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justaaveragereader · 5 months ago

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Slashtober🔪|| Misery!Yunho

Pairing: Yunho x Reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: THE ENDING IS DARK!! Stalker!Yunho, Dom!Yunho, Sub!Reader, Unprotected Sex, Mutual Masterbation, Possesiveness, Yunho Is Toxic ASF, Primal Play, Fear Play, Degradation, Choking, CNC, YuYu Uses His Body To Restrain You, Spit, Spanking, Dacryphilia, Masterbation, Clit Play, Oral, Restraining, Fingering, Ass Play, Squirting, Cum Eating…If I Missed Anything…Lemme Know👀👀

A/N: Because tomorrow is going to be busy, busy for me, I decided to drop Yunhos slasher fic a day early😚! This whole fic is DARK, once again they are based off of the slashers in the horror film. If you’ve seen the movie Misery, you know the movie was crazy as hell, so what do you think this fic will be? Crazy as hell. I enjoyed writing this so much, I apologize for the person I was when I was writing the smut to this fic😀.

Slashtober 24’ Masterlist

NSFW UNDER CUT MDNI!!!!

All Ageless, Blank, and Bot Looking Blogs Will Be Blocked.

“Am I almost finished?” You say while eating peanut m&ms. Letting a smile grace your face you nod, holding up a stack of papers. Making sure not to turn them around you show the camera. Letting all your fans on live see the hard work you have done. You had been working on this book for quite some time. You had taken a well deserved vacation up to northern New York to add the finish touches. Squinting you get closer to the screen, trying to read the fast moving messages.

“What is the plot like?” You read out loud, munching on another m&m, you smile once more. The flood of questions coming in hot. You couldn’t help but feel proud. Pointing to your chin like you are thinking.

“Hmm…I can’t spoil the plot you guys! If I told you the plot then it would ruin the suspense.” With a small laugh, you shift through more of the comments.

“When are you coming back home?” You read. Rolling your eyes slightly, you chuckle.

“Soon Woo! I’m packing up soon, and will be on the road no later than maybe 5pm?” Eating another handful of m&ms. You grab the laptop, moving it to the side. You pull up the curtains of the window, showing all the viewers the beautiful, snowy view. A small sigh leaves your mouth..

“I swear this vacation was not long enough. Look how pretty the snowfall is.” You whisper out, getting caught up in the moment before turning back to the computer. You adjust it once more, reading all the comments on the scenery.

“Where are you?” You read, not thinking much of it, assuming that the commenter is trying to land a spot at the peaceful spot, you laugh it off.

“I can’t tell you all that! You may try to steal my vacation spot.” You let out a small laugh, grabbing another handful of candy, before wrapping up the live. You wave sheepishly, promising to go live once you make it back to New York, closing your laptop. You pack up all your items, double checking to make sure you aren’t missing a thing when you get a notification. You toss your phone in your car, not bothering to check it. As you load your car, you take in the surroundings once more. The peacefulness of quiet envelopes your body, wrapping it in a blissful hug. As a writer life wasn’t easy for you, the pressure had been crushing your windpipe. This novel was well awaited once, your fans had been waiting three years for this book, the uneasy feeling of potentially letting them down always stayed in the back of your mind, nipping away at you like a hungry disease. Getting in your car you begin your trip back home, setting your phone up to use as the gps, as you get closer to exiting the property you begin to notice just how hard it is snowing. The thick, cold flakes sticking to the ground, crunching under your tires.

Thirty minutes into the drive you turn your windshield wipers up to clear your windshield as quickly as possible, the small flakes being very mighty. Letting out a groan you grab your phone off the dashboard, dialing Wooyoungs number to let him know you are going to turn around and head back to the cabin. The snow becomes too much for you to handle, trying to balance between looking at your phone, and at the road. As you are locking more onto your phone, not even a second later you lose control of the wheel. Tossing your phone aside, you grab the wheel tightly, trying to regain steering, pumping your brakes, you wind up spinning out and fall off the small cliff. The car falling, and crashing in between trees, your head smacks onto your wheel immediately knocking you out, the last thing you see is the white flurries of the cold flakes.

Not even a full hour has gone by before Yunho is getting out of his truck, searching high and low as to where your car could’ve gone. When he spots the small puff of smoke coming from your vehicle, the tracker on your car has only done so much luck for him. Notifying him that there had been an accident in the area but not pinpointing where you were. Swifty he makes his way down the snowbank, feet sliding down the hill as he hurries to you. Flinging open your car door he sees your slumped figure over the steering wheel, head lightly bleeding. Your eyes flutter slightly at the feeling of someone grabbing you. Barely being able to put any words together, yet alone thoughts together.

“My, my, my…darling what have you gotten yourself into.” He whispers while grabbing you, head bobbing in and out of consciousness, the darkness aids no help in being able to see. You gather all the strength you have, cold hand lightly palming the strangers wrist who you are now convinced is an angel pulling you towards the pearly gates.

“Thank you..” you whisper out before slipping into a motionless state. A small smile creeps on his face before he lets out a squeal, tugging on your body, he lays you in the snow. Admiring your senseless state, body moving like it’s made of clay, that he is willing to mold to his likings. A warm finger runs down the sides of your face, bringing his face closer to yours, inhaling your scent. The warm scent you radiate tickles his nose, bending down he hooks one arm under your legs, the other arm under your shoulder blades hoisting you up. To a stranger it looks like your husband is carrying you to safety, clutching you close as he climbs up the snow bank. Placing you safely in his car, he makes his way back down grabbing your bag, taking the keys out the ignition before making his way back up. Stopping just short of his driver door, watching your collapsed body in the front passenger seat, still as a doll. Placing your items in his trunk, he climbs into the driver seat, placing your head onto his thighs. The weight of your head makes his body grow warm, admiring your features he traces the shape of your nose, finger tips barely grazing your skin, almost as if he applied any more pressure he’d ruin the masterpiece below him. Starting the truck, he begins to pull off, glee filling his body as he makes his way closer to your shared home, the home he made for the two of you, the home you would wind up never leaving.

Your eyes flutter at the bright light, as you try to move you wince at the pain surging through your head.

“Careful.” A deep voice speaks, startling you. Your eyes shoot open, wincing at such movements. A hand comes up to your forehead, fingertips lightly brushing over the stitches.

“You had a nasty crash, I tried to fix you up with everything I had laying around the house.”

Eyes floating to the person who was speaking. He was gorgeous, broad shoulders, button up rolled to his elbows, friendly smile on his face. You were dumbstruck just by how beautiful he was. If only you had known what you were getting yourself into. He sat in the chair across from the bed you were in. Handing you a bottle of water, he explains to you how he was traveling on the road, and came across your crashed car in a ditch. As each second passed by you started to tune out how he had saved you, focusing heavy on the features of his face. The way he bit his lip when he was heavy into detail. How he talked with his hands. When he caught you staring he gave you a shy smile, a warm blush breaking out on his neck. Nodding your head as you listened to him, you had agreed to stay in the cabin til you healed up. As you were in no shape to leave, he kept you occupied. You had even started to talk to him about your personal life and how you were a writer, soon to be wrapping up and publishing your novel soon. His eyes twinkled with each breath you spilled about your book. You intrigued him so much, he had been following you for quite sometime now, everything you were telling him about wasn’t new news to him. He was well aware of what was going on in your life. It just sounded so much sweeter coming from your lips. As a couple days went on you were up and out of bed, moving around. Becoming independent once again, this did not please him. He tried to give you any and every reason to remain in bed, the nice guy you knew was now smothering you. Swearing he couldn’t find your phone in the crash, going so far to even say that he didn’t get any signal in the cabin so he only had a landline.

Internally you were punching yourself, relying so much on technology you hadn’t memorized anyone’s number but your own. Every move you made in the house it felt like you were being watched. You couldn’t deny that the attraction you had towards him lessened the blow of him being slightly weird. You were very attracted to him but knew this would never work. He was too dominant, too overbearing. Every word you spoke to him it felt unreal, almost as if he was trying to poison you and your brain. Tainting you beyond repair. Each day you looked out the window, the heavy snowfall felt like it would never give up. Part of you wished to be like one of the cold, wet flakes. Free.

You could only get so far as Yunho was on top of everything you did, only letting you in a couple rooms, yours, the bathroom, and the kitchen. He never let you venture out farther than he felt like you needed. He would leave for hours at a time during the week. Saying he was going back to the crash site to see if he could recover any of your items. Forbidding you to leave your room, sometimes even locking you inside. You never bat an eye once at these actions as you didn’t want to alarm him or throw any red flags.

You had been keeping small items you found in certain areas. You were loaded with paper clips, bending certain ones in odd ways to try and leave your room. As the windows had been sealed shut. Keeping track of which paper clips worked perfectly to the locks of the door. You were successful many times, choosing to roam the home when you knew he was quite a distance away. But one day…one very forgetful day your freedom got to your head. Not realizing the time that had passed, and missing the large man who was currently watching you rummage around his items. As large as he was, he moved like he was one with this house. Feet missing the floorboards that squeaked, steps as quiet as a mouse. Watching as you shift around, fingers flickering through his items, you fail to miss the way he takes up the doorway to the room. In such few minutes everything had escalated so quick.

