#sandie collins x reader

[bi-bard]

She Moved with Shameless Wonder; The Perfect Creature Rarely Seen - Sandie Collins Imagine [Last Night in Soho]

Title: She Moved with Shameless Wonder; The Perfect Creature Rarely Seen

Pairing: Sandie Collins X Reader

Based On: Foreigner's God

Word Count: 1,087 words

Warning(s): murder (self-defense), violence

Summary: Sandie meets an unexpected kind soul. Little did she know how protective and stubborn that kind soul could become when they saw something wrong.

Author's Note: This is the second story I've written where Matt Smith just gets decked. And they've been different characters.

HOZIER [2014] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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Meeting Sandie for the first time was more of a coincidence than anything.

It started with me trying to simply be kind. To show an act of good faith to whatever new neighbors opened the door.

I had knocked on her door, only hearing muttering voices going back and forth on the other side of the door. I carefully balanced the plate I was carrying in one hand.

I almost felt shoved backward when the door opened.

There was no arguing that Sandie was gorgeous. She was easily the most beautiful person that I had ever laid eyes on. It was like a siren song. I had no choice other than to keep my focus solely on her.

I wasn't one to entertain the concept of fate, but I questioned it less harshly in that moment.

I tried to make it seem like I wasn't completely entranced by her. "H-Hi."

"Hi," she replied. Her voice was more inquisitive than mine. But I wasn't shocked by that.

"Sorry, I just... I moved in recently. Across the street," I vaguely motioned in that direction. "I wanted to introduce myself. Make a good impression."

She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Honestly, you've been the only person to answer."

I forced an awkward laugh as silence filled the space around us.

"Well, I made brownies," I continued. I awkwardly offered them to her. "I'm (Y/n)."

She took the plate from me. "Sandie."

"Nice to meet you."

That was when a man stepped out from behind the door.

"Oh, hello," I waved at him. "I'm (Y/n)."

He reached out to shake my hand. "Jack."

He made me uneasy.

Something about him seemed off. His smile seemed false. It felt like the charm he showed would cause some kind of light in his eyes. But they were... dark. Strangely dark. Like any kindness he showed was merely a shell hiding something much worse underneath.

I tried to hide the nervousness with a smile.

"I'll leave you both to enjoy those," I said. "If you ever need anything, then I'm just across the street. I'll usually answer."

They both nodded to me.

I walked away with one more wave.

I didn't have many conversations with Sandie or Jack after that day.

I saw Sandie quite often. She would be coming or going around the same time that I was. We would wave to each other. A small sign of good nature.

At first, she seemed to only do it out of politeness. I could tell by the tightness of her grin and the abruptness of her movements. I never took it personally. She may have had more to her story than I knew. I had no right to assume that I understood all of her thoughts.

Over time, she seemed to warm to me more.

Her smile softened. Her eyes too. Her waves would be far less stiff and awkward. An act of politeness turned into that of friendship and some kind of shared respect.

I never intended to interfere with Sandie's personal life.

I had all intention to keep to myself and allow her to make her own choices.

But everyone had personal limits for things like that.

My limit was met one night.

I had gotten home later than usual. I was about to go inside when I heard yelling across the street. It made me stop.

I had heard couples bickering before. But this just seemed... different. Something was pushing me to go over there. To do something.

It was so out of character for me. But I still did it.

No one would answer when I knocked. I moved and slammed my shoulder into it. I was alarmed at how easy it was for the door to open.

The yelling seemed to get even louder.

I recognized Sandie's voice first.

I panicked, running up the stairs to find her. The door to her room wasn't locked.

I opened it to find Jack and Sandie yelling in each other's faces. He had his hands wrapped around her wrists. They both paused, looking at me.

"What the hell are you doing," I asked.

"Get out," he snapped at me. He only let go of one of Sandie's arms, twisting it a bit as he stepped over to me. "This is none of your business."

"It became my business when you grabbed her," I replied.

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, it is!"

Sandie took the distraction as her chance to yank her arm out of his hand. That's when I spotted the knife nearby. My mind felt like it was going at the speed of light. What had he been planning that night?

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered.

He stepped closer to me.

I don't know what convinced me to do this, but I lifted my fist and punched him. It wasn't going to do much damage because I had never properly punched someone before, but it was enough to force him to stumble back a bit. I stepped forward, grabbing Sandie's hand.

"Come on," I told her.

Jack had already pulled himself back together, ignoring the blood running from his nostrils. He moved to grab at me.

I only managed to push him back. It felt like slow motion after that. All I truly saw was Sandie stabbing the knife into Jack's chest.

I went into shock after that.

She continued stabbing him. Over and over.

I didn't get my body to move for a moment. Not until I realized that Sandie was coated in blood and Jack was left on the floor. If he wasn't dead, then he would be soon.

I grabbed her arm. "Sandie, stop!"

She stopped moving when she felt my hand. She looked at me. Tears were built along the bottom of her eyes. She was shaking.

"It's over," I promised.

A sob escaped her. I carefully pulled her away from the body as I hugged her tightly.

"It's over, it's over," I kept repeating. "It's all done. You're okay."

I pressed a kiss to her head.

"Come on," I guided her to stand up. "We should get you cleaned up."

"What about him," she asked as we walked to the door.

I glared at him. "No one will miss him. Not really."

She took a deep breath.

"We'll take care of this," I continued. "I swear. We'll handle this. I'll protect you. As long as you're safe, I'll do anything."

She slowly nodded. "Thank you."

I let a grin pull at my lips. "Anything for you."

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Author's Note: I was trying to kind of hint that Eloise was there for this and had a hand in getting the reader over there for the fight. How'd I do?

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[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Perfect Stranger

Which was better – running off somewhere with a stranger like they had, or being left behind as an afterthought?

Rating: Mature, SFW Fandom: Last Night in Soho 2021 Pairing: Sandie Collins x GN!Reader Word count: 4.4K Content warnings: Alcohol consumption, some overstimulation (not the sexy kind), angst, fluff, making out, Reader is an anxious emotional mess because so am I AO3 Link: Here

Author’s Note: Heyyyyy first fic of 2023! I haven’t written anything substantial in a few months, so I figured, why not write something super self-indulgent to get back into the swing of things? I don’t see Sandie from Last Night in Soho getting much attention. But I love her. So this happened! I wrote this for myself and that shows in the reader’s behavior, but of course anyone can read this. For those of you who do, I hope you enjoy! Let’s go.

The club was blisteringly, overwhelmingly alive. An assault on every sense at once.

Jazzy music blared throughout the club, half-drowning out the loud chatter and shrill laughter of the other patrons. The sounds of glasses clinking and shoes tapping against the floor as people danced somehow managed to pierce through the noise and straight to your ringing eardrums. It was warm. Unbearably warm from the heat of crowded, moving bodies. There was already a fine sheen of sweat coating your skin and sticking to your clothes. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat and slid your hands against the cold exterior of your glass.

The cheer and raucousness was infectious, spreading from person to person like a disease of laughter and mirth.

But you remained untouched.

If anything, the joyous crowd only made you feel more alone.

You took a sip of your drink. It was still blessedly cool.

That was something, at least.

A nearby woman cackled with laughter at something her companion said. Someone grazed your back as they passed. You went stiff. Everything was vibrating inside of you. Your skin was too tight, too close, every little sensation was making it shrink further, making it harder to breathe.

Why did you even agree to come here in the first place?

Your friends probably wouldn’t notice if you left anyway. Sure, they were the ones who’d convinced you to dress in your best clothes and tag along. But they’d disappeared to dance with some pretty strangers a while ago. You hadn’t seen them since.

Had they forgotten about you?

The thought that made your heart dip.

They couldn’t have… could they?

Wait a little longer. See if they come back. They probably hadn’t forgotten you, they were just a bit occupied and had lost track of time having fun. Surely. Surely you could wait a little longer. Sit here and listen to the music and people and laughter and the squeak of shoes and rustle of beads and clicking of ice against glass and… the feel of your clothes sticking to your body as you roasted like a turkey… and tried very hard not to focus on the pounding in your head…

Your chest felt too small for your lungs.

“A tequila sunrise please.” The polished voice came from your left, and it came from startlingly close as an arm brushed your side.

You jerked at the sudden contact. The air left your body as every nerve jittered and screeched. With every noise and texture and bright light and melancholy thought ringing through your head, the words formed instant and bitter on your tongue – “Do you FUCKING mind? Can’t a bitch get some personal fucking space here?”

You snapped your head towards the patron next to you.

And immediately snapped it back shut. The words died on your tongue.

The most ethereal woman you had ever seen stared back at you. All sharp cheekbones and big brown doe eyes and blonde hair styled in a perfect up-do. Her dress was made of crimson beading that swayed and glittered with every movement, with a deep red lipstick to match. Even just the way she held herself was so inhumanly graceful. Even just raising a hand to brush a strand of hair out of the way, even just shifting her gaze to meet yours, was done with a wraithlike poise and grace.

You blinked at her.

“Sorry about that,” she said smoothly. She said it with such slick ease that coming from anyone else, it would’ve felt fake. But the look on her face was so openly sincere, you couldn’t help but believe her.

The blistering frustration quickly shriveled into nothing. Instead, a tinge of shame blossomed in your chest for getting so furious at a stranger over something so small.

“Nono, it’s fine, it’s totally fine,” you quickly assured her. You barely stopped yourself from apologizing to her instead. I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. My friends left me to go dance and probably fuck with strangers, and I wasn’t expected to run into YOU. I’m feeling deeply inadequate and lonely right now. Please don’t mind me.

She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you. And looked at you – really looked at you – in a way that made you feel like a bug pinned to a board.

The shame rose.

“Sorry, I…” You trailed off. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say.

Silence fell between you two.

She was a stranger to you. You were a stranger to her. You were two perfectly random strangers who had happened to bump into each other on a Friday night in a club that was practically busting at the seams with people. It did not matter that your skin felt too tight for your body. It did not matter that your chest was too tight for your lungs. It did not matter that you felt deeply, terrifyingly alone in that very moment. It did not matter that you felt inexplicably drawn to her, as if she was a lifeline cast out into the sea of people.

She was a complete stranger.

She had no obligation towards you.

Was a pretty face all it took to make your head spin? Really? Were you that desperate?

“Here you go, Miss.” The bartender slid the bright orange drink across the counter towards her. She grabbed it with nimble fingers, shot him a half-smirk and a “Thanks”, and made to move away.

Your heart hollowed. Faced with the utter loneliness in the blistering hell of the club, you squeezed your eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath. This was a mistake this was such a fucking mistake –

“Sandie.”

You startled, head snapping up to meet her gaze. She was, again, unexpectedly close to you. And, again, staring at you with an almost unnerving intensity.

Your mind whirled. “Huh?”

“Sandie,” she repeated. “My name is Sandie.”

She was talking to you. She had sat down next to you. She seemed intent on engaging you. A stranger.

Her name was Sandie.

You managed to get your own name out. She tilted her head slightly, thoughtfully, before taking a sip of her drink and speaking again.

“So.” Sandie propped her head against her hand, a casual gesture rendered oddly graceful. “What brings you to the café?”

“Um.” You fiddled with your drink as you tried to sort out your own thoughts. Relief and confusion warred inside of you. Your isolation had been so sharp that you’d internally begged her to stay, to take an interest in you. And now that she had… you couldn’t help but wonder why. Why you, of all people? “Well. My friends wanted to come here. And they convinced me to come too. Uh. They wanted to let loose and have some fun. I mean, it is a Friday night, after all. Perfect time for it, right?”

“Everyone else certainly seems to think so.” She cast a critical eye towards the dancing and laughing crowd, releasing you from her intensity for just a moment. You drew in a shaky, nervous breath.. Then she turned back to you, pinning you again. “So where are your friends?”

Ah. Yeah.

That.

You swallowed past the little lump that had formed in your throat. “They’re…” They were out doing God knows what with a bunch of strangers after tossing you away at the first convenience. As if you were nothing more than a candy wrapper, a formality. “They’re somewhere. Dancing. Probably.”

You twisted around, scanning the crowd for their faces or a flash of a familiar color. Surely, they were somewhere…

…How long had you been sitting here?

“Ahhh.”

You turned back to her, frowning. “What?” She had a knowing look on her face all of a sudden.

She took another delicate sip from her drink. How did she manage to make every little motion and gesture look so effortlessly graceful?

“Let me guess. They’re off pursuing boys and left you here all alone.”

You flinched. Well, when she said it aloud like that…

It really was quite sad and pathetic, wasn’t it? You could see the pity shining in her eyes. It grated against something inside of you.

What did you even want at this point?

You tore your gaze from her. There were too many emotions broiling inside you to recognize. Everything was just… too much. The music and laughter suddenly seemed so much louder, so much more grating, clawing against your eardrums and your brain.

“I don’t want your pity,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not giving you my pity,” she said, tone sharp as a knife.

A tingle crept up your spine as you caught a glimpse of something else behind the pretty, polished exterior. Something that gave you pause, something that made your heart beat a little faster.

…Maybe you’d been wrong. Maybe it hadn’t been pity in her eyes. Maybe it had been something else, something closer to the thoughtful, calculated gleam that shone there now. Or even if it had been pity, there was no trace of it there now.

“I’m offering you a way out of here. Unless you think your friends are coming back.”

Uncertainty settled low in your gut.

Did you? Did you really think they’d come back? And if they did… how long would it take?

Which was better – running off somewhere with a stranger like they had, or being left behind as an afterthought?

“Okay.” The word left out your mouth before you could overthink it.

Sandie’s painted-red lips curved upward. “Well then.” She offered a hand, fingers unfurling. “Shall we?”

You paused. Just for a moment.

Fuck it.

You took her hand.

What else was there to do?

A flash of a smile was all you caught before she pulled you off the barstool with far more strength than you’d been expecting. Your heart flew into your throat as you left your half-finished drinks behind. Your mind whirled with worries and what-ifs. What if your friends came back what if this went terribly wrong what if you were setting yourself up for disappointment–?

