#ghosts on the boardwalk

[saltybeardedtxnplaylist]

Ghosts On the Boardwalk

Let me take you to a place where the sun warms your face

And the sound of the waves takes you away

And the ghosts on the boardwalk keep you company

Where the city meets the sea -- Bouncing Souls

[girlstevebuscemi]

Steve Buscemi for the New York Times / shot by Finlay Mackay, 2007

[texaschainsawmascara]

pls I’m crying what the fuck is this

hausofdecline on ig

[v1tfrma]

Who doesn't love the boosh?

[burythecarnival]

well met, pretties 👻 my drag prince persona, packie "bones" mcflaherty, is busting out & would like to take a femme, masc, nonbinary, agender...anyone who isn't a cis straight white man out on a date. this irish boi wants to buy someone a milkshake...but, it won't be as sweet as you 😉

[differenteagletragedy]

swap au: the boy across the street is Baxter, the boy who lives far away but is still your friend is Cove, and the boy who comes for but one summer is Derek.

When I tell you the powerful and immediate urge I had to rewrite the entire dang game with this ... this is so much fun, thank you!!!

You could hear the new neighbors moving in at your spot behind your house. You'd thought about taking a peek to see what kind of people they were like, but decided to stay out of the way, watching clouds on the poppy hill instead. With how nosy your moms had been after the "for sale" sign disappeared, you'd be learning about them soon enough.

After a while, the clouds stopped holding your attention and you stood, looking for a new activity. Before you knew it, you were making your way to the shore -- there was always something to do there.

When you arrived, the typically empty beach wasn't quite as empty as it usually was. Up near the path, away from the water but still on the sand, was a boy. He looked to be your age, maybe a little older. He hadn't heard you approach, and was instead staring straight ahead at the ocean.

"Hi," you said, and you quickly broke whatever spell he was under. "I haven't seen you around before."

"That would be because I just moved here," he said. He pulled on the hem of his shirt, then smiled at you, extending a hand. "My name is Baxter Ward."

At the time, you thought it was weirdly formal, something grown-ups did to greet each other, not kids. But over time, as you got to know him and all his quirks, you looked back at the moment fondly.

That summer, he became your best friend.

You took to each other immediately, and if you had it your way you would've have spent every waking minute together. Sometimes Baxter couldn't hang out though -- he didn't talk about it much, but he seemed sad sometimes when he talked about his parents, and the few times you spoke with them you got the feeling they didn't like you very much.

But Baxter, as oddly formal as he was, wasn't afraid to break rules. And after a meeting between his parents and yours that didn't seem to go so well, your moms were quick to welcome him whenever he wanted to come over. You were able to get close.

By the time the summer was over, you could hardly remember what life was like before he came into it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Five years later, you were 13, and Baxter was still your best friend. He went to a private school while you went to the public one, and from what little he told you about it, he didn't really have friends there. It was a boring place to be, he told you, and he'd much rather be spending time with you than with those spoiled rich kids.

He never bothered noting that he was also a spoiled rich kid.

One day, the two of you were in your bedroom, wasting away a day together. He was lying comfortably on your bed and you were sitting at the foot of it, leaned against the window he regularly used for secret visits -- when he didn't want to hear his parents complain about him spending so much time with you, he found it easier to just slip away unnoticed.

"There's a boy coming over today," he mentioned, ending a comfortable silence. "I think you'll find him interesting."

"If you think he's interesting, then I'm officially scared," you teased.

He smirked in response. He was proud.

Over the past few months, Baxter had started getting more experimental with his fashion. He'd always dressed a bit preppy, and that hadn't changed much, but now he was moving towards clothes that were only black and white. He'd shown you a few more alternative pieces he'd ordered, things that matched the color scheme but were a little more out there, but he hadn't had the nerve to wear them out yet.

"He's the son of a business partner of my father's," he explained of the mystery boy. "I've met him a few times before, he's very shy."

"Then why do you think I'll think he's interesting?" you asked.

"He's also very cute."

You blushed, and he laughed.

You'd had a crush on him for a while, and you couldn't tell if he knew, or if he might like you back, but it was certainly clear that he enjoyed teasing you about anything even remotely related to dating. It always flustered you, but he enjoyed that, too.

He opened his mouth to say anything else, but before he could, the door to your room opened and Liz popped her head in.

"Some kid is at the door asking for you," she told Baxter. "I didn't realize you'd officially moved in."

"Thank you for the warm welcome, sis," he said easily, then stood and looked at you.

"Let's go," he said. "That would be the boy of the hour."

He held out a hand to help you off the bed, and, blushing again, you took it. There was that smirk again, but this time he chose to let it go.

When you went downstairs and to the door, you saw the boy had retreated back towards the street, looking uncomfortable. He was tall and gangly with bright green hair and glasses, and Baxter had been right -- he was cute.

"Cove!" your friend called out brightly, leading you over for an introduction. The boy, Cove, held up his hand in a slight wave. He was nervous.

But as awkward as Cove was, he managed to work his way into your cozy little friend group of two, turning it into a trio.

At one point during the summer, you and Cove had exchanged phone numbers. His father -- his parents were divorced and he lived in another neighborhood with his dad -- was much more easygoing than Baxter's parents, so you were able to visit him quite a bit.

You were even invited over for a sleepover, which Baxter had been surprised about. He'd reacted strangely when you told him about it, it seemed -- you weren't sure if he was upset that his parents had never let you stay over, or if it was something about you getting close to Cove. But in the end, he'd put on his old friendly smile and told you to have fun.

When your moms dropped you off at Cove's house, he greeted you at the door and invited you in, as awkward as the day you had met.

"It was my dad's idea, to ask you to stay over," he explained as you made your way to his room to hang out. "Not that I don't want you to stay over! It was just his idea is all."