“I just knew you were up roaming around. You almost had me fooled for a while til I realized you left your little key behind.” He says ending his sentence with a snicker to his tone. Holding up your make shift key, your eyes grow wide. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, you stand still. His presence looming over your very own. With each small step towards you, his smile grew wider. Your hands fidget by your side. Clearly confused on what to do.

“Do you know what happens to bad girls who don’t listen?” Shaking your head no very slowly, afraid to move any quicker. Your eyes never leave his, with such small sentences he carried such a heavy presence. He owned this place, he owned you, everything around you, you were his.

“Bad girls get fucked.” He says while leaning down to meet your eyes, his large stature swallowing you whole. Eyes growing wide, your breath stops for a split second. Your eyes dart to the door that he came through, empty and clear for taking off. He notices your hand twitching, eyes growing wide with anticipation. Letting out a small laugh, he steps back a bit giving you some space. You take this as a sign, you book it for the door, before you can even get three steps past him he snatches your body off the ground, feet dangling in mid air. You feel a hotter heat stead through your groin, you let out a loud groan. Clearly embarrassed at what noise you let you, your hands fly over your mouth, cupping it in shock. His large hands holding your stomach, just close to where you needed him. Flailing your body you try to break out of his hold, shaking as much as you can, praying that he is strong enough to hold you and not let you. He walks with your squirming body to the center of the living room. Moving one hand up to your neck as the other is holding your body tight to his. Your body immediately stops moving, limbs falling almost as if they are falling into a paralyzation. He smiles almost giddy at the way you so easily submit to him.

“A good hand on the neck.” He emphasizes his sentence by adding more pressure to your throat. Slowly putting you on the ground, belly first so you are laid out on the floor. Kneeling behind you he places his other hand between your shoulder blades.

“And an even firmer hand between the shoulder blades . Now that’s how you usually make a bitch submit.” He whispers into your ear. You feel your cunt clench at his dirty mouth, the more pressure he puts on your back the hotter your body grows. Your private areas are only covered by your bra and night time shorts. You are positive soon he will be able to see your arousal seep through the thin material. He looks below him at your form. The woman of his dreams right below him makes his cock grow bricked. Never did he think he’d have you in his arms. You slightly wiggle your body trying to squeeze your thighs tighter together, any stimulation to your clit will aid in the throbbing heat your body is feeling. He places more weight on your shoulder blades, taking this as a sign that you are trying to wiggle away. As your body aches with need at the more pressure he puts he squeezes your throat a bit before loosening his grip on it.

“I told you what happens to bad girls when they don’t listen.” He replies, voice as still water before the hurricane rushes through.

Squishing your face between his hands, your lips part. Nails slightly digging into your soft cheeks. Pulling your body back closer to his chest he ruts his hips against your ass. Feeling his thick member through his pants

“You like this don’t you?” You grunts into your ear, pulling down his pants with one hand, while the other holds your body in place. Your fingers are biting into your palms, trying your every to remain as quiet as possible you will not give him the satisfaction or play into games. His heavy cock smacks your bottom, the weight of it has you biting your lip, placing your forehead against the floor, letting out the quietest of whimpers. The warmth heats through the fabric of your sweat pants. Placing his body weight on you, he lays flat against you. Fiddling with your own shorts, pulling them just under the cusps of your ass. Pulling your panties to the side so your ass was exposed to him he let out a groan. Seeing the plump flesh has him in a trance. His hand still firmly gripping your face, he hikes your head up. Your eyes looking directly in the mirror, the room is dark as midnight, the soft moonlight catches his eye. Shining in a demonic way, he was up to no good, and here you were refusing to fight him off. The struggle of him on top of you did nothing but make your mouth moist, your body on fire.

“Look at you, taking it.” Your eyes squint, looking off to the side, too ashamed to admit you were getting off at this. Your cunt grows slicker by the second, his smile predatory at best. He looks like a beast in the moonlights shadow, he is the darkness. The light in his eyes died a long time ago, you are almost certain of it. He smells of warmth, but his actions prove he is anything but. You are a stray sheep who got shoved into the lions den.

Pulling his other hand forward, letting his cock go it slaps against your ass. The weight of it has you wanted to smack your forehead against the floor so the lewd thoughts flooding your brain leave. With your head still cocked up, your eyes finally flicker over to him. Wolfish smile still on display, by the end of the night you are certain he’s going to swallow you whole.

“Spit.” He says, your face still squished, while his other hand is held in front of your puckered lips. Rolling your eyes you attempt to tuck your lips into your mouth. Staring him down through the mirror you watch as his smile grows deeper, just when you thought he couldn’t fuel your adrenaline high anymore, he proves you wrong.

“You know..” he grunts, putting more of his body weight on you, placing his head by yours so you both are side by side.

“I love them obedient, but you..” he whispers, with each word he speaks your eyes dance over his lips. Feeling his cock twitch with each word he pronunciates.

“You really are making it hard to be nice.” Your eyebrows furrowed together. You glare at him, trying to rip your head out of his hand.

“Nice?” You muffle out through squished cheeks. Your eyes practically bug out of your head at his outlandish remarks. Just as you are about to continue your sentence, his hand from your cheeks moves to your throat swiftly, the sudden pressure of his large hand in your throat takes you by surprise.

“Yea, nice.” He grits out..

“I should shove my cock down your throat til you learn how to speak to me.” He grits out, hips constantly rutting against your ass. Placing his elbow on the floor so his hand can remain wrapped around your throat. He pulls his hand back, grabbing his cock and smacking it against your ass. The squishy meat makes his hard member bounce back each time he smacks it down. Grabbing one of your ass cheeks in his hand, he roughly rolls it around his palm before giving it a hard smack. Your body jolts forward. Making you let out a choked out whimper. With each smack, he pulls the flesh of your ass, before letting it go and smacking it again. This goes on for what feels like forever, your ass welted, stinging each second. Your eyes fill with tears at the sensation.

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You squeak out, throat still held tightly. The tears poking your waterline make him groan in satisfaction. Pausing his movements he moves his hand to spread your ass cheeks far enough to see where you are leaking, your thighs are drowning in your arousal.

“I’m beginning to think you enjoyed that almost more than me.” He whispers in your ear, grabbing his cock, he coats it in some of your arousal before sliding into you. His large size punches your lungs. You let out a loud moan, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Your cunt accommodating the large stretch of him stings just right, your heightened arousal making him slide in easy. The warmness wrapped around him has him hissing. Biting his lip he ruts his hips a bit forward before pulling out of you completely. The loss of his heaviness inside of you has you whining. Slapping your ass once more you let out a cry, with his hand still firmly on your face. He eases the pressure, letting it go suddenly. Your head almost thumping against the floor.

“1…2…3..” he begins to count, that adrenaline rush clouds your best judgment, pulling his body weight off of you, he sits up, kneeling while balancing on the balls of his feet. Watching your figure as you are confused about what to do. Should you flee or lay there? Your eyes shift back and forth between him in the mirror.

“Go.” He whispers out, watching you scramble to your feet as your naked body takes charge through the house. The small sound of your feet thumping against the wooden floor can be heard in the small space, your panting as you begin to move, heart feeling like in mere seconds it’s going to explode out of your chest. The true race begins now. You run down the halls trying to find any and every door that will open. Realizing all the doors are shut. Kicking yourself you let out a small whimper, you can hear him in a distance getting closer to one hundred. You duck off into a small room far back, a small closet in the corner, a three piece couch in the middle of the room. The blinds to the windows are open, with the moonlight shining in, it makes such a beautiful scenery.

“98…99…100.” He whispers, making sure to leave you on edge. As he stands, he dusts off his knees. Cock springing, hitting the bottom of his stomach with excitement. His feet begin to move quietly as he can easily tell where you are, as he has only left one door unlocked. The small study where he would watch your lives, and filter through all your social media. Letting his long legs lead the way, he can practically smell the scent you leave behind lingering in the hallway. With each quiet step he takes, the more his cock twitches on his thighs. He already had you in his trap, he wanted to play with you just a bit more before devouring you. As he steps outside of the room you are currently occupying, he grabs the handle jiggling it to give you a sign he’s arrived. As he steps in he feels the air thicken, he walks around the room, inspecting it from the side completely opposite from where you are currently hiding.

You watch from the closet as he walks around, hard cock firm in his hand. Each time the moonlight catches his eye, it mirrors off. The bright reflection practically blinding you. As he continues to stalk around the house you watch his every move. Barely being able to keep your eyes on his movements, to warped into the way he strokes himself. Firm hand around the base, twisting just to the tip, before sliding his hand back down. Letting his cock go a couple times, slapping it against his own stomach. The pre cum smearing against his smooth stomach, has your insides twisting, cunt clenching with each step he makes. Wanting to divert your eyes, you look down watching as your hand slowly lowers, two fingers pushing against your throbbing clit. You are soaked, the fabric of your panties is sopping wet. Your arousal sticks to you uncomfortably. Pushing them aside you let your fingers dance around on your clit, you let two fingers slowly slide inside of you. The feeling has you letting out a quiet gasp, biting your bottom lip, you attempt to pant as quietly as possible.

