at him. "I'm sorry, I won't mention it again" He said quietly. I didn't say anything and just looked at him. "I just worry about you sometimes" He said half smiling sadly at me. I nodded. I know he's worried about me. Another thing about Nate, he doesn't hide what he's thinking very well. I know he cares, I just wish he wouldn't talk about it.

"I'm fine Nate" I mumbled. He nodded and looked toward my gate. "I'm gonna head out then" He said motioning towards the gate. I nodded walking towards my house. "I'll pick you up Monday for school" I said looking at him. He laughed walking towards my gate before raising his hands. "Thanks Mom!" He yelled.

I laughed and shook my head walking in the backdoor of my house, quietly. I didn't want to wake up my grandpa who was sound asleep on the lounge chair in the living room. He fell asleep there more often than not. He was a heavy sleeper though, still I didn't want to risk waking him up.

I stepped past him and down the hall into my room. I closed the door before letting go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. I walked over to my bed before crashing into it. Everything was sore. Nate and I had walked to that party. I didn't even want to go, Nate did. I went because he wanted to.

The alternative was staying here and me and my grandpa got into a fight earlier and I didn't want to stay here. He found cigarette buds in the backyard. He told me that It would kill me if I smoked. Y/n said the same thing to me tonight.

I sighed as I kicked off my shoes and laid my head against my pillow and closed my eyes. I felt like I could only see the look on her face from earlier. The fear. The regret. The sadness. Not going to lie, it kind of hurt. After you kiss someone, correction, someone kisses you, you don't really want a look of regret afterwards. But she smiled. When we were kissing she smiled against my lips. The way her hands went up to my hair. The way she felt pressed against me. I can still feel it.

I snapped my eyes open and turned looking up at the ceiling. I looked down and felt myself becoming half-hard just thinking about it. I groaned covering my hands with my face. I can't be thinking about her like this. She's one of them. I need a cold shower or something. I've gotta stop using smoking as an outlet. I stood up off my bed and walked in my bathroom before turning on the shower. I sighed before stepping in and letting the warm water roll down my back.

I wondered what she was doing right now. Was she asleep? Was she wide awake like me? Did she even think twice about me after? Or did she kiss her boyfriend and forget all about the incident? I wondered if she felt bad for what she did. To me, or to her asshat of a boyfriend even. Or if she did it all the time and I was not a special occasion. Why do I even care? I need sleep. I reached over and turned off the shower.

I'll be damned if I ever let myself give in that easily ever again.

y/n pov

I've been looking for him all day. Every class. Every corner. I even stalked the boy's bathroom after 3rd period. He was nowhere. Is he even here today? God, please be here. I've been a nervous wreck the last two days. Max's acted normal. So I'm guessing he doesn't know. It hasn't gotten back to him. Yet, at least. He didn't apologize for the way he acted that night either. The next morning I found him eating breakfast downstairs with my parents. I would allow myself to be mad at him, but I couldn't. Not with this cloud of guilt still hanging over my head.

"Who are you looking for?" Max laughed. I jumped turning around and seeing Max. I laughed lightly trying to compose myself. Think. Think. "You of course" I smiled up at him, putting my hand on his chest. His eyebrows furrowed. "You know I have Sterling 5th period" He said pointing at Mr. Sterlings door across the hall. I pointing at the door and then at him.

"Right! Slipped my mind" I laughed lightly, swallowing. He shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?" He shook his head smiling and wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we walked down the hall. Still, I searched for Chris. No sign.

Max and I walked into the lunch room and then over to our usual table where Sydney and Cayden were sitting. They were bickering again. They fought a lot and if they weren't fighting they were all over one another. It was a weird complex they had going on, but it worked for them I guess. I sat down across from them.

"Hey" I breathed looking at them. Sydney looked at me. "Please tell Cayden that my parents would not let him borrow their jet for the weekend to go see the lakers game" She glared at me. I spend my mouth to speak but Cayden cut me off. "It's the final four! We're court-side!" He argued. She huffed. "Where's yours Cayden?" Max asked looking at him. Cayden went silent and he looked down.

"It's uh in the shop" He said not looking up. Sydney glared at him. "It is not in the shop, you got your private jet privileges because you took it to fly to Miami for the weekend to see Drake perform at Rolling Loud!" She yelled at him. God this argument is making my head spin. I looked over at Max whose eyebrows were raised watching them fight. He looked at me and shook his head.

"You came with me!" He said at her. Her hands flew up. "You told me your parents were okay with it!" She yelled back. I held my hands up. "Guys stop please. My head, it's hurting" I said shaking my head. "It was still worth it" He said shaking his head. She looked over at him. "Was Drake even performing?" She asked crossing her arms. He hung his head in defeat. "No, I looked at last year's lineup" He said looking down. Sydney looked over at us with her hands up. I smiled shaking my head.

"I know you guys aren't fighting over who's private jet to take to court-side at a lakers game" I said shaking my head. I'm starting to understand why people hate us. I hate us sometimes. First world problems people, people are dying. Sydney and Cayden looked at each other and laughed. "It was still worth it though, because we had sex on the rooftop of-" He started to say, but Sydney hit him in the shoulder. Her face turned blood red.

Cayden looked at her and rubbed his shoulder. "What?" He whined. God, this needs to stop. I looked around the cafeteria, still in search for Chris. I looked behind Sydney and saw him and Nate eating at a table a little father back. Relief and fear struck me all at once. It's now or never. I just have to talk to him and pray he's told no one about what happened at the party. Max was still watching Cayden and Sydney, sometimes it's like a reality tv show.

"Hey babe, can you go get me a drink?" I asked looking over at him. He looked down at me and groaned. "It's so far" He whined. Exactly. It was the farthest point from our table. It gives me time. I glared at him. "Hey, I'm kidding. I'm kidding, I'll go" He said kissing the top of my head and standing up. I looked over at Sydney who was now pouting and looking away from Cayden.

She looked at me. My eyes went wide as I motioned to Cayden and then Max who was standing. Her eyebrows furrowed and then she looked at Max who was starting to walk away. Her eyes went wide and she nodded and turned to Cayden. "Me too babe, get me a drink?" Her demeanor changed intensely toward him. He lifted his head and looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"You just told me you hated me" He said shaking his head. "I was kidding. I love you, now drink? Please?" She said pushing him. He sighed shaking his head before getting up and walking away. I watched him until he was out of ear-shot. Sydney leaned forward to me.