"Why would he want me to stay over?" you asked.

He turned to face you as you came to a stop in his bedroom, but he kept his eyes down. He started rubbing his arm, a nervous tick you'd picked up on pretty quickly.

"I don't ... I mean, I don't really have many friends, I guess," he said. "My dad wants me to have more. I think he worries about it."

"Why didn't you ask Baxter?"

"My dad doesn't like his dad," he said.

That made sense to you. You didn't like Baxter's dad either.

Cove didn't live in your neighborhood, but he still lived near a beach. You walked there together and spent most of the evening there, and when you went back, his dad had cooked you dinner.

Throughout the day, he had loosened up, but when it was time for bed, he started getting shy again. His father had laid out two sleeping bags side by side on the living room floor, and after you both got into them, he didn't say a word.

"Cove?" you asked.

He didn't say anything. You turned to face him, sure he hadn't been able to fall asleep that quickly. In the faint light coming in from the kitchen, you saw his eyes wide open, and maybe a tiny bit of color on his cheeks.

"Are you all right?"

He turned his head toward you slightly, not enough to make eye contact, and said, "Yeah."

It wasn't very convincing.

It was your turn to stay quiet -- you weren't sure what to say. Then, without further prompting, he turned to face you too. He met your eyes.

"I get nervous around you," he said plainly. "More than other people. That's why I don't say stuff sometimes."

"Oh," you replied. Then, "Why?"

He shrugged, a decidedly non-romantic gesture, but it still tugged at your heartstrings.

He ended up changing the subject, and you laid there together for a long time, whispering about what you'd done that day and what you wanted to do tomorrow, what you wanted to do with your lives. It was nice, and when you finally fell asleep, you thought maybe you could see Cove being in your life for a long time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Five more years went by, and more big changes came with them.

Baxter was your best friend and still your neighbor -- for the time being. You'd graduated high school and were now adults, and you knew he was desperate to get out of his parents' home.

Cove was still important to you, though you'd been seeing him less and less. His father had cut professional ties with Baxter's, and there was a bit of bad blood there. He'd also decided he wanted to go to college to study marine biology, which was no big surprise, but it did mean that a lot of his free time went to studying.

You weren't sure what exactly you wanted to do, but at the beginning of the summer, an opportunity for a quick adventure before diving into real adulthood presented itself, almost literally on your doorstep.

Gossip spread easily in Sunset Bird, and your moms had heard that the newly vacant condo next door to Baxter's house had been rented. They were eager to see who was coming into the neighborhood, but because they had to leave for work before anything happened, they asked you and Baxter, who was almost always over, to keep an eye out.

Baxter agreed before you could say anything. He'd always done anything your moms asked. You thought it was because he was thankful that they'd unofficially adopted him as their third child.

The two of you settled outside on your front step, waiting and chatting idly about some nonsense he'd made up about who the new neighbor would be. He was really getting into the details when a cab pulled up across the street, and a guy who looked to be about your age stepped out.

"This is not what I expected," Baxter whispered to you before letting his mouth hang open.

You watched as the newest resident of your tiny town moved to the back of the car, opening the trunk and easily pulling out a suitcase. He was all muscles and tan skin and had such a big smile as he tipped the driver. The cab left, and the stranger must have felt your eyes on him, because he turned to you then and smiled even wider.

"Hey, neighbors!" he called out, sounding as friendly as he looked. He started making his way over, and you saw bright green eyes twinkling at you.

Baxter stood, sticking his hand out to help you up. You took it, and he used his other hand to smooth his black and white hair.

"My name's Derek," the guy said holding out a hand to you the same way Baxter had when you first met him ten years before. You shook it, and he smiled directly at you before moving to shake your friend's hand as well.

You and Baxter introduced yourselves, then Baxter asked, "So, Derek, what brings you into our tiny neck of the woods?"

"I'm on vacation," he answered. "Well, kind of. I play college soccer, and there's a coach in the city that's really good, I'm going to work with him this summer. My parents wanted me to have an actual vacation too though, so ..."

He finished his thought by gesturing to his condo.

"I see," Baxter said, and you could hear it in his voice already -- he was turning the charm on. "Well, you know what they say about all work and no play. If you ever feel the need to play, don't hesitate to find us."

Ten years of friendship, and Baxter could still make you blush. If Derek was taken aback by his forwardness, he didn't show it -- instead, he laughed openly.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. You thought you saw him sneak a glance at you as his smile turned smaller, but you weren't sure.

You learned quickly that Derek was serious about his work. He left for long stretches to go into the city for his private training, and you frequently saw him out for runs around the neighborhood.

But he also, it seemed, had taken a liking to you.

One evening, he knocked on your door. You were home alone, so naturally you were the one to answer, and he was there, as always, with a big grin on his face.

"Hey!" he said. "I totally get if you have plans, but if not I thought I'd come check to see if you wanted to hang out?"

"I'm free," you told him.

"Cool. Do you wanna come over?"

When you paused, he quickly continued, telling you, "Oh no, I'm not ... I'm not trying to ... do you like video games?"

A few minutes later, you were sitting next to Derek on his couch, starting up a game of MarioKart.

His composure regained, he said, "I hope you know I'm not going to take it easy on you."

"Why would I think you'd take it easy on me?" you laughed, looking at the tv to choose your character.

"Pretty people always think they can get their way."

That stopped you in your tracks. You glanced over at him, and he was smiling at you.

"You would know," you replied, trying to return the compliment.

As you played, you both found little ways to get closer to each other. Once he scooted over to show you which button to press to do a certain move, and soon after you'd done the same, pretending like you'd forgotten.

After a particularly intense race, it happened -- you finally beat Derek. He'd stayed true to his word and hadn't taken it easy on you, beating you time after time, but now, you'd bested him.

