#rose watches slasher

[juniperhillpatient]

ok I like this show but the inconsistency of katie mcgrath’s accent is gonna drive me nuts lmao. is she british? american? irish? she keeps going back & forth. at first I thought her character was sometimes saying some things in a different accent as a joke but now I’m not so sure 💀

[abs0luteb4stard]

W A T C H I N G

I never really saw SCREAM in order. Mostly on TV. I've seen Scream 3 in the theater and on TV a couple times. And I think Scream 4 with my dad in the theater.

Haven't seen the 2 new ones though.

[whisperingexecutioner]

Movie Recommendations Vol. I | October Watch

Art is “A Nightmare To Remember Pt 2″ by Omar Samy

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

~ Just a few personal faves, maybe you’ll find something you like here. List is in no particular order ~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Antlers

A Quiet Place

Sputnik

Resident Evil Film Series

Silent Hill

Silent Hill Revelation

The Conjuring Film Series

Halloween

Old

Come Play

Color Out of Space

The Cave

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Pet Sematary 

Insidious

Annihilation 

Alien: Covenant 

Life

The Midnight Man

The Ring 

Crimson Peak

This is by no means a full list but, at least it’s a few interesting ideas for you guys~

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[murdrdocs]

death do us part

description. there's murders happening at camp half blood, and you and LUKE CASTELLAN care about them. really, you do. but you can't help but sneak off and break a few of the rules of survival laid out by luke's brother. besides, what's really the worst thing that can happen?

includes. SMUT 18+, mutual masturbation (kinda), oral (f receiving), fingering, handjobs, mentions of vibrators (m and f receiving), shower sex, some mentions of death, subby luke vibes, dom reader vibes, whipped luke, situationships, slightly bitchy reader

wc. 3.4k+

a/n: art is record separator by phil hale. barely edited

Both of you are being selfish. 

Distantly, in the back of your mind beneath the raging hormones perhaps, you’re aware that this is not only disrespectful but also irresponsible. 

Luke’s brother’s words ring in your head, reminding you over and over again. 

You had been sitting around an unsanctioned campfire at the time, a dozen or so of you all passing around bottles of alcohol that had been snuck in by one of Luke’s younger siblings who was desperate to impress and please all of you. With the buzz taking over your body and providing a general feeling of elation, you must admit that they impressed you. Maybe Luke too, who was surely delighted to have you all over him. Your little game of cat and mouse was finally coming to an end, likely spurred on by the havoc that had taken over Camp Half-Blood. Everyone was on edge, wondering who was next. Because according to Chris and a few other kids who were slasher fanatics, there would be a next. And soon. 

Which is likely why all of you were down by the shore and letting off steam. Simply existing before something happened by the time the sun rose. 

Usually, come morning you would blame your touchiness towards Luke on alcohol. But now, if either of you made it to the morning, you swore you would stop playing hard to get, throw caution to the wind, and kiss him during first daylight, a signifier that your relationship, whatever was going on between you two, withstood the test of the night and could now be official. 

You two could do it. If that was tipsy delusion or rationale talking, you didn’t know. 

All you knew was that Chris Rodriquez was definitely drunk, but there had to be some truth to his words. 

“Listen, listen.” He stood, raising his beer bottle as if he were about to toast. You hoped the bottle wasn’t empty yet, for Chris had a habit of pulling you all into a game of spin the bottle whenever he got like this. Sometimes, you didn’t mind it. Not when you got to kiss Luke. But watching Luke kiss someone else always left a sour taste on the back of your tongue. 

When Chris took a swig, you sighed a bit and slunk further into Luke’s side. 

“If we’re going to survive this–” each of you knew what he was talking about. The grieving families and empty beds made sure you each knew what was happening. “We’ll have to live by a set of rules.” 

“Rules?” Luke spoke from beside you for the first time in a while. You turned to look at him and immediately got distracted. His scar shined in the warm lighting, the orange making the slight flush along his cheeks a little more distinct. His eyes were heavy. They were relaxed. He was relaxed, and the irony didn’t fly over your head. 

Weirdly enough, you found yourself relaxed, too. Tucked into his side with his arm slung over your shoulder like the two of you were together. It was normal for you both to get like that late at night, but the difference in the air made it seem more sentimental. 

Luke, likely sensing your staring, turned to look at you. He smiled just a bit, and you didn’t hesitate as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. The two of you separated soon enough to hear Chris’ rant. 

“Yeah. Rules.” When no one around the bonfire seemed to understand what rules he was referring to, he took a swig of his beer, sat it on the log behind him, and stood on his soap box. 

“There are a set of rules to surviving something like this. Rule number 1: never say you’ll be right back. Trust me, you won’t.” 

One of the girls raised her hand, her face scrunched into a pout. Chris stopped to look at her, pointing a finger as an indicator for her to speak. “What do we say instead?”

Chris took a second. He hesitated, his dark and glassy eyes searching around him for an answer, then, “Just leave and come back. Don’t announce it.” 

The answer seemed good enough for her and Chris continued. 

“Rule number 2: don’t shower alone. This is just an invitation for the killer to sneak up on you, and slash you up. Next thing you know, we’re finding you stark naked.” This rule seemed to make sense for everyone else and no one spoke up. “Rule number 3: do not have sex. And if you’re a virgin, now is not the time to lose your virginity.” 

This incited a low level of outrage from a few people around the camp. Your hand settled on Luke’s thigh, and you could feel him staring at you. Still, you continued to stare ahead at Chris. 

“It’s not safe!” He exclaimed. “You’re left vulnerable, just like in rule 2, and for some reason, killers love to prey on the promiscuous. Just keep it in your pants until whoever is doing this is caught. That’s all. And rule 4, the most important one: never ever, ever go off alone. This will single you out and make you an easy target. You follow these rules, and maybe you’ll survive.” 

Chris finished his rant, took a final swig of his beer, and sat back down. 

Luke’s hand fell to your thigh. He ran his touch up and down once, and then squeezed your flesh twice. From the corner of your eye, you saw the grin grow on Luke’s face and turned to him. Neither of you had to say anything. Luke raised his eyebrows, smiled at you, and you nodded. 

Luke opened his mouth to likely spew out some bullshit excuse, but everyone’s attention turned towards one of the kids sitting next to Chris who suddenly broke out of a stupor to protest Chris’ rules. Which left you and Luke an opening. 

He took his arm from around your shoulder, placed his hand out for you to take, and then stood with you on his heels. 

“Where’re you two going?” Silena asked from beside you. 

You grinned down at her and communicated all you needed to in that one look. “To sleep. Chris said not to leave alone, right?” 

She was clearly unconvinced, but she still nodded and kept her mouth shut. 

And the two of you walked away to the sound of Chris pitching yet another spin-the-bottle game. 

Which brought you here, in the bathrooms instead of your cabin. Your poorly formed excuse spoken to Luke was something along the lines of needing to scrub off the grime from the day, and especially the thick layer of bug spray that you’ve recently had to use. Some of the more superstitious kids in camp attributed the increase in bugs to the increase in deaths. You attributed it to a malfunction of the Mist. 

You knew that Luke, being the gentleman that he is, wouldn’t dare let you shower alone. Not since his brother laid out the rules. You also knew that Luke, being as infatuated with you as he is, would take any chance he could to get with you, even if it was selfish and irresponsible. 

But you don’t think he’s considering either factor right now as he’s kissing you as if he has a one-track mind. 

One of the showers is running behind you. The two of you had originally been waiting for the water to turn hot, but that happened a while ago, and now Luke was keeping you busy in the center of the bathroom, his hands gratefully roaming over your body, feeling you up. 

He has one hand settled along the back of your thigh, just right under the end of your jean shorts. His other hand grips your cheek, holding your face steady for him to messily kiss you. You don’t mind the mess of it, you’re not bothered by the way his tongue clumsily slips outside of your mouth a few times, because it’s a sign of how he’ll fuck you. Unabashed, uninhibited, maybe he’ll even whimper in your ear when he cums. 

Just the thought alone is enough to encourage you.

You hook your fingers under Luke’s shirt, a faded graphic tee you thrifted and brought back to camp for him, and lift it just over his navel. He gets the message and pulls away from your lips, but there’s a force pulling him back once, twice, and one final time before he pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He looks like something out of a movie as he lifts the black shirt off by the neckline and tosses it to the floor. You don’t know if he means to, but he flexes while he does it, his abdomen taunt and the veins in his arms popping out more than usual. 

You’ve seen Luke’s body many times and in many different scenarios, but each time you have to take a moment. And he knows you well enough to anticipate it. 

He stands within arms reach, watching you watch him. You can’t tell since your eyes are focused on the way his abs frame his navel, the way his skin has deepened a shade, and the scars and moles that are dotted across his body, but he’s smiling. A small, barely there quirk of his lips. 

Eventually, you take a step closer to Luke, pressing your fingers into his skin and sliding your hands back until your fingers interlock around his back. You pull Luke closer to you, lifting your head and nudging the tip of his nose with yours. 

“You done?” he asks, referencing your prolonged staring. 

You hum, nodding as you reach for Luke’s lips with your own. “‘m done.” And then Luke kisses you again. 

There’s some repetition when Luke lifts your shirt over your head, but he appreciates your frame with his lips. He kisses your shoulders and neck as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you. He litters kisses into your stomach as he sinks to his knees, pulling your now unbuttoned shorts with him. He helps you step out of them, taking your shoes off as he does so, and when you’re only left in your panties, he looks up at you. 

“Mind if I do the honors?” 

You answer him through a grin. “Only if you let me return the favor.” 

And he does. 

It has been clear that your shower with Luke was likely going to be more than a shower, even though it was previously unspoken between you both. It doesn’t need to be spoken, not whenever there’s an obvious wet patch in your panties when Luke pulls them down, or when you’re face to face with his semi when you pull his boxers off of his hips. 

You look up at Luke, your eyes slightly narrowed and a tiny smile on your lips. You don’t say anything, but Luke still rolls his eyes. He scoffs, jerks his head in a motion that tells you to stand. As soon as you do, he has your face in his hands and his lips on yours. Your hands grip his sides, keeping him pressed close to you. 

Luke blindly walks you both back to the shower. He turns when your back faces the shower head, and lets the water flow down onto him first, pulling away only when his hair starts to get wet. 

He has his eyes shut, water cascading down his body in a way that makes him look like one of the Greek sculptures that now sit locked in museums. 

He pushes his hair off of his forehead, tipping his head back. 