You look up only to realize he is gone. Nowhere in sight, pausing your fingers you wait a couple minutes. Fingers standing still in your cunt while you grind on them slowly. Not wanting to make too much noise. What you didn’t know was that the mirror was catching the reflection of you, you had left the closet door cracked open just a bit to much, while you were to busy grinding on yourself to almost completion, Yunho was right on the otherwise of the door, back completely against the wall, thumb rolling over the tip of his cock.

The closet wasn’t working for you, there was not enough room to get yourself to completion. You were right on the tip of orgasm but your hand was starting to cramp in the small area. Deciding that you had waited long enough and that if Yunho wanted to come out, he would’ve already done so.

Grabbing the knob you open it as quietly as possible. Pulling your other hand from your cunt, the stickiness runs down your thighs as you walk towards the couch. Plopping your body down, with youra back turned you completely face the mirror, you sink into the soft furniture. Burying your fingers back into your cunt, with your thumb stringing along your clit. The feeling begins to overwhelm you, your chest heaves with need, just as you crack your eyes open. You catch a glimpse of Yunho in the mirror, his pearly teeth shining in a wide smile. Letting out a loud moan. You try to pause your movements, fingers feeling like they are moving on their own. You lay your head on the arm of the couch. Tilting your head back slightly, watching as his figure flees into the dark depth of the house. As big as he is , he moves almost like he’s a feather, quiet, and as light as possible. He's stalking you, watching you like you are his prey. You are open, vulnerable, trying to out run him. You know he’s there, you can feel his crushing presence around, suffocating you. The feeling is almost overwhelming, it’s down right addicting. The house is eerily quiet, your low moans and whines fill the empty air. Fingers continue to pump into your wet walls, on the brink of riding your high. His deep eyes blend into the shadows, moving around as quietly as possible. He can’t help but grab his hard cock that’s leaking from the tip. Watching you stuff yourself full with your hand. Pulling himself from the shadows he makes his way quietly towards you, with your head tossed back on the arm of the chair. Eyes sealed shut with bliss, you miss the movements he’s doing. Prey that has been easily left to be eaten. Gripping your hand, his sudden intrusion stuns you, stopping your actions you slowly blink your eyes open at him, body thick with sweat. His eyes bore down at you, that wide grin never leaving his face, he was going to swallow you whole.

Bending down he pulls your hand from your cunt, the juices dripping from your fingertips as he gets lower, grabbing you he repositions your hips. Laying on the couch so he’s right in between your legs. Warm breath fanning your pussy, you buck your hips into his face. The juices brushes against his lower lip. Flicking his tongue out to catch your arousal on his skin, he’s locking eyes with you. With such a small gesture you know not to test his patience as he won’t let you get away as easily now, the chase is over. He has caught what he wants, and he’s going to drink you down.

Letting his tongue poke out, he licks a small stripe from your hole to your clit, letting the tip of his tongue rest against your throbbing clit. Letting out a weak cry, you arch once more.

“Please, please, please.” You chant over and over again like it’s a prayer. He has what you want, normally he’d play with his food a bit more but he was hungry, and tired of waiting.

Diving face first into your pussy, he rubs his tongue all over your clit, switching between sucking the swollen bud, and mopping up the fluids leaving your hole. Letting his nose bump against the bud, he rubs it back and forth making sure the point of his nose stimulates your clit with each swipe. You begin to feel your arousal and his saliva mix, dripping down to your asshole, the cool liquid has you letting out a hiss. Nose still bumping against your throbbing clit, your legs jump each nose swipe he does. Pausing for a split second to inhale your scent before diving back in, wrapping his soft lips around your clit, his long slender fingers make there way to your hole, index and middle fingers sliding in smoothly. As he is making his way through you the satisfaction of your pussy squelching around his fingers makes his cock jump against his lower belly, swiping at some of the cool fluid he coats his hand in, wrapping it around his cock.

Pumping himself to the same speed as your clit, making sure to match the same tempo. Your chest brings to heave. Toes beginning to curl, suckling on your clit, with his fingers working their way in and out of you, he coats his ring and pinky finger in more of the fluid clinging to your asshole before rubbing on it slowly. The new sensation has your body lurching forward. Gripping the sides of the couch you moan out his name, releasing his cock, he shoves you back down. Letting out a small groan at the loss of his hand, never easing up the suckling on your clit. Legs continue to buck around him.

“Pl-ple-please.” You stutter out as he slowly enters your asshole. Your mouth falling into a large O shape. Eyes fluttering in the back of your skull. The sight in front of him makes his cock jump, more precum leaking from him.

“What’s my name?” He muffles buried in your cunt. Biting your lip you helplessly whimper before answering him.

“Da-oh god, Daddy!” You shout before your legs buckle once more, cunt beginning to convulse around his fingers. Arching your back to the highest degree off of the couch. Your fingers cling to the fabric of the couch, his eyes practically turn black at the sight.

“Yeaaa…I’m your daddy.” He growls into your cunt, as your juices continue to shoot out in spurts. Some of it was too much to fit in his mouth. It drips down his chin, coating his chest. Pulling his fingers from your ass, the aftershock of the orgasm sneaks up on you, hips bucking once more against his face, juices smearing even more on his smooth skin. He pulls away, fingers still deep in your pussy. Letting his tongue flicker out against his lower lip, catching the fluid that is about to drip off. That signature smile is back. A chill runs through your body, one of fright, the other feeling just how actually cold it was in there now that your adrenaline rush has worn off.

“Can’t let anything go to waste now, can I?” He says, asking you such a rhetorical question, your eyes following his every moment. His fingers twitch inside of you, letting out a low mewl at the overstimulation. Pulling his fingers slowly from your cunt, more juices rush out. Coating the couch beneath you. You watch as he slowly licks all the juice off his fingers, before moving them to your mouth. Opening, you take his long fingers in, sucking your own juices off of them. With a relieved sigh leaving your throat, it satisfies him beyond compare. Pulling them out of your mouth, he gets off of the couch, his own cum staining his lower stomach.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up.” He whispers out, sticking two fingers on his skin to swipe off some of his cum before bringing them to your mouth. Opening you take his fingers in once more, humming around his fingers at the slight bitter taste. His eyes twinkle with satisfaction. Letting out a deep groan, he helps you stand. You both make your way to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Your obedience begins to make his cock come back to life once more. Eyes growing darker as you walk in front of him, leading the way like you own the place.

As you both make your way back to the room you had been in you cozy up to the side of his body. His freshly cleaned chest warms your cheek. Body slowly falling into a deep slumber as he rubs small circles on your back. Letting out a happy sigh, as he feels he finally has broke you. Letting his own eyes fall heavy, he drifts off for a couple of hours. The feeling of your warm body slipping from him. Cracking his eyes slightly he sees your figure fleeing slowly, watching you move around silently as you try the lock on the door to the room. Letting out a small click of his tongue, making your body halt in its actions. Sitting up slightly, placing his face on the palm of his hand. He watches as you tremble like a leaf. Body jittering with a billion nerves, leaning your head against the door. You are trapped, there will never be any escaping this man. Dropping the bent paper clips you walk back to the bed, head down in shame. His eyes light up at your destroyed figure. Watching you climb back into the bed. You pull the blankets over your body. Letting a quiet sigh escape your throat. Squeezing your eyes shut you try your best to drift off back into a slumber. As your body begins to grow heavy you feel the mattress shift. Slowly lowering his body weight on you, the grogginess of sleep still slumbers well within your bones. Moving slightly you feel your wrists jerk up, almost as if they are being pulled closer to the bed frame. Trying to blink yourself out of your tired state you try to sit up only to realize your hands are being held, you attempt to yank them down from the cloth that has them pinned. Jerking hard once more you groan. Letting out a small sigh he leans his body off of you. The weight of him restraining you is no more, you watch his sleeping figure stand. Looking at the footboard of the bed your ankles are being held by pieces of ripped blanket that’s scattered across the bed. As you watch him unlock the door, leaving it wide open he leaves. For a split second you wiggle your body trying to loosen the tighten restraints on you. The fabric cuts into your skin, biting it with each movement. As the darkness pours in the room, the bright moon reflects in it, the snow from outdoors fueling the small light even more. You hear a loud thud, followed by loud scraping against the floor. As his wide stature fills the door frame you feel dread enter your veins. His eyes don’t leave your own for a second before he makes his way to the footboard. His presence has never seemed so hellish, were you being fooled by his boyish charms? Or had he always been this demonic that you were too warped into his devilish ways to notice? These last couple of days you had been dancing with the devil, but soon the performance he had put on for you was about to end.

He moves swiftly placing a wooden box between your feet that are tied to the bed. He leaves the room, coming back with a sledge hammer. That darkness in his eyes never leaves, the pits of evil continue to rise in every breath he takes.

“You won’t be able to go anywhere.” He says, gripping the sledge hammer with both hands. Before raising it in the air.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

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niteskysx · 1 month ago

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ghostface nac x reader

Warnings: psychological manipulation, stalking, established relationship ig?

(I wrote this in between appointments over the course of several months… haven't even properly edited this thing, idk how to feel about it. lmk 😭 also, it's not smutty at all, just a collection of drabbles filled with tension, I guess? sjdkejd)

The sound of your frantic breathing filled the quiet of your darkened living room. You pressed yourself against the wall, heart pounding as you clutched a lamp, your last line of defense.