You stood up enthusiastically, cheering for yourself, and ever the gentleman, he stood up as well to cheer along with you.

The next thing you knew, he had his strong arms around your waist, and yours had gone up around his neck. He leaned in a bit, then paused.

"I like you," he said softly, "and I think it would be nice to kiss you. But I'm going back to college in a couple of months, and --"

"A couple of months is enough for me," you told him.

He smiled again, then kissed you. It was gentle and sweet, and over far too soon.

"I'm thinking I should probably make a little bit more time this summer for playing," he said, giving you a smirk that could almost rival Baxter's.

[occultbuscemi]

first it starts with thinking that old man was kinda cute when they were younger and next thing you know you own a tumblr account dedicated to them

[the-invisible-queer]

[thatgeekwiththeclipons]

Happy 66th Birthday to Emmy Winning, Golden Globe Winning, 4x SAG Award Winning actor Steve Buscemi! ^__^

[paintedonmyteeth]

Hello!! I've been absolutely obsessed with homicipher lately, and I really love the fanfics and hcs you wrote for the characters so far!! You're a really great writer, your style and aesthetic is honestly so good!

I was curious if you had any headcanons for how Mr. Crawling, Mr. Hood, and Mr. Silvair would be with a cane-user reader that has severe leg pain? Like they typically use a cane to help them walk easier, but sometimes they can feel so much pain in their leg that it becomes too much to walk and they sometimes need to sit down or take a break?

Homicipher characters taking care of reader is one of my favorite types of things to read <3 I hope you have an amazing day!

Homicipher Boys w/ Cane!reader

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHh YES I love the concept gbejbfj and I could def see this as a huge cute thing w/ Mr. Hood especially. 10/10, Homicipher boys taking care of the reader are the best HCs hands down gbejfjwj and tysm it makes me happy to hear that others rlly enjoy my work!!!! :D

Mr. Crawling 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling as the absolute fucking sweetheart he is would want to be the biggest help for you when getting around certain areas of the Ghost Apartments.

⭑.ᐟ — At the same time, Mr. Crawling is also disappointed in himself he can’t be much of a help, it’s difficult for him to stand on his own feet for any longer than a few minutes considering he’s used to crawling around.

⭑.ᐟ — Which also means he can’t carry you :((

⭑.ᐟ — The best he can do however is help avoid any places like the boardwalk room with all the water or anything with a ladder so you’re putting less stress on your muscles and your bad leg.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling does his best to try in protect you from any hostile residents (eg. the time you got kidnapped by Mr. Stitch), he’s not trusting anybody that’s not Mr. Silvair, or any other residents you’re not familiar with.

⭑.ᐟ — Ofc break times are also a must have so whenever there’s a room that’s safe to take a breather, he’ll basically lead you by the hand to take a seat and give your bad leg a rest. Cuddles are also given for a bonus <3

Mr. Silvair 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Silvair being kind of like the scientist/doctor, he’s pretty much the best source in getting any help you need for your leg.

⭑.ᐟ — Considering meds or painkillers aren’t things that exist in this ghostly dimension, Mr. Silvair tries finding other alternatives in order to alleviate your severe pain in your leg. Maybe try to work and figure out some sort of 'cure' with what resources and tools he has.

⭑.ᐟ — So with getting a few checkups/experiments done on your body (aka the weird thing going on with your body slowly changing due to staying in the Ghost Apartments), Mr. Silvair also checks in once in a while to see how your leg pain is going and suggests in resting whenever needed. You’re basically more than welcome to use his spare beds when you need them most.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Silvair might’ve found something better from the room with all the trashed items like a crutch for example so you can lean your weight on it a little and it’s somewhat easier to walk around.

⭑.ᐟ — Eventually Mr. Silvair found someway to help out with your leg pains, ofc having injections doesn’t look like to be the safest in normal people standards but yk, you’ll take anything you can get to be free from the pain even if it’s for a small while.

⭑.ᐟ — You might not get around much at this point, but whenever you’re in Mr. Silvair’s place you stay around for a little while during your breaks and Mr. Chopped’s just there keeping you company. :)

Mr. Hood 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Hood sees this as no problem at all tbh (It’s practically a W in Mr. Hood’s books).

⭑.ᐟ — Also fuck your cane honestly, he’s not thinking that ofc, but there’s no reason in needing one if Mr. Hood’s going to carry you all the time??? You can always rely on him to bring you to places you want to go.

⭑.ᐟ — You feel bad and selfish for taking advantage of Mr. Hood this way, but he’s honestly not complaining at all if he gets to hold you close like this whenever he wants. He’s not sure what the fuzzy feeling is but he just likes having you in his arms.

⭑.ᐟ — Sometimes you’d insist you’re able to walk on your own with the cane and you don’t need to be carried, Mr. Hood doesn’t think so, and he’ll still carry you anyways even if you don’t want him to.

⭑.ᐟ — It’s just looks so difficult seeing you struggle to get around certain places in the Ghost Apartments, there’s like a handful of dangerous things and you can’t run at all with that bad leg of yours.

⭑.ᐟ — There’s no need to feel guilty, even if Mr. Hood’s not put together or understand what he’s feeling most of the time, he’ll do anything to help out, keep you safe and protected. :))

[hannahmanderr]

Not me also thinking about what it must have been like to be your average Amity Park citizen before the events of "Public Enemies".

Like you're attending a pro-carnivore rally at the local high school after seeing some kid's Reddit post and you're just chilling until out of nowhere the meat reanimates itself and turns into a giant flipping monster screaming about lunch. And then something explodes the monster and you're left scratching your head wondering if you just had a really bad weiner or something.

Or, in a moment of weakness for a good deal, you buy an old CD player off the kid of the local loonies from his garage sale, and later that night said CD player starts glowing green and attacking you before abruptly flying out of the house, never to be seen again. And maybe you're wondering if you just imagined the whole thing, but a few days later the kid comes shuffling up to you with a full refund muttering an apology and something about contaminated tech.