“Hair,” he tells you. And it takes you a second to tell that he’s asking you if you’re gonna put yours back. You quickly throw your hair up and out of your face, putting it back enough to avoid the stream of the shower, and then you pull Luke closer to you. 

“Not even gonna pretend to shower? Maybe do a quick rinse?” He’s teasing, but you roll your eyes, move Luke out of the way, and then stand beneath the stream, lifting your arms and turning around to let the water roll over your body. 

You look up at Luke and catch him staring. His eyes trail along your tits, deep gaze following individual droplets of water as they collide with your shoulder and roll all the way down to the peak of your tits, where they drop off to fall to the shower floor. 

You scoff but don’t say anything. You’re not a hypocrite. 

“Happy?” You ask him as you step out from the water. 

His answer comes in the form of grateful hands pressing into your lower back. His fingertips pinch your hips as he directs you to the side wall. You don’t have to be told to tilt your head up. You’re already waiting for him, unable to resist smiling into the kiss when Luke brings his lips down onto yours. 

He trails a hand down between your thighs, knocking them further apart with a tap of his knee against yours. 

When his fingers, the middle and index, pull your lips apart, you sigh into his mouth. When they press against you, spreading the wetness already gathered there, you mewl against his tongue. 

Luke’s good with his fingers, you both know it. At this point in your relationship—or whatever both of you decide to call it in the moment—with Luke, he knows you well. He knows that you like it when he hooks his fingers and slightly grazes the top of your walls. He doesn’t have to ask if you’re feeling good, but he does it anyway. 

“Good?” Spoken against your lips, the ghost of his own lips brushing against yours as his words enter your mouth. 

You nod, knocking your head back against the wall without much care of the water there. 

Luke’s other hand clasps behind your knee where he lifts your leg, pressing the inside of it to his hip. He has you opened up for him, giving him free range to practically piston his fingers inside of you. It’s a fervorous pace, more hungry than you’ve known Luke to be. But you don’t mind it. 

It’s late, the two of you are as tired as you are horny, it’s nice to rub one out quickly and then knock out. It’s a routine both of you are used to. 

Like usual, you reach forward and wrap your hand around Luke’s cock. 

It’s no surprise when you swipe your thumb over his tip and are greeted with precum. Truthfully, you’re shocked there’s not more. But tonight, unlike other nights, you hadn’t given Luke the workaround. You wanted him. He knew you wanted him. And you were tired of pretending, tired of acting like you didn’t want to really and truly be with Luke. 

You would tell him. You were gonna tell him tonight. 

… After you came. 

It doesn’t take much more of Luke’s work for you to feel the beginnings of an orgasm creeping in. The urge to reach it is what has you locking your fingers in Luke’s wet curls and nudging him down. 

He doesn’t protest. He just smiles and sinks to his knees, settling his head between your thighs. Without much hesitance at all, he latches his lips onto your clit. 

Soon thereafter you’re arching into his mouth, your standing leg locked while your bent one hooks over Luke’s shoulder, pulling him closer even though your hand in his hair has already assured that he’s as close as he can get. His fingers curl within you, massaging your fluttering walls as you cum around them. Your moans are loud, echoing off of the walls and barely shrouded by the thunder of water meeting the tiled floors. Distantly, you hope that no one else has decided to come for a shower tonight, but the thought in the forefront of your mind is that you hope your orgasm never ends. 

It feels so good when Luke makes you cum. It always does. Rather he does it like this, with his fingers and mouth, or even his cock, or if he does it with one of the toys you brought back from home with you, a recent fascination of his. 

The image of when you had used the toy on Luke, pressing the vibrating shape onto his tip, pushes an aftershock out of your body, one that is pulled to completion by Luke’s eager work between your legs. 

When he pulls himself from between your legs, he swipes his palm, spread out as flat as it can get, along your cunt. You don’t realize that he did it to gather your wetness until he has that same hand wrapped around his cock. He tugs, spreading your arousal with the movement. 

It does the trick, Luke’s eyes fluttering shut as he twists his wrist. 

You tut and pull his hand away from his wrist. He doesn’t question it, only watching you through heavy eyes as you spit a large glob into your hand and replace Luke’s work with your own. 

His arms wrap around your waist. They wrap around your shoulders. He rests his forehead against yours and then lets his head fall to your shoulder whenever you pick your pace up a bit. 

He’s noisy, you can feel his chest vibrating from where you have your hand pressed into his sternum. But he’s too quiet for you to hear. His volume, paired with the noise of the shower, frustrates you. You dip your head to the side, attempting to get your ear closer to Luke. 

It works a bit, you’re able to hear his low groans, but it’s not enough. 

Eventually, you call his name. It comes out as a mix between a request and a demand, existing somewhere in the middle where you hold a considerable amount of control of Luke Castellan, practically the leader of leaders at Camp Half-Blood. 

Yet, you’re his pied piper. 

He hums, his eyebrows pushed together. You can’t tell if his look is one of confusion or pleasure. You figure it’s both. 

“Look at me. I wanna see you.” This is a plea. 

Luke nods once, and then he looks at you. 

It’s something you wanted, but it makes you flush a little. Having Luke’s undivided attention always made you squirm a bit, even when it usually made your ego flare. But that was when you weren’t here. When you were fully clothed and surrounded by the protection of your friends. When they giggled and nudged your side to tell you that the Luke Castellan was staring at you. This look isn’t much different from the one he gave you then, but there’s weight to it. He’s staring at you, with something so sincere in his eyes. Beyond just horniness, beyond a desire for you to make him cum. 

It’s so much, too much, but you were the one to request it, so you don’t back down. 

You square your shoulders and jerk Luke off with more determination. 

His eyes start to flutter shut as he gets closer, getting heavier and heavier as if he’s fighting off sleep. But each time they close, they open back up in a couple of seconds. He’s so determined to obey you, it’s flattering. It’s impossible for the way Luke Castellan treats you to not go to your head. Especially when he starts speaking to you. 

“Feels so good. ‘m so close. A little bit more.” 

He knocks his forehead against yours, holding you still by cupping the back of your neck when your head lolls from the force of the collision. 

He kisses you as he cums. His cock twitched in your hand as warm cum spurts onto your stomach and thighs. His lips move slowly, languidly, not kissing you as much as they just linger. 

But it’s fine that way. You don’t mind it that way. 

By the time both of you have come down, really came down, you’ve washed yourselves clean of the bug spray, cum, and general grime of camp. Luke shuts the shower off, he pads over to the linen closet at the end of the bathroom and you’re momentarily grateful that the kids have actually done their chores and restocked the closet with fresh towels whenever you realize neither you or Luke have clothes. 

Not only did you not have clean and fresh clothes, but the clothes you were wearing before were gone now. 

When you alert Luke of the problem, he groans. He tosses you a towel, wrapping his own around his waist, and stands in the center of the bathroom with his hands tossed onto his hips. He thinks for a second, clicking his tongue a few times. 

“Okay,” he turns to face you. “I’m gonna go grab us some clothes. You stay here.” He kisses your forehead, readjusts his towel on his hips, and tells you, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.” 

[rabbitblackx]

Brahms,bubba,nubbins and chop-top reactions to s/o reader pulling a Rick grimes and biting into someone neck and ripping out their carotid artery 💀

Warning: Violence

Slashers when Reader bites out someone’s jugular

Includes: Nubbins, Bubba, Chop-Top and Brahms

Nubbins Sawyer💖

A victim had gotten loose from her seat at the dinner table. She leaped from the chair and bolted for the door. You stood up from next to Nubbins, attempting to block her way. The girl tackled you to the ground, eyes blazing with fear and adrenaline

Drayton ordered Bubba to grab his saw, while Nubbins ran to your aid. But before he could even pull out his knife, you lifted your mouth up to the girl’s neck and bit down. The victim screamed, desperately trying to claw at your face as you tore out her jugular with your teeth

The young woman fell off of you, gurgling and trembling on the floor. You shakily rose to your feet, blood smeared all around your lips. Nubbins laughed gleefully, kneeling down by the dying girl

“Look what you did!” He giggled, looking back at you excitedly. “You got that bitch good!”

The victim fell still, clutching her gaping throat. Nubbins lifted her up and roughly threw her back onto the chair, her wide eyes staring blankly at you from across the room. Bubba and Drayton came back, glad they didn’t have to do any work

Much to Drayton’s dismay though, Nubbins came in close to you and hungrily licked at the fresh blood on your lips

“That was so hot, baby.” Nubbins giggled in your ear, clinging to you like his life depended on it

He hooked an arm around your waist and pushed you flush against him. He slammed his lips onto yours in a big wet kiss, licking at the inside of your bloody mouth

Bubba Sawyer💖

You were trying to tie a victim to a dining chair, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He screamed in your face, squirming and kicking like a brat. The man was strong, and managed to break out of your hold. He tackled you to the floor, wrapping his hands around your throat

“Bubba, get yer saw! Get yer saw—!” You wheezed

Bubba bolted to the other room to grab his chainsaw, squealing in fear. You were going to just wait for him, but your vision began to blur. As the man tightened his grip around your neck, his own grew all the more tasty looking…

You shot your head up, teeth bearing as you drove them into his throat. Your victim gasped in pain, choking on his own blood as you bit down hard. He yanked himself off you, a chunk of his throat in your mouth

Bubba ran into the room with his chainsaw, but paused. The man hit the floor with a thud, blood pooling from his throat. Your masked boyfriend watched in awe as you spat out the bloody jugular, wiping your mouth with your arm

Bubba carelessly dumped the saw by the man’s body, rushing over to grab the sides of your face. He sputtered out some frightened gibberish, trying to ask if you were okay

“I’m fine, Bubba.” You giggled, beaming a big red smile

Bubba smeared the blood along your cheek with his thumb, before letting it travel to your lips. You obediently parted them for him, gazing lovingly at the man as he slid it over your wet tongue

Chop-Top Sawyer💖

Chop-Top and Bubba held a screaming girl down by the bucket, letting grandpa give her a good whack with the hammer. You and Drayton stood back unimpressed, just waiting for it to be over. Grandpa weakly lifted the hammer over his head, throwing it down but missing her head. Chop-Top let go of the girl to grab it, and that was when she broke free

You and Drayton were blocking one of the exits, so she shoved him away. Before she could do the same to you, you gripped her wrist and dig your nails into her flesh. The girl screamed profanities, pouncing on you and pulling at your hair. As your back hit the floor, you heard Chop-Top shouting at her to get off you

Before any of the boys could help you, you shot up and bit down hard into the girl’s neck. You shook your teeth a little, tearing up her jugular. Your victim bashed at your shoulders weakly, her blood spilling from the both of your lips. Just as she went limp on top of you, she was forcefully torn off by Chop-Top

“Baby! You okay?” He exclaimed

You turned your head and spat out the bloody jugular on your tongue. You gazed back up at him, blood all over you

“Yeah, I’m—mmm!”