"What?" She whispered. I swallowed before looking behind her to Chris who was still sitting there talking to Nate. "I need to go talk to Chris" I whispered back. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Who's Chris?" She asked back. I hit her from across the table. "Ow" She whispered back. "The guy" I whispered. She shook her head not understanding. Oh my God.

"I one i...." I tried off with wide eyes. Her face dropped as she looked around. She leaned forward again. "Are you crazy? In public?" She whispered back. I shrugged. "I don't have another time! I have to make sure he doesn't talk" I said back. She licked her lips and looked around.

"Okay go, quick!" She whispered. I nodded before quickly standing up and walking over to Chris's table. Adrenaline filled me as I walked towards their table, fear of being seen by Max, but it faded once Nate's eyes noticed me before Chris's.

He hit Chris's arm and motioned to me and he looked up at me right when I approached the table. I swallowed. I forgot what his gaze did to me. The way it felt. God, why are my legs shaking? It's just some random kid.

"Can I help you?" Chris asked after a few seconds looking at me. Fuck, I forgot to speak. I cleared my throat as I looked at him. "Can I talk to you?" I asked quietly. Thank god it was only them at this table. Chris looked at Nate who shook his head. I wanted to flip him off but I needed Chris to talk to me. I needed to explain myself and make sure we were on the same page.

Chris looked back up at me and sighed. "How about, fuck off?" Nate said looking at me. Ouch. I furrowed my eyebrows. Chris glared at him and elbowed him in the side. "Ow" Nate said glaring at him.

I didn't blame him for saying that, I'd tell me to fuck off too. I would tell him that, but my throat was dry. I don't remember being this nervous last time I was in his presence. Before the kiss at least. I just stayed silent standing in front of them, playing with my fingers feeling the beat of my heart more clearly the longer I stood here.

Chris looked back up at me. I looked down at his lips, his lip ring. Oh my God. I can still feel it pressed against my lips. The coldness of it. The way it felt between my teeth. I-. I stopped myself snapping myself out of my thoughts and looked back up at his eyes.

He motioned for me to start talking. I looked at Nate who was looking at me, unimpressed. "N-Not here" I quickly said feeling the pressure of Nate's presence. "Somewhere private" I said looking at Nate and then back at Chris.

Chris pursed his lips before looking at Nate and then back at me. Chris looked down and looked over at a napkin before grabbing it and placing it in front of him. He felt his pockets before looking at Nate and holding out his hand.

"Pen" He said looking at him. Nate leaned his head forward. "Dude. Come on" He said looking at Chris. God this boy really hates me. I wanted to walk away and say never mind and just pray to God that he doesn't say anything, but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to move my feet. I needed to speak to him one way or another. To apologize at least.

"Pen" Chris said again more sternly. Nate glared at him for a second before mumbling something and reaching in his bag. I was surprised by Chris's tone. It almost scared me and he wasn't even speaking to me. I guess that was his reputation. Bad boy, anger, hostile, aggressive.

Yet, I wondered to myself how could someone with those eyes be mean at heart? I don't think he could be. I wanted to shake my head at my thoughts. It's not your job to figure that out Y/n.

Nate pulled out a pen before handing it to Chris. Chris took it out of his hands. I looked over to our table. Max and Cayden weren't back yet and Sydney was watching me, taping her fingers aggressively on the table.

I turned back at Chris who had the pen on the napkin, but hadn't written anything yet. He looked up at me through his eyelids. I gave him a pleading look. He sighed before looking back down at the paper and scribbling something on it. He clicked the pen, putting it on the table before picking up the napkin and handing it to me.

"Come after 5" He said looking at me. I took the napkin and smiled at him. "Thank you" I whispered before turning on my heals and walking quickly back over to my table. I sat down across from Sydney, holding the paper in my hand. "So?" She quickly said. I looked down at the napkin and sighed. "I'm going to the address after 5" I said looking up at her. Her face turned shocked.

"To his house? Are you crazy? What are you thinking?" She quickly said. I shook my head shaken up from this whole experience. "I don't know! I need to talk to him!" I said back. She threw her hands up. "Why didn't you talk to him over there!" She asked back violently. I shook my head. "I couldn't! His friend was trying to kill me with his eyes!" I said motioning to the table. She turned around and looked at them and then back at me.

"His eyes? Y/n-"

"Drink" A voice said from above me setting down a drink in front of me. I looked up and saw Max. I smiled up at him, widely to avoid any questions of what we were just talking about. I slid the napkin in my hand into the pocket of my jeans. He leaned down and kissed my head before sitting next to me.

"What did we miss?" Max asked looking at me smiling. "Nothing" Sydney and I both said at the same time. We looked at each other. Max furrowed his eyebrows and looked between us. "Okay" He said shaking his head. Cayden came around setting a sprite in front of her.

"Sprite really Cayden? Do you hate me or something?" She yelled at him. He just looked at her with a shocked face, holding his hands up. "What did I do?" He asked her. She groaned and started yelling at him some more. I sighed and leaned my head on Max's shoulder. Here we go again.

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#matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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kiame-sama · 7 months