The two of you wove through the crowd. Ducked whirling dancers and thrown out arms and people who didn’t bother to look where they were going. A few elbows and hands managed to bump into you, sending a startled spike of adrenaline through your nerves. Sandie, on the other hand, seemed almost untouchable, gliding past people effortlessly as the crowd seemed to part for her.

She hauled you through the crowd, past the dance floor, up the stairs. You caught a glimpse of your reflections along the mirrored walls, meeting your own wide-eyed gaze.

And then, in the blink of an eye, you were outside. Bursting through the doors of the club, out of the suffocating warmness and ceaseless noise and into the wet, cool night. The drum of falling rain swallowed the noise of Soho. The glow of lights and neon signs was diffused by the torrent, and the people were scarce, scurrying to and fro under umbrellas and coats and seeking shelter in any shop or restaurant they could find.

The cold rain was a balm against your heated, sticky skin. Every ounce of tension melted from your body. Unable to resist, you closed your eyes and tipped your head back. Rain streamed down your face, down your scalp and neck and against your eyelids. You soaked in the chill and the white noise. And the strange feeling of freedom that replaced the weight on your shoulders. You felt like you could breathe again.

God.

It was sheer bliss.

You felt a tug on your arm and opened your eyes. Sandie was smiling. In a way that was different than in the club – wider and freer and… genuine. But with that knowing look that had been there before.

“Come on,” she shouted over the rain. “I’m going to take you someplace better.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see!”

She tugged on your arm again, and you followed, picking up speed to match her near-run. Alarm bells went off in your head – it was raining and dark and wet, what if you slipped? But she maneuvered you with the same ease she had in the club, as if she knew every step to a dance you weren’t privy to.

She shot a glance back at you, her expression filled with playful delight. It was infectious, and you found yourself grinning back at her, a laugh threatening to escape you. You ran down the sidewalks, splashing through puddles and giggling together like a couple of children playing in the rain.

You felt so damn free.

What was it about her, about this person you’d met maybe ten minutes ago, that made you want to grow wings and fly through the streets? What was it about her that made you feel like you were doing that exact thing right now?

A chance encounter. That’s all it had been. An unusual chance encounter.

But it had quickly become… something else entirely. It wasn’t necessarily unwelcome.

She stopped with no warning. You nearly crashed right into her, the beads of her dress rustling as you did so. It looked like a dress of blood in the dark, each strand of beads moving and glittering like falling rivulets.

She was… really pretty.

Sandie half-turned to meet your gaze. You were far closer than was appropriate, and you quickly stepped back. Warmth unfurled in your cheeks.

“Here we are,” she said.

You frowned. You didn’t see a sign of any kind. Hidden perhaps by the darkness. But a warm glow emanated from the large window in front of you. A counter, loaves of bread and various desserts, black and white tile floors and pastel pink walls…

“Where’s here?”

She didn’t quite answer. Instead, she slid her hand to your upper arm, leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. “Someplace special.”

Sandie guided you inside. A bell chimed as the door swung open, and you were hit by the warmth of the place compared to the icy rain outside. Unlike the club, which had been warm in a sticky, oppressive way, this place was warm like a hug welcoming you in. The smell of fresh bread and butter and cinnamon flooded your senses. There were only a few people here – two people behind the counter and a young man sitting alone in the corner, reading a newspaper and eating a cinnamon roll. Sandie shot him a strange look, eyes narrowing and lip curling just barely. A half-formed question was stopped short when she looked back to you, expression suddenly serene and confident.

Once again, you were struck by just how stunning she was. Even with her hair sticking to her neck and exposed shoulders, even with her makeup starting to run a bit. And how confident she was, as if she knew how she looked and how people – you – reacted to her.

You nervously smoothed your own clothes down. You were sure you looked like a drowned animal in comparison. The warmth of the place only made you more aware of how soaked you were, and how you were dripping rain all over the shiny floors. You winced.

Well, that was certainly the downside to getting wet. The wetness.

“Sandie! Is that you girl?” the 50-something woman behind the counter asked. “You’re going to catch your death running out in the rain like that.” She squinted disapprovingly at you two. You shied under her unfamiliar gaze, but Sandie seemed completely undeterred.

“Oh I can handle the sniffles for a few days.” Sandie pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face and gave the woman a confident smirk. “It would be the least of my problems.”

You frowned. What did that mean?

“It’d make your problems a lot worse,” the woman countered.

Sandie gave a delicate half-shrug, as if to say, Oh well.

The woman’s stern expression shifted to you, then. You fought to keep from fidgeting uncomfortably or shrinking further under her gaze. Though the hand still on your arm soothed you, somewhat. More than it should have, really.

“Who’s your friend?”

Sandie introduced you with the confidence and ease of introducing a long-time acquaintance. It sent a spark of warmth through your insides. “We met at the Café de Paris and decided it wasn’t quite our crowd tonight. Thought it would be better here.”

The woman snorted. “Well I’m no Café de Paris, but you’re perfectly welcome. Especially in this weather.” Her expression softened, just slightly, “What can I get for you two?”

Sandie turned to you. “Any requests?” she asked coyly.

“Um.” Act normal for once goddammit. You glanced at the rows of breads and pastries on display. French loaves, cinnamon rolls, croissants, scones, tarts, pies, cupcakes, cream puffs, things you didn’t know the names of and things you didn’t even recognize – there were so many options, and they all had your mouth watering. “I… don’t know. There’s a lot to choose from…”

“Alright then.” She eyed the display. “How about something simple, then?” She paused. “A cupcake?”

“Sure.” Couldn’t really go wrong with a cupcake.

The woman nodded and gestured to the younger person beside her. They grabbed a couple of cupcakes, Sandie dug around the small handbag she’d been carrying and paid, and you retrieved your treats. The older woman plugged the money into a cash register as you bit into your cupcake.

Soft, warm, sweet. Just a cupcake. Nothing fancy. But perfectly comforting nonetheless.

“Well? What do you think?” Sandie raised her eyebrows at you expectantly. A little hopefully, even. You got the distinct sense that she really, really wanted you to like this place.

And… you did. You felt calmer more at ease. The pounding in your head and buzzing in your veins had faded almost completely. Running through the rain, going to a bakery, spending time with a pretty girl. Such quiet, ordinary things compared to the glitzy, hellish ostentatiousness of the Café de Paris. Small and soothing and more intimate. It was exactly what you’d needed.

And somehow, she had known it.

Just by looking at you and talking to you for a few minutes.

“It’s… it’s perfect.” You hesitated, heart rate picking up, before gently, cautiously placing your free hand on her arm, just as she’d done before. She didn’t shy away, didn’t shrug you off. If anything, she seemed to lean towards you, just a little bit. Just enough that you questioned whether you’d imagined it.

Your face grew warm despite yourself. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you said quickly. “It’s nice. Really nice, actually.”

The beads of Sandie’s dress rustled as she shifted a little, leaned in just a little bit more. You definitely weren’t imagining that. “I thought you could use a change of scenery. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world.”

Ohhh wonderful. You had been obvious, hadn’t you?

“How did you know?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’ve been there. Different circumstances but… I recognized the look on your face. I’ve seen it the mirror quite a bit myself.” A delicate shrug. A concerning seriousness to her expression.

You were again reminded that she was a stranger. Someone you knew nothing about. You had no idea who she really was, no idea what she’d been through or experienced.

And yet she had dragged you out of your little hell and run through the rain with you and brought you here.

You tried to ignore the emotion fluttering inside your chest.

“Well… thank you. Again. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I have one other place I want to take you.”

“Where?”

She discarded her cupcake wrapper into a small trash bin, and exchanged a quick thank you and goodbye with the woman behind the counter.

Then you were back out in the freezing cold rain. The warmth of the bakery evaporated in an instant. A stab of regret went through your heart – why did you have to leave, it was so warm and nice in there – but quickly vanished as the rush of freedom and caress of rain returned. You ran through the streets, giggling and casting glances at each other. With most people cooped up inside to escape the downpour, it was as if you two were the only ones in the world.

It certainly felt that way. If the nervous flurry of your heart was anything to go by.

Sandie came to a sudden stop, dragging you into a covered doorway and pressing you against the old wooden door. Your pulse skyrocketed, cheeks flaring with heat as her gaze bore into you. Unable to bear her intensity, you scrambled for something else to stare at, fixing your gaze over her shoulder long enough to see that the colorful neon lights and glowing display windows had shifted into a quieter, more residential area. There wasn’t another soul in sight.

She planted a hand on the door, just by your shoulder. Half-trapping you in, even as her other hand delicately held yours. Your gaze, inevitably, wandered back to her.

She looked at you through her eyelashes. A faint blush had spread over her cheeks, and her rain-disheveled hair and slightly-smudged makeup made her seem just a little bit wilder. That hidden something peeked back out behind the curtain. Something just a little bit dangerous, a little bit strangely morbid. A thrill went up your spine at the thought.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, slightly out of breath, “that I’m imagining things.”

“Wh–”

Her fingers curled under your chin, her grip firm but delicate. Forcing you to hold her gaze as your heart hammered so loud you were sure she could hear it.

“And don’t you dare think that I haven’t noticed.”

Your mind whirled, unable to land on a coherent thought. “Noticed what?”

“You. And how you’ve been looking at me.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted. “I didn’t mean to be creepy or anything, you’ve just been so nice and–” And beautiful and stunning and unreal and gorgeous and genuine and actually made an effort for me when so many others haven’t and I just feel some kind of connect–

“Stop.” Two fingers pressed against your lips to silence you. Your thoughts came to an immediate, screeching halt. “I’ve been looked at quite a lot, believe me. You weren’t creepy.” Her gaze flickered down to where her fingers met your lips, and her voice softened. “You weren’t anything of the sort.”

If you burned any hotter, you were going to burst into flames. From embarrassment or something else… you weren’t sure.

She looked down at your lips again, her own parting slightly. She leaned in.

The doorway and the nighttime rain offered a veil to hide you from prying eyes.

Her lips met the corner of your mouth. Gentle, feather-light. More of a slow, lingering brush of skin than a proper kiss. But it stole your breath anyway, made you freeze where you stood as your heart thundered in your ears.

You couldn’t have moved if you wanted to.

Not that you wanted to be anywhere else in the world but here, now, with her breath caressing your lips and the faint scent of sweet perfume enveloping your senses.

She leaned back, just a little, enough to peer at your face and gauge your reaction. Almost by accident, your hands flew out and caught her waist. Keeping her in place. An apology was half-formed on your tongue before you’d even finished the motion. But it withered at her sudden inhale and her hands cupping your face.

She was warm. Warm warm warm, a beacon of warmth and light and something dangerously alluring.

A tiny smile graced her lips. “There you are. Isn’t that better?”

You had to agree. Not that you were really given a chance to, because she was already leaning in again. Your eyes fluttered shut as you met her this time.

Soft and warm. Her lipstick just a little tacky from wear and rain. She moved her mouth against yours, as if wordlessly murmuring against your skin, and you were powerless to do anything but follow her lead. Her hands gently cradled your face. Your own fingers curled into the beaded strings of her dress.

You felt dizzy. Deliciously, pleasantly dizzy.

She was addicting.

Sandie tilted her head, just a little, changing the angle and deepening the kiss. You readily let her tongue press into you, let her slowly, sweetly explore you. She tasted like the icing of the cupcakes you had gotten, as well as something else, something barely-there but stronger and richer.

You whimpered a little. If you hadn’t been pressed against the door and desperately holding onto her, you would’ve collapsed by now. You were certain.

She broke the kiss long enough to hush you. You shivered again and pulled her in tighter, enclosing her in your arms as much as you could. Warm fingers slid from your cheek down to your neck. Her thumbs brushed your jaw.

You had just met her. But your head was spinning enough that, for a moment, you really thought you might be in love with her.

Calm down. Take a breath. Breathe. Don’t do something stupid and weird her out.

Sandie tilted her head, examining your face. She pursed her lips slightly. “I have a feeling you think too much.”

An awkward laugh escaped you. “Yeah… you could say that.”

“Well.” She paused, as if thinking over her next words. “This is where I live.” She nodded to the door behind you. “Unless you have somewhere else to be… you could always come in for a while.”

Your stomach fluttered at the invitation. She knew very well that you had nowhere else to be. That’s why she’d grabbed you in the first place. You had zero obligations to the friends who’d abandoned you for their own pretty strangers. And you had a strange feeling that if you said no, you would part ways and never see her again. It was an odd, uneasy feeling that crept up your spine to your neck.

But if you said yes…

You debated. And then you decided.

You were the one to lean in this time, to capture her lips in a kiss and make her sigh against you. It made you stomach twist itself into knots, made your heart stutter. Made you take in a nervous breath when you parted.

“I think that would be nice, actually,” you said softly.

Sandie smiled. Beautiful and genuine and with just an edge of hesitant hopefulness. The only sign of hesitance you’d seen from her all night. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest and into her hands right there and then.

A chance with the perfect stranger you’d met at the club.

Just a chance.

[stitched-mouth]

I’m in my era of writing smut with murderers

[lunaserenade]

Safeguard

Masterlist

Author’s Note: Set directly after Clandestine, As always thanks to @violentcosmicsymphony​ and @briefgalaxycat​ for beta reading and enduring my rambling. The two of you are wonderful and I adore you guys.

Part four of the Meet Me at Sunrise series:

Previous Chapter: Clandestine

Next Chapter: Wanderlust

Pairing: Marcus Pike x FBI!Reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Light violence and swearing

Summary: Securing a meeting with the forger, the undercover mission comes to a head.

Tall with sandy blonde hair, broad shoulders, and high cheekbones Christian Laurent was an attractive man if you didn’t know who he really was. Underneath the expensive suit and charm was a ruthless psychopath with a great deal of blood on his hands. Christian's eyes raked over your body and as his eyes met yours you had to suppress a shiver and instead give him a winning smile.

