#they were rolled. one time. no fudges no changes.

[malurged]

remembering that while vespin rolled his stats stupid high, he consistently rolled his checks like shit and i'm glad to find out that this is still the case

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Male Yandere Human-like Golem x Gender Neutral Human Reader (CW: Noncon, huge dick, golem man, magic, fatal violence towards bandits, spit used as lube, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.8k (Sorry this took forever, was originally going to be a drabble and then kinda got away from me, hope you all enjoy huge dick golem man.)

The small town that you lived in, Somnheim, had been victim to a swathe of horrible luck. Raided by bandits, packs of beasts killing livestock, and enemy soldiers scavenging what they could. Finally the town had enough and sent for a practitioner of the magic arts to aid them in the defense of their village.

This was you.

They didn’t have much but they offered a home and food for your services. You figured you could help them and have a quiet place to conduct your research away from the prying eyes of the council, who liked to hold newer mages under their thumb. It would also just be something nice you could do for your fellow humans, and these folks clearly needed the help.

You didn’t want to stay in this place forever though, so your solution would have to be one that would last long after you were gone.

Given your expertise in summoning and animating the logical choice was a good, old fashioned, golem. A pentagram, some select incense, clay flesh molded to a slate skeleton and imbued with an amethyst heart carrying an artificial soul, some runes carved in, and a scroll inserted that would have him follow his purpose and give him personality.

Then just add in a spell that turned the humanoid clay man into something more human so as not to frighten the villagers too badly and make him able to experience a near human existence.

The ritual was a complete success. Of course it was. You were you after all, young but talented and more importantly utterly dedicated to your craft.

Somnheim now had a mighty protector. An artificial man over 9 feet tall, with huge bulging muscles, shaggy brown hair, stoic brown eyes that gave nothing away, and glowing green runes on his arms and legs. The spell that made him human-like was more than just visual, it gave him nearly all the functions of a human male, he’d be as durable and strong as the hardest metal, never age, and of course he was certainly infertile.

Not one for creative names, you named him Slate.

Eventually bandits came by and decided they would stock up in Somnheim before going on to bigger and better loot.

They did not live to regret that decision.

Slate simply rolled a massive boulder down the hill they approached from and flattened all but a couple. Those he took care of quickly with magically precise throws of average sized stones.

Over the months any threat he couldn’t flatten with a boulder or smack with a stone he would pop open with his mighty fists.

By the end of his first year as the village’s guardian he was beloved by every single townsperson. Even the tiny children, who would climb on him and put flowers in his shaggy hair as he smiled and watched, had no fear of him.

You had enjoyed your time there, but eventually it was time for a change of scenery. You wanted to do more field research and you had saved enough money up with side projects to be able to fund a trip to the other side of the country near The Great Forest.

The villagers were grateful and sad to see you go, but they were much more interested in Slate than you.

But when you packed your bags to leave behind your wattle and daub dwelling once and for all you found yourself blocked by Slate.

He uttered one word in that deep, almost monotone, voice of his.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? I have to leave.” You tried to squeeze past him but he was not having it.

“I must protect the village… Your presence here makes the village safer… I might need repairs… or reinforcements… And you also tasked me with keeping you safe…”

You fudged the wording. You, breather of life into stone, weaver of clay, and creator of souls, messed up the wording.

He picked you up like a box of luggage and sat you on a chair in your makeshift study before going over to the heaviest bookshelf, picking it up, and placing it in front of the only door so you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll move it when I need to leave… then I will put a rock outside to keep you here…”

And that became your life. A literal prisoner in your own home.

Your magical abilities were useless in this situation, you were not a battlemage that could explode a wall, you couldn’t teleport, you bent earth.

Of course you tried to tunnel your way out by making a hole under your bed, but Slate had walked in and caught you red handed. He had confiscated and locked away all your magical supplies and texts unless you needed them to repair him you were not getting them back.

Slate was tentative enough of your physical needs, bringing you food and water and taking you outside like some sort of pet for sunlight, fresh air, and exercise. You had tried to run away but of course he had inhuman speed. And the villagers refused to help. What if Slate refused to save them if they did that?

It was a fair concern, he was made to protect the village and not villagers, he may even see them as a threat if they assisted you. You were on your own.

Though you were healthy enough physically your mental condition was deteriorating rapidly. How could you not be? Being trapped in the same building, even with trips outside, was awful. The villagers only looked at you with pity if they looked at you at all, and no one would even talk to you anymore.

It got to the point where you barely eat, refused to go outside, and spent all your time laying in bed.

Slate was failing the magical directives that governed his personality and behavior. You were clearly not safe, he was convinced that you would die if this continued, and honestly you likely would… eventually…

But the golem was not incapable of learning. He observed the other humans to find out what he could add to your life to bring you back to your usual self.

One night, when he was sitting in front of the house watching the humans passing by and holding hands, he came to the conclusion that humans had families, they lived together in their dwellings and they loved each other. They coupled together and mated.

Up until this point Slate had only been directed by simple emotion and the unyielding parchment that had imbued him with his goals. But now his task demanded something more of him, it demanded a much more complex emotion. The magic in him allowed this evolution, and now he was much more dangerous because he loved you. But it wasn’t just love he felt for the first time, it was lust.

Slate’s expression became one of someone thinking about the one who they adored infinitely, an expression of a man thinking about the person he wanted to have writhing in pleasure beneath him, even his normally green runes and brown eyes took on an amorous pink glow.

When you heard the boulder blocking the door shift and then heard the bookshelf take its place as what was blocking your way out as Slate came lumbering in with his heavy steps you didn’t even glance up.

Not until he stood in front of you and you noticed his strange pink glow replacing his green one did you stir.

You sat up in bed and when you saw the strange way his normally near emotionless eyes were staring at you, and glowing, you scooted away.

“I know what you need now! I am so sorry for not realizing sooner…” He said in a surprisingly soothing tone, a stark departure from his normally deep monotone.

“What do yo-”

Your words were forgotten as he took off his shirt and pants revealing a sweaty body and a frighteningly large cock.

“You need a partner to be happy, like the other humans, and you need to mate!”

He sounded very eager.

“No! Uh… I don’t need to… mate. I need to lea-” he put a large finger over your lips and shushed you before gripping your pants and peeling them and your underwear away from you carefully.

There was no dissuading him from his chosen course of action, he would make you happy and keep you safe no matter what!

It’s what you needed.

Slate leaned forward and spit all over your hole, thoroughly lubing it with his spit, before pressing his big cock into your hole.

It was so large that you let out a whimper of pain at first, but he was somehow knowledgeable enough about sex to know he needed to let you adjust to the size rather than just ramming himself in.

You gasped and writhed but he held you still with his massive hands running up and down your sides as he slowly pulled you down on his prick.

Slate was in complete heaven, he had never really known much pleasure of any kind, let alone the type that came with burying his cock in someone he was now completely obsessed with.

He had no idea his dick could be used for this at all, but now that he did he would certainly be doing this everyday, maybe even a couple times a day! The perfect blend of heat and softness was amazing.

As he began to thrust slowly, with a blissed out expression as he stared up at nothing with drool coming out of his mouth, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure as his cock caressed your depths perfectly.

Hearing your breathy moans snapped him back to reality. You were finally happy again~

The treatment was working! That settled it, he would do this every single day no matter what!

Carefully gripping your sides a bit more firmly he moved your entire body back and forth on his cock. You couldn’t help it, your whole body twitched with the force of a massive orgasm. The sensation of your body spasming around his previously virgin dick caused him to slam in deep and cum hard.

He pulled you close, holding your head into his muscular chest as he panted, his dick still firmly impaling your limp body. You hadn’t been eating much and this serious fucking had taken a lot out of you.

Slate cleaned the two of you up, bathing you gently before taking advantage of your compliant state by spoon feeding you some dinner he had brought from a town person.

Mating with you made you so pleasured and too tired to resist him when he took care of you, he almost couldn’t wait until you had enough energy to do it again, his cock strained in his pants with anticipation.

[igotanidea]

Personal rhythm: Jason Todd x reader

Summary/request: Jason finding out that you've never slow danced before, and he goes out of his way to arrange a dance for just the two of you alone.

thank you @miraculous-panic ;)

***

„What do you mean never?”

‘Seriously Jason, it’s a five letter word. One of the most common used in English. With all the books on your account this is not the question you should be asking.”

***

It was a Saturday night.

Movie night.

Y/N and Jason facilely decided that after all week of working/vigilanting, some silly teenage drama to cool off and relax would be in place.

And that’s how they ended up watching „To all the boys I’ve loved before”.

Or rather - binging through the whole trilogy.

Or - in other words - giving commentary and laughing at every other silly, cliche scene.

And it was so good and so nice and so peaceful, finally not having a care in the world and just relaxing in each other’s company.

Any other guy would probably complain about the choice and force his way to Fast and furious or some Jason Statham action movie, but not Jason. Truthfully as long as they were both spread comfortably on the couch, his head on her lap, being treated with the most welcomed head scalp massage, he might have watched the Paw patrol or Dora the explorer and not say a word.

However-

All good things must come to an end.

After something around 4 hours they finally reached the prom scene. The choosing king and queen of the ball scene. And the slow dancing scene.

And that changed the serene atmosphere.

„Do you see that Y/N? Come on, this guy can’t even lead her properly. I swear if he was moving like that in a real life poor girl will have her feet trampled.”

„Guess they should have hired you for the scene.” Y/N laughed in response.

„Damn right they should have! After all you were the one to say I remind you of the guy who plays -- what was his name again?” Jason rolled on his back so he could stare up at his girlfriend.

‘PETER!” she laughed as if they didn’t hear that name like 100 times already

„Right! Right, Peter! Of course! Still think I’m way more handsome though-”

„Damn, you’re such a tease Todd!”

„You’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to agree with me!” Jason sat up abruptly, turning her head back from him and towards the screen. „Now, watch it carefully and confirm my theory. He doesn’t know how to slow dance, does he?. Seriously, from a girl’s perspective. ‘’

„I --”

„Are you blind now?” Jason smirked at her indecisiveness.  

„Hey!” the punch on his arm did nothing to hurt him but was definitely a surprise

„Just admit it! Guys don’t dance like that! This is not the way a girl- a woman-- should be held!”

„How would I know?!” she finally exploded, her emotions pushed forward because of Jason’s obliviousness.

„What do you mean--?”

„I never slow danced!”

‘Never?” now that was shocking. Yes, they rarely dwelt in the past, especially the time frame in which Jason was absent, but how come he never knew about that?! shit, what else did she missed from the teenage/young adult years? And how the fudge he didn’t make it right yet?!

‘Do you want me to spell it out for you?” she rolled her eyes stopping the movie „N-E-V-E-R”

„you’re right it’s a five letter word. One of the most commonly used in English. But to me, in this context, it doesn’t make any sense.” he grabbed her hands pulling her forward to him and looking straight into her eyes, smirking. „That’s bullshit and I won’t be fooled.”

„You’re being fooled by not being fooled.”

„Huh?” damn that girl had some twisted logic on her. „the hell does that mean?”

„It means I’m telling the truth.” she blushed slightly despite her best effort to act cool. It was a bit embarrassing to admit to her boyfriend that she lacked in the experiences of youth.

„No shit!” he laughed

„This is not funny!”

„This is plenty funny!”

„Oh, like you slowed danced before!”

„I didn’t get to go to prom, cause as you might have noticed I’ve been dead at the time--’

„Like I could ever forget that.” she rolled her eyes in annoyance to cover up for the heartache she felt at the memory.

„- I did slow dance.”

„What now?! With who!? Cause definitely not with me!”

„Is someone jealous now?” Jason leaned forward

„You wish Todd!”

„Jealousy is a bad trait, you know. I’d advice you to stop it baby...”

„Or what?”

‘Or I might have to actually help you enrich your experience.”

„Oh really, and how --?”

That sentence was cut by a involuntary squeak as Jason pulled her to her feet, almost causing the girl to crash with his hard chest due to the force.

„Shit, sorry Y/N. Forgot how tiny and light you are.”

„I am--”

„Sh.” the tone of his voice and the gesture of putting his finger to her lips definitely couldn't stand opposition.  „don’t you dare saying another word, I forbid you. You are tiny and light. And now, I’m going to make you feel like a fragile princess in the arms of a handsome and brave prince.”

One of his hand found a way to her waist, the other to her shoulder blades, grabbing her firmly but delicately. For some crazy reason she actually did feel secure and loved in his hands. Like nothing wrong could happen as long as she was held like this.

As long as his eyes were focused solely on her.

And it was both terrifying and wonderful experience.

„You can touch me, you know. It’s not like you haven’t done it before....” Jason chuckled at the way her hands hung awkwardly by her sides

„You’re ruining the moment, dipshit!”

„You’re the one using invectives baby. Don’t get any silly ideas in your head. You’re not going anywhere. Not until you get that slow dance.”

‘I’m make-up-less and wearing sweatpants.”

„And you’re still the prettiest girl in the world ”

„We don’t have any music.” she objected almost causing Jason to groan.

„Here.” he grabbed her hand and put it to his heart „feel that rhythm?” she nodded „good. Very good. Now this is the only sound you should be focusing on. Cause it resounds for you. You hear me, Y/N?”

„I hear you....” she whispered

„It’s only for you, baby.”

„i thought you weren’t romantic....” his grip on her tightened as he pulled her closer to him, swaying gently right and left, their feet barely moving, but it was still considered slow-dancing for them.

„I’m not. But I can be for you....” he muttered against her hair, planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head „You even made me dance, which is enough of a sign that I’ll do anything for you. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

„Can you just be yourself? The guy I fell for?”

„I suppose that can be arranged.” he smiled, even though she couldn’t see it with her face pressed to his chest.

And they would stay in this silence, moving to their own song for much longer if it wasn’t for their cat jumping on the couch, right on the pilot, and resuming the movie on the prom dance performance.  

Giving Y/N and Jason a chance to put that scene into reality and adapting it into her their lives.

First time.

With many more to come.

[little-pondhead]

Clockwork sneezed.

Then he paused. He never sneezes. He’s a ghost; ghosts don’t get sick. Not since he locked up the last Ghost Virus in his vaults. Why did he sneeze?

He sneezed again. Oh no, was that a headache coming on? His eyes felt tired and his skin was itchy. Was that a tickle in his throat?? Were those spots on his arm?? Shit, time to go check on his vaults to make sure nothing escaped. All hell would break loose if there was a ghost epidemic again.

Clockwork turns to leave the room, and in his haste, his scepter taps the very edge of a tall and thin grandfather clock he’d just been working on. The clock was made from a red-stained cottonwood he’d procured from the heart of Kansas many years ago, and it was gilded in delicate gold that shone with age and looked well-loved. Despite its height, the clock was a strong one, and didn’t tip over when the Ghost of Time bumped it.

It did, however, shift a few of the loose cogwheels inside. A few of them dropped out of the clock, and one even fell to the floor and rolled away. The ones that stayed inside rattled ominously for a moment before settling into their new spots. The clock kept ticking, but the time was off now. It skipped a few seconds, just enough for a listener to notice, before suddenly reversing the hour and minute hands.

Too bad there was nobody nearby to pay attention to the now-broken clock.

—

Danny was a strange boy. He knew that. Everyone in Amity knew that. Even his mentor, Clockwork, called him strange every once in a while. He liked being strange. It was fun being unpredictable. Having a Time Medallion stuck in his chest certainly helped in his shenanigans, since it meant he was technically separate from the time streams. He had pulled off more than one prank on his pseudo-grandfather by using this to his advantage.

Sometimes, however, Danny’s freedom from the time stream caused him more trouble than he thought it was worth. Like right now, for example.

He was simply at home, battling dinner with his sister while his parents were making a batch of fudge. Suddenly, Danny felt the time stream shift and writhe in a way he’d never felt before. He shivered and sneezed, thinking nothing of it. Clockwork made tiny adjustments all the time, there was nothing to worry about.

Except there was. When he opened his eyes, there was now a baby in his house.

One minute it was just him and Jazz at the table, the next, a baby in a red high chair was giggling and clapping along with Jazz as she tried to cut up the double-dead hotdogs into smaller bits for the child to eat.

The baby wasn’t a ghost, Danny knew. But when he looked around, evidence of a baby living in the Fenton house laid everywhere. The rocking chair in the living room now had a side table with two empty bottles on it. Pictures hanging in the hall had been changed to include the child. Toys were scattered around every corner, just waiting to be stepped on. Neither Jazz nor his parents had blinked at the sudden change.

In fact, Danny discovered, everyone in Amity Park seemed to think that this baby had always been with them. Even his best friends and rogues didn’t bat an eye! Danny was now a middle child, while everything else stayed the same.

But Danny knew. He knew something was wrong. This baby didn’t belong here.

He had to talk to Clockwork. He had to find out who this child was.

The child named Clark K. Fenton.

[laurenairay]

every breath, every hour has come to this - S. Jarvis

Summary: Seth Jarvis was your best friend, your rock, your protector…but could he ever be anything more?

This is my entry for @callsign-denmark’s Luck of the Puck fic exchange! I’ve written a Seth Jarvis story for @mp0625, and I really hope you like this – it’s my first time writing for him and I had a lot of fun with it! Thanks for providing some really great prompts for me to work with.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: some bad language, hurt/comfort, alcohol, terrible date, I fudged the Canes’ game schedule.

Title from: A thousand years, Christina Perri

~

For as long as you could remember, Seth had always been in your life. Two peas in a pod, two goofy little kids, always attached at the hip. Even as hockey became more and more of a fixture in his life, you were right there in the stands, cheering him on at the top of your lungs as his biggest fan. You were his staunchest supporter, always giving him reassurance when his self-confidence cracked or faltered. He was your loyal protector, pushing away anyone that was ever mean to you, including shitty boyfriends. Everyone knew in your small suburb in Winnipeg that where one of you went, the other was sure to follow.

So it was exactly no surprise to your parents (and his) when you followed him down to Raleigh the moment his entry level contract was signed.