Or you're at the local swap meet/flea market and feeling sorry for the mom of the girl screaming about how much she wants cotton candy and two seconds later a wall of cotton candy slams into you and floods the entire market.

Or you're riding the roller coaster at the boardwalk, and through an amazing stroke of bad luck and flagrant safety violations, a semi careens into the hill of the coaster and somehow splits it in half, sending your train flying and you're wondering how that's even possible in the first place and you're so sure you're about to become a pancake on the pavement when some kid with a bleach job literally flies up to you and catches you and the other riders before setting you down, yelling something about jazz music, and then flying off again, never to be seen again.

That is, until a few weeks later when, in the middle of what you can only guess to be the apocalypse because of the mass invasion (that's apparently limited only to your city) of what everyone is calling ghosts, you're watching the news coverage of the town hall and that same kid is there apparently trying to kidnap the mayor (even though the mayor is the one holding on to him and something is very off about the way the mayor cries for help).

And after that, ghosts are just A Thing in Amity Park. And life continues on as normal, because really, it's already been a little strange around town for a while now. Now, you just have a name to put to it.

[patrollingboston]

141 Beach Episode // Cod x Reader

You know how in every good show there's a beach episode? Yeah this is theirs.

The 5 of you were sat in a truck with the aircon blasting. Price was dramatically fanning himself with his boonie hat. With one hand placed on the steering wheel. You had just finished a week-long mission and it left you all somewhere on the east coast with the sun beating down with no mercy. You were so uncomfortable, dressed head to toe in full gear practically sweltering in it.

“Not used to this bloody heat.”

  Soap sighed placing a hand to his forehead to relieve his brow of sweat.

“I’ve got the aircon.”

 Gaz smirked, of course he was fine he was sat in the front seat with cold air blasting directly onto him. You were squished between Ghost and Soap, plus he always wore a sunhat and sunglasses even in the rain.

“How ghost isn’t a puddle yet I have no clue.”

You stated, glancing over at ghost who was dressed in all black with his mask still pinned down onto his face yet he didn’t show a single sign of discomfort.

“Can you even breathe? Isn’t it like being trapped under a blanket?”

“I can breathe fine.”

He grunted not sounding amused by your questions.

“Look at tha’ ain’t it a pretty view.”

Soap said tapping on the truck window, everyone’s eyes glanced to meet where he was pointing. You were greeted with the sight of a gorgeous white sandy beach with the clearest sea water you had ever seen with families playing in the sand and surfers utilizing the waves.

“The things I would give to dive in those waves.”

 You said groaning, resting your head back in the seat knowing you had a hot and uncomfortable 6+ flight ahead of you to get back to base in England not to mention the drive to even get to the airport.

“Can’t we stop for a bit? The missions all done and dusted, surely, they don’t need us back that hastily.”

Gaz asked turning to face the captain with a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

“I could use a pint. I’m sweating like a fucking pig. We only have a few hours but I think we could all use a break.”

“Make that two.”

 Ghost’s gruff voice chimed in his mood perking up at the promise of a cold beer.

“I think everyone here wants a bloody pint.”

A few moments later the 5 of you were all stood on the beach boardwalk, you removed your boots and placed them by the railing before stepping onto the soft, warm sand.

“I have never ever stepped on sand so soft oh my-“

You wondered how long it had been before you stood barefoot on a beach. Probably not since you were a child on a day trip with your family.

“Shit the sands a bit hot ain’t it?”

Soap said as she stepped onto the sand beside you, shifting from foot to foot as he complained about the temperature once again.

“I’ll go grab us some drinks, find a spot I’ll come find you all.”

 Price said before stepping up the stairs and walking towards the crowded beach bar on the boardwalk.

Ghost, who was still dressed fully in his gear stomped behind you scouting the beach for a place to sit like it was the toughest decision he ever had to make.

“Here.”

He said pointing to a peaceful square of the beach, not too far from the shore.

You all placed your backpacks down and set a towel down for yourself. Ghost was wrestling with the beach umbrella to get it stood up.

“Whose going for a swim?”

Soap said with a huge smile on his face as he stripped off his t shirt leaving him in his cargo shorts.

“You go first mate, tell us how cold it is eh?”

Gaz joked, pushing soap slightly closer the seafront.

“Don’t be a pussy.”

“I’ll go!”

 You said, removing your jacket and vest leaving you in a tank top and some old cargo shorts dumping by your backpack them away from the shore so the waves didn’t steal them.

You jogged down to the water front stood beside Soap and Gaz.

“Whose going to make the first move then?”

You all stood in a line, hands on hips inspecting the water as it broke in front of you. As you spoke Soap dived headfirst into a wave like a goofy dolphin. He stuck his head up like an seal, running his hands through his mohawk and wiping the salty water off his face.

“Is it cold?”

 You shouted through the crashing waves.

“Nah, its refreshing.”

He shouted back before running through the water back onto the shore to stand beside the two of you.

“I don’t know if I’m that hot anymore you know-“

You said backing off after feeling the  ‘refreshing’ water splash over your feet and ankles sending little shockwaves through you.

With that statement Soap placed two hands on your waist and lifted you up into the air before placing you over his shoulder like a fireman would carrying someone out a burning building.

“DON’T YOU DARE SOAP, I MEAN IT.”

You screamed thumping his back in fear as he stepped into the freezing ocean once again. Gaz stood on the shore filming the entire situation laughing at your misfortune. Ghost sat watching from afar under a big shady umbrella pint in hand with Price sat beside him reading something, smoking one of his cigars as per usual.

“Ready?”