Chop-Top interrupted your sentence with a passionate kiss, kneeling over you with a fistful of you shirt. He slid his tongue into your mouth, lapping up any blood he could get

Brahms Heelshire💖

You sat up in bed one night when you heard a sound from downstairs. You looked down at Brahms sleeping beside you, then back at the door. Thinking it was probably just a rat in the trap or something, you headed down to investigate

As you turned on the kitchen lights, you noticed the rat cage sat empty by the fridge. You turned to head back to bed, but was met with the sturdy chest of a hooded man. You went to scream, but his gloved hand wrapped around your throat. You wheezed and gagged, bashing at his shoulder as he strangled you

The intruder backed you into the breakfast table, slamming you onto it. As your vision began to blur, adrenaline hit you like a truck. You suddenly grabbed either side of his head, and pulled him down to your teeth. The man’s hand immediately let go of your throat, as your mouth latched around his own

You couldn’t believe yourself when his jugular was torn off, and landed right on your tongue. The intruder fell back onto the kitchen floor, gurgling in pain and clutching his gaping wound. You spat out his flesh, and watched in horror as he slowly died before you. Brahms finally rushed in, disheveled and stressed

“What happened?” He gasped

Seeing your bloody face, he completely ignored the dead man and raced over. You stared at him wide eyed, trying to form broken sentences. Brahms cupped your cheek, meeting your eyes in a fierce stare

“What happened?” He repeated sternly

Tears fell from your face, mixing in with the man’s blood. You bowed your head as your shoulders were wracked with sobs

“He… he tried to kill me. I—I didn’t mean to.” You cried uncontrollably

Brahms’ expression under his mask softened, and he pulled you into a hug. “It’s okay, dear.” He whispered, stroking your hair tenderly. “I’m proud of you…”

[delirious-donna]

A Kiss But At What Cost? [Part Seven]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: The time calls for a movie night and one you’ll be sure to rope Kento into. A good old-fashioned slasher movie sounds just right, but how will the end of the night go once you’re all spooked out?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: SFW, fluff, two oblivious idiots, yet more emotions, bad communication, mentions of horror movies and tropes, if you can tell me what the movie at the end is you get a gold star

Part Six | Series Masterlist | Part Eight

Popcorn? Check. Cozy blanket? Acquired.

“Hm…” You hummed quietly, turning on the spot in the living room. The lights were set low, the thickest of the blankets from the basket in the corner ready for you to crawl beneath for your movie night, but something was missing.

A drink, of course.

Padding back into the kitchen, you bent your head to investigate the contents of the fridge, debating on a Diet Coke or a beer. The noise of someone clearing their throat made you jump, bumping your head into the door of the fridge in the action of whirling around.

“Ouch!”

Kento winced before quickly schooling his features into neutrality. You turned with a frown etched on your brow, and he couldn’t blame you for it this time. Moving forward, he stood by your side to reach inside and a grab out a bottle of beer, popping the top easily.

Your scowl deepened, more annoyed at the flutter in your stomach at his ease of opening the beer without even looking at the damn thing. “Aren’t you going to apologise?”

“Sorry,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t think you’d still be so jumpy this far into our little arrangement.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a quick sip, eyes moving to the ceiling which presented you with the open opportunity to watch whilst his throat worked to swallow the frothy liquid, his Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

A thought leapt from the recesses of your brain, and your pout turned into a wicked smile before he could blink. How would mr ‘stick-in-the-mud’ cope with a couple of scary movies? It would be beyond hilarious if he turned out to be a scaredy cat given his imposing stature and presence, and the chance to find out was too delicious to pass up.

“Got plans this evening?” you asked with an expression you hoped looked nonchalant. Before he could answer, you pulled out a can of Diet Coke and cracked open the ring pull with a low hiss.

“None to speak of. Why?”

Your hand linked through his arm with a wide grin, pulling him away from the kitchen to the cozy little nook you’d crafted for your movie spree. You gestured towards it with a theatrical “ta dah” and glanced up to meet eyes of hazel alight with confusion and a hint of intrigue, if you weren’t much mistaken.

“What’s this? You’ve made a… nest on my couch,” Kento guessed, scanning the bowl of popcorn and bar of unopened chocolate resting on the faraway arm. He wasn’t so stupid not to realise that this was clearly a movie night, but he was doing his damnedest not to think too much about your hand curled around his bicep. One wrong move and you might take that touch away, and he didn’t want that, not yet.

“Wow. Don’t tell me you didn’t watch movies with Karin growing up, because I know it’ll be a lie. That girl is more of a film buff than I am, no way you escaped that.”

Kento scoffed. “You’re correct. I did not escape, though there were many times I sorely wish I had. If I have to watch When Harry met Sally one more time, I might do something drastic,” he admitted with a laugh.

“Not a fan of romcoms, Nanami?”

“I didn’t say that, and it’s Kento, stop changing it back. There are a few that I can…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Tolerate, I guess.”

Your eyebrows rose in clear curiosity. Slipping your hand out of his arm, you rounded the couch and settled next to your snacks to pat the seat next to you in invitation. Kento swallowed, a wash of heat licking up both sides of his neck and he fought the urge to pull at the neck of his sweater.

“I don’t have any romcoms on the menu for tonight, sadly…” You added just to see his eyes narrow and his lips thin in displeasure. “Come join me, please? I’ll even share my popcorn.”

A moment passed where you simply stared at one another, your heart in your throat at the thought of being rejected, but it didn’t come to pass. Kento took another swig of beer and made his way to you, sinking into the couch with a sigh of resignation that didn’t sound genuine at all. You hid your smile behind the can in your hand, twisting to look at him and meeting determined eyes.

Kento crossed an ankle over his knee, settling against the cushions. “I’ll pass on the popcorn, too noisy,” he teased, smirking when you blew a raspberry in his direction. “So, if it’s not lovey-dovey nonsense, what are we watching?”

He should have taken the wide, almost twisted grin as a hint, but once again he was oblivious to your devious ways. What a fool he was. Except, in the long run, you were the one who would have something to worry about…

~

A piercing scream tore through the sound system, followed immediately by one of your own, although thankfully not as loud. You pulled the blanket to your face, covering your eyes from the gore feast on the screen. It didn’t help that you could hear Kento chuckling by your side. So much for the idea that he might be the one taking the starring role as scream queen… dammit.

The first movie had been a classic, one you had both seen before and it was nice to be able to laugh along with your handsome companion at the overused tropes featured in many of the slasher movies from the eighties and nineties. Groaning almost in sync when the lead female chose to run deeper into the house than take the open door that led outside and booing when the killer miraculously managed to traverse the same distance as the comic relief sidekick without even breaking into a light jog.

It gave you time to indulge in conversation as well as keeping pace with the plot. You shoved him playfully when he refused to indulge your curiosities as to which, in his words, lovey-dovey movies he enjoyed. Not even your best pleading puppy eyes could get him to relent, the curl of his lips so telling of his enjoyment at your frustration.

However, he did share some juicy tidbits about his sister that you were sure to tuck away and use to embarrass Karin at a later date. She more than deserved it given that other than one short and snappy text message, you hadn’t heard from her in all the time you had been staying here. Some friend. The bluster was all feigned when you examined it, and you refused to dig any deeper.

Karin and Kento were so different you would have never guessed they were related, yet you liked them for completely different reasons. You wondered if you would keep in touch once… no, it couldn’t be like that, and you knew it deep down. This was a temporary situation that would be forgotten soon enough, you lied to yourself with a long swallow of your drink. It wasn’t worth ruining the evening by moping. Deciding it was for the best, regardless of what your heart tried to yell, you forced the feelings into a box and refocused on the here and now.

It warmed your heart to watch as Kento slowly relaxed further, his limbs losing the tension from when he first joined you, an arm draped along the back of the couch and his beer balanced on his thigh, hand loose around the glass bottle dripping in condensation. He was pretty funny when he wanted to be, making you nearly choke on your drink several times over when he offered his bitingly sarcastic commentary on the situation on screen. At times you thought his ears even looked a little red, but you couldn’t be sure given the lack of lighting. If it was true, then it was adorable that he got enjoyment from your genuine reactions to his jokes.

With the second movie fast approaching the climax of the horror, you regretted the decision to ramp things up. Most of the movie you had spent tucked tightly beneath the blanket covering your lap, squeaking at every little jump scare and even more so when Kento moved unsuspectedly. All of it was ammunition to the laughter Kento levelled at your expense, and more than once you reached out to smack at his arm with him feigning noises of hurt when you knew very well it was the lightest of touches.

Oh, he was a menace alright.

Kento, not for the first time during your stay, felt like he hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. He watched your bravado disappear in the face of a movie you weren’t familiar with, and tried not to think too deeply when he felt the desire to pull you into the side of his body. It wasn’t worth the headache. His beer was long finished, and his hands felt too empty, fingers twitching against his thigh and pinching at the stitched seam of the couch to distract himself from what he knew would be inappropriate thoughts. He would not sully this evening with his own selfish desires.

You shrieked once more when the villain popped out unexpectedly, however, this time you lunged sideways and buried your face into his arm that lay between you both. He nearly yelped himself, barely holding back the strangle of surprise when your nose rubbed into his bicep and your small fingers curled around his forearm. His heart rested in his throat, glancing down with wide eyes and almost missing when you spoke in a hushed whisper.

“Tell me when this bit is over.”

Tentatively, he lifted his arm and your hold tightened as if he were trying to shake you off. Kento murmured a gruff affirmation and refocused on the TV. You dared to lift your chin, blinking at his unwavering expression fixed straight ahead whilst he settled his arm around your shoulders and gently drew you closer. His jaw clenched, and you nearly backed away despite your heart hammering in your chest from the movie playing, but when his fingertips rubbed gently against your upper arm… it was game over.

You melted into his side, inhaling the scent of his expensive cologne surreptitiously and smiling into the soft knit of his sweater at the lingering aroma of coffee that infused his clothes. Clearly, he was a man that ran hot given the output he was currently kicking out and the longer you remained in this position, the less you felt like the blanket was necessary. It was far from unpleasant, in fact, you longed to wrap yourself in his warmth. Who needed a blanket when you could have him instead?