Text

Warnings; yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, possessive behavior, somnophilia flavored, dirty talk, objectification, obsessed yandere, slight corruption kink, small spoilers for Astarion's worst kept secret, blood, biting kink, mention of Astarion's past, gender neutral reader, neutral good reader (folk-hero type), opposites attract, spoilers for game opening, slight spoilers for possible non-combatant followers, owl-bear cub named Hootsie (if you know what this name is from, I like your taste in media), adult themes, mention of nsfw topics,

~~~~~~~~

How could this have happened to him? Of all people, Astarion was no chivalrous rube unlike the odd being he found himself following the command of. Truly, he didn't understand just how he wound up a follower to someone who put others before themselves. The damned tadpole in his brain being the only reason he would stand to be near someone so annoyingly virtuous... or so he tells himself.

Truth was, though he didn't like the mundane and menial tasks he found himself doing for the betterment of others, he did actually like the goody-two-shoes he followed the lead of. They were... hells, how to describe them?

Almost every choice was made to help someone against unfair treatment or wrongful accusations. Each decision was weighed carefully on the moral scale and done with well-being in mind in almost every way. They were one of those folk-hero types who stood up for the little guy and extended help to those in honest need.

They were infuriating and annoyingly righteous. ...They were enchanting.

Astarion found himself practically crooning over them, especially during fights. Someone able to so ruthlessly kill and command others was truly an impressive character. From the strategy and careful thinking to the quick and merciless endings, Astarion barely kept himself from swooning.

Even beyond the battlefield, he noticed little things they did that made him practically melt. Those small habits and unconscious behaviors that they had making him smile ever so slightly whenever he noticed them. He wasn't staring or obsessing, mind you, just... observing.

What truly surprised him was what happened when he decided to push his luck and try to feed on them and their delectable blood. Despite how quietly he had approached them, they woke up right as he was going to sink his fangs into their neck. Even though he knew he was likely about to be slain, he still tried to stand up for himself and justify his actions. Much to his surprise and genuine delight, the defacto leader did not stake him in the heart, choosing instead to speak with that same calm timbre and hear him out.

It was then they did something he swore would have made his heart flutter if it still had a beat. They told him that he was welcome to feed on their blood- within reason- and asked him to feed from them whenever he felt the thirst coming on too strongly. It was a kindness he had never expected from someone, and he agreed that feeding on (y/n) was better than trying to feed on any of the other companions they traveled with.

Since then, Astarion would feed on animals or enemies mostly, but always kept enough room in his stomach to feed on (y/n) at night. Something about their blood made him shiver in delight and the taste drove him to crave more and more. It was as if his dear (y/n)'s blood called to him and crooned sweet nothings into his mind.

He would never take more than offered, of course, but there were evenings where he was quite tempted to take more. Not more blood, but more of (y/n).

Sex was a good way to burn off steam and was good enough with almost anyone, but the thought of passionate sex with (y/n)... oh, it was simply delicious. He had propositioned once or twice, but the subtlety in how he asked seemed to make the true meaning of his words go right past them. They either didn't reciprocate or truly did not understand the delicate way he approached the matter and so thought he was talking about something else. He knew he would have to be more straightforward with them in the future about his desire for their blood and body, but for now he would satisfy himself however he could.

It was late in the evening and the others were fast asleep as he approached his beloved on silent feet. Their faithful dog- Scratch- and the aptly named owl-bear cub Hootsie were snoozing back to back on the other side of the camp, so they shouldn't interrupt him.

As Astarion leaned over the kindly ally, he couldn't help but reach up to slowly trail his fingers over their soft cheek. They looked absolutely scrumptious laying there with an unbothered expression, their breathing soft and quiet. Though he was thirsty and quite ready for a drink, he held himself back in favor of marveling over his precious little hero.

To think, some morally-righteous nobody had entangled his unbeating heart and enamored him so much he even considered charity. Charity for Hells sakes!

A soft whine escapes their lips as he slowly turned their head to the side, feeling a sense of pride when he saw the two puncture marks on the side of their neck where he fed from them regularly. Their blood was so pure and sweet, he could barely get by with the few tastes he would take every evening. Perhaps he had their heroic tendencies to thank for the extremely pure blood that he enjoyed feasting on.

He found himself so protective of their blood that any time they got hurt in battle, he could feel the rage pull at his mind and begin to consume him. As far as Astarion was concerned, all of (Y/n)'s blood belonged to him. Even one drop wasted was a drop he could have had, and the thought of their blood being so casually wasted like that... it set a fury in him.

Of course, after the battle he always offered to lick their wounds, but they seemed to think he was joking and laughed it off. What he wouldn't give to have them say 'yes' to his proposition and simply let him love on their wounds while going down on them.

Even at that moment, the warm scent of their body made bliss run through him as he decided to risk getting caught. He slowly moved their clothing so he could marvel at the exposed flesh of their stomach. With a light touch, he made sure to gently drag his tongue over their front, groaning to himself in response to their appetizing taste. All he wanted was to ravage them as they lay there and take it from him, but he still had plenty of self restraint.

"What I wouldn't give to cover you up in bites, Darling."

Astarion decided to stop pushing his luck when his thirst tugged at his self-control impatiently. He could always go back to helping himself after he got a drink from his favorite source.

Even though he had bitten them countless times over, he still felt a certain chill run through him at being able to sink his fangs in once more. The warm splash of blood against his tongue made an almost pathetic whimper escape his throat, greedily drinking down the flavorful ambrosia. All too soon, he had to pull away and staunch his desire for more until the next time he got to feed on his beloved.

"Don't worry, Dearest. I will make damn sure you can never get away from me no matter what. Then we can embrace as long as we wish. I'll rip the others to shreds for you, love. You'll never get to leave me."

#yandere astarion #kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere bg3 #tw blood

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ilikekidsshows · 3 months

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Adrigami.

Relationship scale ask game

Stay sharp, folks. You'll notice that "lies" is not capitalized. I'm not referring to the episode "Lies" alone, even though I feel that episode wasn't fair to these two either. All the lies fucked up this dynamic.

Anyway, up until the end of season 3, Kagami and Adrien have a fun "because I knew you, I have been changed for good" dynamic. They understand each other, they care about each other. It's no wonder they felt they'd be a match. I've described this relationship as "Adrien passing on what Plagg taught him to Kagami" and that's great, it's brilliant. I love to see that character arc.