You didn’t know what you would do without his energetic personality lighting up your day, the ultimate hype-man even before dates that both of you knew weren’t going to end well, or his sweet smiles in a terrible morning after a fantastic night out with his team. You didn’t know what you would do without his built arms wrapped around you on the sofa while you watched awful reality tv or cheesy movies, broad shoulders perfectly places to rest your head on, and especially waking up after a shared nap together, cementing his self-proclaimed King of Naps title.

Or seeing him wake up from a nap by himself, and his whole face lighting up when he saw you there too.

For as long as you could remember, you’d been in love with Seth, and there was nothing you could do about it. You’d seen the girls Seth went on dates with, and they were nothing like you. Even when the two of you were going on your first dates when you were barely teenagers, his ‘type’ seemed to be the complete opposite of you – so you’d always endeavoured to make sure the guys you dated were the opposite of him. It was the only way to preserve your heart, to keep your incredible friendship with Seth as wholesome and solid as you needed it to be, and not once had you ever messed that up.

Seth Jarvis was the best person in your life and you never wanted that to change. Not for anything. That didn’t mean that you didn’t know how hard your life was going to be when he eventually found his soulmate – but that was a problem for future you, and you refused to do anything but live in the moment.

Speaking of living in the moment…

“Hey Seth, do these shoes go with this dress?”

Living with your best friend really did have its perks – you could always guarantee an honest opinion on your outfit from him.

“Hmm, you can’t go wrong with a little black dress and nice black heels, but where is he taking you?”

“Does that matter?”

“Well yeah, you like those shoes and I know you don’t want them to get ruined by a sticky floor,” Seth pointed out.

He really did know you so well.

“He said he’s taking me out to dinner, but he didn’t tell me where or what the venue was like,” you admitted.

You ignored Seth rolling his eyes.

“The dress is gorgeous but I would change your shoes if you aren’t sure. Maybe those black ankle boots? Not too casual but not too fancy,” Seth suggested.

Incredible.

“You are amazing,” you grinned, jogging back to your room to kick your shoes off.

“And don’t you forget it!”

You just laughed at his shout across the apartment, pulling on the ankle boots he suggested. Just as you thought, he was right. With a swipe of lipgloss,  you were ready, so you grabbed your leather jacket and headed back out of your room.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah Seth?” you asked, spinning on your heel.

“Have fun tonight. You look amazing – don’t let him forget that,” Seth said seriously, making you laugh, “And if you need anything, anything at all, call me.”

“You’re going to be my knight in shining armour?” you teased.

“With a guy you don’t know taking you out for a first date on St Patrick’s Day? Absolutely,” Seth mused.

Well you couldn’t fault him there.

“Wish me luck!”

“Luck.”

~

If only you’d know just how right Seth would be.

“Seth?” you whimpered, hiccupping into your phone.

“Woah, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I know it’s only been three hours, but can you pick me up?” you pleaded.

“Of course, I’ll leave right now. Three hours or three minutes, it doesn’t matter. Send me your location pin, but stay on the line?”

You just sniffed, nodding even though you knew he couldn’t see you, doing as he asked.

“Okay, I have it. That’s a real shitty bar, sweetheart.”

You choked out a sob. He had no idea. “Real shitty date too.”

“What did he do?”

You could hear him running out of your shared apartment, down the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator, and your heart ached with how willingly he dropped his peaceful evening just to help you.

“He lied about taking me out to dinner. Instead he took me to a bar where a bunch of his friends were, and when I asked him why he lied he told me he wanted to celebrate St Patrick’s Day with his buddies and thought I could come along. Which, fine, okay, he thought I would get on with his friends, so I went along with it. Most of his friends were fine, welcoming even, but they were getting drunker and rowdier and I don’t mind that if I’m with people I know and trust like you or your friends, but with strangers? No way. And then he…”

You trailed off, groaning at the memory, Seth just cursing under his breath. You could hear him driving, not even caring for once that he was probably breaking the speed limit. You just wanted him here.

“What did he do?”

“He started getting handsy. Slapping my ass, pulling me into his body with an arm around my waist, all of that shit, making his friends laugh even though it was obvious I was uncomfortable. But then he grabbed at my boobs and-”

“He fucking what?”

Over all the years of Seth protecting you from nasty dates and boyfriends, you’d never heard him so angry. Never.

“He groped me, in front of everyone. But I shoved him away immediately, I swear!” you insisted.

“Hey, I believe you sweetheart. I know that stuff makes you uncomfortable. I swear I’m going to kill him, I’ll-”

“No, no, I don’t want you to get in trouble, okay? I left the bar already,” you said firmly.

“You left the bar? But your location says…”

“I’m outside the bar, still in eyesight of the bouncer just in case, but I’m outside. I walked out the bar because I couldn’t stand to be near him after him threw the remainder of his beer at me for rejecting him.”

“He fucking what?!”

Okay, that was the angriest you’d ever heard him.

“Told you he was a shitty date,” you mumbled, sniffing again as your eyes stung with tears once more.

“This is not your fault. He was an absolute asshole and none of this is on you.”

“Just my luck, right?” you said, huffing out a bitter laugh.

Seth just cursed under his breath again, continuing to mutter about how men were shit and you deserved better and all the things that usually would put such a smile on your face…but right now it just made you want to be home, safe with him, curled up in his arms. Nothing felt better than being with Seth and it was only because of the few drinks that you had that you allowed yourself to think like this. Thankfully, it couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes before you saw a familiar car screeching into the parking lot, and you finally felt like you could breathe.

He pulled to a stop only metres away from you, and you wasted no time in walking over to him, even as he got out of the car and slammed his door shut, jogging over to meet you halfway.

“Shit, sweetheart, look at you,” Seth scowled.

You groaned softly as he took in your blurred mascara and beer-soaked top, and grabbed his hand to break his attention.

“Can we just go? I want to get as far away from here as possible.”

You rested a hand on his chest, gently guiding him backwards towards his car, out of earshot of the bouncer and anyone else who deigned to leave, Seth’s fuming expression never leaving the dive bar you were walking away from.

“Is he still inside? Is that asshole still in there?” Seth demanded.

“Hey, no, come on, leave it. He’s not worth it,” you pleaded.

“He doesn’t get to treat you like that and get away with it. No-one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? No-one.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your body thrummed with heat at his furious words, his eyes wild in a way you’d only ever seen on the ice. His fists were clenched, his nostrils were flared, and his shoulders were squared, all the while his cheeks flushing with anger as well. It was only the brief flash of desperation across his face that let you know he wasn’t mad at you – no, this was Seth’s protective side coming out in full force, dialled up to 1000.

“Seth, I…”

You trailed off, running a hand through your hair as you struggled to find words to defend yourself, relying in his car to lean against and keep you upright. He might not have been mad at you, but it still didn’t feel good to know that your situation was making him react like this.

“It’s not like I go out of my way to date assholes,” you eventually managed, “they just seem to find me.”

“Shit, sweetheart, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just…”

He cut himself off, seeming to need a moment to think, and you waited silently for him to give you something. Anything. Eventually he cleared his throat, the wildness in his eyes replaced by an anguish that made your heart ache.

“I can’t take it anymore. I just wish you’d see what you could have, right in front of you.”

What?

What was he talking about?

Right in front of you?

The more seconds the silence stretched on, the more your confused thoughts swirled and the more frustrated Seth looked, until he groaned in frustration.

“I’m talking about me,” he said through gritted teeth, looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“You?” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“Yeah and now I wish I’d never said a damn thing so can we please pretend that you’re really drunk instead of tipsy, and never talk about it again?” Seth muttered, avoiding your eyes.

As all of his words started to sink in, you found yourself shaking your head as decades-buried hope dared to surface.

“You’ve never said anything at all! You like me?” you said, needing him to say it again.

Seth huffed out a laugh, still not looking particularly comfortable.

“How could I say anything? I’m nothing like any of the guys you’ve ever dated,” he muttered.

“Because I purposely date guys that are nothing like you!” you shot back.

“What?”

You groaned as embarrassed heat filled your cheeks, turning your head away to give you a chance to save a scrap of dignity, but then Seth’s hand was cupping your face, gently turning you back to look at him properly. Never had he touched you like this, so delicately and with such purpose. His eyes were a storm, barely giving you anything to go on outside of the intensity, and it was all you could do to let out a shaky breath as he dropped his hand but stepped a little closer.

“I’m going to need you to give me a bit more than that, sweetheart,” Seth said, barely more than a murmur, edge of his voice a little rough, “What do you mean?”

“I purposely date guys that are nothing like you…because you’ve had my heart for longer than I care to remember. I never thought you could ever be interested in me because of the girls you date, and the thought of dating someone even a little bit similar to you was heartbreaking, so I just…went for the complete opposite. Clearly it’s been working out really well,” you said, choking off a bitter laugh as you finished.

Seth’s lips parted in surprise, and for once he was stunned into silence. It was only the fact that he hadn’t moved to step away that saved you from wanting to curl into a ball on the cold ground. Still, that didn’t stop the anguish from building inside of you like a volcano ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.

Eventually he let out a shaky breath, smiling weakly.

“We’ve wasted so much time,” he said softly, shaking his head.

What?

“We…have?” you asked, still in disbelief.

“We have.” Seth nodded, smiling at you in a way that encouraged you to finally smile back at him, giddy without being able to stop yourself, “You’re my goddamned soulmate, how could I ever want anyone but you? And knowing now that you’ve felt the same way all this time? It’s everything. I wish I could say I’ve been playing the long game but honestly I never thought you’d ever want me back. But we need to put a pin in this conversation until tomorrow.”

What? Why?

You didn’t know what was showing on your face but it made Seth laugh – a little deliriously, maybe, but a bright laugh that you were so used to all the same.

“You’ve been drinking, sweetheart. You’ve literally just ended a bad date covered in beer, as well as had quite an emotional night,” Seth explained.

“That still won’t change how I feel about you in the morning,” you pointed out.

His smile turned a little bashful, but definitely pleased, making the butterflies in your stomach riot.

“Then I look forward to hearing you say it again tomorrow. Just…let me take you home? Away from this gritty old bar parking lot?”

You nodded without hesitation, making him huff out a laugh again but take your hands.

“Take me home, Seth,” you murmured, squeezing his hands, barely able to believe the words coming out of your mouth.

With Seth’s wide grin, it looked like he could barely believe it either.

“We’re going to be amazing, you just wait.”

[staratie]

week two: phone sex

nsfw, oral sex, dirty talk, toy used, implies tall!reader wc: 534 summary: buying a phone from robin was a mistake.

Buying a phone from Robin changed your farm life. You didn’t need to travel to her house to see her stock or prices, you got to call the saloon, and Pierre’s to see what he was selling for the day.

However, having the phone did come with prank callers and Vincent randomly checking in on you.

One rainy day, you and Haley were hanging out in your cottage. You had been dating for a while and the intimacy between you two intensified. The first time you two had sex was heavenly. Literally. You two roleplayed as an angel and devil and it was obvious who played each role.

“I’m bored.” She sighed, standing up from the couch. You followed her and wrap an arm around her shoulder.

“Well, there’s a lot we can do.” You suggested. “Watch TV, cook together, feed the animals—”

“No.” Haley disagreed. She turned to you, tip-toes, gently pinned you against the wall, and placed a soft kiss on your lips. Your kiss picked up, to the point where you were taking each other’s clothes off.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You rolled your eyes, stopped the kiss, and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” You asked, trying not to moan. Haley’s lips went down from your cheek to your collarbone and your chest.

“Hi! It’s Robin!” The carpenter sang.

“Ah fuck—” You whispered as your lover knelt down. She started kissing you, licking her tongue around you, sighing happily as you twitched and nearly lose your composure. “I mean ah, my fudge!”

“You baking brownies, farmer?” Robin asked.

“U-Um yeah, trying out a new recipe from Zuzu City.”

You heard Haley leave for a little bit, probably to get a pillow or blanket to kneel on. Grateful, you continued your conversation.

“So what do you want to talk about?”

“Oh! I noticed your coop isn’t upgraded yet. I think you should consider doing that because you are probably buying more animals…” Robin chatted endlessly about the farm.

You masked a moan as Haley motioned you to lean on the kitchen counter. You felt your toy she bought for you at your entrance. She knelt down again and kissed you, adding tongue around your rim.

Haley lubed up her fingers and inserted one gently..then two…then three…then, she stood up on a nearby chair, and thrusted the dildo inside. She was prepared and had it attached to a belt. When it came to lovemaking, she wasn’t soft as you expected.

She was thrusting hard, grabbing your hair and making you look up.

“You look so sexy babe,” she whispered, kissing your forehead. You felt like you were on fire, your body trembling with pleasure.

“…and you need another well…”

You mouthed out her name, squeezing your eyes shut. Haley gave you one last thrust and quickly jumped down from the chair. She pushed you back, straddled your lap, and kissed your chest, biting your nipples. Then she knelt down and roughly kissed your front.

“…how’s this phone treatin’ ya?”

“I like it!” You yelled into the phone. “Fuck having a phone is awesome!”

Robin didn’t hesitate to end the call. In fact, she was pretty impressed with how long you lasted while having the conversation.

@poniesandcupcakes @pastelfloof

[harlowcomehome]

Christmas card mix ups:

Thank you @vanwritesfan-fiction for the request.

You had spent the last week reminding Jack about your annual Christmas card photos, Urban was booked and busy this holiday season so you took it upon yourself to book an at-home photo session with another trusted photographer.

Jack had been distracted and completely engulfed by work, to the point where getting his attention was increasingly becoming more and more difficult.

You had reminded him last night about the photos but when you woke up this morning he was nowhere to be found.

You cussed to yourself as you tried to call him for the fifth time. You checked the time, knowing you had to start getting the girls ready.

Hazel was luckily already in the shower, so you just had to wake Jade which was a task in itself.

“Get up sweetheart” You turned her light on making her morning tantrum begin.

“No!” She covered her face with her comforter and faced the wall.

“Jade, can we not do this today? Please!” You already felt your blood boiling and the day had only begun.

“I want daddy!” Jade started to cry and roll around in bed.

“I do too” You threw your hands up before uncovering her.

“Get up, now and go shower!” You yelled, speaking to her sternly.

You usually weren’t one to raise your voice, Hazel was standing in the hallway staring at the both of you.

“What’s going on mommy?” She tried to talk over Jade's wailing.

“Please get her up.” You started to leave the room.

“Why can’t you? She’s your kid.” Hazel scoffed annoyed at your lack of effort.

“Hazel Renee! I asked you to do something. Now do it.” You walked past your oldest child, calling Jack's cell phone another time.

You got his voicemail again, opting out of leaving anything and sending a quick text of your annoyance.

Hazel was able to get Jade to take a shower and you went to her bedroom to talk to her.

Before you could talk she apologized.

“I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Thank you bug. I’m just a little overwhelmed today and I needed your help.”

“Daddy forgot didn’t he?” She styled her hair in the mirror, looking for your reaction.

“I think he just overbooked.” You smiled softly.

You helped Jade finish getting ready as you continued to call and text Jack and now Maggie.

It wasn’t until you heard the doorbell ring, that you realized it was too late for Jack to join you.

The photographer was here and ready to set up but at this point, you were overwhelmed and frustrated. You had her snap a few photos of the girls and paid her for the session before sending her on her way.

Jade and Hazel could feel the sadness radiating off of you as you held back tears. You were frustrated and now worried that Jack wasn’t responsive.

Both of the girls changed into comfy clothing and played in their rooms while you sat in the living room and waited.

When he finally came through the front door you practically flew off the couch and into his arms.

“Oh shit! That’s today!” He gasped as he looked at your outfit, feeling immediate remorse.

“You weren’t answering and I got scared that something happened” You looked up at him your eyes filling with tears. The photo shoot had completely left your mind.

“Babe! Your makeup!” He fanned your face which made you laugh.

“It’s too late. I just had her take some pictures of the girls” You shrugged now the obvious hurt was coming out.

“Y/N. I’m so sorry, I had a work meeting and then I got some Christmas shopping done” he showed you the bags he had set down on the ground as he walked in.

“It’s fine” you lied, swallowing the giant lump in your throat, you couldn’t hide your emotions that well and you knew it.

“I’ll leave you to wrap them” You nodded, fighting back tears as you gave him a quick kiss and skipped off to the bedroom.

Hazel and Jade watched from the hallway, Jack noticed them immediately.

“You really fudged up Daddy” Jade sighed making both Hazel and Jack crack a smile.

“I know baby, I’ll have to make it up to her.”

Hazel noticed the Prada bag in the pile of bags that Jack brought home.

“You can start with that!”

Jack turned to see what she was pointing at and laughed, “you sure are nosy little lady!”

Hazel and Jade both giggled.

“I’ll have to do something bigger this time” Jack admitted knowing how hurt you were.

“I think we should do the pictures over!” Jade squealed jumping up and down and clapping.

“I think so too” Jack smiled, before pulling his phone out and calling the fanciest magazine publication he knew.

[uchi-mochi]

You flatter me (Sebastian Sallow x Slytherin!Reader)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Summary; After joining the Slytherin quidditch team it is finally time for your first Hogwarts house party with Sebastian. Overal just two idiots who are in love <3

Warnings: mentions of Alcohol, not proofread

Word count: 2k

Requests are open!

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

House parties at Hogwarts held a strong legacy for themselves - and with every new party the students tried to out do the last one. Every house was competitive when it came to this.

Quidditch had always been a good reason to host one such party - so when the sport was reintroduced in your 'sixth' year it was only a matter of time before all hell would break lose in the common rooms.

The Slytherin quidditch team had a few open spots, Imelda Reyes had practically begged you to join the try outs, specifically for the role of seeker.

"Y/n L/n." Imelda Reyes said in a stern voice. "You have beat literally all of my damn trials in record time. You know a seeker is all about insight and speed!"