Somewhere in the shadows, you could hear his boots against the floorboards. Slow. Deliberate. He was in no hurry. “I know you’re here,” his voice called out, low and taunting. “Come on out, sweetheart. We both know how this ends.” Tears blurred your vision as you pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your cries. You’d seen his face—or at least his mask—at the scene of the crime. You’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and now he was here to silence you for good. A floorboard creaked nearby. You tried to bolt as fast as possible- “Ah, there she is!” he called out, his tone almost playful as he pursued you.

You ran blindly, crashing into furniture and stumbling in the dark until you reached the hallway. Just as you turned to glance behind you, his hand shot out, gripping your arm. You screamed, wrenching yourself free and stumbling backward, only to trip over a rug and fall to the floor.

You scrambled back against the wall, your knees tucked to your chest as he approached, his knife glinting in the faint light.

The sounds of your sobs filled the room, each breath a desperate gasp as you pressed yourself further into the wall.

The knife was still in his hand, but his posture had changed—no longer looming over you with the intent to kill, but kneeling down to your level, something softer in his eyes, though it remained guarded.

"Please," you gasped between sobs, your hands clutching the fabric of your shirt. "I don’t want to die. Please.”

But something shifted in him. His grip on the knife loosened, and he took a slow step back. For a moment, he simply stared at you, your tears streaking your cheeks, your body trembling like a frightened, frigid ittle thing...

Without a word, he reached up and removed the mask.

Your breath hitched.

He was too handsome to be a killer. His hair was a messy brown. His skin glowed faintly in the dim light, and his eyes—dark, intense—scanned your face with an expression you couldn’t read. He smelled of cologne and sweat, a mixture of danger and something oddly intoxicating.

He crouched down to your level, his hand lowering the knife to the ground, leaving it forgotten on the floor. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soft now, almost tender. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, confused and terrified. What was happening?

His eyes stayed fixed on you, his movements slow and deliberate as he leaned closer. You flinched, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he reached out, one hand softly grazing your cheek, wiping away a tear as he whispered, "Hey... it’s okay... it’s okay."

Your lips quivered as you tried to speak, but no sound came out.

“Shh,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your jawline, making you shiver. “It’s okay.” You froze, unsure of what to do. His other hand’s thumb, almost without thinking, traced upon your top and bottom lip.

You didn’t move, your mind spinning as his face inched closer to yours. His breath ghosted over your lips, and you instinctively turned your head slightly, but his hand on your cheek kept you in place. He didn’t want to hurt you, not like this– not anymore. But why?

“Hey,” he murmured again, his voice so soft now it almost broke you. “Look at me.”

Against your better judgment, you did.

“See?” he whispered, his lips barely a breath away from yours. “It’s okay… it’s okay.” He kept repeating it, over and over, like a mantra, as his thumb traced your lips more insistently, his touch growing more desperate and intimate.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed, confused, and fearful. Your voice trembled as you managed to force the words out.

"Wha—what are you doing?" your breath hitched, the confusion still heavy in your voice.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes drifted down to your lips once again, and his hand slowly slid from your cheek to your jaw, fingers gently cupping your face.

Then, without warning, he leaned in closer, his lips brushed against yours in a hesitant, slow motion. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as his lips pressed more firmly against yours. He kissed you deeper then, a rush of heat flooding his chest as his tongue slipped past your lips. You gasped, a sharp sound escaping as you instinctively tensed at the sensation. The kiss, rough and hungry, was a sharp contrast to the gentleness he had shown moments before. He could feel your surprise to the kiss; the way your body stiffened, but he didn’t stop— his hands began moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that startled even him.

The warmth of your breath mingled with his… The feel of your heartbeat against his chest as you let out a soft, surprised gasp before the kiss consumed you. The frantic beating of your heart mirrored his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when he was so consumed by the moment.

And in that brief moment, everything else- your fear, the trembling… the knife that was once in his hand—seemed to vanish entirely.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been days since he first broke into your apartment. Weeks, actually. Ever since that night, he had been showing up uninvited—always late, always in his usual Ghostface attire. Sometimes just to watch a movie, raid your kitchen, or talk. Other times… to do other things.

The guilt was suffocating, growing heavier with each passing day. This had gone on for too long now. You had to tell someone. That the Ghostface killer—the masked murderer terrorizing the city—was your secret late-night rendezvous. And worse? You didn’t even know his real name!

So, you made a decision. If you couldn’t stop him, if you couldn’t stop yourself, then you could at least try to make sense of it all. Therapy was supposed to help with that, right? Surely, someone would understand.

You clutched your bag tightly as you entered the waiting room, nerves already frayed. This was supposed to be your safe space, the one place where you could untangle the chaos in your mind—especially after him.

But then, as if the universe itself was mocking you, he walked out of the office.

“Thanks, Dr. Goldman. I’ve never felt better!” he said, flashing an exaggerated grin, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Your heart plummeted. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

There he was, standing in the doorway, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his maroon leather jacket. When his gaze met yours, his smirk spread like wildfire.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” he drawled, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

You froze, your entire body going cold.

“What… what are you doing here?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“Oh, just taking care of my mental health,” he said smoothly, mock sincerity lacing his tone. “Isn’t that what they say? Therapy is good for the soul.”

Dr. Goldman glanced between the two of you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Do you two know each other?”

Nick didn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he said with an easy smirk. “We’ve got history, don’t we?”

You shook your head quickly. “No. We don’t.”

His grin widened. “Don’t be shy,” he teased, stepping closer. His voice dipped into something quieter, something meant just for you. “Tell him how close we’ve gotten.”

Your face burned, anger rising in your chest, but somehow, you couldn’t look away from his gaze.

Dr. Goldman cleared his throat. “Well, [Y/N], I’m ready whenever you are.” He stepped away awkwardly, sensing the tension. “I’ll be in my office.”

As soon as Dr. Goldman disappeared, Ghostface—or Nick, as you’d overheard him introduce himself—took a step closer to you, that cocky grin not leaving his face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, his tone casual, but his eyes—sharp, knowing—betrayed him. “But then again… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After everything, I’d need a therapist too.”

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. “W-what are you doing here? Are you following me?”

He feigned a look of offense before grinning wider. “What, you think I don’t have issues to work out? Come on, sweetheart, even psychos have feelings.” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—spice and danger—filling your senses. “But don’t worry. I’m cured now.”

Jaw clenched, you turned sharply, making your way toward the office—until you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist.

Gently. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to stop you.

Then, before you could pull away, he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“Go ahead,” he murmured. “Tell him all about me.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

But you forced yourself to keep moving, stepping into the office with your entire body trembling.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

You're curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, the soft hum of the TV filling the empty space around you. Your hair is pulled up in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose against your face. The house feels too quiet without your parents here—eerily still, like it's waiting for something. Every small creak of the walls settling makes your stomach tighten, every shadow in the dim light of the screen seems darker, deeper.

You try to shake the feeling, telling yourself it’s just your imagination. But then—

You hear a sound of the back door clicking shut.

Your entire body goes rigid. The kitchen.

Your breath catches in your throat as you strain to listen. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. The unmistakable rustle of someone moving through your house.

Not again...

“Nice place,” his familiar, cocky voice called out from the kitchen.

Your stomach twists. No. No, no, no. How did he get in?

You shove the blanket off, your heartbeat a frantic hammering in your ears as you rush toward the kitchen.

There he was, rummaging through the cabinets like he owned the place. His leather jacket hung loosely on his broad shoulders, and his fluffy hair was slightly disheveled. He radiated a casual arrogance that both terrified and infuriated you.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, your voice sharp, desperate to keep steady.

He doesn’t even look at you, instead pulling out a box of cereal, inspecting it like he’s making himself at home. “What does it look like? I’m hungry.”

He was getting under your skin. “You can’t just—just be here. You need to leave!”

Finally, he turns to face you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Relax, princess. Your parents are out of town, aren’t they? Won’t be back for…what, a week?”

Your breath hitches. “H-how do you know that?”

He shrugged, plucking a banana from the fruit bowl and peeling it. “I know a lot of things.”

“Get out,” you say, forcing even more steel into your voice, but it still shakes.

He takes a slow bite of the banana, leaning casually against the counter. Then, with an easy shrug, he says it—like a dare, like he already knows you won’t.

“Make me.”

You grit your teeth in anger and try to grab the stack of mail he had started flipping through, but he easily holds it out of your reach.

“Oh, no, no,” he says, pulling the envelopes further away. “Say please first.”

Your brows furrow. “What?”

His smirk widens as he leans closer, voice dipping into something low and teasing. “Say… please. Come on, you can do it. Please.”

She hesitated, blinking at him in disbelief.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding the mail just out of reach. “It’s not that hard. ‘Please, mister terrifying murderer who broke into my house, stop opening my mail.’”

Your face burns as you mutter, “Please.”

“What was that?” He cups a hand to his ear, leaning in mockingly.

“Please!” you say louder, your voice shaking with anger and humiliation.