“Mr. Laurent, it’s nice to meet you.” Marcus said, his voice warm but he had seen how Christian had looked at you, sliding an arm around your waist loosely.

“The pleasure is all mine. Alexandria said your wife was looking to purchase one of my paintings?” Christian said peeling his eyes from you.

“Indeed, we want to add it to our private collection. I'm willing to pay handsomely for it.” Marcus said, studying Christian carefully.

“I could arrange that. Anything to make the wife happy, right?” Christian replied with a smirk you wished you could knock off his smug face.

“My husband loves to give extravagant anniversary presents.” You said fondly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“My assistant will set up the details with Alexandria, I look forward to doing business with you.” Christian gestured to a large man standing off to the side. If that man was an assistant, you were a damn astronaut. Burly and easily over six foot he was clearly Laurent's muscle. Laurent raked his eyes over your body one last time before he gave you both a nod and swept off into the crowded gala.

---------------

Laurent had insisted on showing his gallery to you and Marcus, saying he had the painting there anyway. It instantly made you uneasy and that's how you found yourself in a tank top strapping on a bullet proof vest before putting a loose button up shirt over it. The buy was this evening and Marcus was briefing Price and Collins, it should be straight forward: You and Marcus would meet with Christian Laurent at his gallery and exchange cash for the forged painting. When Price and Collins heard the go word on the wire, they would raid the gallery, arresting Laurent and his associate. Finally, after long months of work the team would get this dangerous man and his cronies behind bars. You would be relieved when this night was over, and all of this was behind everyone.

“Are you ready for this?” Marcus reached out and touched your arm. You let out a soft sigh, nodding. You reached out and lightly touched his chest, feeling his vest hidden under a black henley.

“I'll be a lot happier when we're on our way back to D.C.” You admitted. Pulling on a jacket and grabbing your Glock, you and the team headed out of the small apartment and out into the chilly autumn air.

---------------

Stepping into Christian Laurent's gallery felt just as unsettling as you thought it would be, there were too many hidden corners for your liking. Christian stood in the middle of the room with his 'assistant' next to him, the painting that you were going to use to put this monster behind bars at his feet. You took Marcus' hand, intertwining your fingers, and approached Laurent. In your free hand you had what felt like the world's biggest cliché: a briefcase filled with cash.

“Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Ramos.” Laurent greeted the pair of you.

“You have a very nice set up here Mr. Laurent.” You observed while your eyes scanned the room for threats under the pretense of being impressed by his collection. You were fairly sure half of these were his own works, forgeries that could only be spotted by the best of art experts.

“You're too kind Mrs. Ramos, Perhaps I'll have another painting you'll be interested in, in the future.” Laurent continued.

“We come through New York occasionally, perhaps we'll have to visit again.” Marcus agreed, “Perhaps we should get down to business, I promised Daniela a night on the town.”

“Of course. I have the painting here,” he gestured for his associate to exchange the painting with Marcus for the briefcase filled with cash.

“Three hundred thousand as agreed, you'll find it all there.” Marcus stated handing it over and taking the painting.

“Of course. I hope to do business in the future with the pair of you.” Laurent replied with a nod.

“Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Laurent” You affirmed and that was it. The team had their go ahead. Five seconds later they burst in, shouts of “FBI! PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” bellowing from Price and Collins as they entered guns drawn with several other agents at their heels.

That's when you saw it. The metal of a gun catching the light as a third man emerged from a dark corner towards Marcus' back as time seemed to slow. Reaching for your gun you took a step between Marcus and the armed intruder. You weren't sure which registered with you first, the flash from the muzzle of the gun or the sound but you definitely felt it. Two shots directly to the abdomen, knocking you off your feet. Marcus spun and fired twice taking down the gunman with ease. Price and Collins took Laurent and his partner into custody as other agents swept the building. Marcus dropped to his knees next to you in a panic.

“Damn it.” you coughed, struggling to catch your breath, the impact of the shot having knocked the wind out of you.

“I need paramedics!” Marcus shouted as he pulled back your jacket searching for injury. “Are you hurt?!”

“I'm alright,” you replied, sitting up with a wince. Seeing the unbridled panic in his eyes you continued “Really Marcus, the vest caught the rounds.” you reassured hyper-aware of the potential audience the pair of you had.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Marcus' hands shook as he helped you strip off the layers you wore over your body armor. You reached for his hand as he started to pull at the velcro of your vest.

“Marcus I'm fine.” You murmured as you reached for his hand.

“But you so easily couldn't have been,” he insisted in a fierce whisper so only you could hear him. “I don't think I could live with myself if something happened to you because of me.” You gave his hand a squeeze, trying to calm him.

“Marcus...” you were interrupted by the arrival of the paramedics. Marcus gingerly helped you to your feet and assisted you in removing your vest, dropping it to the floor. The paramedics insisted on fussing over you despite your protests. After a short examination it seemed there was no major injury, possibly a bruised rib and you had a massive bruise in your future but otherwise you came out unscathed. Marcus called out to the rest of your team, asking Price and Collins to handle the arrests and finish up while he took you to the hospital, ignoring your grumbles of just wanting to go home.

After an entirely too long of a visit to the hospital for your liking you were cleared, you and Marcus made your way back to DC. The months of work had finally come to fruition, all you wanted was to crawl into your own bed and rest with Marcus at your side.

---------------

Sunrise, especially here on the steps of the Lincoln Monument, had become something special that you and Marcus liked to share together. At this early hour in the morning, it felt private, almost as if the gorgeous orange and pink hues that were spreading across the sky was a rare painting made just for the pair of you. You sat between Marcus’ stretched out legs, your back pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist as you reflected on the last few days. The gala, the facade of being married to Marcus, and how close you came to losing him. The mere idea of losing him had shook you to your core and you honestly couldn’t fathom how you would be able to survive that.

Marcus pressed a kiss to your shoulder and another to your temple, stirring you out of your self-reflection.

“What’s going on up there?” His words echoing yours from so many months ago, the first morning the two of you had spent on these steps. Taking a deep breath you shifted slightly so you could see his face clearly, giving him an adoring smile.

“I... I love you Marcus.” You had known you were hopelessly in love with him for some time but were terrified to tell him too soon. He had been through so much and you hadn’t wanted to scare him off. The massive smile that broke across his face told you instantly those worries had been for naught. He captured your lips in a tender kiss, soft but passionate. Resting his forehead against yours he smiled.

“I love you too...” Marcus said, lightly kissing the tip of your nose. “I love you so much.”

tagged: @diva-1992​, @yespolkadotkitty​​, @sarahjkl82-blog​​, @seasonschange-butpeopledont​, @mrsparknuts​​, @disgruntledspacedad​​, @mrschiltoncat​

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags. 💕

[werezmastarbucks]

more like honeymoon [1]

stuck in the prison world together with kai, and it turns out to be awesome

kai parker x reader (ER)

word count: ~4160

warnings: mentions of suicide, suicide, graphic violence, glorification of violence

music: right in the text + darkside by iann dior and travis barker

DON’T WORRY BE HAPPY by Bobby McFerrin segment

You danced, while making sandwiches. This kitchen rocked. They had... they used to have about four hundred types of cheese.

The only thing they lacked seemed to be black bread, so you were forced to make one yourself. Kai was a bit grumpy about it since he wanted to move on to the library, and you got stuck in this hotel. He ended up going without you, while you had a go at making bread, and returned with a hip of books that he threw around in the lobby. He moved all the cozy puffed armchairs together and created a neat nest that didn’t seem to have an end, right in the middle. You were still getting used to how incredibly stylish everything was back in ‘94. The year was absolutely special to you, and you couldn’t have wished for a better year to get stuck in. The best music was already out, the fashion was on its peak, and they already thought of creating relatively skinny jeans - not the kind you enjoyed in the new world, but not the baggy horror of the eighties, either.

It’s been one month and a half that you stayed in the prison world, and it was going very well. So far, it felt to you like a long prepaid holiday with absolutely no restrictions. You were breaking into houses and raided supermarkets, you could visit any cafe and any shop, Kai changed cars every day unless it was a Chevy; maybe there was something dramatically wrong with your head, you had no way of knowing.

You were spreading California cheese on fresh, still warm slice of black bread, dancing goofily to music, and chopping tomatoes.

Kai was resting like a little birdie among the expensive cushions which you knew he’d spot with the tomatoes or the cheese, and you still brought the food out. He gasped, excited, and threw the books away, and you stuffed your faces.

Every day, which was the same day again and again, you discovered the new shades of good in him which was frankly unthinkable before. Kai Parker good; but it seemed like being back in prison either broke him completely, or, more likely, put him back into the environment he knew well. Sooner or later you work out your comfort zone; some people, spending years in imprisonment, learn to live and enjoy the place. Not because they’re weak, but because it’s a survival instinct. Kai’s survival instinct was unbelievably strong.

You listened to music and traveled, and every day you asked yourself when the horror will settle in, and it still didn’t. Looked like, with the right company, and the whole world to explore, the magical prison world could seem like a resort.

COME WITH ME by Phil Collins segment

You were standing on the edge of the Canyon. Kai was holding your hand, clearly thinking about something.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before”, he muttered.

You were considering other things.

“Where’s the path again?”

“Right there, where the river turns. There’s a narrow way between the rocks that leads up”.

He looked at you. The sun was slowly going up, climbing over the red mountains, coloring them in insane shades.

“We don’t have to do it, if you’re afraid”.

His face gave a mocking expression as he squeezed your hand lightly.

“I’m not afraid”.

“Then just do it. I gotta say, the first thing I’ll do when we get out, I will marry you”.

You got distracted from your thoughts by this. You looked at him. The rising sun was coloring him, too. Kai had that kind of face which you always wanted to hold. It was just so... holdable.

“You fucking with me?”

He shook his head with a smile.

“No. This place doesn’t even feel like a prison anymore. I love it. Because of you”.

Of course he loved it. He had the whole planet at his disposal, but he wasn’t alone anymore. He still had magic from the merge, and he was high and lovestruck. He was about to jump from the Grand Canyon and fall to death, and then come back and continue his journey.

You’d asked him before which way to die was the most painful. This was about to be your first time dying. Before that, you only witnessed people die.

He said being crashed by a car slowly was probably objectively the most painful. He has never set himself on fire because he wasn’t crazy.

The irony completely escaped him.

Feeling your joints tear, and bones shatter, and all, that’s the worst. But psychologically, suicide was scarier. Knowing that it’s your own hands doing that. Falling from a height like that, there was danger of breaking something and staying alive for a fragment of a second, being horrified by the violent collision with the sharp pieces of rocks, but you wouldn’t probably even notice. Jumping from the Canyon was your idea, and that was why he got so inspired.

You looked at each other. Dying together is fucking symbolic, and this world rocked. For a second there you thought, even if you didn’t know you would resurrect, you would still jump, as long as his hand was holding yours.

You interlocked your fingers not to lose each other too soon, and hopped down. The air whistled and howled in your ears as you fell down. It’s nothing like flying, you thought with disappointment. And too fast, as well. You see nothing but the racing red stone. The feeling of being free is still good, until you crash into the first step of the hard mountain, crushing your skull in several pieces.

The Grand Canyon didn’t hear you two die, it was too big.

It took you the whole day to get out, but it was okay because the next day was the same again.

HEARTS IN FLAMES by Red 7 segment

And the next one. And the next. You discovered something you kinda know, but can’t fathom completely until you actually go there: on the other side of the world, it began with night, because it was the eleventh of May after midnight. Somewhere, the time was going further, and somewhere it was slower.

You rode down the long sandy and stone roads in the deserts, and sped as much as you could, not afraid to crash. You ate at any place you wanted to, Kai showed you the ‘secret’ recipe of making the McDonald’s fries, and he cooked it so well you didn’t see any difference. The process looked disgusting, and you knew, once you got out, you’d never go to McDonald’s again.

Once we get out became a kind of a proverb, a catchphrase you used, hopeful and indefinite, and light-hearted. Neither of you really suffered or felt confined in here; you didn’t know when you’d get out, really, because this time the Mystic Falls gang seemingly made sure Kai never has a chance to walk the earth again. You were just there when they tried to send him away, and you wouldn’t have it.

There are several most important moments in a person’s life, and you knew, in a weird way, that was when you and him got absoultely, ultimately connected. It was your chance to stand up for him for once, and, more importantly, to show him that there is somebody after all who refuses to give up on Malachai. So they sent you away, too. Clutching hands together, as you held his open wound, because Kai kicked and bit better than anybody else you knew, and they had to stab him first, you flew away in a tunnel of white light, didn’t feel anything, and it was ‘94 again.

Once we get out had all kinds of plans you weren’t sure you’d fulfill. Like marrying, and getting a car, and moving away from Mystic Falls. Settling down in New Orleans was yours, and burning New Orleans down to the ground was his, because he didn’t want to live there.

Once we get out was a point in the future very vague and distant, because, three months since you landed in the front lawn of the Salvatore mansion in the past, you had only a spell that was useless without Bennett blood. Somebody, whoever hid the spell, overestimated its importance hugely, and went a very hard way to secure it. Kai found it in Florence, of all places. He couldn’t speak any Italian, and your saying you’re fluent in French only made him chuckle with adoration. Do not let it fool you, his adoring chuckle only meant he thought you were a silly creature. French is no use because it’s Italy, bella, he said. Your ass started arguing that a lot is similar in the languages, and he shut you out with jokes. Then went into the library. You preferred to spend time in the streets, cruising around and remembering everything Anne Rice used to write into them.

The spell was scribbled on the piece of yellow paper and put into The Name of Rose. The backup spell which allegedly could go round the whole blood routine. Kai tried it and nothing happened. You weren’t even that sorry, and you both looked at each other long, promising you would keep looking. But honestly...

The whole world. It was yours.