Then 'Lies' aired, and, suddenly, the dynamic is completely different. Kagami is still assertive, but now she's outright pushy and making assumptions about Adrien, while Adrien waffles about acting way too disinterested in the girl he wanted to date to begin with. Also, I found it really weird that Kagami was suddenly making all the effort to sneak out to see Adrien when Adrien taught her to do that.

Then they break up and we don't even get to see how they work that out, because Kagami starts making googly eyes at Adrien's identical clone, because Sentimonsters can't fight the programming of being attracted to Sentimonsters unless the nonSenti option is the amazing center of the universe Marinette, I guess. Like, she starts dating someone who looks identical to him. That's fucked up already, but then it gets worse.

After she starts dating Félix, Kagami gets in on lying to Adrien. The girl who broke up with Adrien "because of all the lies", is lying to him. It was really important to her that she got her Amok and autonomy, which included knowing what the Amok was and why it was important to her, but, somehow, it doesn't cross her mind that Adrien would need that for his own autonomy? Instead she follows her new boyfriend's and bestie's lead in keeping things from him? Fucked. Up.

#ml salt #ml critical #ask game #relationship scale ask game

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melverie · 3 months

Text

OBEY ME MC & OC ASK GAME

an ask game specifically for your Obey Me MCs and OCs! List the OCs and MCs you want to get asks for and specify which species they are so people know which species-specific questions they can ask you Some questions have a lot of aspects to them; they're there to give you a little nudge in case you have no idea how to approach the question, but the only really important bit is the first question!

⸺ GENERAL INFO ⸺

01: What is their opinion on the other species? Would they rather be a different one? 02: Do they have a nickname? 03: When is their birthday? Do they celebrate it? Do they even remember it in the first place? 04: What kind of magic do they possess? If they can't use any, do they have magic potential slumbering within them? 05: Which deadly sin best aligns with them? Which one do they embody the least? 06: Have they been to other realms? Which one is their favorite and why? 07: What is their favorite place, and what do they love so much about it? 08: Do they have a kill count? How high is it? 09: Do they attend RAD? What is their role there? Their best subject/the one they teach? Club activties? If they don't attend RAD, what do they do? 10: What was there initial reaction to Diavolo's plans of uniting the three realms? Has their opinion changed? 11: Do they still have any objects from their childhood? What is their most vivid childhood memory? 12: What is something they have experienced that has shaped them into the person they are today?

⸺ RELATIONSHIPS & PERSONALITY ⸺

01: What's their relationship with...? [anon chooses at least one character for this one; MC is part of the cast if you're asking about OCs] 02: On a scale of 1 to 10, how annoying are they to Lucifer? :) 03: What is their family like? Do they have siblings? Pets? 04: What is a character trait that will immediately make them despise someone? On the flip side, how can you easily win their favor? 05: Do they openly show affection? What is their love language? [platonic or romantic] 06: Are they interested in romantic relationships? Do they have any experience? Are they proactive or would they rather be persued? 07: Would they date an immortal being if they aren't immortal themself, and vice-versa? 08: Are they easy to read or do they mask their intentions perfectly? Are they manipulative? A good liar maybe? What are their tells? 09: How is their temper? Are they quick to violence? Do they get frustrated easily? 10: Do they wear their emotions on their sleeve, or do they try to hide them from others as best as they can? Do they try to hide them from themself, too? 11: Do they cry often? What is the last thing they cried about? 12: What makes them soft? 13: What is their greatest wish? What would they be willing to sacrific to get it? 14: What is their biggest regret? 15: What is there biggest fear? Is there something they try to avoid at all cost? 16: How do they react when stressed? How does their behaviour differ when in a life or death situation? 17: What is a side of themself they don't want other to see? When does that side reveal itself?

⸺ CONCEPT AND DESIGN ⸺

01: How often do you think about them in a day? Be honest, I know they torment you in your thoughts as much as you torment them :) 02: What inspired you to create them, and what is the first thing you decided about them? 03: What is the biggest change you have made from their original concept? 04: What do they look like? Do you have a picture/picrew of what you envision them to look like? 05: Do they have any physical attributes that set them apart from others? 06: What is their clothing style? Do they put a lot of effort into their appearance? 07: How do you imagine their voice? Are they loud? 08: Anything you heavily associate with them? A color, a word, a picture, or something else? 09: Share some fluff headcanons about them! 10: How about some angst headcanons? >:) 11: Bonus: something else you really want to share about them that isn't mentioned on here ♡

⸺⸺ SPECIES-SPECIFIC QUESTIONS

⸺ ANGEL ⸺

01: What rank are they? [seraphim, cherubium, ophanim, ...] 02: How many wings do they have? Do they display them proudly, or do they try to hide them whenever possible? What kind of halo do they have? 03: Do they sometimes sneak out to visit the other realms? 04: Are they a guardian angel to someone? 05: Have they seen Michael in person and do they think he looks like a jellyfish? [the second part is mandatory, don't skip] 06: Did they know the brothers before they fell? Regardless of if they have or not, was is their opinion of them? And what do they think of fallen angels in general? 07: Did they fight in the Celestial War? What side were they on and why? 08: Have they ever questioned Father? What for? Were they punished for it? 09: How close are they to falling? If they are a fallen angel, what made them fall? 10: What is something they would willingly fall for?

⸺ DEMON ⸺

01: Wings or tail(s) in demon form? What do their horns look like? 02: Are they part of demon nobility or would they have taken the train back in the day? 03: Do they have any special abilities? [such as Mephisto's power to essentially forge pacts with demons, Lucifer's power to read and manipulate memories, and so on] 04: Are they a fallen angel? If so, do they regret falling? 05: Have they forged any pacts yet? How eager are they to do so, and do they forge them often? If they haven't, why not? 06: How would they go about forging pacts? Do they have a specific strategy they fall back on, or do they go with the flow? 07: How loyal are they to their human master? 08: Have they given anyone their grimoire? 09: What do they do with human souls? 10: Solomon shows up at their doorstep in the middle of the night to ask for a pact. How do they react? 11: What is their opinion of Diavolo as a ruler? Have they experienced the reign of any other demon kings? How does Diavolo compare in their opinion? 12: What was their reaction to the brothers first arrving in the Devildom? Were they scared of a potential war? Hostile toward them? Did they extend a helping hand? 13: If they attend RAD, were they chosen for the exchange program? Did they go to the Celestial Realm or the human realm?

⸺ HUMAN ⸺

01: How old are they? 02: Are they immortal? If given the opportunity, would they like to be? 03: Did they believe in demons and angels before the exchange program? Did they have any contact with the paranormal before it? 04: Do they have a guardian angel? Have they forged any pacts? 05: Are they into demons and/or angels? If they had to choose one or the other, which one would they go for? [trying to word this SFW but I'm sure you know what I mean :)] 06: Who do they trust more—angels or demons? Why? 07: Where do you think they would most likely end up in—heaven or hell? 08: Do they carry anything with them to protect themself from the paranormal? 09: How close were they to just bless the water inside a demon's body and turn it into holy water because they were just so done with them?