Soap teased as he began to hoist you up even further before throwing you into the sea with a huge splash. The cold water shocked you at first but after a few seconds, soap was right. It was kind of refreshing. You popped your head up out the water with a frown.

“I hate you asshole.”

“You weren’t going to get in I had no choice-“

You pushed a big wave of water his way aiming for his face secretly hoping the salt would burn his eyes.

“GAZ GET IN.”

Gaz stepped into the water with haste joining you and soap.

“We going play mermaids or what?”

You asked with a chuckle as the 3 of you treaded water in a circle.

“I would prefer to drown Soap.”

Gaz said before dunking soaps head back under the water.

About an hour later you sat on the beach wrapped in your towel, drying off in the sun.

“Been a while since I’ve been able to relax on a beach.”

Price spoke, he was leant back on a sun lounger his hat placed over his face shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

“Thought you were asleep old man.”

Ghost chuckled.

“Can we take a photo?”

You asked bringing out your super old digital camera you dragged around on every single mission.

The 5 of you gathered in closer. Gaz throwing up a peace sign. Soaps arm slung around ghost and a beer held loosely in the other. Captain Price sat up placing his hands on your shoulders. Your smiles were all wide (you would like to believe ghost’s was too) as the light of the setting sun glowed on your faces.

That day was a good day.

[girlstevebuscemi]

[texaschainsawmascara]

Michael Pitt, Gus Van Sant

[how-serene]

In Your Eyes

Pairing - Dwayne (Lost Boys) x Neutral!Reader

Summary - A night on the boardwalk with Dwayne.

Word Count - 775

Warnings - fluff, mentions of smoking, no use of y/n, pet names

A/N - Billy Wirth, you absolute beauty.

Santa Carla’s cool breeze washed over your face. Behind you, the shrieks and laughter of friends broke through the crashing of the waves. They danced wildly around a bonfire, Mötley Crüe booming through a radio speaker. Despite the night bringing a cold chill, hoards of people still strolled along the boardwalk. Even from your place on the pier, you could feel the public’s infectious excitement. 

You leaned against the rickety railing, a cigarette held loosely between your fingers. Summer’s full moon hung high, reflecting off of the rippling waves of the water. Stars blinked down at you, against the sky’s black canvas. The pungent smell of the ocean invaded your airways, mixing with the bitter smoke. 

A pair of leather cladded arms snaked around your waist, startling you. 

“Hey, baby,” Dwayne purred, breath fanning against your ear. His hands traveled down to rest on your hips, squeezing at the flesh. 

“You’re late,” you pointed out, fighting back a grin. 

He merely hummed at your words, instead choosing to leave faint kisses on your shoulder. Even through the thick fabric of your shirt, his lips still managed to leave your skin buzzing.

Dwayne trailed his lips up, til he met the shell of your ear again. His rough hands turned you to properly face him, the railing pressed into your back. 

“Got caught up with something,” he explained, dark eyes shining down at you. 

From the faint ruby stain in the corner of his lip, you understood very quickly what that something was. You brought your thumb up, to swipe at the red smudge. The corner of his lip quirked up, carefully watching your movement. 

“You’re cold,” he noticed, leaning into your touch. 

“”The pier isn’t exactly the warmest place on earth.” 

“How long have you been waiting?” 

“Thirty minutes, give or take.” You shrugged, letting your hand fall back down to your side. 

Dwayne sighed, dark brown eyes drifting past you to stare out at the ocean waves. The wind had picked up, now faintly brushing against his thick black hair. He seemed lost, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts you couldn’t begin to decipher. 

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, effectively getting his attention. His eyes softened, sweeping over you. 

“Wanna know what’s been on my mind all night?” You asked, brushing the tip of your nose against his. Dwayne’s sweet mouth was only centimeters away from yours. His hands slipped up the back of your shirt, the cool silver rings he wore ghosting over the skin.

“What is it, doll?” he muttered, lips grazing the corner of your mouth. Patiently waiting for you to speak. His unshaven stubble scraped against your chin.

You planted a firm kiss on his cheek, before pulling back. 

“Winning that giant stuffed panda I saw near the balloon darts.” 

The pier was alive, as bright neon lights illuminated the boardwalk. The flood of patrons rushed past you, of kids dragging their parents by the cuff of their sleeves, or friends huddled together like packs of wolves. All vying for that last ride on the Ferris wheel, or an overpriced corndog before the park closed for the night. 

You walked, with Dwayne’s arm slung over your shoulders, and a stuffed Panda lovingly held in your hands. 

“Since when were you so good at darts, mister?”

Dwayne sheepishly smiled, glancing down at you, “Just one of my many talents.” 

You snorted, bumping your hip with his. It was odd, at times you realized. Dwayne smelled of cigarettes, and cheap booze most likely snagged from the victims of bonfire parties. His mouth tasted of mint, and nicotine when he would kiss you. There was always something beyond it though, a metallic taste your mind would block out before you could process it. 

Even though you knew. 

He appeared so human at times, it knocked you back. It was almost easy to brush off the strange coolness of his skin, or the carnivorous look in his features when a hoard of people would pass by you two. 

Then there were moments when the human-like quality of Dwayne overshadowed everything else. Moment’s like now, when he pressed you into his side, grinning as he peppered kisses over your hairline. You giggled, leaning back away from him, your heart thudding in your chest. Up ahead, his pack was gathered around a picnic-table, lazily leaning against it. Their ravenous gaze met yours, locked on your approaching form. Marko, with an infectious toothy smile and unkempt golden hair, waved at you. Dwayne grumbled, muttering something under his breath.

You were reminded that monsters lurked on every corner. 

In Santa Carla, at least. 

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of the Heart: Chapter 32 (human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: Fingering, nudity, consent is sexy

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You and Alastor walked down the boardwalk, fingers woven together as your hands swung between you. The stars glittered above while the waves softly caressed the sandy beach. The moon was as bright as the eyes of young lovers to every person they passed, though few were out at the late hour. 