YOU GOT IT by Roy Orbison segment

You had to carry a big bag with you now with the clothes you ‘stole’ from shops because, even though you could change every day, there were still a couple of things you refused to let go of. Kai was trying to teach you to travel light, but the whole life spent in a usual world still had a hold on you.

You realized you liked sweet life, you liked staying at the big houses where the rich people of ‘94 used to live, with all the rich things they had. The pools were the same, and the mini bars, too. May was warm and sunny, especially so in warm and tropical places, and only in Madrid it constantly rained, again and again.

You realized you still had an overall petrifying respect for the pieces of art, but the prison world was an amazing chance to push your limits. Whatever you destroyed, returned back on its place the next day, because it was the same day. You watched Kai swing a bat at Venus herself. The poor gal didn’t have arms for all you knew. He had no mercy for her. Everything here was like a video game. Kai only did it to show you what it feels like. It seemed like he was determined to use this opportunity to make you completely liberate yourself, but something had a hold on him, too.

You danced a lot, you found it especially romantic to dance in the dim lights of the evening in the hotel lobbies. You could choose anything, anywhere, and yet, so it happened that when you finally got tired of traveling non-stop, you found yourselves in Las Vegas. Kai said, awesome, this city has the best hotels. You really doubted that.

But nothing was better than dancing with him, foreheads touching, in the empty, well-furnished space of the Cesar Palace, and sing to each other. Without other people constantly interrupting, the time and schedules, other faces triggering hatred or anxiety in him, it became so easy to just be with each other. You were high on the free wealth, the opportunities this empty planet provided. You had no idea how much Kai was really enjoying it.

The feeling of closeness was overwhelming, even you felt that. Sometimes you wouldn’t be able to let go of each other for days; Kai kept his journal he understandably abandoned once he got out of here the first time. Now, it was its second go. By the time you have finally had sex to every single song in your 576 songs playlist, it’s been seven months in the prison world.

Las Vegas was cool but it was a desert. However, the desert was simply magical at the end of the day, when the heat settled down, and the dense air cooled a little. You’d drive down the avenues of the empty city to look at the dark and lit buildings. Some of them looked occupied, but there was nobody. You never understood what determined which windows were lit.

CLOSE TO YOU by Maxi Priest segment

“Sometimes I was thinking about killing you”.

You’d be more surprised if Kai had never thought of it. When you love someone, you think about killing them constantly. The one option you never tried before left, which is an absolute no go. The forbidden apple of relationship, the ultimate joy of possession, feeling as the life drains from the one you love. You wondered if it would be scarier than jumping off the Canyon if he killed you. You didn’t know if that was Kai poisoning your mind already, or it was what made you two click in the first place.

“Now you have the chance”, you said. He looked a you, cocking his head, and examined you as if trying to understand if you’re joking.

“You want me to kill you?”

Uttering it was still a little bit too much. You were nervous about falling down that rabbit hole where the whole pushing the borders experiment turns into bloody twisted chaos, and you end up like the children from Gummo. Senseless, pointless violence, filthy, dictated only by lust or ignorance. Kai was far from that still. He was essentially hurt and curious, not filthy. He was bold in the ways he professed his violence. But there’s always this danger of going too far and not being able to pick yourself up anymore.

“I mean, it would be good for you. You know what your cravings do to you if you don’t let the steam off from time to time. Now you can kill me safely and close that door”.

He was thinking about it quietly.

“I’m not interested in hurting you anymore”.

It sounded like a song.

But he listened to you, and listened well.

“By the way, if I can kill you, then you can kill me, too”.

Your head snapped towards him.

“I know you”, he chuckled, “you always wanted blood. But you’ve never killed anybody, have you?”

You shook your head no. Kai was like a serpent playing disinterest, but you could see the tip of his tongue split two ways, showing through his sharp teeth as he spoke.

“It’s a changing experience. Nothing quite like it, a good exercise”.

“Did you actually enjoy hurting others?”

“It felt necessary”, he said simply. “I woud die if I didn’t. Better them than me”.

You looked at him blinking slowly. He was a textbook killer you’ve read about millions of times. The philosophical question of whether that darkness that pushes them towards violence has the bottom and end was still unanswered in the future. You yourself had some gems of unanswered mysteries inside of you. Why were you so attracted to this boy, what made you want to stick with him so much? Why this obsession with being the only one who cares for him? Momma complex much? The saint redeemer? He was just so so cute and murderous and that was it. Maybe you did come from a completely cursed generation after all.

“How would you do it?” Kai asked. You were sitting on the porch of a suburbs house you chose to squat in by the way. It was your ‘pretending like you’re middle class’ week.

“Stab you”, you replied, without thinking. “You?”

“I’ll choke you”, he responded, looking at you. You noted how he didn’t use the conditional, but the future. He has made his mind up.

He took his time, though, trying to intrigue, or unnerve you, perhaps. It’s been about two weeks, or even a month, and you almost thought he forgot about it, which wouldn’t be atypical of him. His thoughts were all over the place.

You really loved this house, resembling any house from a 90s sitcom, with that big family couch in the living room which had the way right into the kitchen.

You finished doing the dishes and put the last plates away. Kai usually cooked, and you did the cleaning, all was fair. He appeared silently, wrapping his hands around your waist, and distracted you with heated kisses. They were heated literally, like he had a fever; you turned to feel his skin, and drowned in the kiss. You felt the itchy hot wave coming up, as his hands slid down your hips, and suddenly, his fingers were on your throat. He broke the kiss, leaving your mouth open, and the next second his face was cold, eyes black like two pieces of coal and you recognized that old Kai whom you met at the Grill. While he was still pretending to be fun, pretending to be nice, before you two got together.

His palms closed on your neck and your brain went in overrun. A part of you knew that was something you had discussed beforehand, and he even chose the right time, just after the sunset, when the kitchen was only lit by the pink-scarlet cloud light. A part of you, the more physical chunk, started fighting him, and the air got blocked out from your throat. The feeling of your own cartilage pressing on your artery was one of the most disgusting types of pain you’ve ever experienced. Your hands flew up, slapping his face, but he could as well be made of stone. The murderousness of Kai Parker was unmatched. Like a bulldog, once he closed his clutch, there was only one way it’d end.

Slowly, as you suffocated, blood throbbing in your eyes, he laid you down, while the darkness was consuming you. Damn, it’s taking so long, you thought with a grudge. You’ll definitely kill this dick back. You knew choking someone takes minutes, but these minutes feel like agonizing hours when it’s you being choked. Just relax and try to enjoy it, your mind said, and you suffocated even further on the inner dying laughter. Your hands were shaking violently as they grabbed his, and you wiggled on the floor. He shook you once, banging the back of your head on the tiles, and you almost blacked out. Your body bent out towards his in a fake desire motion. He put his knee on your stomach to keep you in place and pressed further and you died slowly, confused the hell out, in pain, and a little but irritated.

IKO IKO by The Belle Stars segment

You stood there, looking at the row of knives. A song from the future got stuck in your head, where there were lyrics that went,

that you’ll love me more when I’m dead

Your overall mood has not changed. It was just so good to be together, all the time, like a long, magical [sic!] honeymoon. You did not argue. You weren’t upset. Sometimes you’d get slightly disappointed, entering supermarkets, like this one, and expecting people to be there. After all, you have spent a huge chunk of your life... well, all your life, surrounded by other people.

It was another side of good though, knowing, that Kai is the only other one here. He joked a lot about ‘the last girl on Earth’. He was extremely romantic about it.

One of the knives laid in your palm obediently. It was beautiful: short stirdy grey handle, and the sharp broad blade. You could almost see your own reflection in its perfectly clean steel. There’s something about knives. Something about their inevitability, their thinness. You weighed it in your hand, completely mesmerized. You liked knives and was always the one to chop all the food before Kai could cook it. You were the Chopper in this... family?

You turned to look at him, the tall, lean frame, his black as hell head cocked on the side as he was reading something on a pack of nuts. He never read anything from the packs, so you found it curious. What were you calling yourselves? He was like that demon who slides from below your bed and you hold its cold paw in the dark, questioning, what are we?

The way he looked at you, it really felt like he has reached the end of his path in searching. You’ve never seen him so calm before. And vice versa, he was the only one who ever made you feel like that. It was a unit. He never once called you his girlfriend, and it was different. You never spoke about it, except that one time on the Canyon when he said he’d marry you. He looked very sure about it, but, knowing him, you didn’t think much of it. It was one of the things you’d do once you get out...

You walked up to Kai, and as he turned to you, about to show you something that got him so interested in a plain pack of nuts, you stabbed him in the side of his body.

Kai gasped gently, like it was more of a kick, and, unsure if you’re applying enough force, you pressed further.

His hand didn’t even get down to stop you. Unlike you, he didn’t even begin fighting you. He shot you a short glance, and there was nothing but curiousity in his eyes. He’s died thousands of times. It was horrible to think about it, but he was used to this kind of pain. You asked yourself why you’re hurting him, of all people, but it was cold math. You had to get even, because that’s what you had both decided. Plus, once the blade was inside of him, you couldn’t stop yourself.

You stabbed him again, as he grabbed on a shelf no try and stay on his feet. The second hit went right into his abdomen, and you wondered at the thickness of his stomach; being an innocent child before, you believed that a human body would be like butter, since a knife is sharp and extremely thin. It turned out to be a bit harder than you expected.

Kai fell down and laid on his back, putting his hands aside. You suddenly realized, with bursting heart, that you were the only one person in any world that he allowed to kill him and didn’t even struggle. It was the ultimate demonstration of trust, better than any kind of I love you. The best thing he could ever do.

You sat on top of him, stabbing him again and again, trying different spots. The side proved to be the most vulnerable, and the chest was the hardest to break through because of the ribcage. When the blade got stuck against the bone, Kai was already dead, and your elbow hurt. No matter how much you climbed and how much heavy stuff you carried here, you weren’t becoming stronger, because one day’s excercise does nothing.

The blood was splattering onto his face and yours, and then you got tired, and horror finally seized you. At some point you stopped being curious, and became enraged for no reason, stabbing him blindly, just because he was good being stabbed.

You stopped, panting, and looked into his white face with his eyes open, turned away, drops of his own blood on his chin. Your hands were red as you touched his open wounds, and your own stomach seemed to have sucked on itself with fear.

Why did I do this? What does he like so much about it?

You knew for sure he’d come back. There was no reason for him not to resurrect. But the irrational nervousness grabbed you. You took his chin and turned his face up, looking at him.

I love you so much, and I don’t know why I did it.

His blood was warm and salty. It went well with bubblegum ice cream.

You had no idea that it was invented SUCH a long time ago. You had no hope to find it in ‘94 and felt like an idiot, but a happy one.

You sat on the floor two steps away from him and stress-devoured ice cream for an hour until he finally woke up.

Kai groaned and attempted to get up, lifting his head and looking at the high ceiling for a moment. He then rolled to his side and lifted himself up on an elbow.

“How did it feel?” he went straight to the point.

“Good at first, but then horrible. I think I went a little overboard. I stabbed you about twenty times”.

“I always knew there was something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you”, he said with tenderness. He got up and crawled up to you, attracted by the sight of the half-empty bucket of ice cream.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore”, you said, and felt lonely for a second. “I didn’t really enjoy neither the first nor the second time”.

“Each to his own, I guess”, Kai shrugged, and opened his mouth. You shoved a spoonful into it.

[slasherscream]

                                 CHARACTER LIST/RULES

WHAT I’LL WRITE: 

nsfw and sfw

any (insert race/ethnicity/particular thing) for reader

any gender pronouns/identity

delicious polyamory content

dubcon

yandere/darker material 

WHAT I WON’T WRITE:

incest

pedophilia

RAPE!!! do not ask me for this, seriously

scat/watersport/spitting

character match-ups

supernatural, superhero, mutant, creature, etc. readers. 

CHARACTERS:

arvin russell (devil all the time)

dani ardor (midsommar)

dennis rafkin (13 ghosts)

david mccall (fear 1996)

billy loomis

brahms heelshire

ben hargreeves (umbrella academy)

beth washington (until dawn)

carrie white

candyman

charles lee “chucky” ray

claudia (interview with the vampire -platonic only-)

chris hartley (until dawn)

emily davis (until dawn)

ginger fitzgerald (gingersnaps)

hannibal lecter (1991)

jason dean/jd

jennifer check

jordan li (gen v)

josh washington (until dawn)

jessica riley (until dawn)

jim (28 days later)

kevin khatchadourian

louis de pointe du lac (interview with the vampire)

lestat de lioncourt (interview with the vampire)

mike munroe (until dawn)

matthew taylor (until dawn)

mrs. lovett (sweeney todd)

nancy downs (the craft)

norman bates (1960)

pelle (midsommar)

patricia (split)

robert neville (i am legend)

sidney prescott

stu macher

sweeney todd

sandie collins (last night in soho)

shane walsh (the walking dead)

samantha giddings (until dawn)

tatum riley

tiffany valentine

v (from v for vendetta)

yautja (predator films)

+ feel free to request new characters but be patient because i’ll probably have to watch the movie they’re from first

NON-SLASHER/HORROR CHARACTERS: 

hellboy (2004)

abe sapien (2004)

sebastian valmont (cruel intentions)

I DO NOT WRITE FOR:

michael myers

bubba sawyer

nubbins sawyer 

chop-top

drayton sawyer

freddy krueger

baby Firefly

captain spaulding

otis driftwood

CHARACTER COLLECTIONS:

crazy ass boys gang consists of:

billy loomis, jordan li, kevin khatchadourian, stu macher, jd/jason dean, sebastian valmont, nathan prescott, josh washington, david mccall, sparrow!ben hargreeves, pelle, and occasionally arvin russell.

crazy ass girls gang consists of:

tiffany valentine, jennifer check, carrie white, nancy downs, jordan li, ginger fitzgerald, sandie collins, and occasionally, victoria neuman (the boys), patricia (from split)

crazy ass husbands gang consists of:

hannibal lecter, shane walsh, norman bates, v (from v for vendetta), candyman, joel miller, robert neville, lestat de lioncourt, jim (28 days later), abe sapien, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair

i do headcanons and scenarios. specify which you’d like when you send your request or i’ll wind up picking for you. for headcanons you can request up to FOUR characters per ask. you can, of course, send the same request for a different character. 

vague requests are EXTREMELY low priority and i probably won’t write them at all  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . they drain me on a creative level (example. tiffany valentine x gender neutral reader) (example 2. headcanons for hellboy x fem!reader). 

i write original content off of tumblr and with every passing year i have less time to write for this blog. having to come up with ideas constantly is how this blog goes without any updates for months at a time. i get burnt out creatively very easily and i will always prioritize diverting brain power towards my original writing if this blog drains me. do with that information what you will.

more detailed requests for the longevity of this blog encouraged (example. chucky x reader and how they make up after a fight)

like my blog? my cashapp and kofi are both slasherscream

[rawiswhore]

Jean Paul Levesque x Fem Reader- “Rainbow Party” Part 1

Would these up and coming “Rainbow Party” fanfics be good for a "Harlots" episode?