Closing your eyes, you smiled indulgently, knowing it would be hidden from view. This was nice—more than nice—it felt right. Like you belonged here, and you should make up for lost time by refusing to move when he inevitably tried to pry you off.

The moment didn’t come.

At last, when Kento signalled that you could look again, he didn’t make any move to shove you back to your corner of the couch as you had assumed he would. No, instead, he slouched deeper into the seat and rested his cheek atop your head like a boyfriend or a lover might do. It was comfortable, welcoming after all that had transpired in such a short space of time and honestly, you wished you had the courage to fist the front of his sweater and drag him into the desperate kiss you longed to bestow on his lips.

The walls that both you and Kento had built around yourselves were beginning to crumble like sandcastles being washed away by an approaching tide. The water was unstoppable, or so it seemed and the air in the room felt charged with possibilities.

The credits rolled and neither of you made a move. Kento held himself back for fear of something he couldn’t define, and you lacked the courage to be the first to act after the incident in the bar. Two idiots, that’s what you amounted to, and it was endlessly frustrating.

“I guess it’s time for bed,” Kento said, straightening in his seat but still making no effort to untangle you from his chest.

Alarmed, you jerked upwards and shook your head violently. “Oh no no no. There is no way you go straight to bed after horror movies!”

“I don’t plan on staying awake all night if that’s what you’re insinuating,” he countered with a sharp arch of one eyebrow. Your hand remained flush on his thigh now that you weren’t moulded into his body, and he did his best not to notice.

“No,” you pouted, exhaling loudly through your nose. “We watch something funny then go to bed. And you have to stay with me because…”

“… because you’re scared.”

You smacked him dead centre in his chest, rolling your eyes when his chuckle deepened into a rich baritone belly laugh that made your legs tremble. Thank god you were sitting down. “Shuddup.”

There was a part of you that wanted to retreat into his warmth, to make yourself a home in the space beneath his arm and listen to the beat of his heart until you found yourself too tired to resist the pull of sleep, but that was asking rather a lot.

Not for the first time, you wondered if he could read your mind, or if your thoughts were simply so obviously written across your face. Kento lifted the remote with his right hand and waved you towards him with the left. There was something unreadable in his expression, a tightness around the eyes and chiselled jawline. Again, you wondered how much of this he wanted to participate in, but the allure of his offer was too tempting to miss out on.

You resumed your position, legs tucked up and your torso leaning into the strong support of a man you were falling for. Fuck… why did it have to be like this? Closing your eyes for a moment’s reprieve, you resolved to do something about it—anything—because living this way, with these feelings and desires was taking its toll.

“That one,” you piped up when Kento passed over a movie you knew inside out. You convinced yourself that a good laugh would solve all your immediate problems and wriggled into a more comfortable position. The other matter could wait until the morning.

“A fine choice,” he murmured more to himself than anything. A smile returned to his face when the familiar movie of an overzealous police officer deployed to the seemingly pristine British countryside for showing up the city force began to play on the screen.

An hour in and your delightful laughter had stopped. Kento felt the rhythm of your breathing deepen, a swivel of his eyes told him exactly why—you were fast asleep. He gazed at your sleeping face for longer than he realised, his neck stiffening from the awkward position but not caring for the dull ache. Your features were smooth, relaxed in a peaceful slumber. There was no sign of your trepidation following the scary movies and he smiled gratefully.

You were so pretty. The truth of those words cemented into his brain, and he doubted anything could dissuade him. He couldn’t remember a time when he had gazed longingly at a previous girlfriend or lover like he was right now. There was something different about you, and yet so right that he ached to admit it out loud. Ever since the woman in the museum had mistaken you for a couple, offering advice that seemed to be tailor made specifically for his worries, he couldn’t get the idea of opening up out of his head.

His fingers graced the apple of your cheek, stroking your skin delicately like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. Your face turned into the soft affection, a long comforting sigh exhaled through slightly parted lips and Kento fell even further. Why couldn’t he have met you under normal circumstances? A memory of your frantic flailing when he surprised you in his bathtub brought humour to his heart rather than the mortification of the day itself. It certainly made for an interesting story…

It took longer than it should for Kento to realise the movie had ended. Black velvet darkness decorated the quiet room, voyeuristic shadows clinging to the walls from the dark light of the blank television screen, still on but with nothing to display. The silent witnesses watched on whilst his heart beat faster and faster, head moving closer to your face until his lips brushed your forehead with heartfelt reverence.

The kiss was momentary, one singular frame in the grand scheme of his life, but to Kento, it felt like the defining moment. His old life, daily routine, the endlessly long hours at work, working out every morning simply to fit the aesthetic he believed to be the most suited to his lifestyle, it all seemed completely meaningless.

He thought of the books that lined the shelves of his office, most still unread. The places he dreamed of visiting—far flung countries with soft white sandy beaches, foreign cities with beautiful architecture to explore and even places closer to home that he never had time to venture to. How much of life was he missing out on? The food he could sample. The interests he could test out to see if any stuck, the people he could make friends with, the woman he could love…

Shit.

You were changing his entire world, and you had no fucking clue. He shouldn’t have kissed you. That realisation burned into him with vigour, the blazing inferno of his self-loathing at taking something that was not freely given, churned his stomach. Should he wake you and admit what he had done? No, it wasn’t fair to you.

Kento manoeuvred himself into a position to reach beneath your thighs, lifting you with ease into his arms and you didn’t even jostle at the movement. His eyes never left your face as you nuzzled into his chest, small fingers holding onto the fine threads of his sweater as if you were scared to lose your place, to lose your security. He wished he could be that for you, but he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough.

With the utmost care, he placed you into your bed, carefully unpicking your fingers and pressing the sheets into your palm as replacement before tucking them around you. Kento smiled when you murmured something unintelligible in your sleep, turning onto your side and burying your nose into your pillow with a gentle moan that spoke of nothing but comfort and peace. Despite kicking himself for the earlier kiss he had stolen without permission or consent, he found his nose and lips nestled in your hair once more. Again, the kiss was fleeting, and he stood to his full height and wished you a pleasant sleep under his breath before closing your door and disappearing behind his own.

He had a lot to think about, some decisions to make that could alter the course of his life and it was likely that not much sleep would come to him this night despite his earlier conviction that he wouldn’t be awake all night.

Sighing heavily, he scrubbed a palm down his weary face until he could catch his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the strain evident in his features.

“What do I do?”

[blueberryarchive]

𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧

more 80's slasher!jk

previously on steph's bathroom... // later on brew house...

Dazed and Confused echoed on the walls of the garage, the heat slowly dissipated with the canned beer that you swallowed in long gulps, the air polluted with the smell of pot. You were wearing high-waisted pants and a colorful blouse, bare feet. Robert Plant moaned in your ears as you drank another beer and damn, how good the hippies had it before, you thought.

A greased hand snaked up to your waist, squeezing so hard that you felt the beer return to your esophagus, the calloused fingers decorated with thick silver rings that ruminated over your breasts until connecting his fingers and nose with your neck, an indecent exhale taking in all the air in the room and with it your coherence.

"No, wait."

“Shh, for once in your life, fuck. Shut your stupid mouth." Rings covered your lips, a wet tongue trailing your jugular and the boiling smell of weed in his mouth.

You wanted to say his name, over and over again in that guitar solo. Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

And zaz! The garage was torn from your ears, the sun covered your body lying on the stands and you were no longer dressed like you were going to Woodstock, the backlight made your boyfriend's blonde hair and his red uniform shine.

“What the hell are you listening to? I have like fifteen minutes calling you.” His ethereal smile searched inside your backpack finding the small plastic box. “Led Zeppelin. That's new.” This time the laughter disappeared, putting on the headphones.

Your body sat up looking for a coherent explanation, Jimin laughed after listening for a few seconds.

“I didn't know you liked to hear men moan, you would have told me and I'd make you a whole album.” Your hand hit his chest and he laughed again.

"Shut up."

You both looked at each other when the laughter began to die with the summer wind, practice was over, the cheerleaders were leaving and the players were dissipating, going to look for their girlfriends or in groups to go to the bar near college. It was Friday and the vacations were approaching, you could see it in the smile of each student, in their quick walks, in the circles under your exhausted boyfriend's eyes.

"Hi, beautiful."

"Hi, handsome."

God was the only one who knew how you came to be with the Maroon Warriors' quarterback, with his sweaty hair stuck to his temple, his lips swollen from biting them, and the two small black spots on his cheek, singed against his laugh lines. Defined arms and thighs wide and hard like a horse's back.

"You like what you see?"

“If I could kneel in front of you right now, I would.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows at you, where did his silent little girl and infinitely aware of every word that came from her beloved lips go? But he couldn't lie that your words made him hard under his white pants.

His hand rose to the back of your head and brought your mouth to his. There was something so inherently bestial and delicious about the smell of sweat emanating from Jimin's uniform that he made you exhale sharply and stick your tongue into the equation.

“Mm.” Jimin frowned, opening his eyes a little to confirm that he was still kissing his girlfriend. “Are you hungry, doll?”

“I haven't seen you in two weeks, Minnie. What you' think?”

“I left you with your friends so you wouldn't get bored.”

“That sleepover was so long ago, I'm bored with them.” You moaned softly, your neck burning, someone was watching you.

“Do you want to have a sleepover with your boyfriend?” Jimin scoffed and you nodded, ignoring the joke.

Your hand removed the headphones from his ears and you chained your arms around his neck, your body throbbing with a brute force that wanted to move fast and careless, that looked for a way to drag your boyfriend to the bathrooms and strip him naked, fog the walls of the bath with your promiscuity, yours of something more viscous and thick.

“Park!” a voice shouted for the third time and Jimin broke your grotesque beatitude again.

“Fuck, I'm sick of this old man.” Jimin mumbled looking at his coach. “Sir, practice is over. Let me enjoy my girlfriend for a second.” He yelled but old Grant didn't care how much you both wanted each other.

Jimin looked into your eyes with frustration and then looked at his pants, the silhouette marked thickly along the zipper to his thigh. You smiled and gave another small kiss to his neck.

“Up up, champion.” You cheered, fluttering his hair. Jimin took your coat and covered his erection, the look on his teammates' faces when they saw him stand up was indescribable, laughter while Jimin cursed them all while he went down the steps in a funny way. "Call me." You screamed. Please, you murmured.