#my oc is called marchosias and she is a fallen angel so both demon & angel specific asks work!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me oc #obey me ask game

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 11 months

Text

❝ Take my soul (need control) ❞

slashers dating slasher reader | erratic!slasher!male!reader | fluff, smut | graphic description of violence, brief mention of animal cruelty in Brahms H. section, mentions of nsfw things |

as a preface, (Y/N) is implied to be erratic and unhinged as a slasher. their s/o's are the only ones who can calm them.

Amanda Young (Saw) -

You didn't fit in her future.

At least, that's what Amanda's initials thoughts are when you two stared down each other from across the parking lot, panting as you held your weapons.

She's heard of you through the news. The infamous (slasher name), the monster that lurks in the shadows and savagely crushes anyone who had the misfortune of wounding up as their victim.

Your methods were unlike hers. Not calculated, not planned, not meticulous - completely erratic, like a hurricane.

But she needs the man that one of you has knocked out in your scuffle. While you? You just saw him walking past you while he was making his way to his car and decided he'd die tonight. She stiffens and reaches back for the gun she brings for emergencies as you straighten up but finds herself bewildered as you begin laughing maniacally.

"Have 'im, Ms Piggy" She sees your grip loosen on your weapon and her fingers uncurl from the handle of the gun. "Ya' clearly need 'im more than I do" and just like that, you're gone. The only thing she hears is her own breathing and her racing heartbeat.

Amanda is feverish about finding you. She reads everything she can and scours wannabe psychos and sociopaths' blogs dedicated to your crimes. (slasher name) becomes an obsession.

When you meet again, you find 'Miss Piggy' eyeing the interiors of your home. She's unsure of what she feels as she imagines you moving about the space but she smiles when you begin chuckling like a hyena and reach for the knife you had on you.

"I need your help, (Y/N)"

"Will it be fun?"

Amanda's smiling under her mask. She's seen your research of her work. The newspaper clippings, paint (or blood) of your theories on the wall (among other 'deranged' scribbles) you were familiar with her.

"Wouldn't have asked if it wasn't".

Fun was an understatement. You were a wildcard, someone that could cost her this entire game but the carnage you spread was so beautiful...she wasn't sure if any device or game she sets up could compare.

You two end up working with each other more and more. Your unpredictability makes the FBI tear their hairs out - you were, ironically, the balance she needed in her scales.

When you two confess to each other, you're soaked in someone else's blood. She approaches you from behind, watching your shoulders and chest rise and fall.

You lick the blood from your lips, your smile stretching over your cheeks looking almost uncomfortable.

Her eyes flick to your lips then up to your eyes.

"Come 'ere, Miss Piggy" she leans in and you meet her halfway.

Most would argue that you would be the worst guy to be in a relationship with.

They're wrong.

Amanda knows the ins and outs of your twisted heart because you bare it to her as it beats for her in your palm.

She doesn't take advantage of it. Tests it? Sure, just to feel more secure, but never to the point where you doubt her love for her.

Amanda thinks your ingenuity and creative mind is her favourite part of you (among other things).

You've jokingly told her she could split your skull open to get those ideas fresh - she giggles and you gather her in your arms.

Amanda leaves the window of your bathroom unlocked. Just for you. She knows you need to 'hunt' sometimes and doesn't discourage it (though she makes sure you know her targets so you don't end up killing them). When you crawl back home, you make sure to shower first before you shuffle back into bed.

She tends to your wounds, scolding you only if she knows you could've avoided it in the first place. "More fun that way, 'Manda" she huffs "So you'd leave me forever just for more fun?"

She knows you're pretty screwed up in that brain box of yours, she's not above manipulating you to bend to her whims but she only ever does it out of love, (Y/N)!

She's highly protective of you. She'll ensure your identity is safe if there are any loose ends during your 'hunts'.

She can't lose you. You can't lose her. Both of you are monsters. Both of you belong together - can't live without the other.

If a victim manages to get an upper hand on either of you God help them.

The second one of you is in danger, the other only sees red.

You've literally taken several bullets for Amanda.

She was so gentle with you that night. Her kisses silent apologies. Seeing her cry as she looks down at you makes you move to sit - despite the pain and her protests. Her breath hitched as your tongue slithers in, Amanda's lips warmed by yours.

"You're hurt, (Y/N)" "Don't care, need you"

"You're hurt because of me!" her yell makes you tilt your head "I should've been more careful!" she continues.

"I want you, Amanda" you whine, cupping her weeping face in your hands. "I'll want you even if you hurt me, even if it kills me. Don't say no to me, Piggy?"

The nickname wins her over.

By the way, she calls you Froggy or Kermit (Kermy too!). It's cute.

(She buys green and pink items because they remind her of the two of you and you've gifted her two hearts that you'd cut in half, coloured pink and green and sowed together. She placed the gift on the desk she works on, it's displayed in a dome glass case and she fights back a smile every time she lays eyes on it)

The satisfaction she gets when victims scream as they spot you in the same room as them. Just so fucking proud of her killing machine.

When you go overboard, if the emotions get too overwhelming for you and you only think of how to get rid of the pain - Amanda grips the nape of your neck and pushes you onto your knees.

You bow because it's her. You breathe because it's her.

"(slasher name)" Your eye twitches, gaze still floating around the room but she knows she has your attention.

"You all there, Kermy?"

"I'm right here, Piggy".

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy) -

Initially, you'd taken the babysitting job as a cover to lay low. Things were getting heated in (insert wherever you're from) and this secluded manor was perfect.

The sight of the doll didn't make you falter. Hey, you got a few screws loose yourself so you didn't judge the Heelshires for how they cope.

Brahms was intrigued by you from the second he laid his eyes on you. The way you instantly gathered the doll in your arms without an ounce of judgement makes butterflies flutter.

He is elated to know that there's a chance you won't freak out if you see him.

He quickly finds out you're not exactly the Average Joe.

You brought the rat traps inside, he inches closer to the hole in the wall when you suddenly froze. The rat squeaks furiously and your non-dominant hand idly reaches for the drawers. Brahms did not expect you to pull out a meat tenderizer.

There's a mix of emotions in the boy as he skitters to his room. He laid awake that night, a part of him wondering if you were just like him and the other feeling guilt at the excitement.

His parents tried their best to nurture him into a decent man. Even if it didn't work, their voices still linger in his head but when he sees the tender way you cradle the porcelain extension of himself the next morning? Your voice sickly sweet, lips pressing into the cold temple of the doll?

Brahms craves you.

Malcolm, poor, stupid, Malcolm.

Brahms wasn't the only one that wanted him gone. The only reason you reciprocated his advances was to fulfil a different type of lust.

(Malcolm wasn't your type anyways.)