You pondered on your decision. Ranrok was gone and the ancient magic depository laid safe under Hogwarts. You would finally have some time to yourself - developing your flying hobby didn't sound too bad. 

"Besides, I heard a certain troublemaking someone is going to try out for Beater" Imelda teased.

"Very funny Imelda" you said, rolling your eyes at her. She playfully hit your side with her elbow. "Fine, I'll try out for seeker. But you owe me fudge from Honeydukes"

Naturally, you crushed the try outs and landed yourself the role of Seeker. Your competition couldn't even come close to your skills on a broom.

You sat down on the tribunes next to Ominis (who had came to cheer you and Sebastian on), opening a bag of fudge Imelda had given you. The tryout for Beater was next. Imelda was right, Sebastian was taking part in the tryouts. You had seen his surprised face when you entered the pitch - you had told him about your hesitation to join the team, but not about your change of mind.

Sebastian's skills on a broom were quite impressive. You watched in awe as he skillfully dodged and countered the incoming bludgers. He was even cocky enough to fly past you, giving you a wink.

You weren't surprised when he emerged victorious, becoming the newest Slytherin beater.

The only tryouts that were left was for the role of Keeper. Sebastian sat down next to Ominis and you after he had changed out of his quidditch gear.

"Didn't know you were going to try out for Seeker" Sebastian said as he reached for your bag of fudge. "Count me surprised"

You put the bag away from Sallows reach. "Hey, that's my well earned bribe!"

"Imelda had to bribe you to get you on the Slytherin team?" Ominis chuckled. "You're easily bribed, good to know"

Sebastian was taller than you, the difference being even larger than it was in your fifth year. He reached over for the bag and (much to your dismay) snatched a piece of the candy. "You know, I wanted to surprise you by making it on the Slytherin team. But I suppose it's even a better surprise to have my lucky charm right on the field with me"

-

Your first quidditch match was against Ravenclaw. "A good warm-up for our future matches" Imelda had said. Ravenclaw wasn't the strongest opponent you could have been out against - and you were very grateful for that. Despite your rigorous training you were nervous.

"Ready folks?" Imelda asked the team, though she didn't wait for an answer as she flew onto the air. You were all lined up for the opening ceremony, having practiced an elegant yet intimidating entrance. "I want to make them shiver before we even score a single point" Imelda had said. "Besides, it boosts morale"

The trick seemed to have worked; Imelda had scored three times before Ravenclaw did. The score was currently 80-30 for Slytherin. This gave you a slight bit of breathing room to find the golden snitch.

You scanned the playing field and spotted a glint of gold across the other side of the stadium. Sebastian flew to your side, hitting an incoming bludger away from you. You muttered a quick 'thanks'

"Seb!" You yelled. "Keep their Seeker busy for just a minute!"

"Got it!"

You flew down into the pitch, focused on that same glint of gold. Sebastian had kept his word; the Ravenclaw Seeker was far behind you, desperately avoiding the incoming bludgers. He was having a hard time avoiding Sebastian's aggressive plays - even being almost knocked out of his broom. Despite how much you loved besting Sallow in a duel, you made a mental note for yourself to never make him an enemy on the quidditch field.

The snitch was only a few centimetres out of reach as it flew under the tribunes.You upped the speed of your broom, skillfully avoiding every pillar and support that came your way. The snitch flew away from under the tribunes, out in the open air. You could spot the Ravenclaw seeker flying towards the snitch from the other side of the pitch. Sebastian had been knocked to the side and put off balance, disabling him for a few seconds. 

"40-80 for Ravenclaw!"

If you didn't act now, the match would be lost. Steering your broom slightly sideways you cut the snitch of - catching it directly in your hand just before the Ravenclaw seeker could catch it.

You quickly flew above the pitch, proudly displaying the golden snitch to the audience.

"150 points to Slytherin!"

-

You walked alongside your quidditch team into the common room, cheers erupting out of your fellow Slytherins as they swarmed around you. The common room had been decorated with all sorts of green decoration, most of them displaying the Slytherin symbol. Snacks, jugs of butterbeer and bottles of all sorts of alcohol were placed on the tables, both muggle and wizard music playing through the room.

You could spot a few shades of reds and yellows amongst the sea of robes - Merlin knows how they got in here.

Sebastian held hold of your waist, hoisting you into the air then spinning you around. You yelped in surprised at his antics, which quickly turned into a laugh.

"To our new Slytherin Seeker and Beater!" Imelda yelled as she raised her fist into the air, more cheers echoing through the room.

"What was that for!" You laughed as Sebastian put you down onto the ground again, playfully elbowing his side.

"What, can't show off our new quidditch legend?"

"Oh please, don't spare yourself the credit"

The crowd slowly dispersed over the common room as the party officially started.

"Care for a drink, Sallow?"

-

One butterbeer had turned into two (alongside a shot of something you didn't know the name of). Your head felt just slightly fuzzy.

Though that couldn't be said for a quite a bit of your fellow Hogwarts students. You had counted at least three brawl fights between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin this evening - which was very entertaining to watch. However, Imelda had promptly kicked them out of the common room.

Sebastian had left for just a moment to grab another drink, leaving you in the company of Imelda and Natty.

"Way to steal the spotlight today!" Natty said enthusiastically as she patted you on the back, holding a glass of butterbeer in her other hand. "I bet that Ravenclaw seeker is going to be sulking for at least a week"

You chuckled at her comment.

"I knew I was right about you" Imelda quipped in as she chugged down another shot. Merlin, that girl could hold her alcohol. "If you keep this up I'll happily buy you all the fudge your heart could ever desire"

"Look forward to our win streak then, Imelda"

You scanned the room for Sebastian. He had been gone for a while now. You spotted chatting with Ominis across the room from you, pouring him a glass of butterbeer. He had definitely gotten taller over the summer - and oh dear, all the quidditch practice had really made him more muscular. You knew Sebastian was handsome, but had he always looked this good in his white button up shirt and those rolled up sleeves?

Imelda followed your line of sight. "Admiring Sallow now, aren't we?"

You whipped your head away from his direction, embarrassed that you got caught.

"Oh please, it doesn't take a lot to notice how obviously the two of you like eachother"

You shot Natty a pleading look in an attempt to get her to back you up, but all she did was shrug.

"Although I have to admit, seeing the two of you pining over eachother has become one of my favorite past time hobbies, it's about damn time one of you confessed to eachother"

You had harbored a crush on Sebastian ever since the trip the two of you made to Hogsmeade at the beginning of your fifth year - his strong wit, flirty comments and protective nature made you fall head over heels for the troublemaker. However, over the passing year your feelings and admiration for the boy had only grown.

"Don't tell me you're scared of asking a boy out on a date?"

"Shut it, Imelda!"

Natty laughed at your bickering. "You have taken down countless dark wizards Y/n!"

"And don't forget about the poachers"

You groaned. "Don't remind me". They were right. How did asking out a boy seem so much scarier than taking down dark wizards? You hid behind your hands, making Natty laugh as she pulled you against her side.

"Tough evening huh?"

You quickly turned around and came face to face with Sebastian Sallow. If your blush wasn't obvious already, it certainly was now. Imelda and Natty giggled at the sight. Imelda shot up from her seat in a hurry, pulling Natty along with her.

"Our turn to get a drink now!" Natty chirped as the two of them rushed off towards the snack table.

You sighed, internally screaming at the thought of Sebastian hearing your conversations. "you could say that, yeah"

Rather than sitting down, Sebastian held out his hand for you. "I haven't danced yet tonight. Care to indulge me?" Your face lit up, gladly taking his hand.

"I'd love too, Seb"

Sebastian eagerly pulled you with him onto the dance floor, laughter erupting from the both of you.

"Ever danced before?" Sebastian asked as he placed his hand on your waist, making you feel as if butterflies were flying through your stomach

"A few times" you said as Sebastian guided one of your hands to his shoulder. Your other hand was still intertwined with his.

"Well don't worry - I'll lead"

The current song ended, a more slow and romantic song taking it's place. The two of you gently swayed across the dancefloor. Merlin did he look gorgeous tonight. You started into his eyes which were full of love and adoration.

"You're a natural" Sebastian whispered as he gently twirled you around.

"You flatter me too much, Sallow"

"You're worthy of all the flattering in the world, L/n"

You couldn't contain your feelings for him anymore. You didn't know where you got the sudden boost in confidence from but it didn't matter. You let lose of Sebastian's hand and grabbed onto the colour of Sebastian's button up shirt, pulling him into a desperate kiss.

Sebastian needed no time react, pulling you closer against him - his free hand now placed in your hair. He kissed you back just as desperately. His lips were slightly chapped, the taste of butterbeer still evident on them. Your hand found it's way onto his cheek, gently cupping it making him deepen the kiss.

The two of you broke apart, gasping in need of air. "I've been waiting ages for you to do that" Sebastian whispered, letting out a shaky breath as he pulled you into another kiss, cheers erupting through the common room at the sight.

[venus-haze]

Working for the Knife (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: It’s been over 15 years since the Windsor College murders, not that they had ever been on your radar. That changes when you get hired at a New York marketing firm where you work closely with Mickey Altieri, alleged Ghostface killer whose charges were dropped after a controversial mistrial. Working so closely together piques your interest in each other, soon spiraling out of control. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader implied to be mid-20s or older, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also Timothy Olyphant being such a DILF, I had to write something like this (I had Justified era Olyphant in mind while writing this, specifically these gifsets, but you can picture whatever hehe). Creative liberties have obviously been taken. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: True crime elements (the reader engages with a lot of true crime content), but obviously this is a fictional serial killer. Mutual stalking/obsession. Sexually explicit content that includes dubious consent fantasy that involves knifeplay; spanking, daddy kink, oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

For once, you felt like things were going your way. After a little over three years of scraping by at your old job where you were woefully overworked and underpaid, your months-long job search finally came to an end when a mid-sized marketing firm gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Sure, you’d taken a huge pay raise and shifted to a hybrid schedule with your new job, but the highlight was undoubtedly Mickey, the only other person on your small team and the type of sexy older man you sure as hell didn’t mind spending your days in the office with.

With the whole company working hybrid or completely remote, people only came in sporadically, as did you and Mickey, only going in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with the occasional Friday if needed. As a result, you didn’t get much of a chance to meet anyone else who worked there. 

Your first week was fully in person, since some of the programs you’d be using for the job were easier to learn if he were there to show you. You certainly weren’t complaining, having plenty of time to get a feel for your new coworker, silently observing and testing the waters with light flirting, which he seemed to return. Maybe you were just a little too hopeful.

“Big plans for the weekend?” you asked when five o’clock rolled around on Friday.

“Got a hot date with Netflix,” he said. “How about you?”

“My friend and I are getting drinks later, but that’s about it.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Anything under $10, if I can help it.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Don’t have too much fun.”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you began packing your laptop into your bag. “Have a good weekend, Mickey.”

“You too.”

With your first week at your new gig down, you headed to a small bar in Flatbush to celebrate with your best friend and dish the highly anticipated dirt on your hot coworker. Lee was already at the bar when you’d arrived, sitting at a small table and sipping a beer she went ahead and bought herself.

“Drinks are on me,” you said. “I fucking owe you.”

Lee grinned. “Always glad to help.”

You wouldn’t have gotten the job without Lee. She helped you fudge your resume to match the experience on the job listing, gently scamming your way into the position you now held. All week you’d been texting her about how great things were going, and fawning over Mickey, of course.

After joking about ordering top-shelf liquor on your dime, Lee settled on a margarita, undoubtedly the first of many for the night. You returned from the bar with your drinks, more than ready to gush about how much better your new job was compared to the hell of your old one. Nothing could bring down your mood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they pay you out the ass and you don’t have to worry about health insurance anymore. Great,” Lee said over her margarita. “I wanna hear about your hot DILF coworker. No detail is too small.”

“Lee, oh my god, it’s not even fair how hot he is. Our desks are right next to each other in an L shape, and I feel like such a weirdo for staring at him all the time. He’s been so nice helping me all week, too. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but sometimes I feel like he’s being a little flirty?”

“Is he married?”

“No ring, and no mention of any family or long-term relationship. I don’t get it, how could Mickey be single?”

“You don’t hear many people going by Mickey anymore,” she said. “Either he’s a mouse or incredibly Irish.”

“I think he’s Italian,” you mused. “Altieri sounds Italian to me.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wait, was that offensive?”

“No, just that you’re working with an alleged serial killer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, but she was already busy typing away at her phone.

Suddenly, Lee’s phone was shoved in your face, a your hot coworker’s mugshot front and center in an archived New York Times article from October 1998.

SUSPECT ARRESTED IN WINDSOR COLLEGE KILLINGS

Michael ‘Mickey’ Altieri, 21, was arrested early Thursday morning in Windsor, Ohio, as the primary suspect in the Windsor College killings. Among the charges are first degree murder, attempted first degree murder and aggravated assault. Altieri has maintained his innocence and is being held on $1,000,000 bail in Windsor County Jail as he awaits trial. 

The brutal killings that made national headlines were directly inspired by the ‘Ghostface’ murders in Woodsboro, California, two years prior and coincided with the release of STAB, a film based on Woodsboro survivor and reporter Gale Weathers’ book on the murders. Survivor Sidney Prescott was a student at Windsor College and targeted yet again in the latest string of murders. Allegedly, Altieri’s accomplice was Debbie Loomis, mother of one of the two original Ghostface killers, Billy Loomis. Mrs. Loomis was killed in an altercation prior to Altieri’s apprehension by police.

You looked away from her phone screen, feeling like your head was spinning though you weren’t even finished with your first drink. “Well, if he did all that stuff, why isn’t he on death row or something?”

“There was a mistrial. It was a huge thing,” Lee said. “You’ve seriously never heard of it?”

“No. Can you send that to me?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ll send some podcast episodes and Youtube videos on it, too. You know I’m on that true crime shit.”

It took a few more drinks for you to be able to shake off the thought of your hot older coworker potentially being a serial killer, but the rest of your night with Lee was a lot of fun. She’d been one of your closest friends in college, and the two of you lived together when you first moved to New York. You knew she meant well, but damn, did that news put a damper on things.

You returned to your apartment a little after midnight, kicking off your heels at the door and collapsing on your couch, not bothering to make the short walk to your bedroom. 17 missed texts from Lee, all links to videos and podcasts about Mickey that she recommended.

Among the links Lee had sent you was a nearly hour long Youtube video titled: ‘What Happened at the Windsor College Ghostface Trial? A Deep Dive’. The woman in the thumbnail had a scared expression on her face, her eyes focused on that same mugshot of Mickey you saw in the old New York Times article. 

Pressing on the link in your messages, you had the video come up on your TV instead, slouching back in your seat as it began to play.

‘I know most stuff about the Windsor College murders focus on just that, the murders, but I thought it’d be interesting to go into the trial that followed because it was almost like something out of a movie, but it doesn’t get as much attention as the killings, especially since there have been like two more Ghostface murder sprees since this happened. I’m just presenting facts and my own observations here for educational purposes, and it’s not my intention to imply guilt on anyone who hasn’t been convicted in a court of law. Before we get into it though, I wanna give a huge thank you to BetterHelp for sponsoring today’s video—‘

You rolled your eyes, skipping through the three-minute long sponsorship spiel.

‘So my sources for this video are Gale Weathers’ books Wrongly Accused: The Maureen Prescott Murder, The Woodsboro Murders, and College Terror. I also used James Chase’s book Ghostface on Trial, articles from newspapers and a few like lawyer journals that I was able to find online, and whatever stuff from the trial itself that’s public information. I have it all linked in the description—“

Pausing the video, you pulled up the New York Public Library website and searched for College Terror and Ghostface on Trial. Copies of both were available at the branch near your office, and you wasted no time in putting a hold on the books. 

The next few minutes of the video gave an overview of the murders at Windsor College, which you half-paid attention to. You’d watched Stab 2 in high school, so you felt you were familiar enough with the killings. Thinking back on the movie, though, all of the characters had the same names as their real-life counterparts except for Mickey. Legal reasons, you assumed.

You turned up the volume on your TV as the video finally got into the details of the trial.

‘As soon as Mickey was arrested, theories were all over the news about what had happened and there was a ton of speculation about his guilt. James Chase, a controversial defense attorney from Chicago, took on the case pro-bono, stating in his book Ghostface on Trial that he knew he stood to make more money on a book deal, interviews, and speaking engagements by winning the case than whatever fees he’d get for representing Mickey. The defense focused on discrediting both of the prosecution’s star witnesses early on in the trial, planting seeds of doubt in the jury.

Chase and his team leaned heavily on the fact that three years prior, Sidney Prescott had incorrectly identified Cotton Weary as her mother’s killer when in fact it was Sidney’s former boyfriend Billy Loomis and their mutual friend Stu Macher who had committed that initial murder that led up to the original Woodsboro Ghostface murders. 

Gale Weathers’ testimony was also discounted by the defense on the fact that she was a sensationalistic tabloid journalist who’d admittedly fabricated elements of her best-selling book on the Woodsboro killings. She claimed this was a result of editing and to achieve a better narrative flow. 

The defense also said the deceased Debbie Loomis had more of a reason to go after Sidney and recreate her son’s Ghostface murders as revenge for his death. They pushed the idea that she acted with Sidney’s boyfriend, Derek, and that Mickey ended up getting caught in the crosshairs of what was a gruesome and unfortunate situation. Sidney maintained Derek’s innocence, but the fact that both he and Debbie were killed by gunshot wounds made it likely they were the Ghostface duo this time around.

Former Woodsboro Deputy Dewey Riley, another survivor of both Ghostface killings, was unable to testify because he was in a coma. He later said that because he was incapacitated before Sidney and Gale allegedly confronted Debbie and Mickey, he couldn’t say for sure who the killer or killers were, but he trusted their judgment and stood behind their testimonies. 

It didn’t help either that Sidney was visibly distraught while on the stand and mixed up details of the original Woodsboro murders and the Windsor College ones. Gale was initially confident while being questioned by the defense, but later became combative when the inaccuracies in her books came up. In contrast, Mickey appeared calm and earnest, and seemed to have his story straight every time he took the stand.