You chewed your lip as you listened to Alastor’s stories of his boyhood and the love of his mother while you kept stealing glances down at the hand holding yours. It was the very same hand that had coaxed you to indecency in a very public place. 

“And then the moon was green,” Alastor said, his words filtering through your brain, a relaxing sound that didn’t process in any meaningful way. “We rode horses to the castle.” 

“What?” Your eyes snapped to his. It was very clear that he had caught you listening but not absorbing his words. “I’m sorry, Alastor. I-” 

He turned to face you, snagging up your hands in his as he pulled you through a few simple dance steps, though there was no music to match it. Your eyes glanced down at the bite mark on his neck, clearly standing out from his open collar. 

There was no hiding what it was, and it had earned the pair of you looks as you walked through the throngs of people. Everyone knew what it was and from the smudge of pink still on his neck and the way he held onto your hand, they knew it was you who placed it there. 

As promised, he wore it with pride. He could have buttoned up his collar, put his bowtie on. You knew he had it stashed in his pocket. It wouldn’t be enough to cover it, hide it during the day, but with the long shadows of night, it would probably be alright. 

He didn’t try at all to hide it. 

“You seem distracted,” Alastor said as he danced you down the path, slowly leading you to your home for the weekend. You wanted it to be your home forever. It was a place where it was just you and Alastor, no one else. “Your mind on something else?” 

“Oh, I- I’ve just had my head in the clouds,” 

Alastor chuckled as he continued to dance. “The clouds? Perhaps I’m imagining your eyes on my neck where your mark seems to be clear as day.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I’m-” 

Alastor continued talking over you as he twirled you around, picking you up at times and swinging your legs through the air. “There will be no doubt to anyone that I’ve got a girl to call me hers.” 

It was such a unique way to word it. You’d often heard men speak about their partners, spouses, wives in ways that hinted at ownership and possession. Hearing him speak as if you could possess him, hold him in the palms of your hands, gave that power to you. 

“You’re mine?” you whispered, not meaning to say it. 

“I am,” Alastor said, leaning down and kissing you softly. “Yours. Only yours.”

“I wish I was only yours.” You hated the crack in your soft voice as you kept your eyes on him, trusting him to move you through the world safely. 

“You are,” Alastor whispered between kisses, “He just doesn’t know you’re not his anymore, yet.” 

Your back hit a light pole, not hard but sudden enough that you gasped. He pressed up against you, lips ghosting over your neck as he kissed his way to your ear. 

“Alastor?” 

“You’re not his anymore, not really.” His fingers gripped your hips as he kissed you deeply, leaving you gulping for air as he pulled away. “I can’t wait for the day when you’re no longer his.” 

“Do you ever think it’ll really happen?” you asked as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“I do,” Alastor whispered. “I will not allow him to hurt you for the rest of your life. But that’s enough of him for tonight.” 

“What do you- oh,” Alastor’s lips moved along your jaw until he captured your earlobe between his lips. He ran his teeth over the soft flesh, reveling in the way you gasped and moved against him. 

“You think I didn’t notice how you keep looking at my neck?” He pulled away, tucking your arm under his as he began leading you down the walkway toward the Villa in the distance. He spoke as if it was the most conversational topic in the world, leaning into your ear to ensure you heard every soft word he said. 

“Do you enjoy the thought of me walking around wearing a mark left by you while you were in the heights of passion?” Alastor didn’t wait for you to answer, knowing you’d struggle to form a sentence if he kept such thoughts at the forefront of your mind. 

He knew he should let you rest, let your emotions rest with how much he had already pulled from you this weekend, but he couldn’t help wanting to touch you again. The sounds you made, the way you flushed as you came undone, it was addicting. 

He longed for it almost as much as he longed for the hunt. It sounded so sweet in his ears, tasted rich on his tongue. If he could just have you, maybe he could put down his hobby. Maybe he wouldn’t need the thrill of the hunt if he had you to come home to.

It wasn’t likely. He knew that. It was love talking, singing its song in his ears, but for a moment he believed it. 

It didn’t change how badly he wanted to see you, feel you come undone. Holding himself back, trying to give your body time to recover from each wave of pleasure, was driving him mad. 

He hadn’t expected the feeling of your teeth sinking into his flesh to pull such a reaction from him. It hurt, sure, but not nearly enough to stop the shiver that ran down his spine or the need that sparked in his abdomen. 

“I saw how you watched me lick the sugar from my fingers. What were you thinking of at that moment? Was that why you were already slick with want before my hands were even on you?” 

You were crumbling now, and for Alastor, it was a delight to watch. It was adorable how you kept your eyes trained forward, not daring to look at him. He didn’t need your eyes on him to tell him how he was working you up again. The flush on your face, shallow breaths and the way you kept wetting your lips with that pretty tongue of yours told him all he needed to know. 

Alastor unlocked the door as you stood stiffly by his side. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he wrapped you up in his arms. 

“I’m sorry for teasing you so much,” Alastor whispered before kissing you deeply, not waiting to hear if he had caused offense. The way your arms wrapped around his neck, body stretching up in a adorable attempt to match his height, told him that if he did, you were aroused enough to forgive him for it. 

“You fluster me so,” you whisper as you came up for air. “I’m not used to such brazen attention.” 

“It’s only fair. You fluster me.” Alastor said, pulling the cord to light the lamp by the door. 

“I can’t imagine anyone flustering you,” you breathed the worlds, head tilted back as Alastor kissed along your throat. 

He was fighting the urge to do more than lick the skin. He could wear your marks and would, with pride, but he couldn’t leave any on you. What would it feel like to sink his teeth into your shoulder? To pull the muscle into his mouth and feel it flex as you writhed under him. 