Brahms's nails nearly break as he digs them in the wood of the walls, breath labouring as anger consumes him. Malcolm was on top of you, unworthy hands gripping at you like you were some common whore.

He's moved from behind the walls to the closet when you're on top of him. The grip of the 'missing' meat tenderizer was so tight his hand was trembling.

Malcolm yells in pain and Brahm pauses as he watches you laugh in pure delight as you dig your thumbs inside Malcolm's eye sockets.

You turn to him, smile still etched on your features and Brahms gulps as you bring your thumb to your mouth to suck the blood and gore clean.

"Cute mask"

The kitchen utensil drops with a comical 'THUD!' while you two stare at each other.

Your relationship falls into a steady, domestic, pace much quicker than both of you anticipated. How could they not? The secluded land was beautiful when the weather wasn't so dreary. Even if it was, the grand fireplaces were extremely nice to cosy up next to. It's hard NOT to fall deeper and deeper into each other when everything was so romantic.

Malcolm's death was covered up thanks to the wild animals on the land. Brahms watches from the window as you whistle, beckoning the scavengers as you spread a few of Malcolm's innards around.

You tell him everything about your kills. Effectively burying his parent's voice in his head as you sink him deeper and deeper into your hell.

"You're beautiful just like this, Brahmsy" he pants from beneath the mask and you place a kiss on those cold lips. "They won't understand like I do, we're meant to be like this so we can find each other" his pupils are so blown out as he stares up at you.

"You're my good boy, Brahms, forever and always. Okay?"

"Okay, (Y/N)". Your smile was sculpted by the king of hell himself and Brahm's eyes roll back as you move your hips.

Brahms feels vindicated and free. For once, guilt doesn't whisper accusingly in his shadow. Instead, there's you.

Your routines overlap his. Your hands pull him from the darkness. Your voice haunts him every second of every day.

The bodies pile up in the woods. The rats are scarce with the sudden spike of scavengers drawn to the Heelshire manor.

You love spoiling him with victims, love watching him release his creativity and curiosity. He's so good with his hands and all that raw strength? It's not an odd sight for you to make love in the showers after 'play time' was done.

He loves helping you freak the shit out of your victims, pretending to be the ghost in the walls and making them so paranoid they think they've gone crazy.

When they're dealt with, Brahms often makes snacks for the both of you.

Oh! He makes a mask for you. To show his love and for you to wear when you need it.

He doesn't like that you leave the manor. It causes BIG arguments. Vintage vases flying to the wall kind of arguments. But you were a bloodthirsty hound, you needed to stretch your legs.

He'll be sullen but he gets over it. This routine annoys the shit out of both of you though but over time, he learns you need it just as much as he needs his quiet times.

He welcomes you when you get home, lifting his mask to kiss you and you giggle as your hands slide up his wifebeater.

"Miss me, big boy?"

"Always" he pouts.

Corey Cunningham (Halloween Ends) -

Corey knew before you did.

You were just like him. The darkness spills from your eyes as you tell him how the front of your car got wrecked.

"A deer scared you?" he wipes his hands on the front of his uniform, turning to you as you nod and stroke the large dents and scratches on your hood. "Swerved into the woods, didn't hit a tree head-on - Thank God, right?" Corey nods.

He pretends not to see the splatter of blood and hoses down the hair and chunks of flesh from your tires.

Guessed you missed a spot, hm?

He's good at being undetected. People...people avoid him nowadays.

You don't have to ask around much to learn about the cute, outcasted, mechanic's past. You find it all a bit pathetic. These people were really that terrified of him over what sounded like an honest mistake?

Corey wonders why you've gone to Allen's family's abandoned house during his nightly routine of stalking you.

He watches you from the windows, knife in hand though with no real intent of using it...on you anyways. Blood had already stained the blade.

You pause at the sight of dried blood and gaze up the spiralling staircase. Much to his chagrin, you lay down and place your head right on the bloodstain.

Your laughter makes blood pool under the skin of his cheeks. Your hands splay out to your side and you're laughing so hard your sides hurt, Corey finds himself pressing a hand to the window and wishes he was right beside you.

The next day, Corey's parked right out of the supermarket just as you come out. He grins boyishly and you ask if he needs anything. He holds himself back from saying "you" and instead asks if you're free tonight.

You don't expect him to be so forward but you're intrigued. So you ask if he'll be the one to pick you up (considering your car is still in his garage) and Corey pretends to be interested as you write down your address as he imprints the sight of your semi-focused expression. He already knows where you live but you don't have to worry about that, (Y/N).

The night was perfect from the get-go. Your warmth pressed against his back as he drove the two of you to a bar that was further away than usual but was the only one he could go to without people whispering — you don't mind.

Then drinks got involved and suddenly you're dancing with him, some shitty pop song playing over shitty speakers but neither of you cared.

Then reality came crashing in. Someone had loudly — drunkenly — mentioned Corey's past. Everyone gives him looks and although he could care less he pretends to by pulling you out of the bar.

"Corey, wait" he's too drunk to drive and his hands are itching to feel blood so he pauses as you chuckle the command out. "Stay here, baby" The nickname makes his heart flutter and he nods as he leans against his bike. When you disappear back into the bar — probably left something, he thought — he curses and tries his hardest not to storm in and strangle the life out of that asshole who ruined his date and the closest bar he could go to without reproachful glares.

He contemplates the thought of moving away from Haddonfield with you when his phone rings. It's you. For a second, he thinks you're in trouble but when he answers you're breathless pants of glee tells him otherwise.

"Come to the back, Corey".

The sight that greets him is the asshole with a bleeding mouth and a broken nose. The burst veins in his eyes and the wooden plank that you held loosely in your arm paint a clear picture.

"Night's still young, baby" you muse as you make a faux swing that makes the man whimper from where he was sprawled on the ground. "I know you wanna" Your purr makes Corey shudder.

The Cheshire grin on your face is absolutely maniacal as Corey sheds his jacket and pulls out the pocket knife he kept in his back pocket.

The same one you'd felt against your thighs when you were riding his bike.

Haddonfield was lucky the two of you decided to spread your chaos elsewhere because the two of you were insatiable.

The fact that neither of you stayed in one city for too long also didn't help. You were basically doing an American-wide murder spree.

And Corey would not have it any other way.

You were just like him — wilder, sure, but you understood him in ways no one else had ever done.

"Fuck, baby" Corey has you on the bed of some engineer whose blood was currently being used as lube. The man's body was somewhere in the room but Corey barely gave a shit when you're looking down at him with that toothy grin that makes your eyes twinkle with bloodlust. "Mm, you feel so fuckin' good, Corey".

Somehow you two decide to settle down in a quiet town. Corey going under a different name as he works at a garage. Everybody around you thinks you guys are the sweetest couple — cooing at how young you are and sighing about young love.

They don't know that your weekend trips are spent with blood, guts, and sex. Two maniacs completely enamoured with one another.