You took your cassette player and your headphones to put it in your backpack, you watched your boyfriend listening attentively to Mr. Grant until a furry, red mass took your attention. You still didn't know what was the team mascot supposed to be with a metal sword and eyes big and open like two billiard balls, like a hunter.

One of the players patted the big red monster's back and the man inside him took off his heavy head, his dark sweaty hair, a silver hoop hanging from his right ear. Your heart was pounding, you told yourself that you were here to watch your boyfriend practice, to support him. Of course you looked at the other players from time to time trying to find Jungkook.

Things would be easier if you just asked your friends and they pointed with their manicured finger at the headless man in your fantasies. But you didn't want them to think you liked him, specially Bobby Joe who would tell Jimin in a heartbeat, the bitch. It was just curiosity, of course. You could find out yourself.

Besides, where's the fun in that?

Two weeks had passed since the sleepover and you could feel his gaze on the flesh of your thighs, the saliva of a predator with each man that passed by you, the fangs of a hyena cruelly tempting with its tips against your skull.

Two weeks searching through familiar faces and unfamiliar ones, like playing Guess Who.

Guess who listens to Led Zeppelin to sleep.

Guess who would dare to respond with such confidence to a stranger.

Guess who would smile while he promises to rape you if he finds you?

Guess who left you with his laugh tattooed on your stomach.

And your hands sweated as you felt his gaze again. There, yes. It was him again. The mascot. Between the dark strands of his hair, under his thick eyebrows and in the middle of his sly smile. It was only a second but that's enough for you. A quick, indiscreet look.

You tried to maintain your composure, to keep your balance as he walked away inside the costume lighting a cigarette with his gloved hands. You walked down the steps as normally as you could without them realizing that your heart was being strangled, you were so close.

You walked across the grass to the back of the stadium, you looked around but it was gone, like a hallucination, like the air in the garage of your dreams.

You bit your nails thinking, you only had to wait for the stadium to be alone. Enter the locker room, find that costume and... then what?. It sickened you to think that you were so desperate. You hadn't traveled from your small town to New York for this, you hadn't earned a reputation or your scholarship to chase a loser through college.

Your cheeks were burning, you could feel your mother's gaze upon seeing you in such a state. But this time you agreed with her judgment. You stood up with your head down, you don't know how long you had spent looking at the grass, but the sunset was already bathing the empty stadium in a dusty pink.

“Nice shorts.” The deep voice said from afar.

“Fuck off.” You said without thinking before turning around.

And there it was, with the cigarette dangling from his lips, a Slayer t-shirt pressed against his arms, so short that it showed the soft line of hair from his navel to hidden in his jeans. His elbows rested on his knees as he waited for you to insult him again.

You didn't even dare to do that. Could it be him?

You clear your throat and fix your hair. “Do you know where the archery club is?”

His eyebrows unravel in surprise.

“Do you like archers?”

“Why don't you assume I'm in the club?” You interrupted, stepping closer.

His smile spread across his face again, a puff before he stood, tall and careless in front of you. He looked down and you could feel the fangs salivating, just the tip entering the parietal part of your head.

“Because I’ve never seen you there.”

And Dazed and Confused started playing, the drums pounding fast in your chest. Your lips dried as you watched him walk away.

“Are you Jungkook Jeon?”

The stranger stopped in his footsteps, his head snapped up before turning to look at you. And there was the smile you have imagined so many times.

"Then it's you." He hummed, tilting his head. “Oh, the quarterback's sweet little thing, of course.” His eyes scanned your trembling body.

And now what? Everything was so quiet, there was no one around, if you screamed no one would hear you. If you moaned, no one would hear you. If you were dying, no one would heard you.

“This heat must be killing you, lil' thing. Let’s go to the Brew House, I’ll introduce you to the president of the club there.”

"Don't call me little thing." Your brain wasn't working, is this an option? He brushed off your anger with the rolling of his eyes.

"You said you wanted to go to the archery club, isn't it to sign up?" Mockingly he took some keys out of his jeans.

"Yes, of course." You stuttered walking behind him, his broad back and walk intimidating you.

“You can put your bike in the back of the truck” His brown eyes looked at you sideways. “In case you suddenly want to escape or something.” He laughed.

[b-00-biez]

Hii! I was wondering if you could maybe write something along the lines of "slashers with an s/o who thinks they're not enough for them and starts distancing themselves" maybe not that long but something of the sort :) this is my first ever ask so I do apologise if I can't quite get my thought across. :)

Slasher with an S/o that distance themselves

Characters: Bo Sinclair, Patrick Bateman, Brahms heelshire, Thomas Hewitt, Ghostface

Bo Sinclair

You were staring at the mirror too long looking at your body

pinching your imperfections and flaws

This has been going on for some time now and bo doesnt really realize it

You locked yourself in the shared room, refused sex and even slightly avoided him when hes around

He was pissed

"Sweetheart come here we need to talk."

With a stern voice he sits you on his lap and embraces you

He asks you what's going on in your lil mind and why have you been avoiding him for the past weeks

You started to tear up and tremble as you tell him you're not good enough for him, that you always mess up and you're not like the girls in his magazines ( yeah i believe he has a stash of magazines hidden like a perv 😭)

He coos at you hugging you tighter as he rocks you on his lap

"Darling, you're all what this big pervert needs, now give me some sugar"

He kissed your cheek lovingly nothing like youd expect from this sly man

Patrick Bateman

This man has girls all over him , flirting with him cause he is absolutely handsome

Although he completely ignores them

You started to feel

insecure

All the girls were hot and corvy and youre you

Well thats what you thought, after a few months you started to distance yourself hoping that maybe he would find someone "better"

One night you wake up to your door ringing nonstop and when you check the peep hole you see your boyfriend standing there with 100 roses, neatly in a bouquet as he was dressed nicely

You opened your door slowly just putting your face out, he noticed you crying cause of your swollen eyelids.

He handed you the flowers and held you which felt like it lasted an hour

"Darling I know you aren't feeling well and I'd like to take you on a little date to show how much i truly love you. Will you accept it?"

He kissed your hand while grabbing gently at your waist

Brahms Heelshire

All he talked about was Greta and how she looked pretty unlike any other

And even after you were in a relationship with him you felt... ignored

You wanted to scream at him how youre here and that shes gone

but instead you neglected your duties as a nanny and locked yourself in your room for more than 3 days

Although you feel eyes watching you through the walls, you didnt care to budge

Until he kicked the door open.

He was tired of you neglecting him as he stared at you in anger

His eyes softened seeing you balled up in your bed sniffling and whimpering

First he thought you were sick as he checked whether you were hurt or not

But when you couldnt stop crying he left leaving you some space then he came back

with a little toy he cherished as a boy

"I'm sorry, I hope you feel better. Heres my toy maybe youll feel better holding it. It worked when i was sad" he said in his childish voice

He gently caressed your head as he repeatedly said in a warm voice "I love you"

Thomas Hewitt

Hoyt made you feel like a piece of shit

Every night and day he would remind you that you were easily replaceable and you're just like a little pet that even if you die. Thomas will find someone else

That was far from what you experienced with Thomas when he holds you gently in his arms something he wouldn't do with any other victim

But nevertheless Hoyt's bullying got the best of you

Even doing chores and even at dinner youd avoid thomas, as you said youd be eating somewhere else or you werent hungry

Hoyt was snickering and scoffing at your petty behavior as he exclaimed to Thomas that he should kill you for not being "family"

Before Thomas could break his brittle neck you stopped him with shaky hands on his shoulder

You marched back up to your shared bedroom and sulk

He would pick up on this newly found behavior as he confronts you when everyone else was asleep

Once you tell hime how you felt he caressed your cheeks looking at you with sad eyes then cuddles you in bed trying his best to comfort you.

Ghostface

He was getting way too close to a girl

Although in his part he was just befriending her to kill her sooner

But thats before you knew your boyfriend's little hobby of his

You would ignore him at school, lunch even ghosting him in text and when he would go to your house you would just lock the door and tell your parents that you werent in the mood to talk to him

One afternoon when your parents were away you were watching the news

The girl he was with was killed that night

Afraid of who might it be thinking it must be someone at your school

You hear the doorbell rang

Seeing a guy in a mask you felt shivers down your spine as you answered the door you heard a familiar voice

"Hey baby, I felt you were a bit jealous so i killed her sooner. So don't be mad at me hm? My eyes and attention are only for you babe."

As he slowly gave you the dead girl's hand and slipped her ring onto yours

[juniperhillpatient]

I came up with the working title for scream au (“the devil you know”) before I listened to “complete collapse” for the first time in years & realized it’s def the theme song. I was gonna do a non lyric based title for once but that’s clearly not in my nature as a fic writer

[ghost-proofbaby]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.

warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)

the full menu

Eddie Munson is not a morning person.

So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you. 

It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day. 

Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.

Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that. 

What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.

Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.

You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.

“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.) 

None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.

“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?” 

It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to. 

God, that man was a dick. 

Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle. 

By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive. 

Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van. 

The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up. 

A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him. 

Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep? 

He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers. 

Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads. 

Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.

A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.

Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable. 

“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars. 

Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath. 

Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him? 

“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.

Ah, fuck. 

Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him. 

Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars. 

With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good. 

Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were. 

Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake. 

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.” 

You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth. 

“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.” 

Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors. 

“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.” 

Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you. 

It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually. 

You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns. 

Nope. Not a chance. 

The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned. 

It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning. 

—

It doesn’t. 

Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day. 

You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together. 

God, he sort of hated you. 

You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice. 

He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression. 

You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it. 

Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip. 

“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them. 

He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him. 

If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John. 

But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you. 

He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.

“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability. 

“I’ll give you three guesses.” 

He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.

“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.” 

Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset. 

“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.

Man, he fucking hated you. 

You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?” 

“I’m not old.”

“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.” 

John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin. 

He stops the grin because he hates you… right?

You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him. 

The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable. 

She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store. 

Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural. 

Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear. 

Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk. 

It isn’t.

“Do you not like her?” 

His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?” 

“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.

He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here. 

“You should give her a chance,” Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.” 

He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace. 

“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.” 

Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.” 

He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”

“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.” 

“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point. 

“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”

“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”

“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.” 

Trainer? 

Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with. 

You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it. 

Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say. 

God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it. 

It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.

—

“Did that hurt?”

The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back. 

He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.

“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle. 

Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?” 

It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye. 

You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”

Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice. 

“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.” 

Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole. 

“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two. 

Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could. 

He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance. 

“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.” 

Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest? 

He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed. 

“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him. 