Feeling a stirring, he slowed his thoughts, focusing on you. Your pleasure was what mattered, what he was chasing. He didn’t need to deal with his own body’s traitorous responses, so he willed his heart rate to slow. 

This was about you. Your pleasure. Your needs. He was on a mission to erase every memory of your husband’s brutal hands during this weekend. He would see to it that you struggled to even remember the name of the man you were married to. 

It was the least he could do. It was all he could do at the moment, at least. 

“You fluster me more than you know.” Alastor walked you deeper into the room, nimble fingers working the buttons free at the front of your dress. 

He didn’t need you bare, naked to see to your needs, but he wanted you to be. Your body was something he wished to gaze upon. This was the last night he had where he could hold you, bare skin against his chest as he watched you sleep in the safety of his arms. 

He wanted to map out every blemish and mark along your skin. He wanted the memorize the way you sighed in your sleep, the way your lips would part. The way you felt tucked into his arms was something he needed to learn so that he could spend his nights thinking about it, haunted by it.

With a brush of his hands, your dress slipped down, cascading to the floor. You nearly tripped over it while stepping back. His lips found yours again as he worked his way to the couch, tugging your half slip down lower and lower off your hips until it too fell to the ground. 

“Alastor,” you moaned his name as you worked at his buttons, wanting to feel him under your hands again. He wanted to hear you moan his name again. 

“Mine,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he pulled you down onto the couch with him. 

“Yours,” you gasped as his hands roamed over your body, caressing your ribs and back as he moved you to lie back.

Long fingers slipped under the back of your bra. “May I?” 

Your heart beat in your chest. This would be the night, you were sure of it, that Alastor would take you as a man takes a wife. You would feel what it was to lie with him in sin. It should have sent you running, but instead all it did was have you panting, eager to experience what it could be like, though it would be a lie if you said you were not a little afraid of the pain that would come with it.

“Yes,” you finally answered. 

He unlatched the band easily, scooping the straps off your shoulders. As the silk bra fell to the ground in front of the couch, you folded your arms over your chest. 

“Don’t hide from me,” Alastor said as he pulled your hands away by the wrists. You didn’t fight it, but you couldn’t bear looking at him as he looked at you. “You’re okay,” he kissed you softly. “I won’t do anything to hurt you.” 

Alastor chuckled as you relaxed. He peppered the ridge of your clavicle with soft kisses. Your back arched, pressing your front into him as he guided your body back against the couch. A blush dusted your cheeks as he pulled back. Ever the timid thing, you wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

The position was much like the one he had sat in, seemingly forever ago when he had first tested the waters of physical intimacy with you, only reversed. He had first touched you and showed you the pleasure you had been denied for so long that night. 

He folded over you as his lips worked down your chest. You wanted to cover yourself, but your hands rested on his arms as his lips explored the skin he had yet to touch. 

Warm breath washed over your nipple as you looked at the ceiling. That didn’t bother Alastor in the slightest as he warped his lips around the pebbled nub, enclosing it in an open-mouthed kiss. 

You struggled to think as he worked your nipple in a series of lavishing kisses that left you thinking about how he had worked your slit with his mouth the night before. The moan that slipped from your lips could have come from the memory or the way he caressed your other breast. Before you could decide which, he started kissing down your stomach. 

“Can these go too?” Alastor asked, running his fingers over the edge of your panties. 

“Okay.” 

You lifted your hips as his fingers worked under the hem of the last remaining fabric protecting any bit of your modesty. It wasn’t like they were protecting anything he hadn’t seen already. That ship had sailed. 

Alastor guided the garment down your legs and sent it to the floor. Strong hands ran up your legs as you finally braved looking at him. The sight he made stole what little breath you still had from your lungs. 

His hair was messy, the humidity from the ocean was waging a battle with the curls he had worked so hard to straighten. You wanted to run your hands through it, but if you moved, you were sure you’d wake from the dream you had to be in. 

He knelt, calfs between your ankles as he leaned forward, between your knees. His shirt was hanging open, not nearly open enough for your liking. You wanted him as bare as you. 

“You’re magnificent,” he whispered, voice so naked and him, as it had been so often since you had arrived at the little coastal town. His eyes were dragging over every part of you. “Did you know that?”

You didn’t know if you believed it, too many times had you been told your curves were too much or not in the right places. The way Alastor looked at you, the nakedness in his voice and the warmth in his eyes dared you to believe it. The soothing touch running up your legs as he parted your knees more dared you to challenge him on it. 

“Will you let me indulge in you again tonight?” Alastor asked as he blanketed over you, supporting himself with a hand placed on the back of the couch near your head while he ran his other hand slowly up your thigh, fingertips tracing patterns. “Or would that be too much for you tonight?”

Reaching out, you ran your hand up his chest. Strong muscles flexed under your hand, but what drew your attention was the way his heart hammered in his chest. With every move he made, you could feel his muscles jump as you ran hands over him, pulling at his shirt and fighting with buttons until it was hanging open. He was so hot under your hands as you tried to take in all of him. The heat of his body soaked into you as your breasts brushed against his chest. 

Feeling bold, you leaned up and placed soft kisses along his neck. You could just feel the start of stubble as you worked your way to his jaw, wrapping your arms around his back, under his shirt to help pull you closer and support your weight. As you went, he shifted and turned his head, allowing your lips to travel as you wished. 

Ghosting touches traveled down, feeling every flex and twitch of his abdomen and back. His shirt ghosted against your breasts as he gave you room to move, teasing her nipples with the ever so slight touches. 

“Please?” You whispered as your fingers ghosted over his belt buckle. Bold, he was making you feel safer, bolder. You wanted more. It didn’t matter if it hurt as long as it was with him. “Is it mad that I want you to keep touching me? Is it wrong?” Your tongue darted out as you placed a wet kiss against the marks left by your teeth on his neck. 