"Baby, look" Corey eyes the silver band on your finger. Then the other one is on your palm as you extend it to him. You drop the chopped-off hand of the man the both of you had just killed and inched closer and closer.

"Pretty, hm?" he nods "Till death do us part" At that, he scoffs and pulls you in closer.

"Not even Death can keep us apart, (Y/N) (L/N)" he brushes the tip of your noses together and plants a bloody kiss but your giggle cuts it short.

"Don't you mean, (Y/N) Cunningham-(L/N)?" Corey's grin is nothing short of loving and he claims your lips again.

OG!Michael Myers (Halloween (1978 - 1982)) -

To be completely honest, the way you two met was a blur. Before you met Michael Myers your life had little to no meaning.

When he decided to break into your family home one night, he jump-starts everything. He had you pinned on the dining table, his mask already coated with the blood of your kin. Your feeble attempts at escaping his inhumanely strong grip leave you gasping for breath and you're sure that the building pressure in your head isn't a good sign.

But when you stare into Michael's eyes a sudden force tugs your lips apart into a bloody smile. Your laughter is nothing but strained gasps and squeaks and it makes Michael's grip falter enough for you to finally grasp the make-shift stake beside you (from the chair he'd thrown your way) and drive it into his shoulder.

Michael staggers and without missing a beat, you're lunging at him again. No fear, no hesitation, and frankly, no thoughts behind such a brash action.

The force of your body slamming into him throws his momentum off but he feels something in his chest suddenly beat as your shrill laughter fills his ears.

You, with your wild hair and wilder eyes...

Michael craved you.

He knocks you out.

Then, he watches you. From your recovery in the hospital to the 'safehouse' you were placed in. The detectives thought this could be their chance — to finally catch Michael Myers as he 'finishes you off'.

Michael knows you're done with your kill just from the shift in the air. He enters the safehouse and stares at the splatters of blood and bullet holes in the drywall. He follows the sounds of your laughter and finds you in the dining room in a familiar pose.

You have the detective pinned under you, fingers crushing his larynx as he weakly fights back against you. Michael waits politely, when you're done he moves to the back door and you wordlessly follow.

Eating rats was new but strangely enough the act of catching them was a great bonding activity. Your jokes about meeting the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles — and eating them — fly over Michael's head but his amused silence tells you he doesn't mind your babbles.

He learns fairly quickly that, unlike his silent, effortlessly, intimidating self, you're erratic, loud and pumped with energy when you're hunting.

He doesn't dislike it but it takes some getting used to.

You don't always go on hunts together but when you do he appreciates your gore-y creativity.

The Shape of Haddonfield now has Hellhound by his side — isn't that a cute nickname for yourself, (Y/N)?

While victims shit themselves at the sight of Michael, his stony demeanour is what makes him all the more Boogeyman-worthy. He feels inhuman. That both terrifies and comforts some — but you?

You're entirely too human. Your glee, your rambles as you stab your victims, you're laughter full of excitement.

"Mikey" he glances your way as your fingers stroke up the neck of his mask. Here you were, sprawled all over Michael Myer's lap like a goddamn kitten. You lean up and kiss his rubbery lips, he hums as your tongue licks his mask and pushes you back just enough to lift his mask above his nose.

"Thank you, Mikey" you chuckle, letting him taste the romantic spaghetti dinner you two had helped yourselves to after murdering the old couple.

Their home was isolated enough, that both of you could enjoy living above ground for a few days.

"You taste so good, Mikey" The grip on your waist makes that addictively sweet laughter bubble in your throat.

RZ!Michael Myers (Halloween (2007 - 2009))-

You were the only good thing in his god-forsaken life.

The mental institution had made a big mistake in housing two monsters — especially when those monsters were always so drawn towards each other.

No matter what punishments they inflicted on either of you for sharing glances. It did little to stop this undeniable, instinctual, need to be close to one another.

Initially, the doctors had thought Michael's curiosity was a good sign. A sign that he was showing interest in making friends. Even if you were less than ideal in terms of 'fixing' him considering your own streak of homicide (that landed you in this shithole in the first place) but they were desperate.

So, they allowed controlled meetings. Michael's stare terrified others but you seemed to thrive under his attention.

Guards had reached out to pull you back as you climbed the table and got right up in Michael's face but he is as still as a statue as you carefully brush his long locks of blonde hair back.

"There you are, pretty boy" and with those words and your eyes that reflect back his darkened soul right back at him — Michael is smitten.

When he escapes, he finds you.

When he enacts his revenge, you're the shadow that devours any sacrificial lambs that managed to stray from his grasp.

Oh, he's all yours.

Michael swears that if you're not near him the air feels thinner.

He relishes in the way you mercilessly slaughter anyone in your way — he doesn't ask why you kill but knows that whatever the answer he'll support his batshit insane boyfriend.

"Is this for me?" he nods, showing you the new mask he'd created. You smile warmly, sitting across from him as you carefully place the mask on your face.

"How do I look, pretty boy?"

He places his large hand on your thighs and begins tapping. You encourage him with careful strokes to his bicep.

.--. .-. . - - -.--

Your grin makes his heart flutter. "Thank you, baby" and you reward your darling lover with a kiss which makes him grunt at the mask that blocks him from properly kissing you.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher (Scream (1996)) -

They had an inkling you were just like them.

Billy says it's the way your eyes become devoid of any light when you're angry. While Stu tells you it's the way you lick the blood from your split lip and smile as you lunge at the opposing team's captain.

(Y/N) (L/N), an athlete of their school.

Meanwhile, to his boyfriends, he's an absolutely merciless murderer.

Everyone sort of avoids you. Even your coach rarely gets in your face to yell at you the way he does at everyone else. It baffles people that Billy and Stu are your lovers.

For them though? It's the perfect match.

You're not Ghostface, however, (slasher name) is always spotted with Ghostface.

A maniac with brute strength that takes hits and stabs and even bullets without going down.

Those who did live to tell the tale of an encounter with (slasher name) and Ghostface mutter that hurting Ghostface? Was a big fucking mistake if (slasher name) is there to witness it.

You're the kind of guy to body slam someone out a second-storey window and just walk it off while the victim who cushioned your fall is wheezing their last breath.

Billy reprimands your unnecessary displays of brutality while Stu simply gushes about how cool it was. They both tend to your wounds, kissing and massaging anything that hurts.

Ghostface is equally as protective of you, make no mistake, even if they're not throwing a chair at a victim they will ensure you don't actually get yourself killed in your bloodlust.

Stu has pulled a gun and shot someone in the face when they threatened to do the same to you.

Billy rushes to the two of you upon hearing gunshots but groans in relief as he sees you making out with Stu mere inches away from the body.

"Hey! Earth to perverts! Time to scram!" Billy is pulled into the make-out session by you and he all but melts under your hold.

"Want you. Now" Stu laughs at your huffy tone but eagerly circles his hands around your waist while you pull Billy closer to your front.