There’s actually some footage of the trial that I was able to find, so I’m gonna play that now.’

The video was grainy, camera focused on an agitated-looking Sidney Prescott sitting in the witness stand. On the other side of the stand, a blond man in a gray suit read off from a stack of papers in his hand. 

“Ms. Prescott, in your statement to police, you claimed that Mr. Altieri admitted to both you and Ms. Weathers that he had committed the murders with Debbie Loomis and wanted to get caught. Could you perhaps explain to myself and the jury, why exactly an alleged killer would want to get caught?”

“Because he’s fucking sick in the head!” Sidney exclaimed.

“Language, Ms. Prescott,” Judge Matthews said.

“He said he did it on purpose,” Sidney continued, her voice breaking. “He told us he wanted to get caught so he could blame it on the movies! He had everything planned out, the lawyers he wanted, the angle the media would take, he even quoted that line from Psycho, ‘We all go a little mad sometimes.’”

Chase furrowed his brow as he looked over the papers in his hands. “When did he say this? I’m not seeing that in your statement.”

“He said it right after he shot Randy,“ Sidney said.

“Randy wasn’t shot, he was stabbed.” 

Sidney’s eyes widened. “I know. I meant—“

“Ms. Prescott, is there something you didn’t include in your police statement that you’re telling us now?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Billy quoted Psycho, after he shot Randy at Stu Macher’s house, not Mickey. I got mixed up.”

You gasped, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. The courtroom on your screen devolved into nothing short of pandemonium. The video then faded into Gale Weathers in the middle of being questioned by the defense. She, in contrast to Sidney, looked confident and well-put together under Chase’s grilling.

“Ms. Weathers, you wrote in your book that your camera man Kenny was gutted, when in actuality his throat was slashed, is that correct?”

Gale nodded. “It is.”

“Why the inconsistency?” 

“All books, fiction or nonfiction go through an editing process. That was a decision made by my editor to establish a better narrative flow. It isn’t uncommon in the true crime genre by any means.”

“Better narrative flow isn’t the truth, though, is it?” Chase asked.

“Look, a book is a book. I’ll say right now under oath that Kenny was killed when one of those guys in the Ghostface costume slit his throat. I’ll also say under oath that Mickey Altieri did commit those murders with Debbie Loomis, and he confessed it to me and Sidney Prescott.”

“Your honor, this isn’t the only major inconsistency we’ve found in Ms. Weathers’ book on the Woodsboro murders. Yesterday we distributed to the prosecution and now present to the jury at least seventeen of these major inconsistencies.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m the cheesy tabloid journalist everyone thinks I am?”

The corners of Chase’s lips twitched. “Not quite my words.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Gale scoffed.

The jury murmured among themselves at her shift in attitude. You found yourself chewing on your nail, enraptured by the trial. For the last time, the video faded out and then back in to show Mickey, your coworker, sitting on the witness stand. This time, the prosecutor was in front of him, his annoyed expression a contrast to Mickey’s calm demeanor.

“Mr. Altieri, we have signed affidavits from several of your former classmates that in your film theory class, you claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and CiCi Cooper, both of whom were killed by this ‘Ghostface’ persona of yours—“

“Objection!” Chase shouted. “Claiming the Ghostface persona belongs to Mr. Altieri is an undue presumption of guilt.”

“Sustained,” Judge Matthews said. “I advise you to reconsider your wording going forward, counselor.”

The prosecutor huffed. “You claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and Casey Cooper, both of whom were killed by the ‘Ghostface’ persona, that violent movies were responsible for influencing people to commit acts of violence, is that correct?”

“It was a classroom discussion. Our professor had brought it up because two fellow students were brutally killed at the premier of a slasher movie the night before, by someone dressed as the killer from that same slasher movie. I just thought it wasn’t a coincidence, and neither did half the other students in that class. Are you going to make them testify too?”

“Don’t deflect, Mr. Altieri.”

“I don’t understand how I’m deflecting. You asked me about a conversation I had with my classmates, and I answered.”

The video went back to the commentator, but you had goosebumps raised across your skin. You rewound back to the clip of Mickey’s testimony, staring at his face. Could he be a killer? Only a few days ago, you wouldn’t have even considered it. Now, you were down a rabbit hole that sent your mind reeling.

‘A lot of the prosecution’s evidence was dismissed as circumstantial by the defense. Mickey had alibis for all of the murders, even for the one Sidney claimed to witness him commit, allegedly shooting her boyfriend Derek. The chat room records and emails allegedly linked to Debbie and Mickey didn’t do much to convince the jury of Mickey’s alleged involvement in the murders. The records did positively identify Debbie based on the account’s password hints and her IP address. The other user was more tech savvy, changing IP addresses to make it more difficult to confirm an identity.

In move that was described as ‘sloppy’ and ‘desperate’ by the media following the trial’s conclusion, the prosecution also tried to claim that Mickey being the only other survivor among Sidney’s friends was suspicious and indicated his involvement, but the defense pointed out that Randy Meeks had also been the only other survivor of Sidney’s friend group in the original Woodsboro killings despite a gunshot wound like Mickey had, and later on at Windsor he was a victim. 

Randy Meeks’ murder actually played a huge role in the defense’s strategy. Several Windsor College students saw Mickey elsewhere on campus during Randy’s murder. The final nail in the coffin was when Windsor County police confirmed that DNA in the news van where Randy was murdered was a match for Debbie Loomis. The police retested other evidence, but couldn’t find anything conclusive.

After weeks of questioning and evidence, the jury deliberated for a little over five days before returning to the judge in a deadlock. Judge Matthews declared a mistrial, and less than a year later, a district court dismissed the case on lack of substantial evidence and all charges against Mickey Altieri were dropped. Despite media speculation that he would, Mickey chose not to sue Sidney and Gale for defamation and hasn’t been in the public eye since the controversial trial.’

You stared blankly at your TV screen when the video ended, another one auto-playing a few seconds later. Even after your drinks with Lee, you felt way too sober to even process any of it. For the next few hours, you devoured videos, bookmarked dozens of articles, and sifted through podcast episodes to listen to during work.

The odd case had made its home in the recesses of your mind. You dreamed about him when you finally fell asleep, just before sunrise. Sitting in the downtown Manhattan office, the open floor layout was unusually bright, fluorescent lighting washing the place in an eerie white glow. Mickey walked over to his desk, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering on the carpet in a trail leading right to him. He looked at you, a smile on his face as he brought his upright, bloody index finger to his lips. 

As the weekend flew by, you tried to keep yourself otherwise occupied. It wasn’t good for you to stay fixated on it, and certainly not fair to Mickey. 

Working from home on Monday helped, as you focused on finishing the last of the onboarding process. 

Tuesday was where things became tricky again. You sat on the forty-minute long subway ride to the office equipped with a podcast episode about your new coworker. The hosts didn’t seem to have much new information from what you took in the night before, except for the last few minutes of the episode where they’d gone off-script.

‘Last I saw online, he was living in Manhattan.’

‘Oh my god, that’s so Patrick Bateman-core.’

‘So you think he did it?’

‘It’s tough to say, like I totally get why the jury couldn’t come to a consensus.’

‘Yeah same, messy as hell. I tend to think that he didn’t do it. Innocent until proven guilty, ya know?’

‘I get that. We did try to get in touch with him for some kind of statement or even an interview—‘

‘Wishful thinking.’

‘Yeah, we looked for his email address, but I guess it wasn’t the right one because our message got bounced back, so that was a big fat bust.’

‘He’s like notorious for denying interview requests, anyway. I think he turned down book deals and stuff.’

Enraptured by the conversation, you nearly missed your stop. On the three block walk to your office, you hurriedly opened one of your playlists and put it on shuffle. The last thing you needed was for Mickey to somehow see on your home screen you’d just been listening to a podcast episode about him.

Your head was spinning by the time you got to your desk. He hadn’t arrived yet, and you felt a bit relieved that you had a little more time to psych yourself up. You shouldn’t have even had to do that in the first place, just be normal about your coworker, but if you learned anything over the weekend, even if he wasn’t guilty, he sure as hell wasn’t normal.

The elevator doors opened, and you looked up to see him walk out, waving at you.

“Morning, Y/N, have a good weekend?”

“Pretty good. I’m more broke than when it started, though. How about you?”

“Like I told you, hot date with Netflix,” he said, sitting down. “Thought you were sticking with shitty liquor?”

“I was, but my friend wasn’t. I got the tab, and she got plenty of margaritas.”

“Shit, I oughta get drinks with you sometime if you get all your friends’ tabs.”

You grinned. “Don’t count your luck.”

He chuckled to himself. The two of you worked in near silence for the next three hours, though you found yourself glancing over at him every so often, out of curiosity and also admiration. His graying hair suited him, and you could see the muscles in his arms from his casually rolled up shirt sleeves. 

Soon, though, you found it hard to stay awake, the light from your computer screen adding onto your fatigue. To your horror, you yawned loudly, catching Mickey’s attention.

“You alright? I’m not too boring, am I?”

“No, I just kept waking up last night. I feel like I barely slept.”

“Why don’t we take an early lunch and go get coffee?”

“That sounds great,” you said, grabbing your purse.

There was a deli right up the block, and when you looked at the small pastry case, you decided to order something with your coffee. Mickey placed his order, a hot coffee and a bear claw. With plenty of tables to choose from, you and Mickey sat near the window. 

Your coffee definitely hit the spot, and the sugar from your pastry helped wake you up too.

“How long’s your commute?” Mickey asked.

“About 40 minutes. I live in Brooklyn, kinda between Bushwick and Bed-Stuy.”

“Damn, that’s long. I live on the Upper West Side.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow. Before this job, I was barely able to afford to rent on my own.”

“It’s a rent-controlled building. I’m not making a ton after alimony and child support.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, though he looked out the window as he continued speaking. “It was a long time ago. Deanna and me just didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of stuff when our son was born. I knew before he even got to kindergarten it was over.”

Unsure of how to respond, you slowly reached across the table, putting your hand over his. “I’m sorry, Mickey, really.”

“You’re a sweet girl,” he said, giving your hand a slight squeeze before releasing it. “They live upstate, so I don’t see them much. I have more time for going to the movies and Mets games.”

“I only go when they’re bad because tickets are cheaper.”

He snickered. “I should take a page outta your book. How about you? Any sports? Or reading? Isn’t true crime pretty popular with young women now?”

Your heart pounded at his question. Innocuous enough. True crime was extremely popular. The paranoid part of you couldn’t help but feel like it was an accusation. Then again, he couldn’t possibly know you’d spent the weekend immersing yourself in it, particularly stuff about him.

“I’m not really interested in that,” you said. “Sometimes my friends and I go to trivia nights at bars. I’m not that good, but it’s fun to just hang out. I have a membership at the MOMA, so I go there a lot. They show movies sometimes, too.”

To your relief, the conversation shifted to just that, and Mickey seemed surprised by some of your opinions on different movies. He told you he’d originally gone to college for film studies, which you already knew, of course. The odd thing was, while you certainly didn’t want him aware of just how much you knew about him, you didn’t feel guilty for it, just that he would be weirded out by it, obviously.

You and Mickey ended up talking about movies for nearly an hour and a half, well over your allotted hour lunch break, but he assured you no one would care that much. Still, the two of you half-ran back to the office, and something bubbled in your chest when he sat down and smiled at you, the wrinkles by his eyes becoming more prominent. 

The rest of the workday went by quickly, and you headed to the library where you’d reserved the two books about the Windsor College murders and trial. By the time you got home, you’d already devoured the first two chapters of Gale Weathers’ book. Glad to be working remotely the following day, you let yourself stay up later than usual to read, getting to the halfway point before you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Weeks turned into months, and you absolutely loved your job, and the pay, but most of all, how the content you consumed and your proximity to Mickey seemed to feed into each other in a vicious cycle that increasingly drowned out the rational part of you that knew what you were doing was weird. 

Still, it wasn’t like you were invading his personal privacy or treating him any different than you did before. All of the information you’d read, listened to, or watched was all public as your running list of books, podcasts, and documentaries on the matter grew. You’d even rewatched the Stab movies and started scrolling through threads and tags related to Mickey and what happened at Windsor College. After all of the personal research you did and how much you’d gotten to know Mickey at work, you couldn’t conclusively say whether or not he did it. 

You tried keeping your obsession lowkey, but your friends seemed to notice how you’d shoehorn it into conversations. Lee had even told you she was afraid she’d created a monster by bringing up Mickey’s past in the first place. If she’d never made her comment or showed you that first article, you probably never would’ve known about it, remaining blissfully unaware and going about your business at your typical office job with your hot older coworker.

For how much time you spent at home between work and researching, it seemed like whenever you’d go out, you’d come home to something missing or moved. Articles of clothing gone, coffee mugs out of place, books not quite in the order you’d left them. At first, you chalked it up to your consuming too much true crime content, feeding into your paranoia, but when you asked your landlord to install another lock on your door, it all seemed to stop. That didn’t bode well with you.

Your fantasies blended with reality in your dreams, as you were having increasing occurrences of Ghostface or Mickey, or both, in them. Whenever you woke up, you didn’t remember much except for a warm feeling in your core. One dream remained vivid even after you awoke, though.

You were in your apartment alone, late at night, when you got a call from an unknown number. Normally, you didn’t pick up calls unless you were expecting them, but for some reason you picked up. The details of the phone call itself were jumbled, but you were frightened, running into your bedroom and locking the door behind you. 

To your horror, you’d locked yourself in with Ghostface, the looming predator who looked at you emotionlessly, stalking toward you with his knife. When you turned around, the door knob was gone, and a black gloved hand grabbed your shoulder, moving you to face him as he pushed you against the door. He sliced through your slinky pajama top, exposing your breasts to him. Roughly groping each of them, he let out a low moan in appreciation before bringing the knife to your collarbone, dragging the blade to the valley between your breasts. Your breath hitched as he pressed it a bit deeper, but instead, you felt it in your pussy, like he was penetrating you.

“Give me a kiss, sweetheart,” your masked assailant ordered in a distorted voice.

Slowly, you leaned in, pressing your lips against the cold, hard plastic mask. You gasped as he dug the knife into your skin with one hand, his other slipping under your panties, pushing his fingers between your folds.

“I own you,” he said, clearly in Mickey’s voice this time.

You threw your head back in ecstasy as he pushed his fingers into your tight cunt, and then your alarm blared, jolting you awake. Turning over, you groaned into your pillow in frustration. At least it ended up being great masturbation material later on.

Another Thursday at work, seemingly uneventful as usual. You and Mickey had gotten into the habit of getting lunch together whenever you both were in the office. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but as time went on, they felt more like dates than just a casual lunch with a coworker. Not that you were complaining.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” he asked in the nearby deli the two of you had begun to frequent.

“No, not really.”

“Do you wanna come over after work tomorrow? Watch a movie or something?” he asked.

“That’d be great!” you said, almost a bit too enthusiastically. “Should I bring anything?”

He shook his head, smiling a bit. “I can order a pizza.”

For some reason, you trusted yourself to be normal at his place, telling yourself throughout Friday that everything would work out fine. Being a weirdo about his alleged murders certainly wouldn’t help you get a real date with him, but your infatuation with him was only growing. You liked the slightest hint of danger about him, going to his apartment alone, wondering in the back of your mind what his true intentions were and feeling a bit of a thrill at the prospect that they could be anything less than innocent.

You showed up at his apartment that evening with a bottle of wine in hand, even though he’d told you not to bring anything. As expected, he thanked you for the wine, though he gave you an exasperated look as he let you into his apartment. Nicer than yours, but it still looked lived-in.

“Pizza will be here in a couple of minutes,” he said. “I’m thinking Mean Streets for the movie.”

“It’s a classic,” you agreed. “I love Harvey Keitel in it.”

“You know, that was De Niro and Scorsese’s first time working together.”

“Wait, why did I think Taxi Driver was first?”

“Came out in ‘76, just after he was in Godfather Part II in ‘74. Busy decade for him.”

“You’re telling me.”

The doorbell rang, the pizza arriving sooner than expected. You waited in the kitchen while Mickey dealt with the delivery.

“We can eat in the living room while we watch,” he said, carrying the pizza box inside. “I don’t have many people over, so it’s still a little messy.”

“That’s okay,” you assured him.

He put on the movie, and you balanced the paper plate on your lap, nodding along to “Be My Baby” as it played during the opening scene. Testing the waters, you scooted closer to him a few minutes into the movie. He glanced over at you, and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 

You were especially pleased when he put his arm around you, not bothering with the pretense of a “move,” but rather taking what he wanted. Settling comfortably next to him, you tried to focus on the movie.

Despite his arm around your shoulders, closer physically to him than you ever had been, you felt restless. You knew when the halfway point of the movie was, and so you excused yourself to use the bathroom, telling him he didn’t need to pause it until you returned.

The tips of your fingers itched as you passed closed doors to the bathroom, which he told you was at the end of the hall. Biting your lip, you considered your options, and in a moment of impulse and weakness, you reached for one of the door handles. A mostly empty extra bedroom, maybe his son’s old room. 

You weren’t deterred, opening another door. Jackpot. Slightly messy, with clothes strewn about the floor and on the dark sheets of his bed. Glancing behind you, you stepped into his room and looked around for anything that stood out. 

Most people hid things under their beds, and so you got down on your hands and knees, wondering where exactly he might hide his—

“Don’t think this is the bathroom,” he said, startling you.

You yelped, frantically turning around as your brain short circuited for an explanation. “I—I was just—“

“Looking for trophies? All serial killers keep them, right?” he asked, towering over you from your spot on the floor. “Mementos of their victims or the kills.”

You shook your head frantically. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but you’re looking in the wrong place anyway,” he said, pulling the knife from behind his back.

“Serial killers also don’t—don’t kill people th-they know,” you stammered.