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?” 

Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.

“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”

You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.

When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together. 

God, Eddie wishes he hated you. 

Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.

taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

(tag list is open - if you'd like to be added, let me know!)

[calmcoldevening]

Can you do a Valentine's day themed thingy for slashers x reader please?

Happy Valentine's day, kitten ♡⁠ I hope you spent this day with your love)

Slashers x reader, Valentine's Day headcanons

Michael Myers

• Michael basically doesn't see any special importance in this day, it's not Halloween. But seeing how you fuss that day, Michael just gives up.

• He returns home from hunting, and you meet him in the kitchen with a bright smile and a delicious dinner on the table. It causes a strange, mixed feeling in his chest. He doesn't know what it is, but it's something warm and pleasant.

• You have dinner together in almost complete silence, only sometimes you tell something about your day. Michael doesn't give this dinner that much importance, after all, you often have dinner together.

• After dinner, you sit on the couch together and watch a movie. This time you chose some kind of romantic melodrama, after all, it was in the spirit of today's holiday. And even though Michael didn't give you the special attention you wanted, you just liked that he was with you tonight. Michael liked horror more, he didn't particularly like movies with feelings other than fear. But it made him put some kind of puzzle together in his head.

• In the morning, as usual, you woke up alone. The sheets on Michael's side were cold. It left a painful feeling in your chest. When you came downstairs, you found a large bouquet of scarlet roses on the table. Next to the bouquet was a small note with an inscription on it, written in a sloppy handwriting: "Sorry ♡⁠".

Jason Voorhees

• Before meeting you, Jason didn't really know much about holidays, but now he wanted to please you on such special days. Valentine's Day was no exception. And although he didn't have much money for this, after all, Jason lived in an old camp, which was quite far from the city, and he didn't like people, the guy tried to make this day as romantic as possible for you.

• You did not return to your cabin until late in the evening (perhaps you were at work or studying). You were very tired and your mood was almost at zero. You just wanted to go to bed and forget, this day wasn't anything special. You slowly opened the door to your bedroom.

• What was your surprise when you saw Jason sitting on the bed. Your whole little room was filled with various, mostly red candles. Maroon petals of some flowers were scattered on the bed.

• Jason was sitting facing you, his cheeks flushed scarlet even through the cracks of the mask. He looked up at you nervously and pulled out a pink box from behind his back. You carefully picked it up and opened it. It was a big postcard with lots of pages and cute inscriptions on them. Everything was bright, although a little messy, but it looked nice. Hearts and seals were painted, compliments and words of love were written. Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly nervous.

• You carefully put the postcard on the desk. As you got closer, you climbed onto Jason's lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. A nervous mutter escaped from the man's chest. You smiled, "I love you." Jason blushed visibly. A nervous "I love you too," Jason signed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba was very worried. He knew about the upcoming holiday and didn't know how to please you. Besides, his brothers made fun of him because of his excitement. This made Bubba completely discouraged.

• And yet, the brothers understood his excitement, after all, you were the first and only person Bubba ever loved and who loved Bubba back. They are in no way going to interfere with his romantic plans.

• Bubba asked Drayton to do some shopping, which he agreed to, wanting to help Sawyer Jr., although not without a little joke. But not wanting to make the guy blush any more, Drayton and the twins left the house that day for 'important things'.

• You returned home after a little work in the city and were greeted by a pleasant romantic atmosphere. All the lights in the house were turned off, and the dining room was lit with wax candles. You walked in, smiling softly and looking around the room. Bubba couldn't hide his excitement and fear, he was nervously biting his lower lip. Finally, he looked up at you and handed you a big teddy bear. You smiled happily as you accepted the gift and hugged Bubba. He was overjoyed. After a sweet kiss, Bubba showed you the dinner he made just for the two of you.

• After dinner, you lay in each other's arms all evening. Bubba held you gently to him and covered your face and neck with kisses, whining softly. He was overwhelmed with emotion. He was happy to love you and be loved by you.

Hannibal Lecter

• This man will spend the best valentine's day of your life with you.

• Hannibal will bring you breakfast in bed first. It will be something light but delicious, like a classic American breakfast and a cup of your favorite coffee.

• Later in the evening, he will take you to a nice expensive restaurant and ask you to wait. The man will return with a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a small gift bag. Inside was an expensive necklace with a bright stone that accentuated your eye color.

• If you prefer something simpler, Hannibal will suggest you take a walk after the restaurant. Gentle kisses under the night sky and caring hugs. Hannibal will offer you his jacket to keep you warm.

• This day will be full of tenderness and love on his part, Hannibal will try in every way to show that you are really dear to him. "Even in a room full of art, I would still only look at you."

Harry Warden

• This is a pretty difficult situation, because for Harry, Valentine's Day is a reminder of that tragedy in the mine, so it's unlikely that he will decide to cancel it, even with you.

• But the next night, he'll just decide to spend romantic time with you. The man will cook some simple but delicious dinner, and then offer to watch a movie. You will be sitting on the couch in the living room and cuddling. His arm is around your waist, your head is on his shoulder. This is a moment filled with pleasant silence and tenderness.

• A few hours earlier, Harry gave you a beautiful piece of jewelry, a box of your favorite candies (not in a heart box, no) and a neat bouquet of beautiful flowers. It's his own way of apologizing to you for ruining the holiday.

• You will also sleep in an embrace. Harry always falls asleep much later than you, but today it was especially noticeable. You were already snuffling in his arms, while Harry held you protectively in his arms and stroked your hair. His gaze is entirely focused on you and only you. He's just surprised how your wonderful angel agreed to be his soulmate. Harry is so happy. The man leans closer and kisses you briefly on the lips. "Sweet dreams, my love."

[britts-galaxy-brain]

I don't think people realize how quickly pedos escalate this. There have been multiple accounts of pedos who start out with fictional stuff ending up hurting real children.

Like there was some adult man who was really into Amy Rose (who is canonically 14) going one to hurt at least three young girls awhile back.

People need to realize that just because pedos start with fiction doesn't mean they're not capable of hurting real children.

Exactly.

Back in the day, I used to subscribe to the "as long as it stays in fiction" mentality. Then I ended up watching every single person like that I happened to share space with escalate into either actually offending, or the obsession would grow and they'd start talking about how difficult it was getting for them to not offend.

People who try to compare stuff like that to horror or slasher don't understand the vast psychological difference when it comes to a sexual paraphilia. Or the difference between something like Lolita and Boku No Pico (don't look that up).

Lolita is an exploration of the psyche of an abusive loser and the narrative explicitly shows how messed up, dangerous, and harmful the situation is. Boku No Pico and Stockholm are purely for sexual gratification. The only reason someone would write that sort of material is if they get off to it, and feeding something like that is only going to make it worse and reinforce it.

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Closing In

Leon follows reader home...

Note: thank you to anon for suggesting this premise, ohhhh I did not realize how much I would like writing this - and thank you everyone for your patience!

Content: 3.9 k words, 18+, cnc with enthusiastic consent, stalking roleplay, slasher roleplay, home invasion roleplay, denial, rough sex, taunting, humiliation, crying, overstim, sadism/masochism, Slasher!Leon, obsessed Leon, LeonxReader, fem reader, no y/n. 

-

"I dunno, I just think it's kind of romantic," you say. Your hands fiddle nervously with the tassels on your throw pillow.

"He was a stalker, babe." Leon's voice hides just a hint of amusement. "He cut women up."

"Okay, but besides that-"

"Besides the... The serial killing."

"Yes! Besides the serial killing."

Leon stared at you, an eyebrow arched in judgement. You tried to stay straight faced - by God, you tried - but he had a way of half-smirking his way past your mask with his annoying, pretty face.

"Look, I'm just saying," you roll your eyes, not even sure why you keep talking, "something about... Obsessing over someone like that is kiiind of romantic. What's the point of love if it doesn't make you a little crazy? Y'know? Anne Rice would agree with me."

"Anne Rice was horny for a Confederate twink," he points out.

You gawk for a moment. But like, he's kind of right. So instead of saying anything clever, you throw the pillow at him. He deflects it with his forearm, but that gives you the opening to jump on him. You're wrestling in no time, breathless and sweaty and... Moving against each other...

-

You're out for lunch with your friend, Jessie, at some too-fancy Parisian style café. You sip a caramel iced latte and share a plate of rose coloured macarons. She complains about her studies, you complain about work, and you both come to the resounding agreement that deadlines suck. She complains about her last date, some butch that was more well-read than her that accidentally made her feel stupid. You don't have the heart to tell her that they sounded cool as hell. You tip-toe around telling her about Leon. It's not that you weren't proud of him, it was just... With the nature of his job, what were you going to say? Yeah, I'm seeing this guy who has a gun case built into the dresser and is super paranoid about people visiting his place and won't tell me what he does but he's like, totally a sweet guy and not some psycho? Yeah. Okay.

You stretch, appreciating the summer sun on your limbs and the peaceful breeze around your skirt. Your phone rings. Jessie snatches it up before you have a chance to, and then gives you the most scandalous, shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

"No. Don't you dare-!"

"Hiiiii lover boy," she coos over the phone.

Oh fuck, kill me.

"Jessie, give me the phone!" You reach across the table, the ceramic plate between you clattering loudly against the glass table. You freeze, feeling eyes on you. Jessie opens her mouth in mock embarrassment.

"So you're the secret boyfriend that my best friend keeps hiding from me?"

"Jessie, come on."

She listens for a moment, then laughs. You get up from your chair and walk over to her while she tries to twist away from your grasp.

"mhm, mhm - oh, sorry, I think someone wants to talk to y-"

You finally snatch it from her grasp. You give her a stare with the intensity of someone who can kill by staring. You try to keep your voice as flat as possible.

"Hey, sorry about that. What's up?"

"Is that Jessie?" He asks. He's got that... Quirk in his voice. The one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can feel Jessie watching you and try to keep it cool.

"Yeah, sorry, she's like, literally five years old sometimes."

"She seems fun."

"Babe, I'm kinda busy, did you have a reason for-"

"That's a pretty dress you're wearing."

You freeze halfway to sitting back down in your chair. Jessie tilts her head, giving you that concerned-puppy-dog face she did when she knew something was up.

You clear your throat and find it suddenly dry. You sit back down but you're a little clumsy, your skirt getting caught on the arm rests. You snatch it back, and then trying to regain your cool, you take a sip from your iced latte. You hear him chuckle on the other end. Did it get cold all of a sudden?

"What, uh, what do you mean by that?"