Beauregard 'Bo' Sinclair (House of Wax) -

A new victim of Ambrose? That's what you are, right?

Wrong.

You'd been a solo traveller that coincidentally got grouped up with another group of travellers. You seemed normal enough, Bo thinks as he spots you making your way to his garage.

Cute and handsome, a darn shame you'd have to die but at least Vincent will immortalize your beauty.

He notices that you're not close with the others. When he asks, you explain your vehicles had broken down near each other so Lester rounded up all of you together.

You lean on the hood of the car he was clearly working on, jutting your hips and looking impressed. He shamelessly takes in the curve of your butt before putting on a charming Southern smile when you glance back at him.

"Good with your hands, hm?" Bo feels blood travel south but he just chuckles. The conversation is cut short by the others clearing their throats.

When he kills the group one by one, he immediately notices that you seem excited at the violence he spreads. You don't scream or yelp but you're helping him.

At first, he thinks you're just saving your ass from getting sliced down when you push someone in front of you. But while the others run, you're moaning as he's thrusting the blade repeatedly into the man's body.

He pants as you two make eye contact, gulping he pulls the blade out and offers it to you.

"Fuckin' finally" you coo, pressing a bloody kiss on his cheek before you slip to hunt the others down.

His brothers are definitely confused by his decision to let you stay as a real residence of Ambrose but after another group rolls in you prove your worth to them.

Between heated moments under the sheets and lip-locking with Bo, you confess that the reason you ended up at Ambrose was that the police were hot on your tail.

"It's fate," you say as you trace circles on his chest. "We were meant to meet, to be family" he would usually scoff at such a notion but the way you fit into his deranged life so easily...

"It's something", he gruffs out, watching as you take the lighter from his hand to light the cigarette between his lips. "Whatever it is, it brought you to me so"

"Aww, Bo, you gettin' sappy on me?" your teasing makes him threaten to shove the cigarette in your mouth but you just laugh it off.

"Love ya', Bo" he averts his eyes but mumbles.

"Love you too..."

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax) -

Instead of catching Bo's eyes, it's Vincent's heart that you grasp.

A solo traveller that somehow got roped in with another group, a victim of circumstance is what Vincent would have called you.

But instead, you've ruthlessly wormed your way inside his heart.

While the others ran like headless chickens when Bo started killing, you were dragged by another girl to hide in the Sinclairs' house. Stupid move on her end really, but you were curious about their headquarters of sorts. So you follow, breathing raggedly to sell this whole 'helpless victim' façade.

You find the basement. Despite the chills that run down your spine from the scent of death (and wax) you convince her it'd be a good place to hide.

Vincent hears her as she shakily steps into his lair. He thinks she's the only one but finds it odd that she looks desperately over his shoulder as he slices her head off with a pair of garden shears.

Until he feels a blade pressed right at the base of his spine.

"You're pretty strong" Your eyes twinkle from the corner of his and he goes rigid as you dig the tip of the blade deeper. You reach to brush locks of his hair behind his ear, a growl raises from his throat but you shush him.

Your lips brush on the shell of his ear.

"I'll bring more of them here, I want to watch while you turn them into pieces of art".

Bo is feeling an inkling of worry at the sudden lack of victims. He rushes to see if they've decided to overwhelm Vincent and finds you swinging your feet while Vincent is organizing the bodies of the group.

Bo is distrustful. He thinks you've seduced his twin and while that is true, you've no bad intentions like he thinks you do.

Vincent is painfully awkward compared to your nonchalant energy. But it works, the two of you just work.

He scolds you when you get new wounds from the victims fighting back but it's a bit hypocritical when he does the same.

Though he prefers wax figures, he did dabble in oil paints again as he attempts to recreate the scene he sees of you demolishing victims.

A watcher, a stalker; an artist.

Vincent usually stays in the basement but ever since you came? When the hunt is on, he's watching you. Imprinting the image of your body shaking with muffled laughter as you pull your jaws away from the bleeding neck of a victim, spitting out their vocal cords with a satisfied hum.

"Vinnie" your coo makes him flinch but he walks out from the shadows as you beckon him with your hand. Your boyfriend stands in front of you, reaching to wipe some blood away from your cheek but really the only thing he does is move it around.

"Was that pretty, Vinnie?" he huffs through his nose and lifts your chin up so you stain his waxy lips with warm blood.

He pulls away to sign, 'Always beautifull'.

Lester Sinclair (House of Wax) -

You rode with him on the way to Ambrose.

He's taken by your looks and feels a sense of pity and regrets that you'd be dead soon. Especially since you were the only one among the others that weren't a complete asshole to him.

"Ambrose, huh" he nods, tapping his steering wheel as his eyes flit between the road and you. "Must be pretty secluded, haven't even heard of it", he laughs and tells you it's because you aren't from around here.

"See ya'" he waves at you but you scan him from head to toe in a way that's not scrutinizing but lustful. He feels his cheeks warm, you nod to him as a goodbye before you turn to walk into the death trap that is Ambrose.

He's surprised to find you covered in blood and right outside his shack later that night. Jonesy growls near his heel but you were just sitting there on his porch, casually testing the weight of the hilt of a hatchet in your hands.

"Your brothers should use you more than a glorified Ferryman" he is confused but tense. His muscles are rigid like a snake coiling to bite.

Blood drips from the ends of your hair and nose, you place the hatchet down and crouch, beckoning Jonesy' with a sweet baby voice that has the poor pup confused between staying by Lester's side or sniffing you.

"I like Ambrose," you tell him, your eyes squished into an adorable crescent shape.

"Can I stay, Lester?"

His brothers aren't aware of you until at least a week. They were extremely distrustful of you, their baby brother was someone that they did not want to be harmed. Hence why he stays out of the nitty-gritty of it all.

When you show that you're just as protective of Lester, they approve of your relationship. Not that you would let their approval get in the way of your love for him anyways.

Your boyfriend has to get used to your sudden disappearances and reappearances.

And he has to learn how to stitch you up as well. He doesn't scold you though reminds you to be more careful but drinks up your stories of the victims being crushed under your foot.

Whoever manages to stray far enough from Ambrose to find Lester's shack will find themselves in an entirely different but just as torturous hell.

Jonesy enjoys the raw feed though.

"I gotta go" Lester laughs as you whine and drag him back to your side. "I gotta check if anyone's 'lost'" he reminds but you stubbornly shake your head.

"Can't leave me, I'm hurt and defenceless"

Yeah, Lester's seen you shove the end of a rake down someone's throat with a broken arm and a concussion all while laughing. You could protect yourself with the scrapes and boo-boos from the night before just fine.

Feeling yourself lose this battle, you press a kiss to the nape of his neck as he sits and it makes his breath hitch.

Your hands circle his waist and his head hangs low as you slip your fingers down the band of his underwear.

"Stay" you plead.

"Jesus H. Christ" he turns and you grin triumphantly as he kisses you.

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