“Typically,” he agreed, “but I’m not typical, am I? I’m sure you’ve listened to plenty of those cute little podcasts where some dumbasses read the Wikipedia page about the Windsor College murders in between hawking security systems to their listeners that they’ve just scared shitless. I admitted I did it, went to fucking trial, and the jury couldn’t even find me guilty.”

“Point taken.”

“So, what trophy would I keep from you?”

You were silent for a moment before answering, looking him in the eye. “My panties.”

“Which pair? Figure I have at least five of them now. Unless you wanna make that six, sweetheart.”

“You’ve been breaking into my place all this time.”

“You made it way too easy. It’s like you were asking for it.”

Maybe you were. Regardless, you didn’t show any resistance when he lightly kicked at your leg, a silent command to stand up. You got to your feet, though your gaze was fixed on the knife in his hand. His eyes followed yours, and he smirked a bit before putting the knife aside.

He turned you around, pushing you back onto his bed. Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed your skirt up, his hand caressing your ass, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your panties.

“Were you asking for it, sweetheart? Have you wanted this all along? Been a bad girl to get my attention?”

“Yes,” you whimpered weakly, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y’know, I’ve heard of serial killers having groupies, but you,” he said, slapping your ass for emphasis, eliciting a moan from you, “are something else.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered, fidgeting against his mattress.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Another smack on your ass. “I could’ve been having fun with you months ago.” Smack! You hissed this time, though your pussy was pulsing between your legs. “Bent you over my desk in the office, have my way with you while no one else is around—or maybe a little slut like you would wanna get caught with daddy’s dick buried inside her.”

He spanked you harder this time, holding you down when your body instinctively recoiled at the impact. A pained moan escaped your lips as he pressed his body weight against you, his clothed cock rubbing against your tender skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as the sensation, and you resisted the urge to slip your hand between your legs.

“Or maybe,” he said, reaching around you to wrap his hand around your neck, “you just want me to fuck you before I kill you. Probably cum the minute I put that old Ghostface mask on, huh, baby?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words. “Yes, daddy.”

He released his grip on your throat, standing up to give you one more slap across your ass. “Turn over. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

The friction from his sheets stung against your sore ass as you rolled over to look at him, though he grabbed you, pushing you onto your back himself. His grip on you was tight, fingers digging into your arms as he held you down beneath him, completely at his mercy.

He pulled off your skirt and panties, leaving your pussy exposed for him. He dragged his index finger between your folds, and you whimpered when he brushed your clit.

“God, you’re soaked,” he murmured against your lips. “Was it the spanking, or is it the serial killer thing?”

“Both.”

“Good answer,” he said, lazily circling your clit with his finger. 

He ducked his head down, wasting no time in devouring your wet cunt. His tongue relentlessly flicked at your clit while he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out of your hole. You took them easily, but wondered if it’d be the same for his cock when he’d undoubtedly fuck you. 

Your hands gripped his sheets as he worked his tongue, your feet curling at the tension you felt building up inside of you. He moaned against you, loud enough that it felt like his voice rocked through your body. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded breathlessly.

A pained and outraged whine pulled from your throat when he did just that. You looked down at him between your legs, betrayed.

“Why should I let you cum?” he teased, rubbing light circles in your clit with his soaked fingers. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. “Please, daddy.”

“You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please let me cum, daddy. I’ll be so good. I—I’ll do anything, just—please,” you cried out in frustration of being so close yet not quite there.

“Only since you asked so nicely,” he relented, dipping his head back down between your legs, his hands holding your hips in place as your lower half began to quiver at his touch.

You could feel his lips move slightly against your sensitive pussy, nothing short of a smug expression on his face at making you fall apart so easily. It didn’t matter, your head was swimming, muscles strained as he brought you closer to climax. Grabbing his hair, you pressed his face closer against your pussy, grinding against it in desperation. 

“Mickey—Fuck—“ you choked out as your orgasm wracked through you, fireworks in between your legs as your body shook. 

He ate you out through your orgasm, and another tidal wave of pleasure hit you all at once, almost painful and overwhelming, your brain on fire at the sensation. You could hardly catch your breath when you released your grip from his hair and he lifted his head, your wetness glistening on his lips.

When he kissed you, you hardly had the strength to kiss him back, though tasting yourself on his mouth sent a rush through you. He pressed sloppy kisses to your face, trailing down to your neck. His hard length rubbed against your slick-coated thigh, a low growl coming from deep in his throat.

“W-Wait, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Did you really wanna get caught?”

He stopped, lifting his head from your neck to look at you a few moments before answering, “Yeah, blame the movies, make a real circus of the trial, but my attorney said he didn’t think I could pull off an insanity plea because I was too put together. Obviously pleading guilty and confessing everything wouldn’t get nearly as much attention as actually going on trial. I was pissed at first, but it worked out, I mean I had every reporter eating out of the palm of my hand by day three.”

“Why don’t you do interviews now? Or write a book?”

“What’s there to say? Not the truth.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you muttered. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“Probably should,” he said, the slightest smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes raked over you, “I might need more convincing not to.”

[websterss]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇 — 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You’d think one little kiss would be a piece of cake, but turns out it’s a full fudge mess.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Fluff 

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,323

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Luke Patterson x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! ♡

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Los Felix, Los Angeles, California, 1994. Town Fundraiser.

“What a wonderful day to be alive. As I live and breathe at the same time as Luke Patterson.” Your friend Mia, exclaimed as you stood off to the side watching the long line of girls plant themselves in front of the kissing booth. The kissee being Luke himself.

“What a dreadful day to be able to see.” You crossed your arms.

“Who would have thought Luke’s idea for a kissing booth would become so popular.” 

“Yeah…who knew.” You gave her a tight lipped smile.

“Oh come on, Y/n. It’s for a good cause.” She shook your arm in an attempt to cheer you up. “Plus, Alex said they’re raising a ton of money so far. I think by tonight we’ll have raised all the money we needed from all the booths, including the kissing booth.” Mia started making smooching noises at you, laughing at your reaction.

“Okay, okay enough of that. Can we go enjoy our time? I’d rather hurl due to the swirl of evil than at the sight of girls kissing Luke.”

“Maybe Luke’s lips can change your mood, ya know make you feel better.” She nudged you, quirking her brow at you.

“Gross.” You laughed at her assumption. “As if I’d ever let that stupid rockstar, smirk grinning two timing specimen anywhere near me and my lips.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Y/n.” Mia giggled, pushing you away from the group and the line of girls.

-

To say you spoke too soon would have been an understatement.

“You gonna stand there all day? There is a line ya know?” Luke smiled at you, amused. You were five feet from the actual booth. Clenching and unclenching your fist.

“M-Maybe.” You took a deep breath. You could not believe that you lost a stupid bet to Reggie of all people. You knew you were a bad shooter, yet you took the challenge anyway. Losing at the water balloon game. You didn’t even get the bear you wanted.

Luke licked his lips, looking away with a laugh.

“The fundraiser is gonna end at some point, Y/L/N.” Luke checked his watch. 

“I know…just give me a minute.” You sassed at him.

He threw his hands up in surrender.

“It’s just a whole dollar for a quick kiss on the cheek, Y/L/N. Come on, it’s for a good cause.” Luke threw that charming smile of his, your way.

“Yeah…kissing you would be quite the act of charity, huh?” You smirked. You looked over your shoulder as a girl from school told you to hurry up for holding up the line. You groaned as you dug out some cash from your leather boot. “You said a dollar?” You asked, observing the 5 you had.

“You can get a special deal for those 5.” Luke leaned down, supporting his weight on his arms on the counter.

“I expect my change.” You quipped back, slamming the whole buck down for a dramatic effect. 

“Alright then…” Luke mouthed, taking the 5 dollar bill and giving you back four. “Your change, madam.” He smiled gently then said. “Now my kiss.”

“Don’t get too excited, Patterson.” You rolled your eyes, mentally preparing yourself. You closed your eyes and leaned in to peck his cheek. Luke leaned in wanting to let the touch of your lips linger a bit longer on his skin.

“Now that wasn’t so bad.” He teased you.

“Guess not.” You averted your eyes, leaning back. You looked up and saw Luke already doing the same. “I got to go.” You nodded. You patted the counter with your hands.

“Yeah, see ya later?” Luke raised his eyebrows waiting for your answer. 

“Sure.” You gave a gentle smile.

Your eyes grew wide as you walked away from the booth. You just gave Luke a kiss, on the cheek, just like you said you wouldn’t do. “Keep it together, Y/n. It didn’t mean anything.” Back at the booth Luke was in a nervous wreck state as well.

“Keep it together, Luke. It didn’t mean anything.” He then called the next person in line with a tight lipped smile. “Next!”

-

If you had to be honest the kiss on the cheek wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be. Save for the nerves running through your veins, you couldn’t help but feel like something was going on. You just couldn’t quite put a name to it yet.

“So I take it, the kiss went well?” You heard Mia’s sing-song voice come from behind you. You turned around and faced her. She frowned when your mouth opened and closed like a fish needing water. “Seriously? You got out of line didn’t you?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“No I uh, he kissed me- well on the cheek.” You stammered as you began explaining yourself. 

“Wait, are you for real? Oh my god, Y/n!” Mia cheered for you. “How was it?”

You looked around and grabbed her hand, finding a photo booth nearby and getting in. “Woah what’s wrong?” She noticed you fiddle with your fingers.

“Mia, why do I feel like this?” You frowned trying to shake whatever it was out of you. 

“Like what?”

“My head feels heavy, my heart is pumping fast. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I think I might explode!” You rambled on.

“Is this a panic attack you’re having?” She looked at you, questioning your sanity.

“Mia!” You hit her. She cupped her arm wincing from your punch.

“Okay jeez. I think I have an idea, but you probably won’t like it.” She grimaced already knowing your reaction.

“What, what is it?”

“I think you’re experiencing, wait for it ...butterflies!” She made a big hand gesture to emphasize.

“Mia, I’m serious.” You began getting upset. 

“I am too. I think you like Luke.”

You preteneded to vomit, to which she replied with. “I did say you weren’t gonna like it.”

“I-I can’t like Luke. Luke’s is…he’s Luke! Mr. Big shot wannabe Rockstar. Me? Liking Luke? No. Okay, no way. Wanna hear it in Spanish? No!”

“Hey it’s your butterflies. Do what you want with them, but when love is real, it doesn’t lie chica.” She clicked her tongue, placing her thumb underneath your chin, and shooting you a wink. “Don’t push those feelings aside. You know you shouldn’t.” She got up and pushed past the curtain to get out.

“Mia!”

“See ya!” She laughed and walked off with Reggie who had been waiting for her with two cotton candies in her hand. And oh how you wished that he was alone, but he wasn’t. Alex and Luke just had to be there.

You huffed and got out as well.

“Hey.” Luke greeted you warmly. “No pictures?” He gestured to your empty hands. 

“Um no, just girl talk.” You nervously laughed.

“Ooh what about?” Alex butted in, and that’s when you looked away from Luke. “Ahh I see then. Well I’m gonna go, Willie wants to get on a few rides before the fundraiser closes.” Alex motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “So bye.”

“Bye Alex.” You laughed.

“See you at band practice tomorrow?” Luke patted his shoulder and bid his farewells with him. 

“Yeah. Anyways I got to go, nice seeing you, Y/n.”

“Likewise, Alex.” You waved him off, then awkwardly turned to face Luke. “So.”

“So.” You smiled and found interest in your shoes.

“Care for a walk?” Luke gestured ahead of you two, and you slowly agreed.

“Sure why not.”

“After you, m’lady.” He tried his best at a British accent.

“Oh, thank you kind sir.” You curtsied with your skater skirt and giggled at his antics. 

“So did you enjoy the fundraiser?” Luke stuffed his hands in his jeans.

“Which part? The one where I lost a bet to Reggie of all people, or the fact I almost threw up on the swirl of evil?” You smirked over at the brunette.

“Yeah I still can’t believe you bet 20 bucks against Reggie.” Luke shook his head. 

“Would not recommend…I mean I didn’t even win that stupid bear. Take my word for it Patterson,  not worth it.” You laughed it off. Yet, Luke was surprised to know that you didn’t win anything today. He turned around and stopped. His smile grew upon realizing that you both stopped at the exact game you lost at.

“Wait right here, okay.” Luke put his hands on your forearms to stop you in place.

“What?” You giggled, confused.

“Just wait right here and don’t move.”

“Okay…” You agreed nonetheless and stayed put.

You watched as he ran up to the man running the water gun game. Luke pulled out his wallet and handed the man a bill. He took a seat at the gun, and turned to face the little kid next to him. Then the game began, Luke put all his focus on the mouth of the clown and watched as his balloon filled up. He had filled it up and made it pop first. A bell rang out signally that he had won. The man asked him what reward he wanted, and Luke just so happened to remember the one you pointed to early in the night.

“If I win, I want that one.” You had pointed to a dark brown teddy bear the size of a bean bag. 

“Why that one?” Luke asked you.

“Why not? I don’t know, it’s a great motivator, helps the win feel better, I guess.”

“You’ve never won these types of games before have you?”

“Nope.” You shrugged.

“No ones ever won you anything either?”

“Sadly no. Anyway...Reggie you’re going down!” You pointed at the black haired boy and put your game face on.

“Can I have that one please?” He pointed to the bean bag bear, and thanked the guy once he handed it over to him. The little boy he beat looked sad and defeated, to which Luke then proceeded to hand him all the other tickets he had left in his pockets.

“Knock yourself out kid.” He ruffled the boy’s hair, and the boy ran off excited to be able to play some more.

You let out a breathy laugh, feeling your heart pick up. A timid smile made its appearance on your lips as you stared at Luke, approaching you and hiding behind the bear.

“Hi there, my name’s Teddy, and I love kisses, muah.” Luke took the hand off the bear and pressed it to its mouth to throw you a kiss. A genuine laugh rang out of you, and he came out behind the bear, beaming. Yet he stopped once he noticed your shocked expression. “What?” He smiled.

“Butterflies…” You muttered, under your breath.

“What?” Luke heard you mumble but couldn’t quite hear you. 

“You got me the bear I wanted.” You chuckled in utter disbelief.

“Yeah…I thought it’d be nice knowing how much you wanted it. Plus like you said earlier, no ones ever won anything for you, so I thought I could be the first.” He looked up at you nervously.

“You remembered.” You nodded. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. It was all too much, you felt like you were going to cry on the spot.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“You know you’re not so bad, Luke.” You looked at your shoes then at him. 

“Didn’t think you knew my first name.” He smirked.

“I know your middle name.” You shrugged.

“No you don’t!” 

“No? Lukas Charl-” You laughed as he tried to place his hand over your mouth. “Charles Patterson.”

“Okay, so you do know my middle name. What else do you know?” Luke eyed you wearily. 

“You slept with a blankie till you were 13.” 

“Who told you?” Luke’s eyes grew big.

“Reggie has a bad habit of telling me things.” You laughed.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Luke looked over his shoulder for any sign of him, but it was just you two, and other people that were walking around. He shook his head before turning back to face you. You rocked on your heels letting the sound of music and rides take over the silence between you two. Luke liked how comfortable you were. You let your hard demeanor down and let yourself enjoy the night with your friends. 

“So you want the bear or…” He teased backing away with it

“What? Yes I want the bear.” You snatched the stuffed animal out of his hold, then placed it back in his arms after realizing how heavy it was. “Actually how about you carry it the rest of the night.” You teased him. 

“Oh so that’s how this is gonna go, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at you. Chasing after you as you began walking away backwards. “Oh, you’re so gonna get it, Y/L/N.” He exclaimed as he ran after you.

“No, no, no.” You laughed as he caught you. 

“Caught you…” He spun you around to face him.

“You caught me…” You gasped realizing the close proximity between you two.

Your eyes fell on his lips then his eyes. Luke caught you and began leaning in but stopped. “That’ll be a dollar.”

You scoffed smacking him playfully.

“Jerk. No discount for me?” You batted your eyes playfully at him.

“How about free of charge?” He played along offering you a better deal.

“I like that deal…I like that deal a lot.” You giggled tugging him closer by the nape of his curls. 

“Well, I like free kisses, especially if they’re by Y/n Y/L/N, I think Teddy can vouch for me too.”

“Well I am very grateful for you, and for Teddy of course.” 

“Can’t forget Teddy.”

“No we can’t.” You shook your head. Luke pulled you in by the waist to kiss you. "You’re still carrying Teddy for me.”

“I figured as much.” Luke closed his eyes, sighing.

[ccarrot]

ontnffg Half of it is me being like. Girl youre like me bro. Lkfkriterally projection. Ok

So heres some options:

Chuuya transitions while with the Sheep, that funky gang of gender kiddos. He'd be accepted at least in that way.

Chuuya transitions after joining the mafia. A swift departure from canon but could be fun to think about if you're ready to fudge with BSD.

Alt timeline where chuuya wanted to be a Boy since a little kid and N just decided "that works" when faking his death and creating a new identity for him. This implies that N is not transphobic no he is anyways bc N has no redeeming qualities </3 Chuuya's just legally a male now.

Lets talk about timeline 2 ok.

Chuuya had the title of "King of Sheep" back when He was still a She. He always had his hair cropped short to make his gender relatively unknown.

Brief encounter during Fifteen, Dazai's like "huh your actually a girl? Thats not very King of Sheep of you" and Chuuya kicks him again

Getting assigned to Kouyou meant that fashion was Important. Kouyou tried to encourage dress in very pretty feminine clothes like she did with Kyouka, after a lot of kicking and screaming she let him have his way with clothes of his choosing but only if it was very expensive and fit.

Generic teen skk fic set up, daz and chuu needed to attend this extremely fancy gala type event, and chuuya's stuck wearing a dress. Till Dazai's master psychoanalysis skill kicks in and he's like 'i gotchu bro' leads chuuya to his closet of identical looking generic black suits. They're a little big for chuuya but he was happy, AND Dazai got a swell view of chuuya in his clothes so it was a win-win.