You can practically hear him grin into the receiver.

"I mean," he says, drawing out every syllable. "I can see you. And you look pretty today. That skirt will roll up pretty easy-"

You hang up on him. Mostly in panic. There was no way you were going to do that in public! Your eyes scan the area around you. Pretty cafe patio, pretty park across the street, some people going about their daily business. You can't see him anywhere. He must be fucking with you. He must have known you were going to wear a dress, it's so hot out, and where would he even be hiding?

A cold hand touches yours and you almost jump out of your skin. Jessie's taking your hand in hers, and when you meet her gaze, she looks like she's about to cry.

"I'm so sorry if I caused any issues between you, I totally shouldn't have answered it. I didn't think he'd like, get angry with you," she starts to wetly babble, swaying between guilty and protective. You love her very much, but you don't know what to say.

Oh, it's just this weird sex game we play, I promise this brooding dude who you've never met and only spoken to once is definitely a good guy and not like emotionally abusive.

"Hey, hey, Jessie. Don't worry about it. It wasn't about that he's got this... Thing. Unrelated. But uh, look, I have to go."

She frowns, almost curving her pink lip-glossed mouth into a pout.

"If he so much as leaves a scratch on you, I will kill him."

Your thoughts flit to the bite marks and bruises that are just covered by your dress. If only she knew.

You kiss her cheek, snatch up one final macaron, and take your leave. You try to control your pace, look cool, act natural. Your eyes scan the buildings and alleyways around you. You seriously can't find him.

Your phone rings.

You stare at it for a moment. Your hands are shaking a little when you answer it.

"It's sweet how much she cares about you," he says. An idea dawns on you. You nod and give an mhm sound, listening around you for anything noticeable. A church bell rings just ahead of you and you hear it echo over the phone.

"You're close," you say. You try to sound threatening. He just laughs at you.

"Obviously. How else would I know you're wearing that citrus perfume I love?"

"I wear that everyday." Your voice shakes as you speak, and you can't help but whip your head around. You half expect to see him there, but it's just some guy who gives you a dirty look.

"No, you don't. You only wear it when you're going to see friends. You usually wear the vanilla one. You like that it's so subtle."

You're a little impressed he noticed that. It was kind of sweet, really, if he wasn't totally freaking you out. How did he possibly get close enough to smell your perfume without you noticing?  You start walking again. You want to catch the train home. Maybe you can trap him there.

You use the shop windows as you pass to get a better look, pretending to window shop.

"Do you think I'd look good in that," you ask, with no idea what you're referring to. You're looking past whatever is behind the glass to observe the reflection. A spot of blonde hair, maybe... He got a totally different hair cut? No. Not him.

"Using the reflection. Clever."

He hangs up.

You spin around again, desperately searching the crowd. He was a beefy guy and he moved like a panther, there's no way he was just casually blending in. But, you can't find him.

You wrap your arms around your core. Knowing you're being watched makes you want to shrink into yourself. Yet you can't ignore the excitement you feel. It was kind of romantic, really. Kind of dangerous.

You liked Leon best when he was dangerous.

You set off again, somehow walking a knife's edge between nervous and confident. Both prey and prize. You keep looking over your shoulder as you pass into the crowded underground of the subway station. It's right around rush hour and it's so packed you can hardly move. Other people are breathing your oxygen and you're just recycling theirs. It's tight, and hot, and moving at the exact speed that makes you feel like no one is really getting anywhere. You pull your purse tight to your body and try to shove past people, only to be confronted with more people.

Your phone rings. You hang up. And then, in a stroke of brilliance, you call back.

His ringtone echoes out in the tiled halls. You try desperately to find it, but it only rings out twice, then it's lost in the sea of people.

"Clever," his voice is deep on the other end. "I'm almost impressed."

"Yeah. Why don't you stop hiding?"

"Oh, I know you're eager, but I didn't think you'd want me to cut you up in this crowd."

He's impatient. You can tell by the sharpness of his voice that he's more frustrated than he admits. The threat sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but picture yourself bent over on the filthy tile floor, knife to your throat, fucked within an inch of your life as people step past. The ebb and flow of the crowd pushes you towards the oncoming subway.

"What exactly is your plan?" He asks. You can hear the screeching brakes over the phone. "I know you take the 76 Southbound until Queen Street. I know you get off and walk two blocks to George Street. I know you live in a turn of the century brownstone with a heritage plaque and bathroom sink that takes forever to drain."

You step onto the 76 Southbound near the front. You press your back to the wall and watch as people get on.

"Yeah, well," you say victoriously, "I know you have to go the same way."

And then you see him. He walks directly into your trap, and realizes it too late. His blue eyes widen in realization. The door slams shut behind him.

You hang up.

Some people pile up in front of you, giving you cover from him. You watch him from behind shoulders and under arms. Open, navy bomber jacket and a grey t-shirt with black jeans doesn't exactly scream slasher killer. But, something about how casual he looks keeps your attention. He blends in, he's unsuspecting. And, to your surprise, he's grinning like a fox.

He's broad, and when he moves through the crowd, people make room for him. He scans every seat and every face with purpose. Inching his way towards the back. You realize you have nowhere to go. You start to panic. Maybe you get off a stop early? And then what, he beats you to your house and waits for you?

No, you have to get home before he does. Lock the doors before he can get in. You push closer to the door so you can be the first one off. You turn to track his progress and directly meet his gaze.

Fuck.

His expression drops, his eyes glaring at you from under his brow. You're almost hypnotized by them, frozen in place while he cuts through the crowd.

You're pinned down with nowhere to go. But, surely, nothing will happen in public, right?

He pushes past a few more people and then he's on you. He towers above you, his broad shoulders cutting out other's view of you. You notice how his t-shirt clings to his body. How well fitting his jeans are. You also notice the angry squint in his eyes from under his brow.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" He brings a hand down to touch your hip, holding it in his grasp. You quiver against him as he leans down, close enough to whisper in your ear. "Don't you know I’ll always find you?"

You turn your head away from him defiantly. Your eyes scan the train, but passengers nearby don't seem to notice. They all have that vacant long-day- commute stare.

"No one's going to help you, sweetheart." He closes in, one arm rests on the wall beside you, his body angled to ensure prying eyes can't see. His free hand slides up your body. It caresses the curves of your hips, the softness of your tummy, the round of your breast.

You flush. Your hands come up to his chest as if that will stop him from pawing at your tits.

"Leon, seriously? Here?" You whisper it, completely embarrassed.

"I can take you whenever I want." He uses that commanding voice you've only heard a handful of times before. "You're mine."

To prove his point, his hand dips between your thighs, and he presses his fingers against your pussy over the fabric of your skirt. It's so sudden and strong, your hand goes to his wrist on instinct. He doesn't stop, rubbing hard enough to make your legs shake.

"Could probably take you right here," he mutters, his breath hot on your ear. You feel yourself get wet at the thought.

"Queen Street." The robotic, automated subway voice chimes out from overhead.

The door opens. You lose your balance, but manage to recover quickly. You move fast, hoping to put as much distance between yourself and Leon as you can. You take the stairs two at a time until you breach the surface, taking in the fresh air like it would save you. But the summer heat brokers no peace, and you know Leon isn't far behind.

You don't look behind you for fear of slowing down. You take one block normally, then decide to cut through an alley way to save time. Every minute was another he could be gaining on you.

As you take a few paces into the alley, your hair starts to stand on end. It's somehow darker here, the smell of mildew and gasoline making your stomach turn. Your cell phone rings. You answer.

"Stop calling!" You snap, betraying more fear than you mean to.

"An alleyway? You're smarter than this." Leon is unphased by your outburst.

You give in, turning your head to look behind you. He stands at the other end, the sun behind him obscuring his features.

Then he moves. With long, easy strides, he makes ground quickly. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he whistles a slow, off-beat tune. 

You turn and run. Your hand meets the corner at the end of the alley and you use it to redirect your momentum. Full tilt sprinting in a sundress down a public street in the middle of the day probably makes you look crazy. Leon made you look crazy.

You get to your brownstone on George Street. You take the few steps up to the front door. You throw your phone in your purse as you frantically rip through it for your keys.

Fuck, come on, where are they? Lipstick, tampon, water bottle, wallet FUCK! There. You snatch them up like they'll save your life. Your hands shake as you put them in the lock. It turns, and you take one last look to see Leon - oh shit!

He's at the base of the stairs! He takes them by two. You manage to get the door open wide enough to barely squeeze through. His hand slaps against the door but you throw your full weight against it. It slams in his face. He turns the knob. You struggle to hold it against him as you turn the dead bolt. Then the chain. He slams a fist against the door and you slowly back away from it.

A chilling thought dawns on you.

Back door.

You run to the other side of the house, tripping over shoes and a discarded purse as you do, cursing as they steal precious seconds from you. You turn the corner and run directly into the door. Your body stings from the impact. You shakily turn the lock.

Silence. For a few, long minutes, there's just silence. You wonder, disappointed, if he gave up, but take the time to catch your breath.

Your cell phone rings. Sweat rolls down your back as you answer it.

"I got you, motherfucker."

"Did you?" He asks. His voice is cool. Calm. "How confident are you that you got to the back door before I did?"

"I would have heard you come in." You aren't so sure.

"Would you?"

Your apartment is small. You approach the bedroom, then quickly snap the door open. It lies still. Empty.

"You don't scare me," you lie.

"I really almost had you there, didn't I?" He's calling your bluff as you move into the kitchen, "What do you think I would have done if I'd caught up to you?"

The kitchen is still and quiet too. You don't have an answer for him, anxiety knotting in your stomach. You take the turn into the living room.

His arms wraps around your waist with enough strength to lift you off the ground. You scream. You kick at him, but he doesn't budge, dragging you into the living room.

You see a window open.

"Did you climb the fucking trellis?" You ask, shocked and amused at the sight. He tries not to laugh.

"Yeah."

"What are you, Romeo?"

"You said you wanted romance," and then, his voice drops again to that cold, serious tone that makes you feel like prey, "isn't this what you wanted?"

He lets you go and you take the opportunity to run. But his hand is entangled in your hair, the sharp pain making you cry out. Tears gather in your eyes and you whimper. You grab his forearm and try to pull away, but the self-inflicted pain makes you freeze. He rolls his eyes.

"You're just so fucking predictable."

He drags you across the living room floor. It hurts, bare knees roughly hitting the hard wood floor. He lifts you up with an arm around your stomach. Then, he's bending you over the couch.