I know this fanfic is somewhat historically inaccurate and features something teenagers supposedly did in the 2000's, but oh well.

________________________________________________________________

It's late 1800's England.

Slavery has been abolished in America.

Women still don't have the right to vote yet.

And this was going to be a very fun day.

Recently, a new invention was invented.

What was that invention?

Lipstick.

Something women were to wear on their lips.

Came in many different colors.

You had an idea.

You invited these men you have previously pleasured and made love with as well as invited some friends and various other women to pleasure these men you made love with, though you wonder if they've ever made love with these men as well.

It was a special little party where women all wear a different shade of lipstick, and you leave a mark with anything you kiss, but especially, you leave a ring of colors on a man's penis.

The men were sitting in a room on chairs with red velvet cushions, some lying and sitting on red velvet couches, waiting to be pleasured.

This is what some of the women looked like:

  There were other women with you too.

One was a woman who looked Italian or Spanish; who had long dark hair, olive colored skin and huge breasts.

There was a rather think woman with pale, milky white skin and red hair, she must be Irish (I'm sorry if I sound like I'm stereotyping, I'm not, it's not like she's an Irish riverdancer).

Another was a thin woman with milky white skin, sandy blond hair and blue eyes.

Women with many different hair colors: brown, blond, sometimes even dark, and women from many various parts of Europe.

There were 6 men with you.

5 of them were British, one was French.

One was a British man with curly blond hair and an infectious, friendly, ear to ear smile that warmed his face.

He looked like this:

Another was one with dirty blond hair with a little braid in it. He looked like he could be the curly haired one's brother.

He looked like this:

Another was a thin man with long, straight, dirty blond hair that reached about his chin, he also had a slight widow's peak.

He looked like this:

The 4th man was a man with dark brown hair and slightly bushy sideburns, he looked like a sexy Abraham Lincoln almost.

He looked like this:

If you don't like that Michael Fassbender, then he looks like this:

 The 5th man had short, dark hair and brown eyes.

He looked like this:

The last man was a Frenchman with long, dirty blond hair tied in a ponytail, he was actually a bit muscular and had a pretty large nose.

His name was Jean Paul Levesque.

He looked like this:

 And these men were all dressed like they were in the gifs I posted.

You and your friends were all standing in front of a mirror, all of you putting on a different shade of lipstick.

This scenario looked like this scene slightly:

"Have you ever slept with or made love with any of the men we're about to ravish in?" you asked, raising your voice so all the women to hear you.

Some of them did know about the men you made love with, others didn't.

Many women brought purses with them, some even were already wearing lipstick.

Many of their lipsticks matched the colors of their skin.

Once all of you women were finished putting on lipstick, in front of that mirror was a white door with a gold doorknob.

You put your hand on the knob, turning it and the door clicked open.

When you pulled the door more open, the aforementioned 6 men I listed were sitting in the room, waiting there, quietly sitting and waiting there patiently, waiting to have some fun.

You and a train of women followed after you while you all entered in the room, soon the whole room was filled with various amounts of women in the middle of the room.

"Good evening" you said, closing and shutting the door behind you. "Now, ladies, before we ravish and indulge ourselves in these men, remember what we're here for. We're here to pleasure these men. All of us get a turn to pleasure each and every one of these men. However, there are some rules. For one, it's okay if you want to do whatever you want with these men, however, don't do anything truly disgusting. Nothing involving urine, feces and/or vomit".

All of the women smiled at this, so did the men.

They all agreed with this.

“Any questions?” you proclaimed, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“What happens once we’re finished fellating these men?” asked one woman. “His penis is covered in lipstick rings?”.

“You can go home” you replied.

“Is it okay if these men also pleasure us?” another woman asked. “As in, suck our breasts?”.

“Yes” you replied. "Do all of you women want these men? To pleasure them?" 

"Yes" they all said, one after another, some of them nodding their heads.

"Do you men all want these women to pleasure you?" you asked the men.

"Yes" they said, one after another, some of them nodding their heads.

You wanted to kiss someone who was sexy first, but not your favorite, because you wanted to save the best for last.

However, there are some bad things about this.

Besides STD's and mononucleosis, some of the women might argue over whether to kiss the man first, to suck his cock first, and what have you.  

And these men will probably be wanting this certain woman to suck his cock or

But don't worry, they will all get their turns.

"Wait" you interrupted, trying to sound as loud as you could so everyone could hear you. "Do you men want to pick certain women to pleasure you?"

Oh God, this was so difficult, all of these women were beautiful.

These men really will argue, but you don't want them to.

"No arguing, please" you plead. "No fighting. Remember, you all get a turn".

"I want the one with brown hair and pink lipstick to pleasure me" said the one with the widow's peak, pointing to the Emilia Clarke lookalike. "And the blond with blue eyes", his finger pointing to the Wendy James lookalike (Wendy James is the lead singer for Transvision Vamp, a British new wave band in the late 80's and early 90's. Wendy is also the blond woman in the 1st gif I posted in this fic).

"We are your thoughts on them?" you asked the Emilia Clarke and Wendy James lookalikes.

"Oh, he's so handsome!" exclaimed the Wendy James lookalike, a wide smile spread across her face.

"I agree" the Emilia Clarke lookalike added, smiling as well.

She had such a beautiful, infectious smile, and she was so beautiful as well.

"I want the Spaniard looking woman with dark hair, that one" said Jean Paul Levesque, pointing to a Spanish looking woman with red lipstick "And the pale skinned one with red hair, is she Irish?".

"Which Irish redhead?" you asked.

"That one" he replied, pointing at a thin, Irish redhead, who looked like Lily Cole (Lily Cole was a redhead model in the 2000's).

"Me?" the Lily Collins lookalike asked, pointing to herself.

"Yes, you" he said.

"Do you find him handsome?" you asked the Lily Cole lookalike.

"I do, yes" she replied. "And yes, I'm Irish"

"What about you?" asking the Spanish woman, or a woman who you thought might be Spanish.

"He is quite handsome" she responded. "Very handsome".

She is a Spanish woman; you can tell by her hair color, accent and skin color.

"I like him too!" a blond woman with blue eyes called out.

"What are your thoughts on her?" you asked Jean Paul Levesque, pointing to the blond with blue eyes.

"She is very beautiful" he replied.  

You just hope the women don't start fighting over who gets to kiss who first.

"Enough about this" you said. "Let's just get this party started!"

You walked up to Jean Paul Levesque. While he wasn't your personal favorite, he was very sexy.

You wanted to get the chance to do certain things to him before everyone else did, though that wouldn't really be fair for the other women, but they'll probably get to do it too, maybe even be inspired by what you do.

Meanwhile, the other women in the room walked to the men they lusted after the most.

The Lily Collins, Spanish woman and blond woman with blue eyes followed you behind, but let's just hope they don't start a fight with you once you do certain things to Jean Paul.

Once you were right in front of Jean Paul, you then stretched your legs across his thighs, straddling and sitting on his lap like this:

 Although, before you do what you want to do with him...

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" you asked him.

"Absolutely" he replied.

"Do you want me to sit on your lap?" you asked him.

"I do, yes" he replied. "Do whatever you want with me".

He very much enjoyed you sitting on his lap, he thought you were absolutely beautiful and couldn't wait to see what was going to happen to him next.

One of his most noticeable features was his nose.

Such a long, broad, even kissable extension of his face.

You then pulled your face into his face, where your mouth wrapped around his big nose.

He was NOT expecting this at all.

He was expecting you to kiss his lips or any part of his body, but not his nose.

His eyes widened in surprise at your mouth wrapped around his nose.

Once your mouth was around his nose, you began sucking his nose.

Your mouth was wrapped slightly tightly around his nose, sucking, kissing and making out with his nose.

A huge, unsexy red ring of lipstick was around his nose thanks to you.

His eyelids had shut over you kissing his nose, his head was reclining and resting on the top of the chair he was sitting in.

Meanwhile, while kissing his nose, your hands worked your way towards that white collar around his neck, where you undid that itchy looking collar, letting his neck free and naked, and tossed that collar to the floor.

His skin is probably breathing a sigh of relief from wearing that comfortable thing.

Blood was rushing towards his penis, filling his penis up and making it stand still, where his cock protruded through his tights.

You could even feel his cock poke through his tights, although it wasn't like that iconic scene from "Alien" involving that alien bursting through the chest.

Meanwhile, the Spanish woman and Lily Cole lookalike next to him slid the robe he was wearing off of his shoulders, revealing his bare, slightly muscular arms.

This was a sigh of relief for him, since he's probably getting so hot underneath his clothes.

Since he's French and you're kissing him, maybe now is the time to...French kiss him.

Did French kissing even exist back then?

You brushed your lips down to his own lips, where now your lips were on his.

Once your lips were locked on his, you snuck your tongue into his mouth, where your tongue challenged his tongue to fight.

He felt your tongue teasing his tongue in his mouth, and since your tongue was seducing his tongue, his tongue decided to join in.

The two of yours tongues began touching each other, on top and under one another, and dare I say it...wrestling. (ba-dum-tssssh!).

Not to mention, while you were making out with him, when your lips detached, a lip smacking noise was made, only for your lips to join again, then part, then join again.

And while you were French kissing him, you put one of your hands behind his head, where you laced your fingers through his honey blond hair.

His tight ponytail was loosening up a bit, which was wonderful.

You've seen the way he looks with a messy ponytail, and he looks even hotter and sexier with it.

Your fingers ran, fumbled and combed his blond locks, all while you were still French kissing him.

Wonder if your fingers combing through his blond hair will completely undo his ponytail and let his hair loose?

Meanwhile, the Lily Cole and Spanish woman were by his sides, giving him kisses on the side of his neck and down his arms.

The blond woman with blue eyes tried kissing his shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

They'll all get their turns too, don't worry.

The Lily Cole lookalike pulled herself away from Jean Paul Levesque, noticing his hair in a slightly messy ponytail.

Her mouth could nearly salivate looking at him like that, he looks even sexier like this.

However, she had to interrupt you.

She tapped you on the shoulder a few times.

You broke the kiss with him, your face turning to this Lily lookalike.

"I saw your hand through his hair" she said. "Do you want me to undo the ribbon in his hair, let his hair loose?"

"How do you feel about that?" you asked to Jean Paul Levesque, looking at him.

"I don't mind it at all" he responded. "It feels wonderful, even".

The Lily lookalike heard this, and she put her hands on the ribbon behind his head, where she pulled the ribbon and let his blond locks down and loose.

He shook his head a bit, letting his blond hair down.

Plenty of hair for you and all the other women to run their fingers through.

One hand was behind his head, running and combing his blond locks, while your lips were back on his mouth, your tongue wrestling with his tongue.

Your other hand was on his bare chest, caressing up, down and around his bare chest.

Tingles were traveling all through his body while you caressed his bare, slightly muscular chest.

Your hand tried to not smear the lipstick prints that were on his shoulders.

Speaking of lipstick, you may as well kiss other areas you want to kiss him to.

You then broke the kiss, and there wasn't really a lot of lipstick on his lips, or perhaps, maybe even on your lips.

You then popped open your purse and looked down in your purse, digging inside for your lipstick.

You found your lipstick and pulled it out, uncapping the lipstick.

Your thumb and index finger twisted the tube, where red lipstick rose from the little gold tube of lipstick.

You put the lipstick on your lips and colored your lips in again, making your lips red.

You dragged your lipstick across your upper and bottom lips, filling your nude, smeared lips with color.

Even though the lipstick might be crooked and not on your lips, whatever.

You've got skin to kiss.

"Excuse me" you said, tapping the Spanish woman next to you.

She raised her head from kissing Jean Paul and looked at you with her big, dark eyes.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Do I have lipstick all over my lips?" you asked her, your hand motioning in a circle over your lips.

"Yes" she replied.

"Do I have any lipstick on my skin?" you asked her.

"No" she replied. "You look fine".

You nodded your head at her.

Thank God you have lipstick on your lips.

You then twisted the red lipstick down in its little tube until it crawled back in the tube like a turtle crawling his head back in his shell, putting the cap on the lipstick and stuffing the lipstick back in your purse.

You locked your purse and went back to business.

You then crouched your head down to Jean Paul's neck, where, pulling your face into his Adam's apple, planted a kiss mark on the middle of his Adam's apple.

It's like a string was connected from his neck to his genitals, the hair on his arms raised and his cock tingled, this felt so good and was very arousing for him.

That ain't the only thing that will be arousing for him.

You lowered yourself down his body, where you planted a trail of kiss marks down his bare torso.

The lipstick kisses were disappearing more and more once you planted kisses down his torso, down to his navel.

Which is both a good thing and a bad thing.