I think Kouyou was the first one to start referring to him like a "boy" (she knows whats up with the transfemme swag) Dazai also started going like. " dude" "bro" "man" you know, guy terms. And the Flags were the firat people he was like, asking if they could use different pronouns, and Lippman called him a "he" and that zinged something in his brain.

After he came out, Mori changed his bribe "If you get to executive, i'll get you your top surgery" Mori was gonna pay for his surgery anyways. Happened sometime after Dark Era around 20ish

He did get started on T like as soon as the Boss found out. Mori might be a bad person but he's the trans rights president!! ^v^

Chuuya got kinda lucky being naturally flat but during some low points you Know my bro was still up in the unsafe binding business. At least until Dazai found out where his missing bandage rolls started going and Kouyou and him staged an intervention.

He messed up his ribs pretty bad a couple of times

Chuuya's never conformed to the gender binaries by default. but once he got out of his "i need to fit in" mindset, presenting "traditionally masculine" stopped being the biggest concern. So now lets himself have *fun* with his hair and clothes.

Poor guy is still really insecure. Low key always in a state of worried about his looks. Like Yes he may seem confident in his gender but bro still got the Thoughts plauging him. Dysphoria king 😔

When he reunited with Dazai in the dungeon, he was subtly going like. "Heeeyy. Hey notice anything different about me?? :3" and Dazai annoyingly misses "nope same old chuuya as he's always been"

Dazai does recognize that chuuya was trying to show off that he finished transitioning. Right b4 leaving (and the rich girl impression) he surpise attacks with a good ol "yeah lol jk. Congrats on the transition btw you're looking very handsome these days" bonus points if there's an unxpected behind hug.

Chuuya and Daz get together sometime after s3. Dazai become a borderline annoying cheerleader whenever chuuya takes off his shirt

Okay. Have fun with that

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 9: Bound in Blood

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: To some, the blood bond is as sacred as marriage.

Word Count: 1,979

Notes: Today (April 29) is Lucy's birthday! This might be the sappiest thing I've ever written. Also, I couldn't find much concrete information on blood bonds, so apologies if I got some of the details wrong or had to fudge any of the real-life aspects of these bonds to accomplish what I intended in this fic. Don't try this at home, kids; blood-born illnesses are a thing. Warnings for depictions of blood, self-inflicted injuries, and smut.

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The knife stung as it bit into the flesh of her left palm. Blood, like red pearls, beaded at the first prick, then rushed from the wound in a small gush as she increased pressure on the blade and it sliced deeper into her flesh. She dragged it across nearly the full length of her palm, leaving a diagonal, bleeding line from the base of her index finger to the heel of her palm opposite the side of her thumb in its wake. 

When Tommy had asked her what she thought about marriage, she had been honest with him. Her feelings were conflicted. All her life, marriage had seemed to be akin to a cage. She’d watched women–not just her mother, though she was certainly the most potent example–have their entire beings almost entirely stripped away, until nothing, not even their name, remained. Nothing but a maid, housekeeper, nanny, and whore all rolled into one.  

Perhaps she was being a bit harsh, but that was the example of marriage she had been exposed to for almost her entire life.

And it did not ultimately matter what Tommy wanted, either. She knew it was never his desire to cage or chain her. But it would not be up to him. Society had a very particular expectation for women who were married. And if he wanted to stand even a miniscule of a chance of being accepted into the circles he longed to be a part of, he could not have an unconventional wife. At least not now. 

Perhaps someday, with the changing times and more modern outlooks…if equal rights for women ever truly properly took off, then maybe. But not right now. 

And she would be a rubbish wife. Bored out of her mind. She detested cleaning, was an absolute disaster when it came to knitting and sewing, and she was certain that sitting at home with the knowledge that her husband and his boys were out enjoying all the action and thrills of the life without her, would eat away at her. 

She never had handled the feeling of being left out very well. 

She’d grow to resent it. Resent her life. Maybe even resent him. And that was not something she was willing to risk. 

He had been startlingly understanding, all things considered, when she explained her feelings to him. He knew her so well, he probably had half been expecting it. He’d just stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head. 

“I don’t need a ring and a certificate to know that I’m going to love you forever,” he’d told her. She’d locked her arms around his neck, stretching up on her toes to touch her forehead to his. 

“I plan to love you forever too,” she’d affirmed. And she meant it. Just because she could not say yes to being his wife, did not mean that they didn’t intend to be together for the rest of their lives.  

“But the door is always open. If you ever decide someday that you do want it,” Tommy had promised. Her brows raised, she’d looked at him with eyes that were only half joking. 

“Really? What if you end up marrying someone else?”

He’d scoffed at the mere suggestion, but must have caught the seriousness behind the teasing tone in her voice, because he’d pulled her closer, fondly kissing her nose. “Doesn’t matter. The promise still stands,”  he’d shrugged as if it were no big deal. “You decide you want me to marry you, and I’m already married, I’ll just get divorced.”

Laughing, she’d shook her head. “I don’t think you can ‘just get divorced,’ love. It would fuck your reputation.”

He shrugged again. “Would be worth it,” her laughter faded at the dead seriousness she saw in his eyes as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’d do anything for you.”

There was something about the way he’d said it, the complete and total certainty, that made her nearly want to cry. No one had ever loved her like this before. 

Completely. Passionately. Unconditionally. 

“There’s something else we could do. In the place of an official, legal marriage. If you’re interested,” he’d suggested, voice but a tempting purr in her ear. And when she looked at him, brow raised with intrigue, he smirked devilishly. 

And so here they were, kneeling in front of each other on the rug in the bedroom of her flat, each of them clutching a dagger in one hand, drawing it across their palms. Lucy watched the blood ooze from her cut, slightly flexing her fingers. She set the knife aside, looking from the warm, red gush to see Tommy doing the same, the dark red of his blood striking against the pale white of his skin.

He looked up, sky blue eyes glimmering in the low light of the candles they’d lit. Her eyes traced over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheeks, softened slightly by the freckles dotting his skin. Those eyes that could be as cold as ice or as warm as a sunny sky boring into her. Dark fringe falling over his forehead. When it was less styled, like it was now, he could have almost been described as a little boyish.  

The blood pooling in both of their palms dripped between their fingers. Sticky and warm.

Slowly, being careful so as to not jostle the cuts too much, they pressed their palms flush against each, then, just as slowly, interlaced their fingers.

Lucy gasped quietly at the feeling of his cut kissing hers. Their blood mixing together. Pouring into each other. Running through the other’s veins. 

If they had not already been one being simply split in two before, they certainly were now. Lucy shuddered, Tommy’s free hand going around her waist and pulling her a little closer, keeping their bleeding palms clasped tightly together. She tilted her head up, nose brushing along his neck and jaw as she did. He dipped his head to kiss her, deeply and open mouthed, the slow stroke of his tongue against hers making her moan softly against his plush lips. 

To some, the blood bond was as sacred as marriage. An unbreakable intermixing of the two bloods. The closest thing one could get to entwining their soul with another. Not only was it a symbol of the deepest possible love and trust, but also a silent promise of eternal devotion. A bond that would last as long as the scars remained present on their skin. A permanent mark tying them together for as long as they both lived. 

Of all the scars marking her flesh, faded but never truly to disappear, this was the only one she would ever truly be happy to have.     

His blood ran in her veins, now. He was a part of her. Forever.   

She’d have wanted it no other way.  

She kissed him back hard, the hand not clasped in his landing on his chest, feeling the steady rise of his breathing and the thump of his heart. Their palms squeezed impossibly tighter against each other, the blood coating them slick, smearing all across their palms, impossible to tell which belonged to whom. 

When they finally parted for air, foreheads resting against each other, they looked down together at their still clasped, bloody hands. 

It was done. 

Tommy’s arm around her waist tightened, somehow pulling her even closer to him, his lips on her forehead. Lucy closed her eyes. He was so impossibly warm, body large and strong and safe around her. She could have stayed like that forever. 

“I love you more than anything,” he said, and the words left tears brimming in her eyes. The weight of those words was not lost on her. 

“I love you too,” she said, angling her face up to his. “More than anything.” 

He smiled at her softly, head dipping to kiss her one last time before they parted, and his fingers flexed a little around hers. Their mixed blood was starting to run down both of their wrists. 

“We should get bandaged up. Before we both bleed everywhere,” he mumbled. 

“Mm,” she nuzzled at his chest. “Yeah.”

He reached for the gauze and bandages they’d set to the side in preparation. Some of the blood had congealed, half sticking their palms together, and it took a little bit of gentle fidgeting to pull them apart. Lucy hissed as Tommy poured a helping of alcohol over her cut, leaning into the kiss he brushed against her temple in apology. They cleaned and bandaged each other’s cuts with quick, practiced movements, examining their handiwork critically to ensure it was satisfactory and wouldn’t leave the other open to any complications or difficulty in healing.

Once that was done, Tommy was gathering her back up into his arms again, kissing her everywhere he would possibly reach. She giggled, overjoyed at the blatant display of affection, returning it as eagerly as she knew how. Strong arms scooping her up by the back of her thighs, he lifted her up onto his hips, standing in one fluid motion and carrying her towards the bed.  

Still kissing, they collapsed in an entanglement of limbs onto the mattress. Clothes were shed hastily, and then there was just the sounds of pleasure and utterances of love filling the room. Her fingers clenching in his hair as he kissed his way down her body, lips, tongue, and fingers working together once he’d reached his destination to make her cry out, back arching off the bed. 

And then he was over her again, wiping his mouth and looking far too pleased with himself. He grinned when she needily dragged his mouth back to hers, legs wrapping around his waist, eager. They both cried out when he sank into her in one deep thrust, the penetration serving as the second unioning of their bodies that evening. 

The bedframe creaked with the pace of their love making; thrusts steady, slow, and deep. Lucy clutched to him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. Never wanting to have to spend another moment of her life without him. 

She’d given him her soul. And in exchange he’d gifted her his heart. And now, with their blood running through each other’s veins, it was as if the merging of their beings had finally completed. They were one now. No one and nothing could ever tear them apart. 

She cried out his name when his cock hit the spot inside her that made her see stars, his thumb rubbing circles into her clit. Her head tipped back against the pillows, babbling nonsense about how good he always was to her. How he always took care of her. How he knew her more deeply and intimately than anyone else ever could. 

When her walls squeezed around him, Tommy moaned her name like it was a prayer. Like it was the most precious thing in the entire world. And then his lips were at her ear, whispering over and over again how much he loved her. That she felt so good. That he promised to love her for as long as he breathed. Maybe even after that. 

She came with a sob of his name against his lips as he kissed her, felt it as he came with her at the exact same moment, filling her with a groan, hips rolling to a stop to rest inside of her as he emptied while she tightened around him like a vice. For hours, or maybe only minutes, neither of them moved, just laying there, holding each other as tight as they could. 

Later, Tommy laid reclined against the pillows, with Lucy cuddled securely in her spot on his chest. And there, in the dark and quiet of night, they traced each other’s bandaged cuts, and whispered promises of eternal love.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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[dedicatednotobsessed]

A Hidden Love [Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Pregnant!Reader]

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Other HOTD stories [requests open]

So, I did a poll on a new character one shot and Aegon won by a long shot 😅 But I hope y’all enjoy this one! It is definitely one of my longer ones 💚

Summary: You had been working at the same diner since you were sixteen years old, working to support your family. You have had a particular regular, a boy your same age. You ended up being infatuated with him which led to an affair, even when he became married and had children although you have been holding a big secret from him….

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You had your hair pinned up so it was out of your face as you cleaned down the hostess station. You worked at a local diner on the outskirts of Kings Landing called The Gold Cloaks. It could be a tiring job, yet you were doing it for your younger brother and your sick mother. You lived in the lower parts of Fleabottom, so every penny counted.

“Isn’t this the third time we came here this week?” You heard a voice whine, a small smile coming on your lips.

“Yeah, but you did so good on your exam, I wanted to treat you to a sundae,” The other voice spoke up.

The younger boy groaned causing you to giggle. “Well, I was going to serve you, Daeron, but I see you don’t want to be here,” You said turning around with two menus. “The usual booth?”

Aegon had his hand on his baby brother’s head, his fingers tangled in his silver hair. “You know us so well, Y/N.”

You hummed, your eyes wandering over the eldest Targaryen boy with a small smile. “Follow me,” She said grabbing two menus and led them to their favorite booth; in the very corner outside of the sunny windows.

“Did you two want the usual or are you finally changing it up on me after three years?” You asked with a cocked brow as the brothers sat across from each other.

“Well, I promised this little shit here one of those giant hot fudge sundaes with extra cherries,” Aegon said with a nod. “He aced his math exam, top of his class.”

Daeron rolled his eyes a bit. “It wasn’t that hard,” He mumbled. “But can we get extra fudge too?”

You giggled a bit at Daeron and nodded. “Anything for my favorite boy,” You said with a pout while ruffling his hair.

Aegon the Second was the eldest of four siblings being twenty years young; his only sister, Helaena eighteen, Aemond going on seventeen. Then there was the youngest, who also was your favorite because of his attitude, was Daeron who was thirteen. They had been going to The Gold Cloaks for a while now, although it seemed to be more frequent in the last few years. At least Aegon became a regular.

Daeron waved your hand away from his hair but he had a small smile on his lips. “You don’t have many options for me to be your favorite anyway,” He teased looking at his brother.

You giggled and shook your head. “I’ll be right back with your usual drinks, two Cokes, right?”

Aegon nodded with a smile. “Now that never changes, love.”

“Coming right up.” You hummed lightly letting your eyes wander over Aegon before turning towards the kitchen.

You leaned against the side of the building, blowing out a puff of smoke from your cigarette. You had promised your ten year old brother, Thomos- or Thommy as you liked to call him- that you would try and quick yet balancing out working and taking care of your small family was wearing you down mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Your mother, Sofina has had Greyscale disease for a few years now and she seemed to become bed bound because of it. You were concerned that you could not find a cure for it and she would succumb to it.

You glanced up hearing the crunching of rocks and smiled lightly at the sight of Aegon. “I was wondering when you were going to show up,” You stated while putting out your cigarette.

Aegon rubbed the back of his neck. “It took a while to get away from Daeron. I’m actually thankful to see that little shit Jace for once. He came over and sat down, talking nerd stuff or some shit.”

You giggled while taking his hands to pull him closer. You leaned up and connected your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck. Aegon wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body close to his as he deepened the kiss.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Aegon mumbled against your lips. “Your brother and mom can come too if they want?”

You pulled back with a small smile on your lips. “You know I can’t.”

“Come on.” Aegon pouted a bit. “I don’t want to be dying of boredom by old rich people at an elaborate fancy party.”

You returned Aegon’s pout. “You know I can’t. My mom is bed bound. Besides, I haven’t been feeling too good lately.”

Aegon groaned, laying his head on your shoulder. “Fine be that way,” He whined.

You laughed lightly. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” You assured him while you leaned up to give him another kiss.

“Oh, you will?” Aegon questioned as he returned your kiss.

“Mm-hmm.”

You smirked against his lips before he slowly pushed his tongue into your mouth as your hands went to his jeans. You were able to get it undone just as the door burst open.

“Oi, Y/N!” The head cook, Melvin walked out, his belly jiggling slightly as he walked. “Quit fuckin’ ‘im and deliver these orders before the food gets cold!”

You laughed a bit and looked up at Aegon who had a smug smirk on his features. You pushed lightly at his chest. “I need to get back to work before I get into anymore trouble. But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Aegon chuckled and pulled you close for one more kiss. “I’m holding you to that,” He whispered in your ear and giggled when he gave you a playful slap on the bum before he made his way to the front of the diner.

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You held onto your stomach as you spit into the toilet. It had been close to a week since you’ve seen last seen Aegon; he hadn’t even been answering your text messages and you were beginning to worry.

“Y/N! Hurry up! You’ve been in there for ten minutes!”

You groaned while rubbing your temples at your brother’s complaining. “I’ll be out soon, Thommy!”

You clutched tight onto the bathroom counter, slowly standing. You flushed the toilet and walked out giving him a small smile.

“What took you so long? I’ve been trying to hold it for so long.” Thommy groaned as he pushed past you, slamming the door in your face.

You giggled and shook your head before heading out to the kitchen. You let out a small hum while you turned two burners on, one for the tea kettle and one for eggs. You glanced over when you heard the doorbell go off, but decided to let it go believing it was to be the post man with a few packages but groaned as it went off again.

You wiped your hand on a kitchen towel as you made your way towards the living room and frowned at the sight of Aegon when you opened the door.

“So…you ignore all of my texts and my calls for the past week and you decide to show up out of the blue?” You questioned with a raised brow while leaning against the door frame. “What do you want, Aegon?” Your tone was bitter as you looked up at him.

Aegon rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk about something…may I come in?”

You let out a sigh but stepped aside. “I guess you can.”

Aegon lightly tapped his nails against his mug of tea watching as you sat across from him. You had felt a wave of nausea while making the eggs and had to rush to the bathroom, Thommy finishing cooking breakfast for you.

“How’s your mom?” Aegon asked quietly, looking down at his mug before he took a sip.

You shrugged a bit. “She’s as good as she can be. The greyscale hasn’t spread, but she’s still in a lot of pain.” You cocked a brow as you relaxed in your seat. “What did you want to talk about?”

Aegon rubbed his face with a small frown tugging at his lips. “Remember when I told you that it’s tradition in my family to have arranged marriages?” He took a deep breath when you nodded before he continued, “my parents announced that I am to marry my sister, Helaena.”

Your heart dropped at the news. Aegon had promised you for over two years now that you would elope together and run off to Essos. You felt foolish to think he would ever want to marry someone of your status.

“Get out of my house,” You suddenly snapped.

“Y/N—“ Aegon began but you shook your head.

“Get out!” You felt the hot tears run down your cheeks.