“Ah, there you go!” He hands you the mail, but not before brushing his fingers against yours just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Now,” he says, tone shifting from playful to something sharper, more curious. “What is it about you?”

Your pulse quickens. “What are you talking about?”

He sets the banana down and turns toward you fully, “You. What’s so special about you?”

You step back, bumping into the counter as he stalks closer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, tilting his head like he’s studying you. “I don’t let people go. Ever. So what is it? What, you got some deep, tragic childhood trauma? Mommy didn’t love you? Daddy wasn’t around? There’s got to be something, right?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “What? N-no. Th-there’s nothing—”

“Or,” he interrupts, leaning in so your faces are inches apart, “is it just because I’m a guy? Because, yeah, I’ve got my moments, but this?” He gestures between you. “This isn’t me. I don’t do this. I don’t let people go. So what the hell is it? Hmm?”

His eyes flick down to your lips briefly before he steps back with a frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair. “God, you’re such a headache.”

And just like that, he turns back to the cabinets, rifling through them like nothing had happened.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 6 months ago

Note

Can I ask for revenge for hurt s/o with fem reader and Thomas Hewitt, maybe reader is a neighbour to the Hewitt's and her and Thomas become close over time, and maybe their latest victims are there and reader goes over to the house as well, and it's an all fight between everyone but someone cuts reader bad and maybe Thomas sees red and she is the only one to calm him down, and then they kiss

.⋆｡Anything For You｡⋆.

Thomas Hewitt x plus size reader

Thomas has always been your sanctuary but now, he would be your protector too

Warnings: death of parents, fire, murder, friends to lovers, angst, getting stabbed, violence, knives, happy ending, protective!Thomas WC: 1.9k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You liked the quiet of your farm. Just you and your animals and the family across the way, it was peaceful. It was all you had ever known.

Your family moved to Fuller when you were barely a month old, buying up a small farm on the edge of town in hopes of laying down some roots. Life was peaceful, at least until the town began to decay. Less and less children would enrol in school every year, less cars on the roads. Even the fire station shut down as the last family moved out from the city centre. And that led to the death of your parents.

A spark from a frayed cable in the basement landed on a pile of newspapers, setting them alight. It had been a dry summer, far more than usual, and there was no lack of kindling for the blaze. You chose to sleep in the barn that night, wishing to rest beside the newborn calves. Your parents had indulged your silly request, not realising that it would save your life.

You could vividly remember the smell of smoke as it bellowed out from the shattered windows of your home. The dogs howled from their kennels while you ran onto the dirt road leading to the Hewitt household. You banged on their door, begging for them to save your parents.

But even with Monty and Charlie doing their best to put out the fire, no help was coming. You were forced to watch from the comfort of Luda Mae’s arms as your entire world turned to ash.

You lived with the Hewitts for a long time after that, being that you had no other family, as the small farm house was rebuilt. By the time you were 19, you had a new home and a deep friendship with the younger Hewitt brother. Thomas had always been kind to you in the brief moments you had seen each other, but it became something more when you became a daily fixture in his life.

He showed you how he did his chores around their own farm, took care of the animals and crops on yours when you could not bear to look upon the mound that used to be your home. And in turn, you treated him with more kindness than he had ever experienced. You never faltered at his appearance nor his size, in fact you always found ways to compliment him. You taught him to read and write, and later on, how to use sign language after your schooling ended, even if he only ever used it with you.

You were his best friend and he was yours.

Perhaps that’s why he never encouraged you to leave as the rest of his family did.

Having finished your morning chores, you sat on the small porch in front of your house with a cup of tea and the book you had been meaning to read, eager to soak in some sun before the Texan heat rolled through. Just as you were getting to a particularly juicy section where the gentle giant farm hand had finally kissed the farmer’s daughter in the barn, a shrill scream cut through the faint buzz of the cicadas.

“What the-“ You tilted your head, waiting for another sound but none came. Leaning over your porch railing, you could just about see the edge of the Hewitt’s driveway and noticed their truck was missing as was Hoyt’s police car. A warm breeze rustled the wheat growing along your property line.

A sour feeling gnawed at your stomach, urging you to grab your sunhat from its peg by the front door and take the short walk over to the dilapidated home.

Thomas would be at work already and if Luda Mae wasn’t home, then neither would Charlie since his old age was starting to get to him. Maybe an animal had gotten hurt, you mused as if trying to convince yourself that the scream couldn’t have possibly been human.

“Hello?” The screen door was firmly shut but you couldn’t quite see anything in the dark hallway. You’d have to remind Luda Mae to open up the windows when she left the house for the day, again.

The floorboards creaked as something moved around. You glanced over your shoulder, hoping to see Thomas’s hulking figure walking up the driveway to save you from having to go in and investigate. But alas, only a toad sat on the gravel, looking up at you with a bored expression, as much as a toad can have.

“If I get murdered, Thomas gets all my stuff.” You pointed at it before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

A coppery smell clung to the stale air, an almost constant of the home but today, it set you more on edge. After three years of living there, you could’ve navigated the house blindfolded but as you passed the switch, you flicked on the lights somehow hoping it would ease the twisting in your stomach.

“Hello?” You called again, passing by the kitchen, not noticing the now empty knife block. The basement door was open. “Hoyt I swear to god if this is you trying to be funny, I’ll kick your ass.” You glanced down the basement stairs, but only the single hanging bulb was visible in the dark.

Just as you were turning to continue your search, something heavy threw itself into your chest, sending you down the steps. You slammed hard against the concrete floor, the air was ripped from your lungs violently as your ears began to ring. Footsteps thudded down the stairs. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as you tried desperately to breathe.

“Get that rope.” You reached for the leg of Thomas’s workbench, your vision beginning to tunnel. A hand grabbed at your shoulder, forcing you onto your back.

“She-she’s not one of them.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter! She’s here isn’t she?”

“Please.” You wheezed but you were only met with a fist to your jaw. Your eyes rolled.

“C’mon we can make a run for it now. We don’t have to hurt her.” The voices were growing distant.

“Would you just shut the fuck… up.” The last word trailed off as something else caught their attention. You dug your heels into the floor in an attempt to push yourself away from the two voices. The ache in your stomach was starting to ease but you still couldn’t fill your lungs all the way.

Darkness suddenly covered you as the light from the dining room vanished. “Please.” You tried again but you were only met with silence. Wood creaked and suddenly, you were hauled up.

“Get any closer and I’ll slit her fucking throat.” The cold metal of a blade pressed itself against your neck. A bitten off whimper slid past your lips as the tip dug into your skin. Your vision began to clear as adrenaline rushed through your veins. A huge shadow loomed at the top of the stairs, silently watching as the two people holding you back panicked.

“Thomas.” You tried to reach out to him. You caught the glint of metal before he raised his arm and threw a meat cleaver directly into the forehead of the one that had tried to run. They dropped like a sack of potatoes, eyes wide with fear as the life quickly left them.

“Shut up you stupid bitch!” Their hold on you got looser as Thomas took one step forwards. His eyes glinted with anger, a rage you had never witnessed in your gentle giant before. His hands were curled into fists so tight that his knuckles were white, his shoulders raised, making him look even bigger.

You could feel the body behind you trembling as he steadily got closer. “Stay back!” But their tone wavered. You were pulled backwards as Thomas reached the middle of the stairs. “I’ll fucking kill her!”

As slowly as you could, you began to reach into your front pocket for the small knife you always kept on you. The one Thomas had given you on your 16th birthday. His eyes flicked to you at your movement. You hissed as the knife against your throat pressed in deeper, nicking the delicate skin.

A sound akin to a growl rumbled through the basement. “Thomas no-“ The words had barely escaped you when suddenly the knife was pulled from your neck and shoved into your side. Coldness exploded from the wound like you had been plunged into a frozen lake as your body fell forwards.

A scream echoed through the home but it didn’t sound like your voice. It was warped and all wrong. You fell against something solid but also somehow soft. Its warmth drew your mind back for a moment, just enough to watch as one of Thomas’ massive hands coiled around the other man’s throat and squeezed with all his might.

He thrashed and struggled but he was no match for Thomas. There was a crunch, and then he went limp, his head lolling strangely on his neck. Thomas dropped his body like it was a piece of trash before all his attention shifted to you.

Your own body was shaking in his hold but you were the furthest thing from scared. With the same hand he had just used to kill someone, he pressed down on your side, stopping the bleeding as best he could. “It’s ok, you saved me Thomas.” He shook his head, his dark hair falling in front of his face.

He eased you back onto the workbench making you wince as the first tinges of pain began to appear. “Thomas.” You reached for him but he stepped away from you and darted into the darkness of the basement. He was rummaging through something. You heard glass break while you clutched at your stomach.

His lumbering footsteps returned and the bulb above you flicked on with a gentle hum. A bright red box was in his hands which he was looking through as he rushed back to you. “Talk to me.” You urged. He glanced at you then sighed heavily.

Not yet, he gestured and pulled out a thick bandage. You let out a huffed laugh, letting him pull up your now ruined shirt to get access to the wound. His eyes narrowed before he let out a breath of relief. Not deep.

You bit down on your lip as he wrapped the bandage around your plush stomach, pulling it as tight as he could without causing you more pain than necessary. “Thank you for saving me.” He helped you to sit up, taking care not to put too much strain on you.