The bad is that more lipstick on your lips is disappearing, which means you won't put any lipstick on his body.

The good is that way, you won't leave a ring around his penis yet, or get any lipstick on his penis yet.

Maybe another woman can plant a row of kisses down his torso with her lipstick.

You were now squatting on the ground in between his knees, looking like you're about to blow him.

You put your hands on opposite sides of his tights, the sides of his tights that hugged his hips, and pulled them all the way down to his ankles.

More and more of his bare flesh was being exposed, and his penis, after being oppressed, was finally being released.

His penis stood up from his balls, standing there fully erect and waiting to be savored.

The Lily Cole lookalike's eyes grew wild when she saw his dick being exposed.

She can't wait to suck that dick, and I bet Jean Paul can't wait until he gets a blowjob from her.

Before you could do anything with his dick, you had an idea.

The Spanish woman was kissing all over his torso, putting lipstick on her lips again and again when the lipstick prints disappeared more and more.

You then rose up from crouching on the ground, standing straight on your knees, and tapped her on the shoulder.

She looked up at you with her big, dark eyes.

"Could you help me untie my corset?" you asked her, turning yourself around to show her your back, and pointing to your corset.

Jean Paul's eyes immediately opened when he heard you request to untie your corset.

"Why?" she asked.

"I have an idea" you replied. "And I'll tell you it later".

She shrugged her shoulders and stopped what she was doing.

She walked in front of Jean Paul's knees, where she stood behind your back.

Her hands began unlacing your corset more and more, untying the strings.

Your torso was no longer was being squeezed tightly, which made you and your body breathe a sigh of relief.

You then reached your hands down the top of your corset and pulled your breasts until, until your whole entire breasts, complete with seeing your nipples and areolas, lopped over your corset.

Jean Paul's eyes were wide open looking at your breasts.

His eyes will probably be even more open soon.

"Can I untie your corset?" you asked the Spanish woman.

"Why?" she asked.

"I have this idea" you said to her.

Your head got close to her ear.

"My idea is you and I can move our breasts up and down his penis" you whispered in her ear.

Which is really strange, at least for that time period, but maybe that will sexually arouse him even more and make him cum.

The Spanish woman thought that as well, not to mention, she has huge breasts, which probably would sexually arouse and entice him even more.

Jean Paul also really wanted this Spanish woman, so that would be even more of a treat if she did this to him.

Meanwhile, 3 other women walked up to Jean Paul, where two of them began kissing his neck and leaving lipstick prints on his neck, another was licking and kissing his nipples.

He noticed these 3 other women on him, looking at them, only for his eyes to be closed because this all felt so good to him.

"Also, I forgot to mention" you added, still whispering in her ear. "While our breasts move up and down his shaft, we could also try to lick and suck his penis, fellate his penis too, although I want to be the first to put a ring around his penis".

Can Jean Paul even hear what's going on?

You want this to be a surprise for him.

The Spanish woman agreed to do this.

Not to mention, she also wants to do quite a bit of odd things to these men.

She then turned around, where she showed you her back, showing her corset.

Your hands undid her corset, untying the strings.

Her torso was no longer squeezed tightly by that uncomfortable corset, where she can now breathe a sigh of relief.

Once you untied her corset completely, much like you did, she reached down her dress and pulled out her huge breasts.

Her breasts were olive colored and she had big, dark brown areolas.

Not to mention, an idea popped into your head.

Maybe one of the two women, like the Lily Cole lookalike or the blond woman, can join you two while you titty fuck him.

Meanwhile, while you were doing all of this to Jean Paul, the sounds of orgasmic moaning from men was filling the room up, sometimes even orgasmic moaning from women.

Your head turned to look around at the men.

Many of the men's shirts were unbuttoned, women were hovering over these men, kissing them, fellating them.

But enough about that.

You then crouched down on the floor, and the Spanish woman crouched on the floor with you, although she was sitting across from you.

Since her breasts were bigger, she held her breasts and put them at the bottom of his shaft, his dick in between her huge tits.

You held your breasts in both hands, where Jean Paul's cock was now in between your tits and above the Spaniard woman's tits, sandwiching his cock.

He felt your breasts and her tits going up his cock.

"Ready?" you asked the Spanish woman, a smile on your face.

"Ready" she replied.

Still holding your breasts, you elevated your breasts up his shaft, causing friction in his penis.

The Spaniard woman followed you, where she lifted her breasts up still holding them in her hands, up to the top of his penis.

He felt something on his penis and it felt so good, but it certainly wasn't their mouths or their tongues.

The palms of his hands gripped on the arms of the chair he was sitting in, this felt so good.

One of those hands swatted the Lily Cole lookalike next to him on her arm, just so he could see what was going on down there.

He shoved her out of his way, only to see right below him were two women sitting by his knees, their breasts sandwiching his cock, moving their breasts up and down his shaft.

His eyes grew wide.

So that's why they let their breasts out.

He especially noticed the Spanish woman's huge breasts, but it's too bad that they're below your tits, he'd love to see them completely.

"Terribly sorry" he said to the Lily Cole lookalike "I wanted to see what was going on down there. Let's get back to kissing".

He rested his head on the top of the chair and his eyes rolled in the back of his head, where the Lily Cole lookalike pulled her face into his face and landed her lips on his lips, going back to kissing him.

The blond woman with blue eyes had knelt on one bended knee, sucking on his fingers, leaving red rings of lipstick on the bottom of his fingers.

Once your breasts and the Spanish woman's tits were on top of his shaft, you and the Spanish woman's lifted your breasts down his shaft with your hands, all the way to the bottom of penis.

Then, you lifted your breasts up his cock again, the Spanish woman following what you did, lifting her breasts up his shaft until they reached the top of his dick.

Your breasts and her breasts brushed up his penis, then down his cock.

You and this Spanish woman did this process over and over again, lifting your breasts up his dick, then dropping them down, only to lift them up again, all while his dick was sandwiched in between your tits and her tits.

The two of you also did this quite fast and rhythmically, and he moaned in the Lily Cole lookalike's mouth while he was still kissing and making out with her.

His skin began feeling hotter and hotter, and thank God he was basically naked so he wouldn't have so much heat underneath his clothes.

His heart was beating pretty fast from his chest, and precum began to spill from the slit of his penis.

His precum began dripping not just down his shaft, but also on your breasts.

Your breasts were like an umbrella protecting and shielding rain on the Spanish woman's breasts below you.

While you and the Spanish woman were brushing your breasts  and her breasts up and down his shaft up and down for a while, you decided to stop doing it, swatting the Spanish woman's hand to inform her to stop, interrupting her process.

Your hands directed your breasts off of his cock, your tits lopping over your corset.

"I want you and I to lick his penis, not wrap our mouths around his penis, but lick his penis" you said to the Spanish woman. "And I want her to join us".

You pointed to the blond woman who was sucking his fingers.

"However, don't put on any lipstick" you told the Spanish woman.

You then got up and walked to where the blond woman sucking his fingers were and tapped her on his shoulder.

She turned her head towards you.

"I want you to join us" you said, pointing to the Spanish woman sitting on the ground. "I want you, I and her to lick his penis, not suck, but lick, we lick on the side and you lick his penis in the middle, however, DON'T put on lipstick".

A smile spread across her face.

She definitely wanted to do this.

Meanwhile, the Spanish woman moved her breasts off of his dick.

Let's just hope she isn't the first woman who wants to give him a blowjob.

She then walked with you towards his knees, where she sat in between his knees, you sitting on the left side of his knees.

You then knelt close to his penis, where you stuck your tongue out and put it on his shaft.

Your lips didn't have any lipstick on them, the Spanish woman also didn't have any lipstick on her lips.

And the blond haired, blue eyed woman seemingly didn't have any lipstick on her lips.

Once your tongue was on his shaft, your tongue ran and dragged around his cock, tasting the precum on his dick.

The Spanish woman followed you, where her face was close to his face, her tongue out of her mouth and on his cock.

Her tongue was right below your tongue, where, like yours, her tongue was dragging all around his dick, licking up the precum dripping down his shaft.

Meanwhile, the blond haired, blue eyed woman sitting in between his knees stuck her tongue out and placed it on his cock, where she began licking up and down his shaft like a painter painting a picket fence.

Jean Paul's hands gripped onto the chair's arms, especially the bottom of the chair's arms, and more precum began to burst from his penis slit.

He released these moans from his mouth, where the Lily Cole lookalike was no longer kissing his lips but instead sucking on his nose.

He felt these 3 things on his cock, but what are they? Tongues?

He shooed the Lily Cole lookalike and looked down at what was below him.

3 women sitting on the ground, licking his penis.

The 3 of you all did this for a while, licking up the precum and even licking his penis on the areas where there wasn't any precum on it.

When your tongue tasted that salty precum, your tongue collected it and put it in your mouth, where you gulped it down.

Wonder if the Spanish and blond woman are trying to do the same thing?

Anyway, you wanted to be the first woman to suck Jean Paul's cock; the first one to put a lipstick ring around his penis

Your hand swatted on the blond woman's shoulder, where she stopped what she was doing and looked at you.

"I want to be the first one to fellate him" you said, pointing to Jean Paul. "I want to be the first one to put a ring of lipstick around his penis. You can wait your turn".

That's what ladies do, especially 19th century ladies.

You then reached over to the Spanish woman sitting across from you, where you pat her on her chest to get her attention.

She then looked at you with her huge brown eyes again, stopping what she was busy doing.

"Did you hear what I said?" you asked her.

"About fellating him?" she asked, pointing to Jean Paul. "You wanting to be the first to fellate him?"

"Yes" you nodded. "And the first woman to put a ring of lipstick around his penis. Are you alright with that? You can do it next, or the blond woman sitting next to me. Wait your turn".

"I'm fine with it" she replied. "It's the polite thing to do".

"You two go do something else to him" you informed the two ladies sitting next to you on the ground, pointing to Jean Paul again.

The Spanish and blond woman stood up from the ground, their legs standing completely straight, where the blond woman walked to the side of Jean Paul's chest, where she began kissing and licking his nipples.

Meanwhile, the Spanish woman walked towards the opposite side of where the blond woman was standing, where she coaxed Jean Paul into sucking her breasts, which he happily obliged to, one of her big nipples was now being sucked in his mouth.

Anyway...

You remembered how there was no lipstick on your lips, so you popped your purse open and looked inside your purse again for your lipstick.

You pulled that same lipstick you used before out of your purse, popping the lipstick's cap open.

You twisted the tube of lipstick over and over again until that red lipstick arrived out of that tube.

You then put the lipstick on your lips, where you dragged the lipstick across your top and bottom lips, the red lipstick coloring your lips in.

Your top lip pressed your bottom lip down, trying to get your lips completely colored.

Your lips then sat normally, not holding each other down, where you next hovered your head over his erect, salty penis.

Opening your mouth, you dove into his cock, your head going all the way down to the very bottom of his penis, his cock entering and filling your mouth like a train in a tunnel.

He felt your mouth wrapping around his shaft, and he'll feel it even more.

Once you were at the bottom of his penis, your mouth enclosed his penis, the walls of your mouth touching the sides of his shaft.

His cock could nearly choke you.

While you were at the bottom of his dick, you then began sucking his cock, albeit, remaining at the bottom of his cock, not bobbing your head up and down his shaft.

Why?

So you won't smear lipstick up and down his shaft.

Your mouth sucked and tried inhaling the precum off of his cock, sucking it in your mouth like a vacuum cleaner sucking up dirt.

His hands gripped onto the rests of the chair, specifically the bottom part, where he moaned on that same Spanish woman's nipple, his breath heating on that Spaniard woman's areola, making her pussy tremble.

His precum was traveling down your throat, salty but still tasted good.

This was the kind of thing he could only have in wet dreams: so many beautiful women surrounding him, one being a woman with big breasts and he's sucking one of them, another woman sucking his nose, while one woman sucks his nipple, 2 women are kissing his neck and another woman fellates him.

And much like a wet dream, all this pressure and sexual arousal happening to him was enough for him to climax.

The slit of his penis head burst a new batch of cum out of his dick like a cannonball out of a cannon.

His hands and fingers gripped and digged into the arm chair's rests once he ejaculated, his cum filled your whole mouth up.

Using your throat, you gulped all his cum down, or at least almost all of his cum down,  even while his cock still in your mouth.

Your head elevated up his shaft, your mouth loosening itself around his shaft, until your lips were no longer wrapped around his penis or even touching his penis.

A red ring of lipstick was smeared at the bottom of his cock, and not just that, there was even some lipstick smeared on his cock.

Oy.

Now that that was all over with, onto the next man.

The other women sitting by Jean Paul can now go down on him, amongst other things!

[ucflibrary]

“Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough,   And stands about the woodland ride   Wearing white for Eastertide.   Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again,    And take from seventy springs a score,   It only leaves me fifty more.   

And since to look at things in bloom    Fifty springs are little room, About the woodlands I will go    To see the cherry hung with snow.” -A.E. Housman, Loveliest of Trees

 Welcome to National Poetry Month!

The Academy of American Poets, inspired by the success of Black History Month and Women’s History Month, created National Poetry Month in 1996. It is the largest literary celebration in the world and UCF Libraries are proud to do their part.

UCF Libraries have gathered suggestions to feature 14 books of poetry that are currently in the UCF collection. These works represent a wide range of favorite poetry books of our faculty and staff.

These, and additional titles, are also on the Featured Bookshelf display on the second (main) floor next to the bank of two elevators where they are joined by a selection of nature poetry.

Click on the Keep Reading link below to see the full descriptions and catalog links.

 A Shropshire Lad by A.E. Housman

Housman is a high-water mark of British lyric poetry, and this fine production captures perfectly his strong, melodic beat and decisive rhyme, and his wonderful way with words. Samuel West's cultivated Midlands accent may not be specifically Shropshire, but his voice and reading are true to Housman who was not, after all, some rough Shropshire lad himself but an Oxford don. His Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now and To an Athlete Dying Young are beautifully rendered here. West, you feel, reads poetry as it should be read confidently, with ease and conviction, as if all the world spoke in meter and rhyme.

Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 All the Poems of Stevie Smith by Stevie Smith

Stevie Smith is among the most popular British poets of the twentieth century. Her poem “Not Waving but Drowning” has been widely anthologized, and her life was celebrated in the classic 1978 movie Stevie. This new and updated edition of Stevie Smith’s collected poems includes hundreds of works from her thirty-five-year career. The Smith scholar Will May collects poems and illustrations from published volumes, provides fascinating details about their provenance, and describes the various versions Smith presented. Satirical, mischievous, teasing, disarming, Smith’s poems take readers from comedy to tragedy and back again, while her line drawings are by turns unsettling and beguiling.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar

This highly-anticipated debut boldly confronts addiction and courses the strenuous path of recovery, beginning in the wilds of the mind. Poems confront craving, control, the constant battle of alcoholism and sobriety, and the questioning of the self and its instincts within the context of this never-ending fight.

Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 Dirt Eaters by Teri Youmans Grimm

The book was born of the consequences of leaving a place and family steeped in the history and traditions of the South. The poet, having moved to the Midwest, has become a sort of expatriate in her father's eyes, and she herself has underestimated the hold that home would have over her. These poems are a mystical journey back through her ancestry. The dead serve as conjurers and characters both real and mythologized throughout the collection--Uncle Seward, who uses dice and the Bible as a means of prophecy; blind Aunt Ater, who finds solace and doom in biblical numbers; an unlucky man facing certain death as he stands on an alligator's back; and women who gorge themselves on dirt--all find their way back to life in these poems. Dirt Eaters seeks grace in the unlikeliest of people and places. Bound up with the peculiar, however, is the poet's own desire to reconcile the handed-down shame and faulty pride within herself as well as the religion of the ecstatic within her own quiet questioning.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

 Enough Rope by Dorothy Parker

Suggested by Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 New & Selected Poems by Stephen Dunn

Stephen Dunn is justly celebrated as one of the strongest poets of his generation. Now in this rich gathering, he selects from his eight collections and includes sixteen new poems marked by the haunting "Snowmass Cycle". The heralded clarity and intelligence of Dunn's poems are in full evidence here, as is his ability to charm and evoke pathos. As ever, wit happily resides with seriousness, affirmation coexists with hardship. "I want to find the cool, precise language / for how passion gives rise to passion," Dunn says in one of the new poems. For two decades, such insistence has led him to a wise lucidity that places him among our consequential poets.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

 Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay

One of America's best-loved poets, Edna St Vincent Millay (1892-1950) burst onto the literary scene at a very young age and won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1923. Her lyrics and sonnets have thrilled generations of readers long after the notoriously bohemian lifestyle she led in Greenwich Village in the 1920s ceased to shock them.

Suggested by Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 Poems: North & South, a cold spring by Elizabeth Bishop

Elizabeth Bishop was an American poet and writer from Worcester, Massachusetts. She was the Poet Laureate of the United States from 1949 to 1950, a Pulitzer Prize winner in 1956. and a National Book Award Winner for Poetry in 1970. She is considered one of the most important and distinguished American poets of the 20th century.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Selected Poetry of Ogden Nash: 650 rhymes, verses, lyrics, and poems by Ogden Nash

Gathers poems on a variety of subjects including love, marriage, parenthood, modern life, animals, aging, travel, work, and food.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement & Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 The 100 Best Poems of All Time edited by Leslie Pockell

This poetry companion puts favourite poetry and poets from around the world at your fingertips, enabling you to revisit the classics, encounter unfamiliar masterworks and rediscover old favourites.

Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 The Golden Shovel Anthology: new poems honoring Gwendolyn Brooks edited by Peter Kahn, Ravi Shankar, and Patricia Smith

The last words of each line in a Golden Shovel poem are, in order, words from a line or lines taken from a Brooks poem. The poems are, in a way, secretly encoded to enable both a horizontal reading of the new poem and vertical reading down the right-hand margin of Brooks's original. An array of writers, including Pulitzer Prize winners, T. S. Eliot Prize winners, National Book Award winners, and National Poet Laureates, have written poems for this anthology: Rita Dove, Billy Collins, Nikki Giovani, Sharon Olds, Tracy K. Smith, Mark Doty, Sharon Draper, and Julia Glass are just a few of the contributing poets.

Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 The Heart Aroused: poetry and the preservation of the soul in corporate America by David Whyte

In The Heart Aroused, David Whyte brings his unique perspective as poet and consultant to the workplace, showing readers how fulfilling work can be when they face their fears and follow their dreams. Going beneath the surface concerns about products and profits, organization and order, Whyte addresses the needs of the heart and soul, and the fears and desires that many workers keep hidden.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo

Xiomara Batista feels unheard and unable to hide in her Harlem neighborhood. Ever since her body grew into curves, Xiomara Batista has learned to let her fists and her fierceness do the talking. She pours all her frustration and passion onto the pages of a leather notebook, reciting the words to herself like prayers--especially after she catches feelings for a boy in her bio class named Aman, who her family can never know about. Mami is determined to force her daughter to obey the laws of the church, and Xiomara understands that her thoughts are best kept to herself. When she is invited to join her school's slam poetry club, she can't stop thinking about performing her poems.

Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

 The Poetry of Arab Women: a contemporary anthology edited by Nathalie Handal

Arab women poets work within one of the oldest literary traditions in the world, yet they are virtually unknown in the West. Uniting Arab women poets from the all over the Arab World anti abroad, Nathalie Handal has put together an outstanding collection that introduces poets who write in Arabic, French, English, and Swedish, among them some of the twentieth century's most accomplished poets and today's most exciting new voices. Translated by distinguished translators and poets from around the world, The Poetry of Arab Women showcases the work of 82 poets, among them: Etel Adnan, Andre Chedid, Salma Khadra Jayyusi, Naomi Shihab Nye, and Fadwa Tuqan.

Suggested by Christina Wray, Teaching & Engagement

 The Rain in Portugal by Billy Collins

The Rain in Portugal—a title that admits he’s not much of a rhymer—sheds Collins’s ironic light on such subjects as travel and art, cats and dogs, loneliness and love, beauty and death. A student of the everyday, Collins here contemplates a weather vane, a still life painting, the calendar, and a child lost at a beach. His imaginative fabrications have Shakespeare flying comfortably in first class and Keith Richards supporting the globe on his head. By turns entertaining, engaging, and enlightening, The Rain in Portugal amounts to another chorus of poems from one of the most respected and familiar voices in the world of American poetry.

Suggested by Larry Cooperman, Research & Information Services

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

By The Beach (Collins x Farrier x Reader)

Summary: It’s been nearly a decade since the war was over so it’s a bout damn time you got a holiday.

AN: Here’s the poly!pairing with Farrier and Collins that too many anons to quote asked for after Blame. Consider this a little follow on.

Masterlist     Photo Credit

You crept out of the bedroom to go find Farrier, leaving Collins to starfish asleep in the bed. Finding him cooking eggs sunny side up in his apron and sleepwear was rather a pleasant way to start your day. Slipping your arms loosely around his waist, you kissed the back of his neck and felt him hum a good morning to you.

Once the greetings reached your sluggish brain, you set about helping him make breakfast whilst sneaking a few nibbles. Thankfully the bakery had been open yesterday and there was a fresh loaf in the breadbin to toast and butter along with the rest of the shopping.

It took another twenty minutes for everything to be loaded onto the tray and another five trying to creep into the bedroom without waking the birthday boy. The tray was very slippery against the ceramics and proved difficult to keep all the little packages and the plate in the same spot. However you skilfully managed, placing it on the dresser as Farrier went to wake up Collins. He simply moaned and snuggled deeper under the covers.

“Morning,” You grinned, snuggling up to Collins with Farrier trapping him from the other side.

“We made breakfast,” He kissed Collins’ cheek. Still, the Scotsman didn’t wake up. It was time for evasive manoeuvres. You sat on his legs and Farrier took the waist. Groaning, Collins made a feeble attempt to push them off with the promise of getting up.

Like a fool, you believed him. Once you released his legs, Collins simply grabbed your arm and tugged you back to bed. Sighing, Farrier flopped into sitting beside him and patted his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Collins grumbled, pulling Farrier down to the bed again.

“It’s your birthday though,” You pouted at his mussed up hair.

“And I wanna spend it in bed with my two lovely partners who are going to enable my laziness,” Collins mumbled, squeezing his grip on your arm a little tighter.

But you continued to object, “We were gonna have a picnic.”

Collins opened one eye at stared at you, squinting with sleep and suspicion and silence. Then he looked at Farrier.  

“Uh, fine I guess.”

“And we have to open presents too.”

He shot up at that, grinning widely at this prospect. Shaking your head, you handed the tray over to him with the present lining the edges.

Pleased with his array of wee gifts that now lined the chest of drawers, he wolfed down his meal at lightning pace and was ready to jump into the

There was time for a walk before setting up shop. Luckily you found the perfect spot mid-walk, a little curve in the cove the shielded patch of sand untouched by the tide. There, you made use of Collins’ new football to play a few games without interruption.

Lunchtime arrived sooner than you thought it would. The three of you sat on the picnic blanket, unloading the treats one by one but keeping the plastic wrap covering them. Sand was not something you planned on eating. Collins was more than happy to sleep off the rich lunch and proceeded to snooze for a straight hour and a half. In that time, you and Farrier buried him. He was not amused when he woke up.

While you loved to see your boyfriends in their RAF best, the tight striped swimwear were far superior and matched yours. After resurfacing, Collins pulled off his first layer to reveal the bright red and white candy cane stripes of his swimsuit which only made you laugh a lot more than when he first woke up from his nap.

Of course, Farrier turned going swimming into a race and sprinted down to reach the surf first. Caught unawares were yourself and Collins so you lagged behind although Collins did end up surging forward and coming joint first with his boyfriend, the leggy bastard. He also happened to be a strong swimmer so neither you nor Farrier could out-swim him when he ducked under the water and threatened to tug you under too.

Wising up to his tricks, Farrier did end up scooping Collins into his arms and tossing him into the water. Unfortunately that led to collaboration on their part when they both spotted you laughing at them with what you thought was a soft distance away from them. You shrieked with exhilarated terror, swimming away as Collins disappeared below the water line again and Farrier leisurely paddled behind with a wolfish grin.

Suddenly you felt Collins grab you from behind. Wriggling in his grip was futile for he locked his arms under yours. Your feet were lifted from the sandy sea floor by Farrier and the pair swung you like a skipping rope before tossing you into the water.

You broke the surface with a frown at this display of betrayal. Then you violently splashed them. Somewhere in the middle of this altercation, you ended up on Farrier’s back to tower over the tallest in your relationship and splashing him as much as you could with a height advantage. But he swam around and pulled you free, crashing into the water with you wrapped in his chest.

The day came to a close as Collins wished for it to be closed: making barbeque food in the tiny garden before piling into the bedroom and feasting together. After drying off at the beach, you trekked back to the cottage at the edge of the cliff side. A hike that entailed too much exertion but when you got into that bath after Collins, damn did it feel good.

Now in clean clothes that were soft on your skin, you were sat in a deck chair besides Collins, watching Farrier do his thing. It was funny seeing Farrier in shorts by the newly installed grill. Yet it was also relaxing to see him so calm and focussed on what might be considered a meaningless and repetitive task, turning over the sausages and chicken breasts. Collins too looked at peace, his features illuminated by the setting sun as he took a drag from his cigarette.

Once all the food was cooked and loaded onto plates, the three of you stayed out for a moment longer to listen to the waves as you ate. Then it was into bed and pigging out resumed in slow pace.

Tired out, you slumped into the pillows propped up behind you with half a hot dog in your mouth. Chewing in tandem with the sound of the waves, audible through the open window, you felt a pair of lips kiss your cheek, peppered with the flour from the bread.

“Thank you for my birthday, my love,” Collins whispered, the tip of his nose grazing your ear as he spoke.

“Love you both,” You muttered through your food, swallowing the last of your food. You remembered Farrier’s mouth being pressed to your temple before you drifted off. The next morning you would awaken with Farrier cuddling you to his chest, Collins holding you from behind and the sound of waves as a gentle reminder that you were in the perfect haven.

Perma-tag: @tomgcsglasses, @lowdenglynnstyles, @prettyboytgc, @lowdensnose, @kgcurtis30, @carneylowdenwhitehead, @scottishlowden and @from-the-clouds

Dunkirk tag: @blondeeee-e

Jack tag: @londonr26

[steveebabyyy-blog]

Pure fuel

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and drinking! 

Summary: You’re visiting from California and end up going to a party and meeting a mystery boy. Shit load of fluff, very cringy. 

Authors Note: Happy new year to everyone! I wish you all the best 2018. Hope you enjoy this, it’s been sitting in my drafts for a while but I finally finished it. May write a more angsty part two?? Who knows. Feedback encouraged!!

You drifted through the crowd of people, the music pumping through your veins into your body. You felt the vibrations of the song in your chest from how loud it was, Easy Lover by Phil Collins playing, filling the room. You were here in Hawkins on a trip to visit your parents friend and his family, the Hargroves. Billy, who you got on with really well, invited you to come to this party with him, in hope of being able to score with you - but you told him straight up it was gonna happen. You knew Billy too well though, and you knew he’d probably still make a move. You used to live next to eachother in California, but his dad met someone else and they ended up moving all the way over here. Your mum and dad were close friends with his dad, despite knowing the shit he put Billy through, which pissed you off. But them being friends gave you the chance to come down and visit, and get out of sunny california for a while. It was a Summer fancy dress party, a movie themed one. You decided to dress up as Sandy from Grease, the badass version of her at the end of the movie, purely because you had a pair of leather trousers and a leather jacket. You put on your best heels and curled your hair especially to look the part. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you looked good. And the boys at the party knew this as well, earning you some attention. You knew you wouldn’t be getting this much attention usually - back in California you were a pretty simple girl. But that night, seeing as you were in a new place, you took it as an oppurtunity to show of your hidden confidence. 