He frowned at the shout before he nodded and slowly stood up. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave. I just want you to know, Y/N, I did not want this. I never wanted this.”

You shook your head while leading him to the door. “Just get out of here,” You choked out.

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You stared up at the bright white ceiling laying in the hospital bed, letting out a soft sigh. You had gotten severely ill at work and your boss, Vynce had called 911.

You glanced over when the door opened, the doctor offering you a soft smile. “So, I ran over your tests,” He began while sitting down with a sigh. “When was the last time you had your cycle?” He asked softly.

You furrowed your brows at the sudden question. “What does that have to do with anything?” You knew the answer though. It’s been close to two months since your last cycle, yet it wasn’t unusual for you to have irregular periods due to your body being in a lot of stress.

“Well, it means everything Miss. Y/N because you’re pregnant.”

You frowned at the news and looked down at your hands. You couldn’t be pregnant…at least you thought you couldn’t be….

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You closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around Aegon’s stomach while the two of you settled after making love in the back of his car. You smiled lightly feeling his fingers run through your hair.

“You know, I was thinking….” Aegon began.

You gasped at that. “Oh gods, it’s bad when you begin to think,” You said teasingly.

“Hey, now.” He laughed while lightly swatting your bottom. “But, I was thinking we’re both of age now and we’ve always talked of sailing away to Essos.”

You smiled softly. “I think I know where your thinking is leading to,” You said sitting up a bit. “But enlighten me, Mr. Aegon.”

He chuckled a bit before tilting his head to look at you better. He lightly pushed back some of your hair, a loving look in his violet eyes. “We can elope and move to Essos. We don’t have to worry about any responsibilities and we can raise a big family on our own.”

Your smile widened. “Aegon, you know I can’t just up and elope. I have to take care of my mom and Thommy.”

“That’s why….” Aegon began as he reached over grabbing his backpack. “I got you this.”

You sat up a bit when he pulled out a small velvet box and gasped at the sight of the ring. It was a silver ring with a giant ruby in the middle and diamonds surrounding it. “Is this….”

“It’s not an engagement ring.” Aegon took your left hand and slipped it onto your ring finger. “It’s a promise ring that when we’re both ready, we’ll marry and run away together.”

You felt the tears in your eyes and laughed a bit as you leaned over giving him a sudden kiss on the lips. “I love you, Aegon,” You whispered against his lips.

He returned your kiss while pulling you close, rubbing your back lightly. “I love you too, Y/N.”

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“Oh, I always knew you would have a girl!”

You giggled hearing how excited your mother was as you sat beside her bed, handing her a glass of water. You had an appointment today to find out the sex of your baby and you were beyond happy to learn you were to have a girl. You would have been happy either way though.

“Did he text you back?” Sofina asked quietly as she sat her glass down slowly.

You nodded a bit. “He should be here in about fifteen minutes.” You took a deep breath. It had been the first time in months since you got into contact with Aegon, but you felt that he had the right to know he was going to be a father.

“He’s a good man, you know.”

You furrowed your brows at her words. “But he’s engaged.”

Sofina shook her head. “Do you remember the story of your father?”

You smiled a bit. “How he left some girl for you?” You asked quietly.

Sofina laughed and nodded. “It was because I was pregnant with you,” She whispered and reached out taking your hand gently. “He said he would have done anything for me and the baby. If he was a good man, he would do the same for you.”

You smiled gently and looked down before hearing the doorbell. You leaned down and kissed your mother on the head taking a deep breath, your hand going to your bump.

You slowly walked out and bit your lip gently as you opened the door, Aegon standing there with a bouquet of pink roses but his eyes weren’t on your face.

“Hi, Aegon,” You greeted with a sheepish smile.

“How long have you known for?”

You sat across from Aegon, rubbing your bump lightly as he looked over all the pictures of your child. The roses he gave you were in a vase in the kitchen.

“Almost six months now?” He repeated and you nodded slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You blew out a breath. “Because you were engaged to your sister, I didn’t want to intrude on your life.”

Aegon frowned at that. “I would have dropped everything for you, no matter what my family thinks.”

You felt the tears in your eyes as you listened to him. You knew his mother, Alicent at least never enjoyed you. She always gave you looks when they came into the diner as a family. It was as though she knew of her son’s activities with you.

“It’s still not too late,” Aegon spoke up after a moment. He reached over and took your hand so you would look at him, tears glistening in his own eyes. “We can still be a family.”

You choked on a sob and watched as he stood up to bend down beside you. He looked down at your left hand, seeing the Targaryen ruby glittering back at him. He sniffled and shook his head.

“I am intending to keep my promise,” He whispered to you.

“How?”

Aegon took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Let us elope, like we’ve always planned.”

You frowned a bit. “And what about your engagement already?”

He shook his head. “They’ll have to call it off if I marry you.”

You sniffled and looked down as he moved his hand to you bump. The tears rolled down your cheeks, a small smile coming on your lips. “It’s a girl.”

Aegon chuckled and sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “I can’t wait to meet her,” He whispered cupping both of your hands in his. “I want to be a family with you and our daughter so, Y/N…will you finally be my wife?”

You laughed and leaned down kissing him suddenly with a nod. “I would love to be your wife,” You whispered against his lips.

You gave birth to a beautiful daughter named Vysena, being named after Aegon’s ancestor, Visenya who was one of the wives to his namesake. You married shortly afterwards on Dragonstone in a private wedding and you still wore your promise ring. You wished for nothing, living a humble life with your small family while helping your mother and brother out. It was a peaceful life and you couldn’t ask for better.

[anonymousewrites]

A Good Day for Death (Book 1) Chapter Eight

Wednesday Addams x Reaper! Reader

Chapter Eight: A Good Day for Ruins

Summary: (Y/N) eats fudge, kicks ass, and picks locks. Wednesday investigates, finds the ruins of the original Meeting House, and has a shark attack.

            “Damn, they made me take off my jewelry,” said (Y/N), sighing as they tried to tie the apron around their waist. “Apparently it didn’t match the ‘pilgrim’ aesthetic.”

            “I doubt Joseph Crackstone would approve of skull earrings and bone rings,” said Wednesday. “Too outcast-like.” She finished tying her bonnet and eyed (Y/N)’s attempt that ended in loose, messy bow. Arlene would definitely have problems with it. “That looks terrible.”

            (Y/N) huffed. “Hey, you had Thing help you.”

            Wednesday rolled her eyes and walked over, batting (Y/N)’s hands away. They stood face-to-face, quite close as Wednesday worked on (Y/N)'s bonnet. She expertly tied the bow—the loops even looked like nooses. “We need to look the part so we can avoid notice from Arlene.”

            “Let me guess, we’re sneaking to the meeting house?” asked (Y/N).

            She nodded. “We need information.” She walked to the door of the changing room and put her hand on the handle. “Until then, we sell fudge to gullible tourists.” Wednesday opened the door and headed out.

            “Why do I think this is gonna be less selling and more terrorizing?” murmured (Y/N).

            Sure enough, as soon as some German tourists arrived inside the store, Wednesday didn’t waste any time talking to them. In German. (Y/N) had a sneaking suspicion whatever she was saying was different from what Arlene would want for sales.

            “Enjoy your ‘authentic’ pilgrim fudge made with cacao beans procured by the oppressed indigenous people of the Amazon,” said Wednesday in German. “All proceeds go to uphold this pathetic whitewashing of American history. Also, fudge wasn’t invented for another 258 years.” She held out the fudge plate and smile deviously. In English, she said, “Any takers?”

            The tourists glanced at each other nervously. “No, no, no.” They filtered out the door without a look back.

            “What did you say?” asked (Y/N), leaning towards Wednesday as they popped a sample into their mouth.

            “The truth,” said Wednesday. “They just couldn’t…stomach it.” She arched an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, how have you eaten that much?”

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I’m a demigod. I’ve got a tough stomach.”

            “Ugh,” groaned Eugene from out back. He had been eating a ton of fudge and was now growing quite sick of it.

            “I don’t think Eugene has the same metal, though,” said (Y/N). A gasp rang out, and they looked at Wednesday in alarm. Looking out the side window, they saw Jericho boys pulling Eugene around the corner. “Wednesday. Eugene was just kidnapped by pilgrims.”

            “Let me guess. Three boys?” asked Wednesday, heading towards the backdoor.

            “Yeah. Do you know them?” questioned (Y/N).

            “I’ve dealt with them before,” she said, narrowing her eyes as they stepped behind the building to where the three Jericho boys were opening a stockade to push Eugene in.

            That backfired as Eugene, not having the stomach for so much fudge, threw up on one of the boys. It angered them more as they tried to shove him into the stockade.

            Wednesday approached, and in a cool tone, she said, “Howdy, pilgrims.” She stopped the stockade from falling with a single hand. “Let him go.”

            “You want to end up in the stocks, too?” hissed one of the boys.

            “Remember what happened the last time we did this dance?” questioned Wednesday threateningly.

            The boy threw Eugene to his friends and approached Wednesday. He grabbed at her, and she swept his feet out from under his feet with practiced ease. He tried to stand and take a swing at her, but (Y/N) intervened and kicked him backward. Wednesday grabbed him and slammed him into the stockade. She closed it on him before he could try anything else.

            Wednesday glanced at the other two Jericho boys. “Are you two still here?”

            “I can’t get into more trouble with my dad,” muttered Lucas, Mayor Walker’s son. He turned away with his friend and left the last boy in the stockade shouting at them to come back.

            “Come on, Eugene. Let’s get you cleaned up,” said (Y/N), smiling gently. They sat Eugene down and undid their bonnet. Pouring water on it, they cleaned up his face.

            “No one’s ever stood up for me before,” said Eugene.

            “You said Hummers stick together,” said Wednesday.

            “I know this might come as a shock, but I don’t have any friends,” admitted Eugene.

            “You remind of my brother,” admitted Wednesday in an unusual show of saying something personal. “Sans the desire to strangle him every waking moment.”

            “And no one should be pushed around like that,” said (Y/N). “They’re just jerks. Don’t listen to anything they say.”

            “Now,” said Wednesday sharply. “We have a meeting house to break into. We need to find out more about Joseph Crackstone.” She turned and walked around the side of the meeting house.

            (Y/N) stood. “Come on, Eugene. You heard the girl.” They followed Wednesday.

            She extended her hand to Eugene without looking. “Give me your retainer.”

            “What? Why? Your teeth are really good,” said Eugene.

            “Don’t worry, let me get this,” said (Y/N). They pulled a hairpin hidden in their hair. They crouched by the lock and carefully slid the pin in. (Y/N) fiddled for a moment, listening carefully, before the lock clicked open. “Tada!”

            Wednesday raised an eyebrow. “You can pick locks,” she remarked.

            “My mom is a mortician. She taught me how to be very precise with my hands from a young age. I practiced on locks,” said (Y/N), shrugging as if it was normal.

            “Can you do anything else useful?” questioned Wednesday as she pushed the door open.

            “I know how to sew and do stitches pretty well,” said (Y/N).

            “A useful skill as we may suffer injuries during our investigation,” remarked Wednesday.

            “I’ll make sure I have a needle and thread with me then!” said (Y/N) brightly.

            “Um, guys,” interjected Eugene. “Are you sure this is a good idea? What if Miss Arlene catches you?”

            “Hive code, deny everything,” said Wednesday.

            “That’s not hive code!” said Eugene. “What’s the big deal anyway?”

            “Keep watch,” ordered Wednesday, closing the door behind herself and (Y/N).

            “This is like a shrine to pilgrims. Weird,” muttered (Y/N), peering around the meeting house. Cases with tableware, shelves of books, racks of farm tools, and even a wax figure of Joseph Crackstone stood around the room.

            “Hopefully useful,” said Wednesday, investigating the many items.

            “Hey, Wednesday,” called (Y/N), peering at a painting. “This girl, she kind of looks like you.” They didn’t understand how or the significance of it, but they knew Wednesday would appreciate any clue. And so would they, after all, since they were involved with the whole fight-against-Crackstone-prophecy thing. “Except for, you know, the white hair.”

            Wednesday leaned in, and her eyes widened. “I saw her in my vision.”

            “At Crackstone’s Crypt? That can’t be a coincidence.” (Y/N) wished Wednesday would explain what she saw in her visions, but they dared not press since Wednesday might reject their tentative friendship, and (Y/N)…Well, they liked Wednesday. They didn’t want to lose that.

            “She held the same book,” said Wednesday. She looked to the other side of the room. “That one.” She quickly opened the case and picked it up.

            “Codex Umbrarum?” asked (Y/N), frowning. “ ‘Shadowy Book?’ ”

            “It’s Latin for ‘Book of Shadows,’ ” translated Wednesday. She opened it and nearly huffed in annoyance. “Great,” she snapped. “It’s a fake.”

            “But there must be a real one somewhere,” pointed out (Y/N). “Museums often put replacements of artifacts on display if they’re cleaning exhibits or something.”

            The door banged open, and Arlene, dragging Eugene by the collar, stormed in. “Just what the fudge are you two doing in here?!” she demanded.

            “Hey, Miss Arlene,” said (Y/N) sheepishly.

            “Why, Mistress Arlene, how now?” Wednesday smirked.

            “How now, indeed,” sneered Arlene. “I proclaimed this meeting house is under repair. I know thoust heard me.”

            “I told her the door was unlocked and you guys were dying to know more about Crackstone!” said Eugene quickly as he saw Wednesday leveling a dark look at him.

            “Oh, yeah, stoked, and this case was already open,” said (Y/N) hurriedly, smiling cheerfully.

            “That book’s a replica,” said Arlene.

            “You don’t say,” said Wednesday.

            “The original was stolen last month during the two o’clock witch trial,” said Arlene.

            That can’t be a coincidence, thought (Y/N).

            “It was probably the only authentic thing you have in here, yet you still charge $29.95 a ticket?” challenged Wednesday.

            Arlene crossed her arms defensively. “Hold thy tongue. I’m reassigning you all. To fudge-churning duty.”

            Wednesday ignored her remarks. “The original meeting house in the painting—the one in that painting—where is it?”

            Arlene sighed, and her stiff pilgrim façade melted away into her true personality. “How the hell should I know? I only moved here from Scottsdale in April.” She straightened again and went back into her performance. “Come now, young Nevermore kin. I shall show thou to thous assignment.” She turned and walked out the door.

            Wednesday looked at (Y/N). “We’re leaving when we have the next opportunity for escape.”

            “Sounds good to me. I like eating fudge, but making it seems annoying,” said (Y/N), shrugging. “And whatever you have planned is sure to be more fun.”

l

            Back in their Nevermore uniforms, (Y/N) and Wednesday walked into the Weathervane. Wednesday had pointed out that Tyler, as someone who grew up in Jericho, would have an idea of where the original meeting house was, plus he was willing to talk to her.

            Seeing them, Xavier said, “I thought you were supposed to be at Pilgrim World.”

            “I deserted it while my sanity was still intact,” said Wednesday.

            “Oh, yeah?” Xavier glanced between her and (Y/N). He furrowed his brow. He had been trying his best to get Wednesday attention, so it irritated him that (Y/N) seemed to get it so easily and be allowed to hang around her with no issues. “Um, want a coffee? It’s one of the many perks of this wonderful assignment.”

            “Actually, we’re here for Tyler,” said Wednesday with her usual honesty.

            “He’s bad news,” said Xavier, much less friendly.

            “Who I speak to is my business,” said Wednesday.

            (Y/N) cleared their throat uncomfortably as Xavier bit his cheek in annoyance. It was painfully obvious he was jealous, and although they didn’t realize he was also envious of them, they were aware of how awkward the situation had become. (Y/N) hesitantly rang the bell to call for service so that Tyler came out from the back, but they wanted to leave to avoid any more issues.

            Tyler arrived and glanced between everyone and registering the tension in the air. “Uh, you rang?” he said, looking at Wednesday hopefully in case she had done so. Xavier scoffed and turned away. Tyler suppressed a small smirk as “winning” against Xavier (really, the boys were being ridiculous). “So, want to usual, Wednesday?” He looked at (Y/N). “And I can get you something, too.”

            I know Wednesday’s cooler than me, but seriously? thought (Y/N), sighing inwardly. “No, I’m good. I ate a lot of fudge already.”

            “We need some help,” said Wednesday. She nodded to (Y/N). “Open the map.” (Y/N) unfolded the map of town they had grabbed from the brochures at the Weathervane. “You know the original pilgrim meeting house, the one from the 1600s? Do you know if it’s still around?”

            “What’s left is out in Cobham Woods, but it’s pretty much a ruin,” said Tyler.

            “Where exactly?” asked (Y/N).

            Tyler pointed to the map. “There, but, look, it’s pretty sketchy. Squatters and meth heads use that place as a crash pad. My dad has it cleared out every couple weeks. What’s this about?”

            Wednesday regarded him distrustfully. “Nothing.”

            Tyler smiled in realization. “You’re becoming obsessed with this monster in the woods thing.”

            “What else is there to obsess over in Jericho and Nevermore?” asked (Y/N), shrugging.

            Wednesday looked at (Y/N). “Let’s go.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N).

            “Hey, listen, the ruins are kind of hard to find,” said Tyler. “I could take you this afternoon. My shift ends at two o’clock.” He was trying to create an opportunity to spend more time with Wednesday, and it wasn’t a terrible tactic since she had accepted his offer to escape Jericho just a few days ago.

            This time, though, he had no luck. “Principal Weems would hang, drawn, and quarter me if I miss the big statue dedication,” said Wednesday. “As enticing as that experience sounds, I’d prefer to keep a low profile. Besides, I know my way around the great outdoors.”

            “Don’t tell me you were a Girl Scout,” said Tyler in an attempt to tease.

            “Actually, she hibernated with grizzlies,” remarked (Y/N).

            Tyler blinked at the comment as (Y/N) and Wednesday left the room to investigate the pilgrim’s true meeting house.

l

            (Y/N) and Wednesday walked through Cobham Woods until they came upon the skeletal remains of the old meeting house. Spindly bits of wood stood in the vague shape of walls and a house with various holes.