His bulk was all you could see now. He cupped your cheek, a move far bolder than you expected from the shy man. You nuzzled into his touch, unable to stop yourself. “You did so good Tommy.” He nodded and you finally smiled. His head dipped down as his eyes flicked to yours with a silent question, one you had been waiting for since you were 15.

It was you who leaned in first, capturing his chapped lips in a kiss that was long overdue. He was frozen for just a second then melted into it, naturally meeting the soft push and pull of your mouth in a way that made your brain go fuzzy that wasn’t purely shock. He hesitated when he pulled away but he didn’t go far, only putting enough space between you in order to meet your gaze once more.

“Protect.” His voice deep and rough from disuse but as he gathered you into his arms and tugged you against his broad chest, you knew that he would do anything to do just that. And you couldn’t help but smile through the pain.

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tac-the-unseen · 10 months ago

Text

Lost Boys x Injured Reader

CW: Gang violence, guns, blood, description of unlicensed surgery, minor gore

You and David were by a small brick wall with all of the boys parked bikes. While Marko, Paul, and Dwayne ran around and had fun with each other, you and David stayed behind. David stayed because he was scouting victims, and you stayed behind because you were incredibly tired. You had to work earlier than normal which threw off your whole sleep schedule, and the headache you were sporting wasn't helping either.

Dwayne had already told you how unnecessary it is for you to work. Not only do the guys have a huge amount of money and other values stashed away, you’ll only end up burning yourself out. You however were firm with working, it gave you something to do. While sitting back to never work again sounds like an absolute dream, the sinking pit in your stomach told you otherwise. You felt too lazy. Mix that with anxiety and you swiftly found yourself a job at the local mall.

You laid on top of Dwayne’s bike, the (arguably) most comfortable bike, while humming to keep your mind busy. You cross your arms over the handlebars and use it to cushion your head. Your legs are just short enough to miss the ground, so you swing them back and forth. Your eyes slowly start to close as your mind slips away into a light nap, but that's when your body jolts itself upright. Your body reacts before your brain fully understands what was happening.

Gunshots, several of them.

The fast pops whip through the air, then are quickly followed by more. It's not rare that Santa Carla has a few idiots with guns, but what is rare is a full on shoot out. You see several people running away from the middle of the boardwalk. You watch as they push past each other and you even catch sight of the poors souls that get knocked to the floor. You know those people will be trampled to death by the terrified crowd, but you can't help but briefly think about how horrible that cause of death is. Head trauma, crushed ribs, pierced lungs, snapped neck, all happening to you in a matter of seconds. It's truly a brutal way to go.

David grabs you by the arm and pulls you off Dwayne’s bike and into his chest. David turns himself around to cover you and put you onto his own bike. That's when a sharp, burning pain hits your shoulder. By the time you know what's wrong David has already started his motorcycle and is speeding off. You hissed in pain as the warm California air hits your red, hot, open wound. While David drives you slide off your jacket and press it into the hole in your shoulder. You lean into David's shoulder and bite down onto his leather coat. The stinging pain mixed with the bounce of the trail makes you nauseous, but before you know it, your home.

David wastes no time parking his bike and grabbing you, pulling you into the cave. He runs past the common room, kicking shit out of the way, and sets you into the nest. David is fast, his movements show panic, But oddly enough not his face. He's stone cold, you'd be almost offended if you didn't see the way his pupils are blown wide open. He is panicking, he's just not showing it.

In his haste he grabs some old clothes of his from what you can assume was the 1800’s. Lucky that old thing is clean, you know because you're the one that washed it. He presses the white cotton button up into your shoulders, your body reacts by trying to pull away, but David doesn't let you get far. “Hold still love.” He pleads gently.

You hiss at the touch, Your shoulder burns and stings with a dull throbbing pain. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears while David does his best to stop the bleeding. You're lurched back into reality as someone pulled you into their chest by the waist. You look back to find Paul pulling you in and hastily kissing the back of your head. You look around to see Marko and Dwayne finding more cloth to stuff the wound.

By the four shirt the bleeding slows and your vision is swirling. Dwayne holds your hand and presses kisses into your knuckles while Marko and David are setting up supplies to dig out the bullet and sew you shut. You see them using a lighter to disinfect a pair of tweezers and two needles. Your tears blur you vision so much there's no point in keeping them open.

“I know baby, I know.” Dwayne tries to reassure you, but they all know that's not going to work. You hear footsteps and open your eyes to look up. David is crouching down with the sterile tweezers and you catch the look in his eyes. He's clearly anticipating your reaction, they all know it's not going to be fun.

Paul grabs your other hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, Dwayne is quick to do the same. Another wave of panic shoots through you, while this is an act of love, they're also holding you down.

“Ready?” David says in the most delicate voice you've ever heard from him. You sob out and brace yourself, David knows you're never going to be ready, but has to do this either way.

When he begins digging you're met with what is now the worst pain you've ever been in. Being shit was one thing, this was 10 times more intense. You feel every jab and poke, the pain is nearly indescribable. You seriously would have rather been stabbed.

While you violently sob and scream, Paul and Dwayne hold you down tightly. You legs twist and almost kick David, but Marko was quick to swoop in and pin them down too. With all this chaos David is apologizing with every movement he makes. He shushes you while digging into your bleeding wound until he hits metal.

He slowly drags up the bullet. When the Damned thing is dislodged from your shoulder David quickly packs the wound again. “I'm sorry love, you did such a good job.” He praises while getting up.

They wait until your crying slows and you're no longer trying to kick the air...or Marko. Marko lets go of your legs slowly and stands you. He hurries over to the cabinet and grabs an already threaded needle. “It's not over yet, love.” Paul whispers in an apologetic way. Marko sprays the wound with a disinfectant before he begins his work. David is now the one hugging your legs as Marko gets in close to sew you together. “1…2…3!” Marko says before the needle pierces the lower part of the wound.

Your voice is hoarse from David's previous excursion, but you still manage to hiss and cry. Marko’s work is quick but not sloppy. He too is spewing apologies like a prayer. By the time he's done you've lost all your fight and lay limp and sobbing against Paul's chest.

Marko sprays some disinfectant on your wound and patches you up with cotton pads and a cloth wrapping. As soon as he's down you're pulled into a laying down position by Paul and all four boys start cooing at you.

You're surrounded by purrs and buzzing, praises and kisses, all around you. But that all combines into mindless ringing as you stare up at the ceiling. You still feel the stinging, pinching, and throbbing burn. The thumping of your heart hasn't stopped either, you're still in pain.

Finally your body gives in and your vision fades.

The first sight you're met with is the ceiling. As you blink away the sleep you catch a glimpse of fluffy blonde hair. You turn your head to see Marko asleep and more of Paul's hair. As you come too you realize you're still on Paul's chest. You look to your other side and see both Dwayne and David also asleep.

You gather that it's probably morning and that you probably missed your early work shift. While that thought flies through your head the second one to follow is ‘I’m fucking quitting.’

You slowly wiggle yourself out of your mates arms and the nest, and quietly leave the room. You're still in pain, and the wiggling around you just did wasn't helping, but it was manageable. What really bugs you right now is how thirsty you are. Your body is screaming for water like never before. You guess it made some sense, you did lose quite a lot of blood.

You shuffle over to the living area, in the corner are stacks of water bottles. You remember when you first began staying in the cave how you complained that the cave didn't have any running water. You half jokingly said you'd start bring jugs of water when you stayed over. The next day when you complained of thirst Marko busted open a large crate and pulled out a plastic water bottle with absolute glee. Bastards had waited for you to complain all day so they could show off the water they stole for you.

While making your way to the water supply you hear a similar shuffling behind you. “What are you doing up this early?” you hear Paul's groggy voice behind you. You lean over a grab a bottle, you don't even attempt to talk, you know your voice is gone by the way your throat is still raw. You just hum at him and chug your first bottle.

By the time you reach for your next his arms are around you and gently rocking side to side. You untwist the cap and chug your second bottle. “You're gonna need vitamins and shit.” he grumbles into your good shoulder.

“They’re gonna need more than that.” Another voice murmurs from the dark. You don't have to turn your head to identify David’s voice. “We'll get you plenty tonight, but for now we all need sleep.” He promises in a sleepy tone. You finish your second bottle but your thirst is still unmatched

With Paul holding onto your middle you make grabbie hands at the water stash. David grunts in response but get you your third water. “Finish that and we'll go to bed.” Paul says and kisses the side of your neck.

When you're done you're hauled off to the nest and tucked into place. Dwayne and Marko are just slightly awake and mumbles out incomprehensible words. You're put in-between them with Paul and David quickly to snuggle into your lower half.

Its uncharacteristically gentle of the, but you definitely don't hate it. Even more kisses are pressed into your hips and forehead, as they all settle back into sleep. You too fall under sleeps spell while you plan out what food you're gonna eat when night falls.

The last thing you hear are soft purrs.

Thanks for reading <3

I know it's not the greatest but I have like 5 finals to do. I'm in my last couple of days before I graduate.