Alastor groaned as his hand stroked a path of fire down your inner thigh. He looked so good with his eyes closed, face flushed ever so slightly. Did you look good to him as you had your head tossed back in pleasure? Is that why he kept touching you?

As his fingers caressed over your slit, you found it hard to support the weight of your head. Positions flipped and now it was Alastor’s mouth working over your neck. 

“You’re so wet for me already,” he whispered, “slick spread over your lips just waiting for me to delve in. How do you want me to make you fall apart tonight?” 

Alastor’s fingers easily slipped through your folds, lewdly wet and waiting for him. The way you gasped had him closing his eyes again, trying to keep his mind on you and your pleasure and willing his body not to awaken. He counted his breaths, teaching each slowly into his lungs as you shuddered under him. 

He wasn’t expecting to find himself twitching, trying to come to life, but it seemed he was still being influenced by the way you had sunk your teeth into his neck still. It was unexpected, but that was to be examined later. Now was about you, having you writhing in pleasure under him as you panted his name. 

“You,” you whispered, face aflame as his fingers sank deeper, easily finding and breaching your opening, stretching you two wide from the start. 

“You have me, my darling.” 

Gasping, your back arched as his fingers spread you wide. You were more relaxed under his touch this time, Alastor was pleased to find. He knew it was pushing things for you to take two at once from the very start, but oh; you were far more ready for him tonight. You squelched around his fingers as your back arched. 

“Alastor,” you whined as his fingers flexed and curled inside you, caressing walls he had no right to touch. Sensations and pleasure had your head spinning with each flex of his fingers. All you could do was hold on to Alastor’s arm and try to ground yourself. What shame you had was dissolving with each time you whined his name. 

“You look so good like this,” Alastor praised, leaning forward and down, kissing you soundly. After he swallowed enough of your sounds, he pulled back and continued, “Just for me.” 

“Just you,” you repeated as he pulled you closer to the cliff, not really aware of what you were saying. “Only you.”

You ran your hands over skin until Alastor trapped one in the hand he was using to support himself. You did your best to take in the feel of him, moaning deeply as a third finger entered you, spreading you wider. 

“You take my fingers so well,” Alastor murmured as you panted, arching and twitching under him. Your desire poured from around his fingers. His name sounded like music when you panted it.

He couldn’t help but marvel at the way he enjoyed bringing you to the edge, only to hold you there for as long as he could, feeling your walls fluttering around his hand. Drawing it out wasn’t something he usually sought to do. With you, he didn’t want the moment to end. 

Typically, Alastor would see to it his partner finished once, perhaps a second time, if he was feeling generous and send her on her way. If he was lucky, he could keep himself to just hands and mouths and get the job done quickly. 

With you though? He had to breathe through the way your walls gripped his fingers, struggling to keep himself in check as he tested how long he could hold you there. He longed to kiss you, to taste you, to feel you around him. 

Why was it different with you? Alastor watched as your lips parted, eyes squeezing shut as you fluttered faster around his fingers when he reached deeper. You squelched, loud and lewd, as he worked his fingers in and out, faster, harder. 

Kissing you hadn’t been his intention, but somehow he was leaning closer, arm twitching as he continued to support his weight to allow him room to move. He kneed your legs further apart and now you were so lost in the pleasure he gave that they spread easily, allowing him to better run the palm of his hand over your clit. 

You ran your free hand around his neck and down his shoulder before you were greedily taking in his chest. Strong. He was so strong. Clear defined muscles he kept hidden under his shirts and blazers. How he could be so strong and so lean, you didn’t know. 

Kissing sloppily down his jaw, your lips found his neck. You were so close now to that breaking fall that he seemed to keep sending you over. 

“Please, Al-Alastor,” your lips moved against his throat as he seemed to stretch over you, chin up and head pulled back as he worked. Your fingers ran down his abdominals and along the hem of his pants. You could feel the tufts of hair, ever so slight and reaching toward his navel. 

You kissed his neck as you reached, fingers caressing his belt buckle. The place you had bitten on his neck was easy enough to find. The marks left by your teeth were raised under your lips. Temptation won out, and you left open-mouthed kisses that had you running your teeth over the place. 

“Oh!” Alastor jerked as his fingers twisted up, hitting something that had you seeing stars and convulsing under him. “Come for me,” Alastor urged, as if you were not already falling. 

Your fingers flexed, digging into the palm of the hand he had restrained. What Alastor wasn’t prepared for was the way your fingers flexed and twitched along his pants, dipping between his abdomen and the fabric. 

Aftershocks rocked your body as he pulled away from you, pulling his hips out of your reach. He sat back, fingers slipping from your twitching hole as he looked down at you and willed his body to calm only somewhat successfully.

You sat up, satiated, and yet still wanting in a way you couldn’t explain while you watched him lick his fingers clean. Wasting no time, you ran your hands up his chest and pulled his shirt down, letting it hang around his elbows. 

He watched you, lewdly running his tongue over his slick fingers and groaning at the taste of you. Focused on his breathing as you slid your very naked body against his chest. 

You moaned at the feeling of his skin against your overheated torso. What you were doing, you didn’t know. It was like something had possessed your body, instinct or a demon, you didn’t know as you pressed your breasts into him.

He was strong under your hands as they ran down his chest, back and sides. Lips worked over his neck as you tried to get a reaction from the man that was currently largely frozen in place, eyes closed and taking slow breaths. 

“Have you not had enough?” Alastor asked as he pulled away only for you to follow. 

“No,” you whispered, as your hand moved lower, caressing, until you pulled the end of his belt from the loops. “Have you really?” 

“Wait,” Alastor’s voice was naked, shattered as he grabbed your hands. “Stop.” 

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