            “You know, this has ‘horror movie’ written all over it.” (Y/N) wrinkled their nose. “Something definitely happened here all those centuries ago. I can just…feel it.”

            “You are the Child of Thanatos,” remarked Wednesday. “It’s possible you can feel remnants of death.”

            “Good point. This is why you’re the brains of the operation,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            Wednesday smirked. “I’m Frankenstein, and you’re Igor.”

            “I’d like to think I’m prettier than that,” remarked (Y/N) as they entered the ruins.

            “Who goes there?!” cried an old man, jumping up from a cobblestone fireplace. “Aha! Children!”

            (Y/N) backed away while Wednesday stepped forward. “Use the word ‘child’ to describe me again, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”

            “This is my place! Get out!” cried the man.

            Wednesday raised an eyebrow. “Thing, a hand here?”

            From her backpack, Thing ran out across the ground and up the man’s leg. The man tried to fight against the hand but was knocked to the ground. He scrambled up and made a run for it as Wednesday resumed her examination of the old meeting house.

            “There’s nothing here,” huffed Wednesday.

            “Well, we can hardly expect artifacts to be still here at that point,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            Thing tapped against the ground. Wednesday shook her head. “No, I can’t just touch something. My visions seem to happen spontaneously.” Thing tapped again, and Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “I would rather dye my hair pink than ask my mother for advice.”

            “Thing has a point, though,” remarked (Y/N). “You should try to see if something will trigger a vision.”

            Wednesday slapped a hand against a pillar. “Nothing.” She walked to another wall, and (Y/N) trailed behind her in case a vision grabbed Wednesday and she fell. Again, she touched the wood. “Nothing. My visions are about as predictable as shark attacks.” Wednesday touched the door to leave.

            Her head snapped back, and she was thrown headlong into a vision. As she collapsed, (Y/N) caught her before laying her down carefully.

            They looked at Thing. “There’s our shark attack.”

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[latelyanobsession]

Summertime Blues

credit

summary the bumbling casanova who just can’t catch a break. climbing every hurdle and going leaps and bounds to win your affections. but there’s always something getting in his way. will he ever get that date?

warnings pining, fluff, Robin’s sass

word count 1,236

note basically a oneshot where steve tries to do everything right to get your attention. but it just keeps going wrong. Inspired by Eddie Cochran’s Summertime Blues

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

The whiteboard in Robin’s hands was staring him in the face as he turned his back, refocusing on the ice cream in the cooler.

“That’s a baker’s dozen...Popeye” she reflected, adding another three tallies to the board all at once.

Placing his palms on the counter, Steve rolled his eyes.

It had to be the hat. The stupid uniform. This whole shop... it was killing his cred.

He never had this much trouble with the ladies.

Ding ding!

“Earth to Dingus!?” Robin called from the back. There were customers.

You tapped the bell one more time. You didn’t want to be obnoxious.

The sailor snapped his attention up from the flavors, his eyes fixing on you.

“Aho-!... ahoy...” he gawped at you.

You were incredibly cute. 

Standing at the counter in a pastel pink, off-shoulder tee, cutoff shorts, and little white sketchers. Your hair in a high, sporty ponytail.

“Ahoy there?” you replied, unsure if this was something you truly had to participate in.

Robin had popped the cap off the marker again. Threatening another sucky score mark.

He recovered quickly.

Impressively twirling the scooper in his hand he smiled, leaning across the counter.

“What’ll it be? Can I interest you in a sample of our cherries jubliee? Or you could set sail with our flavor of the month, sea salt caramel?”

He held a tiny spoon at the ready for your command.

You giggled, smiling back sweetly.

God he thought you were just the most adorable thing he’d laid eyes on in the longest time.

“No thanks. Vanilla’s fine.”

“Aye aye!” he opened the freezer, cone in hand as he started to form the round shape.

Clicking the scoop into the cone he put the scooper into the water basin.

“And one last thing...” he walked to the back of the counter, opening the lid off a metal container.

“Something sweet for someone sweet.”

He placed a cherry on top. 

“That’s $1.25 please.” he beamed, pearly whites shining.

Robin groaned in the back, the squeak of the marker making another tally.

Fishing out your change, you paid.

“Are you from Hawkins? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” he asked casually, handing you the cone.

“No. I’m from Gas City. Mom wanted to come to the Penney’s and I just wanted to tag along.” you took a small lick, eyes lighting up.

“This is good!” you hummed, taking another swipe with your tongue. “I’ll definitely be coming back!”

You dropped a couple dollars into the tip jar.

Steve looked over his shoulder, shooting Robin a smug look. She rolled her eyes.

“So uhhh... Ms. Vanilla you got a name?” he casually leaned against the counter.

“Y/N” you answered pleasantly.

He thought that name suited you perfectly.

“So Y/N from Gas City... who likes ‘just’ vanilla...” he smiled slyly. 

He was getting bolder. Hitting his stride.

You looked up from your ice cream expectantly, his reflection pooling in those big doe eyes.

He thought he might just die on the spot if he didn’t ask now.

“Would you li-”

“Y/N! There you are! Honey we gotta go!” Your mother’s voice called from the shop’s entrance.

Steve stumbled over his words falling mute. Looking pitiful. 

“Hey thanks for the cone!” you grinned before running out after her.

“Oooohhhh so close!” Robin hissed dramatically, like a studio audience.

He sighed, kicking at the air.

You slipped right through his fingers.

You said you’d come back. But did you really mean it?

A week later, you came strolling back in with a couple of friends.

“Ahoy!” you proclaimed brightly.

Robin nudged Steve in the ribs, “Ow!”

He looked up from the hot fudge pump, he almost seemed shocked.

He really didn’t think he’d see you again.

“Dingus... you’re staring.” Robin chided.

He blinked, stepping up to the counter.

“You’re back.” he grinned.

“I said I would be....” you mused lightly.

“Lemme guess.” he smirked, “Vanilla’s fine?”

You nodded happily.

He fixed up your treat. A cherry on top.

“You up to much these days?” he asked, casually.

You shook your head, handing over your change.

“Well maybe...we-” a throat cleared. There was a line building, your friends were waiting on you.

“I’m sorry. I gotta go. Thanks again.” you touched his hand softly, rushing out after your girlfriends.

“Wait!” Steve called, “You left your wallet....”

Being in such a hurry you had left your little leather wallet with red hearts sitting on the counter.

He put it in his pocket. Maybe you’d come back for it later.

You did not return, as the mall closed and he and Robin closed up for the day.

“What’re you gonna do now Casanova?” she teased, hanging up the mop.

Steve sat at the break table spinning his hat in thought, rocking back in his chair.

“I should return it...” he stated determinedly.

“What?”

Pulling out your wallet Steve opened it and looked at your driver’s license staring back at him.

“I’ll just go to her house and return it.” he reasoned.

Robin cracked an eyebrow, “What’ll you do if she’s not there?”

Steve winced.

He hadn’t thought about that.

“I’ll leave my name and number?” he questioned out loud.

Robin snorted. “You are hopeless.”

Running a hand nervously through his hair, he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Stepping out of the car, he double-checked that the number on the house matched the address on your license.

“Ok. ok. ok.” he coached himself, taking a deep breath. Straightening his button-down shirt.

“Here goes nothin’.”

Walking up to the porch, he rang the doorbell.

Nervously patting his pockets he realized, 

“Ah shit... my keys.”

Doubling back to the car he checked the door, only to peer inside and see them on the driver’s seat.

He’d locked them inside.

“Shit.” he cursed, pulling excessively at the door handle.

Rain started spattering down, in large drops around him.

“Ah! No. no. no. no. ... Nooo!” he whined, looking up as the skies opened into a heavy downpour.

“Hello? Heeellllooo? Is someone there?” you called out from the porch.

Stepping into the light, Steve wiped at his face.

“Oh it’s you! The Scoops guy!” you spoke with surprise.

He looked so pathetic. Soaked to the skin.

“Do you want to come inside?” you asked.

He nodded quietly.

Closing the door behind him, you ran off to go get towels.

He gratefully took one, smiling awkwardly.

“So why’re you at my house?” you questioned, as he patted his hair.

“Ah! Well... you forgot this!...” he dug around in his pocket, pulling out your wallet.

It was positively drenched, the leather softened by the dampness. Your billfold was soaked.

“I didn’t even realize that I’d left it!” you exclaimed, “You’re a lifesaver!”

“My mother says I’d lose my own head if it wasn’t attached” you laughed nervously.

He laughed with you.

“Listen... there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask.” he draped the towel around his shoulders.

“Yes?”

“Would you maybe wanna go out sometime?” he asked, bracing himself.

You giggled.

“You got drenched just to ask me on a date?”

He nodded sheepishly, droplets flying from his hair.

“Then I guess I should say ‘yes’.” you hummed, smiling brightly.

He sighed with immense relief.

“Would you like to stay for some dinner while you dry off?” you inquired.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” he replied.

Taking his hand, you leaned in, placing a sweet kiss to his cheek.

[lcnelyghost]

this is for Dandy, yet again. i think i’m becoming obsessed with him..ANYWAYS.

Dandy with fem reader or gn reader. what im thinking is that the reader is a new hire in Dandy’s favorite shop. the shop could be anything you’d think would suit him best, in my opinion it’s a candy shop. Dandy gets a little irritated because the reader isn’t fast enough like the other because she/they are new. as time goes on, he starts to look forward to seeing her/them almost everyday.

side note: i feel that Dandy’s demeanor would change from annoyed and whiny to more shy and cautious. he would smile more as time goes on and would act more gentle towards the reader.

another side note: i believe that Dandy is capable of having a mature relationship. i see a lot of people making him way too whiny and childish when you can see he’s smart enough to know things and clever enough to execute a mass murder.

that’s it, i hope it’s detailed enough but not too much that u can’t add your own twist or dazzle to it!

i’ll take you to the candy shop//dandy mott

pairings; dandy mott, female reader

rating; pg!!

warnings; slight harsh language

a/n; don’t blame me for taking a quick look at the lyrics from ‘candy shop’ by 50 cent lol. also, i fucking LOVE this idea.

You’re first day on the job. Great. Now, you hadn’t really fully thought about working here when you saw this place. Right enough, it was one of very few places that someone like you, a young adult, could be reminded of their childhood and think about the wonderful memories they had when they were a kid.

Candy Land Central. That was the name of this glorious place you now found yourself working in. It was full of the town’s most delicious (and expensive) candy, sweet treats, everything to satisfy a person’s tastebuds. It wasn’t everyday people got the opportunity to take a job in a store like this. But you decided to roll with it, and gladly chose to begin you’re service here.

It didn’t seem too hard. You’re boss, Larry, seemed nice enough. He ran you through some small things on what not to do but it wasn’t a lot. Don’t give out free candy, don’t let any kids past the till, make sure customers are asked if they have any allergies, etc, etc.

You could handle it. Perhaps it would be a little hard finding different candy, seeing as everything was all just scattered around in random areas, but you’d manage. Surely the customers wouldn’t be that much of a handful… right?

—————————————

You were currently serving a little girl about seven or eight-ish. She had her dark brown hair tied up in pigtails accompanied with bright red ribbons. She was a tiny little thing who could barely reach the top of the counter. She smiled brightly at you as she requested two bags of fizzy cola bottles, handing you a dollar and peering at all the rainbow coloured candies behind you. Just as you gave her what she’d payed for, a young man walked in.

He looked about you’re age. He looked around the place in amazement, a rather large grin began to creep onto his face. You waved the little girl you’d just served goodbye as she skipped past the man, chewing on her gummies. The man gave a soft smile at her excitement before stepping up to the counter and staring right at you.

His attitude quickly changed when he laid his eyes upon you. He raised a brow, skeptically looking you up and down. He cleared his throat and looked away for a second.

“Uh, hi there. I’ll take three bags of blueberry bon bons, two bars of Mr Lockheart’s coated caramel chocolate, and a packet of bubbalicious please.” You nodded at his request and began searching around the place.

He was quick to notice the samples of fudge chocolate chunks you were handing out to kids. You turned around just in time to see him helping himself to a few.

“Oh, sorry sir.. those are for the kids only..” You politely told him. He watched as you put the box of the chocolate chunks further behind the counter.

You looked at him again and the two of you had a sort of awkward, staring moment. He just blinked, confused.

“What kind of bon bons did you want again?” You asked. He scoffed lightly and looked away from you.

“I won’t be repeating myself.” The young man huffed. Before you tried to remember what he’d asked for again, a few kids walked in.

“Bubbalicious!! I love bubbalicious!!” One of the little boys that came in screamed. You laughed wholeheartedly at how all the kids faces lit up when they entered the store. And the man you were serving scowled even further.

“Sorry guys, i’ve only got one packet left.” You frowned. You watched as the same little boy who came in ecstatic began to look quite upset.

“Cmon Jerry, we’ll just get em next time.” Another boy said, putting a hand on the smaller one’s shoulder.

“Hold on a little second there guys! Sir, would you mind if I give this last pack to that boy.. you can come back tomorrow and i’ll give you a freebie if you’d like?” You whispered to him. He looked back at the little boy and had a look of sympathy on his face. Though, not exactly any ordinary sympathy. Mock sympathy..

And as you prayed the young man would give the gum to you’re other little customer, he slammed his money on the counter and smirked wickedly.

“No.”

You looked at him in shock. He took his other items before leaving and smugly waved the pack of bubblegum in front of the now crying child.

“Prick…”

—————————————

You were in the middle of closing up when you’re boss sneakily popped up behind you.

“Y/n! Hey!” Larry said cheerfully. You calmed yourself after getting a fright from his sudden appearance in the room.

“Christ Larry, don’t do that!” You giggled. He grinned before plopping a gummy strawberry into his mouth.

“Ah, relax. You’ll get used to me playing the old tricks on ya!” Larry laughed.

“Hm. I suppose you do tend to do that often. Julie says you were quite the prankster around here..” You giggled again. Julie, who was you’re co-worker, had also had the chance to meet you. She was nice, yet you both had barely any shifts together on the same days.

“So, how was you’re first day?” Larry asked, biting into a delicious piece of creamy fudge. The best of the best, might I add.

“Yeah, it was alright. I’m still trying to work my way around. The kids were good though. Hey uh.. can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Larry said, slightly wondering if you were maybe going to quit soon. It would be sad if you left. He thought you were a rather lovely young woman. And he certainly wouldn’t mind becoming good friends with you.

“This guy came in earlier. Looked about 6’0, brunette, hair in a perfect middle shed, really nice looking guy but he appeared to be quite rich if you’d ask me. Anyway, he was a bit of a dick to one of the kids. Seemed more like a kid himself to be honest.” You sighed. Larry tutted before offering you a bit of fudge.

“He’s sort of a regular here. I haven’t personally spoken to him but by what i’ve heard, he probably wouldn’t be up for a conversation with me anyhow.” Larry lit a cigarette and you thought about the situation deeper.

“He was fine when he came in. He almost seemed happy watching the kids enjoying their treats. But he switched up so fast.. almost as though he was like, I don’t know.. distracted.. You trailed off, glancing at you’re watch and signalling to Larry that it was time for you to leave.

“See ya later kiddo!”

—————————————

After a good night’s sleep, you were ready to go back to work. It was early doors but people still came in around at this time.

When the first customer arrived, you didn’t really know how to react when you saw who it was.

The same young man from yesterday returned to the store, looking much more cheerful from what he looked the last time he came in.

He walked over to you with a bright smile on his face, you returned it for the sake of you’re job.

“Hello there, again..” He spoke softly. You lifted a few of you’re fingers up that were resting on top of the counter, doing a slight half assed wave.

“I’m terribly sorry for yesterday. I behaved like an absolute.. um, jackass to that little boy..” He admitted. You looked at him with compassion. You hated yourself for things like this. You’d always been so damn nice, and for what?

Though truth is, this man never had any intention of apologising. If someone wanted a matter resolved with him, they should be the one to apologise first. That was just how it worked with this particular young man.

—————————————

Yesterday, 6:55pm:

“Darling, if you have any interest in this girl, you’ll have to show much more maturity. Perhaps she’s quite into a gentleman who has a heart for young children rather than disturbing them.” Mrs Mott explained to her only son, Dandy. He was stomping all over the place in the dining room and looked rather unsettled.

“Why should I say sorry!!! I was the one who asked for the damn bubblegum in the first place!” Dandy yelled back, taking out the packet he had in his pocket before flaunting it and chucking it to wherever the hell it went in the room.

“Language dear. Most women love nothing more than a kind, gentle, caring man. Someone who looks out for not just them, but others. Show her you’re soft side Dandy. Pull her in with affection. Not showing off..”

—————————————

“Here,” Dandy said, taking a few dollars from his wallet as he tucked them safely in you’re hand. “Give this to the boy from yesterday. Make sure he gets whatever he’d like with them.”

“Oh sir.. I really don’t think that’s necessary…” You told him, astonished.

“No, no! Please, I insist. Even get a little something for yourself…” Dandy grinned, placing even more money in you’re hands.

“My god.. why thank you so much!” You beamed. He lit up at you’re facial expression and looked as happy as you were.

“I’m Y/n by the way!” You giggled, shaking his hand.

“Very nice to meet you, Y/n. I’m Dandy Mott.”

“Would you like the same as yesterday, Dandy?” You smiled. He looked at you, slowly tilting his head.

“You remembered?” He chuckled. You nodded excitedly and felt the heat burning in you’re cheeks.

“Go ahead then, same as yesterday.” Dandy winked. You quickly rushed all over the place to collect what he wanted.

“Here you are! And uh, please…take it free of charge.”

Dandy smiled sweetly at you before nodding and gathering his things.

“Well, I hope to be seeing you around, Y/n. Ta, ta for now!” He called out. You yelled back a quick goodbye before sighing happily.

You were certain you’d be seeing more of Dandy. And now, you sure as hell knew that you weren’t gonna mind.