You walked up to a boy who was next to a bowl of some red concoction. It had a strong smelling scent, and looked like it had all sorts mixed into it. You looked up at the boy, with a very concerned face.

“What’s this?” you asked, hesitantly taking a cup from the side and scooping up the drink with it.

“Pure fuel.” he answered with a wink before downing the contents and yelling a loud “Yeah!” with his hands up, running off to join the group of dancers. You sipped the drink, deciding it was probably safe to drink, and drank some more. And some more. And a little bit more. You leant back on the counter and continued to consume the mixture, trying to pick of what kind of alcohol was in it. You gently got pushed to the side as a couple stumbled over, one pushing the other into the counter as they locked mouths, passionately kissing. You just laughed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes at the couple - moving to the opposite counter to get out of their way. That’s when a boy stumbled into the kitchen, laughing to someone from the other room. He walked over to the counter with the drink on, slightly pushing the couple away so he could get some - which the couple didn’t even notice. 

He was dressed in black trousers and a white top, rayban sunglasses in hand - you couldn’t for the life of you work out who he was supposed to be, but whatever. He looked down at the drink for a few moments, before turning around to look you straight in the eyes. Back in California, you were used to the typical boys who had blonde, shaggy hair and beaming blue eyes, but this boy was completely different in all the best ways. The first thing you noticed was his massive brown eyes focusing on yours. His eyes were the kind of eyes you couldn’t not fall for. Light reflected off them to reveal darker brown specks falling towards the his pupils, having a sort of warmth to him. They weren’t harsh eyes, but instead they were inviting - you wanted to know more about him, and just because of his eyes. Everyone who ever said brown eyes were boring clearly hadn’t seen these eyes. His hair was big - and you could tell he had put a lot of work into it, as it looked amazing. Almost better than your hair. Damn, I gotta find out what he uses. He stood with such confidence, and you felt the radiating warmth from him. He felt open, and homely - and he hadn’t even said a damn word yet.

“What’s this?” he asked you, pointing to the drink. You looked down in to your cup, noticing all your drink was gone, and walked over next to him to refill.

“Pure fuel.” you smirked, refilling your cup with the red substance. He nodded at your answer with a smile, and followed your example by filling up his cup. You could tell he was slightly drunk, smelling the beer on his breath. He took a long gulp of his drink before taking a closer, proper look at you. He scanned his eyes over every detail of you; your body, your face, your hair. He smiled in admiration of you, and then reacted like suddenly someone had switched a lightbulb on in his head.

“You’re Sandy, right! Grease!” he said, clicking his fingers and pointing at your outfit. You looked down at your tight, leather attire, and then back up at his goofy smile.

“Yeah! The badass version, not the soft one.” you laughed. You observed his outfit for a moment longer, and tilted your head to the side. “Who are you?” 

He still had that goofy smile on his face as he shouted, “Danny!” like an excited child. “Ya’ know! From Grease too!” He laughed, showing off his outfit to you. “Yeah I know, it doesn’t look like it. I left my leather jacket on the sofa, so I don’t really look the part now.” 

“No! I totally get it now.” you chuckled, not really getting it but you just wanted to reassure him as he looked nice enough. 

“I don’t recognise you. You from around here?” he asked, before taking a small sip of his drink and putting on his raybans, hiding the eyes you admired so much. 

“No, I’m from California. I’m over here visiting a friend for a couple weeks. Their son invited me to the party tonight, I think he’s trying his chances but I don’t think of him like that.” 

“Oh cool, man.” he muttered, finishing the rest of his drink. Just when you were about to ask him if he knew who Billy was, there was a loud cheer as a fight broke out outside. Louds of people ran outside to observe the carnage, but you would much rather not. You hated seeing people fight, and this boy didn’t show any signs of leaving your side to go and see, so you decided to stay with him as well. “So how long you out here for?” 

“Just two weeks. I’ve been here for a couple days, but I’m just staying over the spring break. My friends thought I was mad for leaving California to go to Hawkins for spring break.” you laughed, thinking back to how notorious the teenage parties were back home - especially in spring break.

“It’s not too bad here, really.” the boy said, taking off his sunglasses and putting them on the side. “It’s small, yeah. And you got a few dickheads, but it’s actually not too bad.” 

“The parties seem great, are they always this wild?” you questioned, refilling your drink again and looking into the next room. There were couples sucking mouth everywhere, then a big group of people dancing - bodies close together, pushing against eachother in the heat. You could hear the cheers from the fight outside, and heard other distant chants as someone did the keg. 

“God, yeah. It’s the best bit about it all. You know there will always be a great party.”  

You couldn’t stop looking at him. He didn’t even know you and was just openly chatting with you. There was no sense of awkwardness, and no silences - and even if there were, they didn’t feel uncomfortable. As he talked, it was always with a slight smile or a hand through his hair. It felt like he was happy speaking to you, and god you were happy to. 

As the night went on, the two of you found yourself spending it together. You sat on top of the counter with him in front of you. The drunker you got, the more comfortable you got with him. You spoke about your life in California, and learnt more about his. His parents weren’t in often, much the same as yours. He didn’t know what he wanted to do in college, but he was thinking of not going and signing up for the police force. You didn’t want to go to college either but instead move out of California and start new. He suggested moving to Hawkins jokingly, but from the time you’ve been here, it didn’t seem to bad. You even ended up asking him what he uses for his hair like you planned to.

“Hey, what do you use in your hair? It’s amazing.”

“Farrah Faw-” he stopped himself, looking at you quickly to see if you could work out the rest of his sentence. You looked at your hands, desperately trying not to laugh and not to show him you were on the brink of bursting out into laughter. “Yes! Alright! Farrah Fawcett spray! It’s holds the hair amazing.” 

“She does have great hair.” you said, trying to cover up your amusement. But when you made eye contact with him, and he was trying to cover a smile as well by trying to drink his drink, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You howled with laughter, leaning back on the counter and looking up to the ceiling. He couldn’t contain it either, laughing so hard that he ended up nearly spitting out his drink over you. Luckily he containted it, but his face as he desperately tried to swallow his drink made you laugh even more, nearly making you fall of the counter. He quickly held onto you before you could fall, helping you get back on. As the laughter settled, he moved closer to you, standing in between your legs as you sat relaxed on the counter.

You instantly got butterflies in your stomach, feeling like a little kid again. You had only just met this boy tonight, but you loved being with him. You loved how happy he made you, and how you instantly lost the intention of trying to be a ‘cool girl’ and just settled into your skin and was yourself. He felt the same, he hadn’t been this happy in a while. Neither of you had any intention of meeting someone tonight, but you did, and now you wouldn’t have imagined the night going any other way. As he got close to you, you instinctively put your hands around his neck.

 “You’re a nice boy.” You said with a smile, looking into them eyes.

 “Not too bad yourself, kid.” He muttered, slowly leaning in to you. You panicked inside, your heart beating through your body, making you feel how you felt when the music was loud and you partying. You found yourself leaning in as well, and then your lips found his and that was that. You had fallen for him, and he had fallen for you. It felt right. There’s not much more to it, just that it was right. 

It was a combination of passion, but romantic. Everybody wants to rule the world played in the background as he put a hand around on your waist, trying to pull you closer to him. You both needed that contact with each other, but if you didn’t get it, you wouldn’t mind, because you had this kiss. Your hands found themselves in his hair, worried he’d freak out about it, but he didn’t flinch at all and instead kissed you harder. You felt just like that couple earlier, and you regretted rolling your eyes at them, because you now realised how easy it is to be consumed by a person and need their warmth on you. You slowly pulled away from him, not wanting to but making yourself. 

“Shit, what’s the time.” You muttered, looking around for a clock.

“12:15.” He replied, looking down at his watch.

“Oh my god, I have to go.” You panicked, jumping off the counter using his shoulders as support. You finished the rest of your drink and went to walk out of the kitchen. He grabbed you and pulled you into him, kissing you one last time. 

“What are you, Cinderella or something?” He smirked.

 “What and you’re Prince Charming?” You pulled away from him and walked out of the room, entering the main room and pushing your way through the bodies again. 

 “Hey! Cinderella!” He shouted across the crowd. You spun round. “I never got your name.”

“Well, I’ll have to stay as Sandy for now.” You shouted back, giving a small wave. You entered through to the garden and told Billy you both had to go. You knew his dad would go apeshit if he wasn’t home on time, so you pulled him away from the girl he was trying to get with and drove him together. 

“Successful night?” He questioned, looking over at your smile as you drove. It had been ten minutes since you left him, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The kiss, the contact, the warmth - him.

 “Maybe so, Hargrove.”

 “No, it would have been successful if it was with me. You had an average night with whatever dipshit you got with.” He argued back playfully, but he meant it you could tell. Normally you would tease around with him and then tell him it was never going to happen, but tonight you just smiled over at him - too happily content.

 The next morning you and Billy decided to go for a hungover breakfast together, so you drove to a cheap diner that was open that early and parked the car up. He lit a cigarette as you both got out the car and walked up to the door, him going on about how much he apparently knew you wanted to get with him, obviously pushing his luck. 

 “Whatever, Billy. Sure, I’m just desperate for you.” You laughed, opening the door to the diner. However just as you were entering, a familiar face was leaving.  

“Oh my god.” He muttered, a wave of shock covered his face. “Sandy? From the party?” He laughed, throwing his hands up in the air. Of all the diners in Indiana, you both found yourselves here at the same time. However then he noticed Billy standing behind you, looking at him with glaring eyes.

“Hargrove?”

“Harrington.” 

“What the absolute fuck is going on.” You asked, just as confused and shocked as this ‘harrington’ boy was ten seconds ago. You looked at Billy, then at the boy, then back at Billy. 

“You’re with Hargrove?” He asked, pointing at him. 

“You got something going on with Harrington?” Billy questioned, staring at you dead in the eyes, suddenly realising that there was a chemistry between you two. 

“You two know each other?” You laughed out of shock. “Oh my god, we should get breakfast together!” You almost shouted with excitement. 

Silence. Dead silence. 

“Nah.” Both boys said at the same time. Billy walked forward to go get a table for the two of you, and the Harrington boy walked out. Fuck. 

“Wait!” You chased him out of the diner. You grabbed his shoulder and he turned around, still confused. 

 “You’re with Hargrove? And you kissed me? Cinderella with Hargrove?” He looked…genuinely hurt? You saw the sadness in his eyes as he pushed his hands through his hair. You let out a smile laugh and shook your head. 

“No! He’s the friend! From California! I’m visiting him!” Steve let out a loud sigh, then started to laugh slightly. 

“Shit I’ve just made myself look like a dick.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Is there anything between the two of you?” 

“Not at all. He tries bu-“. He interrupted you by pulling you in for a kiss, slow and deep. His hands ran through your hair and your arms rested around his torso. You stood on the tips of your toes to level yourself to his height just to get closer to him. 

“Sorry I had to ask. He frequently beats the shit out of me and I didn’t wanna kiss his girl.” The boy chuckled, and then suddenly stopped. “Not that I-I’m scared of him or anything. I beat the shit out of him too sometimes I ju-“ 

“Shhh…Harrington.” You smirked, putting a finger to his mouth, smiling at him trying to defend himself and impress you. 

“It’s Steve, by the way.” He smiled. 

“Steve.” You contemplated his name, smiling. Your dream boy now had a name - Steve Harrington. 

“Well, Steve Harrington. I’ll speak to billy about this later, but how about you come get me later.” You smirked. He returned one, and pulled you in tight. 

“Dinner, 7?”

“Sounds good.” You pulled away from the hug and walked up to the diner again, leaving the boy standing confused. 

“I still don’t know your name! Hey!”

“You’ll have to find out tonight!” You shouted back, opening the diner door and stepping inside. 

“Alright, alright, Sandy.” He muttered with a genuine smile, the first he had in a while.

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

🔪 Horror Villain x Reader Fics:

Freddy Krueger (A Nightmare on Elm Street)

Tethered. 4.2K words, AFAB Reader, NSFW.

Hold Still. 1.5K words, AFAB Reader, NSFW.

Desperate, Aren't You? 792 words, AFAB Reader, NSFW.

Blood, Bruises, and Bite Marks. 4.5K words, GN Reader, NSFW-ish.

Warmth. 3.3K words, GN Reader, SFW.

I Never Pegged You as the Type. 10.5K words, AFAB Reader, NSFW.

Passion Is Sometimes a Fucked Up Thing. 1.1K words, GN Reader, NSFW.

Gabriel May (Malignant)

You're Craving a Release. 1.5K words, GN Reader, NSFW.

Angel Eyes. 608 words, AFAB Reader, NSFW.

Amanda Young & Mark Hoffman (Saw)

Too Late I'm Dead. Amanda Young x AFAB Reader. 5.1K words, NSFW.

Find My Sanctuary. Amanda Young x GN Reader. 3.1K words, NSFW.

Ghostface (Scream, Dead By Daylight)

Epitome of Sweet Misery. Danny Johnson x GN Reader. 1.1K, NSFW.

Severen (Near Dark) & Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Needles and Pins. Severen x AFAB Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett. 9.8K words, NSFW.

Assorted one-offs

Demonolatry. Inkubus x AFAB Reader, Inkubus. 6.6K words, NSFW.

Perfect Stranger. Sandie Collins x GN Reader, Last Night in Soho. 4.4K words, SFW.

🎭 Original Characters

Roxanne "Roxy" Love (New Nightmare OC)

OC Bio. 2.5K words, SFW.

NSFW alphabet. 1.5K words, NSFW.

More to be announced

🚧 Works In Progress

Waking Nightmares (multi-chapter)

Fate Up Against Your Will (multi-chapter)