You try to push back against it. You struggle against him. He pulls your head back by the hair and you nearly sob.

"Please, don't," you whimper. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Not our safe word, sweetheart."

His words make you feel so beautifully helpless. The tears finally fall down your cheeks and, at the same time, you become aware of how soaked your cotton underwear is. His hand comes up and slaps you sharply. You whimper. He does it again, this time harder. The stinging in the side of your face is enough to make your pussy clench around nothing.

He pins you to the side of the couch his hands on your hips. He rolls your skirt up, and makes a choked sound at the sight of you. He tears your underwear down harshly. 

"Please, don't," he mocks with a harsh slap on your ass. "Try and tell me you don't want this."

A finger slides along your slick, from hole to clit. He presses his finger against it just slightly but it's enough to make your hips buck. He gently rolls a finger around your clit a few times, already building that high in the pit of your stomach. He barely fucking touched you and you're already desperate to cum, breath ragged, legs shaking. Leon pulls away. You whimper in disappointment. Then his hand comes down hard against your ass cheek. Then again. Then again. Then again.

The pain is overwhelming. But god, you don't want him to stop. You want hand-shaped bruises on your ass, you want to remember this every time you sit down for the next week.

"You look so pretty for me when you cry" His hand still wet from your cunt comes up and rubs your tears away, leaving an obscene mix of your tears and your desperation for him on your cheeks. The tears keep falling anyways. Then, softly, "you do remember our safe word, right?"

You nod, but you don't say it. You want to go further. You want him to hurt you more. 

“Hey, answer me when I’m fucking talking to you,” he grabs you roughly by the jaw, wrenching your face to look at him. 

“Yes,” you nod, desperately. “I remember.” 

“Wasn’t so fucking hard,” he says. He slaps you again, hard enough to stun you into a stupid, teary-eyed grin.

You hear his pants unbutton, then unzip, then fall to the ground, but you're so overwhelmed you can't move. His hand still in your hair, still tugging enough to remind you of your place beneath him, he lines his hips up with yours.

Then he's pushing into you. One, smooth motion is all it takes, your cunt greedily pulling him in. A high pitched moan escapes his throat, followed by a groaned "so fucking wet."

He fucks you deep and slow. Torturously slow, enjoying every minute of pleasure that he gets. The head of his cock presses against your g-spot, building the high like one boils water. Slowly. Your abdomen pressed against the couch makes it easier for him. The hour of teasing and adrenaline and painful foreplay has you overstimulated. But it’s really the slow, deep fucking that drives electricity through your body. Push and pull, ebb and flow, your face and ass stinging as he works. You’re already bordering on the edge, but his pace doesn’t allow you to go over. You just hover there. And hover there. And hover there. For what feels like hours you’re kept right on the edge without ever going over, building the tension inside you until it fucking hurts, and then you’re crying again. You want him to slam his hips into you, to fuck you into the couch, to do something to make you cum, but he doesn’t.

“Leon, it hurts,” you whine. 

“It’s supposed to.” 

“Please,” you beg, desperation making your voice hoarse. “Please just make me cum, please.” 

“Relax.” 

“Leon-” 

“I said relax. Or I’ll stop right now. Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” you shake your head, hair falling into your face. 

He takes his time to smooth it back, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. He wipes more tears from your cheeks. When he speaks, though, his voice is so hard and cold. 

“Greedy little whore.” 

With no warning, he’s fucking into you harder. Faster. It only takes a few thrusts before you’re cumming on his cock. Your body tenses so hard your muscles scream, shaking and moaning and gasping for air. Your cunt tightens so hard you hear Leon breathe a fuck, baby. It feels like it lasts forever, and when you finally come down, you’re entirely dazed. 

You’re... vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, hot and sticky. But for the most part you just feel like you’re floating. Leon slowly lowers you to the floor, grabbing a throw pillow and tucking it under your head. You close your eyes. 

You wake again when the room is an orange glow, a blanket thrown over you for comfort. Leon is lounging on the couch reading a book, and when you stir, you immediately have his attention. 

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily. 

“Hey. Thought I’d let you sleep, you looked like you needed it. Why don’t I run us a shower?” 

“Yeah,” you smile softly, dreamy fuzziness still clinging to you. “I’d like that.” 

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

🍒Welcome to My Pad!🍒

Hi there! I'm Cherry or Cherri! I'm a female artist from Utah who loves ninja turtles, vampires, 80s glam, and cheesy early 2000 crime shows!

My pronouns are She/Her or They/Them! I'm Bi-curious heterosexual!

I'm a fellow selship artist/writer who's mostly known in the TMNT Fandom and Lost Boys Fandom for my Tamsin and Chrysta! But I'm into more than just these shows. You can also find me scrolling around in...

The Tolkien universe, Fablehaven, 80s Horror slashers, indie horror games, Lackadaisy, Psych, Office, Eddsworld, Demon Slayer, Marvel, Spider-verse, Merlin, Invader Zim, Narnia, Animaniacs, and MANY more!

Find me on Discord under hyp0criticaltypewriter and Instagram hypocriticaltypwriter!

You can also see a few of my OCs and Other self Inserts as well here!

-Nancy Sullivan

-Gwendolyn

-Tammy Sullberry

-Talaney Anne Morris

-Parker Peterson

-Kana Rengoku [OC wip]

-Taiko Ayashi [OC wip]

-Amai Roberts [OC wip]

- Pam Suthers [Self insert wip]

-Evelyn Rose [Self insert wip]

-Nimzy [OC wip]

-Moonshire [OC wip]

🍒🩷About Me🩷🍒

My hobbies include baking, jewelry making, embroidery, drawing, writing, and singing! I enjoy very homey and crafty activities, especially things to do while relishing in my love for traveling and camping!

I'm usually comfortable with sharing F/Os, but feel free to talk to me if so! Sometimes, it depends on certain or specific F/Os!

I love meeting people, so feel free to talk to me! My inbox or messages are always open as long as you can be polite and respectful. Everyone is welcome, and my page is a safe place! I will not tolerate Proship, pedo, tcest/incest, racism, homophobia. Please DNI and or block me before I block you.

My blog is meant for ages 16+!

✍️Sideblogs✍️

@sentimentalkeyboard [original characters and writing]

@hypocriticalspicewrites [NSFW blog. 18+ ONLY please!]

🛼RP blogs🛼

@chrissiepop

@miss-nancy-sullivan

@leather-studded-emerson

@babe-of-your-nightmares

@shy-2-bite

@twisted-sisterz-number1

@daddys-precious-little-monster

@dead-n-hopeless

🩷✨️TAGS✨️🩷

🍒daily dose of cherry🍒 [all my art and writing will be found under this tag!]

🍒cherrys spice cabinet🔥 [spicy/NSFW art and writing tag]

fruitbats🦇🍒 [Lost Boys selship tag]

🎀CobraBaby🎀 [stand by me selfship tag]

🦇🤍White Wedding AU🤍🦇 [The Lost Boys AU tag]

❤️‍🔥Little Red Corvette❤️‍🔥 [Stranger Things selship tag]

🤘🏻🎸Most Excellent Tutor⚡️🤘🏼 💔🤖Bogus Babe🤖💔 [Bill and Ted movie Tags]

🍊💜 and tamsitello [ROTTMNT/TMNT selship tag]

the last hope au [for my ROTTMNT AU]

🩵blueflames❤️‍🔥 [demon slayer oc ship

💫💙starfire💚🔥 [demon slayer oc ship]

💙❤️tyrant-punk🩷🧡 [spiderverse selfship]

💚🐈‍⬛️kittypaws🐈🩵 [lackadaisy selfship]

❌️kordy🧡 [eddsworld selfship]

CITIZENS OF THE CHERRY CONATION STATION NATION YOU HAVE A NEW DECREE AND RULE: Any posts of my silly KIEFER SUTHERLAND or ALEX WINTER you are OBLIGATED to tag me 🫵 IF YOU DO NOT FOLLOW THE RULES YOU ARENT ALLOWED TO THE SLEEPOVER and you CAN'T watch LOST BOYS or BILL AND TED with US

[thefreakandthehair]

liam! it's your birthday! I'm so so so grateful for our friendship and I absolutely adore you! hope this little bit of fluff makes you smile! ilysm! @withacapitalp

Steve wakes up on the morning of his 20th birthday to find a warm beam of sunlight creeping in between the shades, rose gold and transparent against his skin. It slices him on a diagonal and smolders from the left side of his bare stomach to the right side of his forehead. He’s always loved the heat, and he can’t help but think that perhaps the sun was doing its best to signal the beginning of a good year— a Vecna-free year, a funeral-free year, an apocalypse-free year. Of course, he’s made this same wish on the morning of his last two birthdays too, but he staves off the pessimism in favor of hope. It’s a dangerous thing, hope, but Steve’s made a few dangerous decisions of late, so what’s one more?

The covers shift between his legs as he rolls to the side and untangles himself from the rogue sheet wrapped around his ankle. Dangerous, he thinks, as he drags himself into the bathroom and through his morning routine. Telling his friends he’s not as straight as they’d all thought might not have been dangerous in and of itself, but telling Eddie? Well, that feels dangerous. It feels like tiptoeing too close to a landmine, like packing up his heart into a convenient knapsack and walking out onto a tightrope. It feels like almost telling his crush he likes him, probably because he almost has no less than a dozen times. 

Lather forms as he massages shampoo into his scalp in small circles before rinsing and going back in with conditioner— twice, like always, as he thinks about the party tonight. Since it’s been out there, since Steve learned Eddie likes men and Eddie learned Steve likes men, Steve’s nearly blurted it out high, drunk, and sober alike and that is definitely dangerous. Well, okay, maybe risky is a better word, but it’s all semantics anyways. 

When they took the kids to the arcade the other day, he’d almost blurted it out at the skee-ball lane after watching Eddie help Max sink it right into the 50. When they sat around his pool the week before that, passing a joint back and forth as the stars twinkled above them, Steve’s brain had almost been cloudy enough to reach out and close the distance– to play with the curls that dipped into the crook of Eddie’s collarbone, or God, to hold his hand. When they sat around nearly a month ago, watching some terrible slasher movie Eddie chose called Return to Horror High, Steve’s dad’s whiskey was almost strong enough to let him invade Eddie’s personal space. Almost, again. 

So many almost’s, and not nearly enough finally’s, he thinks to himself as he dries off, gets dressed, and trudges into the kitchen. 

Maybe tonight could be a finally. 

read the rest on ao3!