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coke-whore · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! So I saw that your doing request so I was wondering if you could do a Billy loomis x fem reader fluff? I've been wanting fluff so you could do whatever you like! ♡♡ thank you if you do this♡♡♡

yeah ofc!! love ur pfp btw

Kissing and Dancing- Billy Loomis

𝜗𝜚 - billy loomis x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 - fluff

𝜗𝜚 - just your standard make out session

ღ - a/n: billy loomis fluff is so rare to find but this was so fun to write

You blew the cigarette smoke from your lips as you continued to tease your hair in the vanity mirror. Yes, you took health so obviously you got that whole 'smoking will kill you' lecture-cheesy video and all- but fuck you if it wasn't amazing. The way the minty feeling rolled down your throat as the bitter aftertaste stayed on your tongue, the feeling of the nicotine flowing to your brain. It was exhilarating. And hey at least it's not weed which you also smoke duh which is what you tell yourself whenever your boyfriend tells you to quit.

Your boyfriend, the Billy Loomis. Your wonderful, loving, caring, horror movie loving boyfriend. You'd think he was Randy with how much he talked about them, for a jock he was such a fucking nerd. Oh, but you loved the way his face lit up whenever he talked about them, that glint in his eyes as his lips upturned into a small smile.

Should you be concerned? Probably. But why would you ever accuse someone so sweet of being a psychopath? No, not your Billy, not the boy who comforts you whenever you're down, the person that knows exactly what to do to cheer you up. You subconsciously started to smile the more you thought about him not even noticing the figure starting to climb in through your window.

His hands grab your waist causing you to let out a yelp before meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Billy what are you doing here?" you giggle as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. "mhh nothin' just wanted to see ya' dollface" he mumbles into your neck, and you swore you could feel the smirk he had on his face. You smiled and scoffed "If my dad finds out you're in here he'll go all psycho killer on your ass" to which he just chuckled and started pressing light feather kisses along your neck before moving up to your lips.

"So you want me to leave then" he pouts looking at you with a kicked puppy expression. He hummed and let go of you and flopped down onto your bed. Raising an eyebrow at him, you walked over until you were between his legs. "And who said you could stay?" the brunette looked up as if in thought before looking at you with a grin, flashing his pearly whites "I did- you wouldn't kick out your poor boyfriend would you now?"

God the power he held over you. He could probably asl for anything and you would say yes without hesitation. Hell, you would kill for him. No questions asked.

Love makes you do crazy things.

"- to set the mood" wait what. "Sorry what? I zoned out" the boy chuckled "Yeah I figured. I said how 'bout some music to set the mood"

"Right- right, yeah of course hold on" you said as you swiftly turned your back on him to dig through your pile of CDs. You flipped through the various labeled plastic objects, a few catching your eye until you settled on 'Dead or Alive'. Billy took a look at it before clicking his tongue, "Not very romantic, is it?" You rolled your eyes and popped the disc into your CD player, bopping your head to the beat as you plopped onto the bed next to your boyfriend.

After a bit you noticed that Billy seemed to be staring at you, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. His chocolate brown eyes stared into yours as he slowly leaned in before his lips grazed yours. You could feel his breath tingling against your face in anticipation as he cupped your cheek with one hand, the other sliding down your torso before settling on your waist.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his soft lips met yours in a breath-taking kiss. His lips left yours with a 'tch' sound before he laid above you to initiate another. You melted into his touch as his tongue ran across your bottom lip as if asking for entry. You complied of course, parting your now swollen lips for him to which he immediately takes advantage of, slipping his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dances with yours as the hand that was resting on your waist moves lower and lower until it's bunched up your night gown.

You separate from him to catch your breath as he did the same while watching your chest heave up and down. He couldn't help but grin and started attacking your face with small peck making you giggle.

He stood up off the bed and took your hand, pulling you flush against his body as you both swayed to the rhythm of the song together. He spun you around once it got to the 'You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round-Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round' bit.

He was everything you had ever wanted. And you were everything he never had. He was yours, and you were his. It was like an unspoken agreement you both had, just two teenagers so full of love- no idea of what the outside world held- both of you in your own little world.

After your little dance session ended, you both crawled under the covers together now completely ignoring the fact your father was downstairs. "I love you baby" the brown-haired boy smiled as he looked down at you snuggling into his chest. "I love you too."

You fell asleep in Billy's arms feeling safe and loved, feeling as though nothing could ever tear the two of you apart.

If only you could hear the sirens heading towards Casey Becker's house.

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arts-bloody-rose · 4 months ago

Text

Blood of A Rose - Bait and Switch (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - A series of unfortunate events leads to (Y/n) turning on her favorite clown.

Notes - Based on a request to show reader snapping on Art 🫢 I originally wanted to take a smutty approach, but I didn’t feel that it was realistic to his character and behavior in this scenario so decided not to for this one.

Word Count - 1,926

Warning(s) - Acts of aggression, minor argument/tension, angst

Song Inspiration -

Ice Nine Kills - Ex-Mørtis

The rain started the week. It wasn’t the soft, misty kind (Y/n) usually enjoyed during her peaceful walks through the cemetery, finding time for herself to recoup.

No, it was a downpour that began when she was still a good distance from home. An unrelenting, soaking storm that had her sprinting back, camera now ruined despite her best efforts to shield it.

When she entered the building, anyone who even glanced at her would steer clear. She stood stiff in front of the door that closed behind her, clothes drenched and dripping wet along with her hair that stuck to her face. Her eyes held a heavy glare, filled with hatred for the universe that defied her.

As she shuffled into the work area that Art occupied in front of his desk, she made her way over and took the camera from around her neck, nearly slamming it onto the empty stool beside him.

Art jumped, items dropping from his hands and snapped his head to look over at her. He took in her disheveled appearance and emotionless expression, then suddenly started to hunch over in laughter. He motioned at her during his fit and held a hand over his stomach as she crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look.

“I don’t suppose you know how to fix a water-damaged camera?”

He then gasped, laughter coming to a halt. He pointed to the soaking camera and her eyebrow twitched in confirmation. Art pouted and solemnly shook his head.

She rolled her eyes and went on to spend the next few hours trying to salvage what she could, praying the water hadn’t seeped into the lens she so loved, but no amount of drying or tinkering helped. The final death blow came when the shutter jammed with a soft click. Silent, but devastating.

The tone was set for what she now declared a dreadful week.

(Y/n) woke up the next night to find her latest series submission, Memento Mori, was shredded by protestors through the local newspaper. She had come to expect the harsh criticism, but something about this particular review clawed at her. It was brutal, dismissive, and worst of all, physically destroyed her work.

Tasteless, is what they called it. As if her entire soul, spilled across her paintings and photos, could be reduced to a single word. (Y/n), who had always been quiet and careful about how she handled criticism, could barely stop her hands from trembling as she lowered the paper with an incredulous chuckle.

It stung in a way it hadn’t in a long time. And that sting stayed with her as her hand came up to press against her forehead in disbelief.

“I don’t get it. These same people go out and watch people get slaughtered for fun in the movies, dress up all bloody and disfigured for some holiday, yet when I put it on a canvas it’s morbid?” (Y/n) ranted and ripped the newspaper in half, tossing it into a steel bucket and beginning to pace.

Sensing the rising tension, Art put down his tools and spun on his stool to face her, one leg crossed over the other with his hands folded over his knee as he gave her his full attention.

She whipped to face him, hand on her hip as she continued. “Am I really that fucking messed up? Am I wrong? Just because I don’t follow their status quo?”

Art shook his head with a snobbish expression, pointing his nose up, hand shooing at the space beside him.

“Trust me, I wish I could brush it off, but when someone tears up my work, that’s an entirely different story.” His face twisted into an offended countenance, nearly breaking his neck with how quickly he looked at her.

He then stood and grabbed the ripped newspaper from the bucket, holding the two pieces together to read the article. He analyzed the photos provided showing security cam footage of the perpetrators, taking in every detail of the individuals involved.

Art then dropped it back into the bucket, stalking past her to grab his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He turned to look at (Y/n) who simply watched indifferently and nodded his head towards the door for her to follow him.

As the rest of the week piled on with a series of small mishaps, it seemed as if she was only inching closer to her breaking point. The littlest inconveniences chipped away at her already weaker state of mind given what had happened already.

Packages arriving late, leaving her without the materials she needed for her next gallery submission. Tripping over a piece of wood laying around in the work area to which she casually flipped off. Her shirt getting caught on a doorknob as she walked past it in an already irritated state of mind.

(Y/n) tried to push it all aside to maintain her usually calm demeanor, but it all inevitably added to the growing pit of frustration in her chest. She felt it slowly spreading, a storm forming just beneath her skin.

By Friday, her patience was thinner than spider silk.

She painted the canvas on her easel, limited to such mediums as her new camera had yet to be delivered. She felt the metal piece connecting the bristles to the handle wiggle as it loosened over time, teetering on the edge of falling off as she painted in the finer details of her work.

As per usual, Art sat at his desk beside her, tinkering away. He then paused with a thoughtful expression, tapping the screwdriver in his hand against a nearby empty jar.

(Y/n) sighed, trying to keep calm as she thought the sound wouldn’t last too long and he would go back to working. When it didn’t, she took a deep breath to compose herself.

“Please stop.” She asked politely, but he caught her irritated undertone and his eyes glimmered.

He held up the hand that was tapping in an apology, nodding before looking back at what was in front of him. As (Y/n) continued to paint through the interaction, he grinned mischievously.

The tapping resumed and (Y/n) poked her tongue at the inside of her cheek, dropping her arm that was painting and tapped her foot. She closed her eyes to calm herself once she felt the familiar sense of anger begin to bubble, taking another deep breath. “Art, stop.” She asked a second time, her voice now firm.

He pouted and put his hands in his lap, looking down at it in disappointment. She paused for a moment, waiting for him to start back up. When she deemed it clear, she lifted her arm again and resumed painting.

For the third time, the tapping resumed, this time in a rhythm. Her heart began to race as the frustration continued to build, nearly spilling over. It felt as if the sound was only getting louder, the high-pitched sound of the glass nearly painful.

Just as she thought it couldn’t get any worse, the tip of the brush finally fell off and paint smeared onto the canvas as it fell.

Without hesitation, she dropped the handle and snatched the jar from Art’s desk, chucking it against the wall nearby and shattering it to pieces.

She stared at Art furiously, nose flaring slightly. His hands were up in defense, mouth creating an ‘o’ of surprise with eyebrows raised. He then smiled deviously, setting down his tools without breaking eye contact and rising from his chair intimidatingly.

Her head tilted up to look at him, standing her ground and expression unchanging as he stepped in front of her. His hand then snatched her jaw, almost painfully as he forced her to hold his gaze. His nose twitched before he suddenly let go, turning away from her with a frown and walking towards his bag.

He picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder and looked at her one last time before walking out of the building.

(Y/n) stared at the door as it closed behind him, taking a deep breath. She turned to look at the shards of glass on the floor, biting her lip in thought. One of her hands covered her eyes, then ran down her face before she grabbed a broom sitting against a corner and began to sweep up the mess.

Guilt began to set in as she finished, deciding to wind down in her room before anything else had happened. She sank into the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees as her hands held her head.

(Y/n) tried to defend him, telling herself that he was just trying to cheer her up. But that couldn’t have been true. He knew she was irritated and went ahead and continued to annoy her anyways. But that still didn’t mean she had to lash out at him of all people.

He had his own personal oddities and behaviors that were out of the norm, but he still had her best interest in mind. He just didn’t know how to properly show it and she should have been more understanding.

(Y/n) eventually laid down on the bed, closing her eyes as her music played softly in the background.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been before she heard the front door open again, a couple of hours at the least. She shot up from her bed, taking a deep breath and stood to open her door. She looked to her left, seeing Art’s now bloodied form dropping his bag in the workroom and she immediately walked over to him.

Art jumped when he felt arms wrap around his torso from behind, face twisted into confusion before he realized what was happening. His shoulders relaxed, expression neutral as his dirtied hands came up to rest over (Y/n)’s arms.

Her breath seeped through his suit as she sighed and he patted her arm, turning around in her grasp to face her. She looked up at him with apologetic eyes, lips frowning and his head tilted endearingly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you…” She mumbled in shame, gnawing at her lip anxiously as he stared down at her with a level of intensity that was almost too much to bear.

Art patted her cheek, his usual smile popping onto his face when he pulled away from her and motioned for her to wait a second. He turned to his bag and began to dig through it, picking out a few things before turning back to her.

In his hands were new brushes. From the looks of it, they seemed to be of higher quality and her eyes lit up.

The smile now on (Y/n)’s face nearly rivaled his own as she gently took the brushes from him, eyeing them in appreciation. She giggled excitedly and hugged him tightly, cheek squished against his chest. He patted her back, tipping his hat when she pulled away.

“But why? I snapped at you?” She asked genuinely.

He simply shrugged with a sheepish look and she giggled and shook her head, stepping up to kiss him on his cheek. He blinked rapidly at her, swinging abashedly.

“Why are they bloody?” (Y/n) asked him with a smirk when he started to turn to make his way to his desk.

Art froze, lips downturned as if he was caught in the act with wide eyes, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Tag list: @callsignwidow @hoe-for-daddywise

#art #art the clown #art the clown x reader #damien leone #david howard thornton #terrifier #terrifier 2 #x reader #blood of a rose #fanfiction #terrifier 1 #terrifier x reader #clown #slashers #angst with a happy ending #angst #terrifier 3

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cherryskyies · 2 years ago

Text

The slashers w an insecure s/o

Includes: Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt

slowly getting through this major writers block. my writing might be dog shit for a few posts but I'm forcing myself to work through it 🩷

Reader is female

Warnings: descriptions of sex (mostly bo section), praise, low self-esteem.

Masterlist || Navigation || ao3

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent doesn't understand it.

The moment he laid eyes on you he was in awe, knowing immediately he needed you alive. There wasn't enough wax in the world to sculpt you the ways he desired.

So to see your hesitance at removing your clothing, he was scared you had changed your mind about him — the thought of you being insecure hadn't crossed his mind until you admitted it.

Your cheeks are hot from embarrassment, apologies slipping off your tongue as you dropped your head against his chest. "I'm sorry Vin, I've never liked my body."

He's quick to silently reassure you that he loves all of you, even the parts he hasn't seen with soft hands roaming your delicate body; finger tips gliding over your curves, stopping to lift your face to his – it's a promise.

Vincent will worship the very ground you walk on, making it his goal to show you your beauty through his gentle touches and precise sculptures. You will fill his work space.

Bo Sinclair

"What'dya mean you don't like your body? You've got the best piece of ass I've seen in my life!" Bo exclaims, genuinely confused at your insecurities.

There is not a chance he'll fully understand, regardless of his own insecurities. Bo looks at you and sees the perfect woman — so what if you have some imperfections? He might as well be blind because he can't see them.

He is very gentle with you though, thoroughly fucking the insecurities away and praising you every chance he gets.

"Look how beautiful you are, cumming all over my cock," Bo praises, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror he's placed across the room. "So perfect."

Would definitely make you point out features you like on yourself before you can cum. Just seems like that kind of guy.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas would be so heartbroken to hear you say you don't like your appearance. He'd think it's his fault for not appreciating you enough.

The first time you say it, you're both a nervous wreck.

"It's not you, Tommy. I just.. I've never liked my appearance," you admit, eyes downcast while your hand holds his at the hem of your shirt.

He whines, nuzzling his face in your neck. It's not fair that you feel this way he thinks, you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

But he understands, having his own insecurities; so the two of you make a deal to leave the lights off and keep your shirts on until you are more comfortable — which doesn't take long with the way he worships your body.

With Thomas your insecurities are a thing of the past.

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slasher-fxcker · 7 months ago

Text

Fighting with Michael

Part 2: Making up

A/N: Ugh I am loving all the Michael fics at the moment! Here's part two you guys! enjoy! also feel free to send any requests in.

Warnings: Slight mention of blood but I think thats it

GIF by thepumpkin-queenn

You didn’t know where you were going as you wandered down the street, wiping at the tears that streamed down your face. You were glad it was late and there was no one around to see you in this state. Tonight, had made you question everything, what were you doing with Michael? You had known for a while that you were in love with him, but would you ever really know how he felt? Could Michael even love you back. You felt like a fool, you had heard all the stories about him, about what he’s done.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t want to think of him like everyone else did, to you he wasn’t a monster. He was your Michael.

Sitting down on a bench you pulled your jacket closer to you as the cool wind blew down the street. You thought about going home, you didn’t know whether Michael would get angry and come looking for you. Deep down you knew that you weren’t talking about the house when you talked about your home, the realisation like a stab in the heart. Michael was your home, you wanted to be wherever he was.

The tears that you didn’t notice had stopped had once against started flowing down your cheeks at the thought. How could you leave Michael when you loved him so much? He found you at a time in your life where nothing seemed to be going right, he seemed like a blessing in disguise, but now you had a choice to make. You decided it was time to head back to the house and face him. Whatever the outcome was you needed something from him, something to show that you were a permanent thing in his life and not just passing entertainment.

You paused in front of the building, getting the courage to walk through the door. You didn’t know how Michael would react to your little outburst, but you knew it wouldn’t be good. The slow creak of the door seemed to rival the sound of your beating heart as you stepped inside. You immediately noticed the knife still sticking out of the wall where you had been stood only an hour or so ago. But soon enough your eyes glanced around seeing the broken furniture littered all around the room. A table split in half, the vase that was on it smashed on the ground, some sort of splintered wood put through one of the walls.

The creak that you heard above was the only thing that broke you out of your shock. You hesitantly made your way up the stair expecting the same mess that you had just seen, but upstairs seemed surprisingly calm, undisturbed. You made your way to the bedroom to find Michael sitting on the edge of your shared bed.

“Michael,” your voice comes out in a whisper, much shakier than you were hoping. He slowly raises his head and you can make out his eyes in the dim room, there’s a sadness there you don’t think you’ve ever seen from the man. You both seemed to watch each other for an eternity, not sure if you were waiting for him to make some sort of outburst or if you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to whatever response he would have to your next words. “I love you,” Michael didn’t miss the way your lip slightly quivered as you let out this new revelation.

Michael lowered his head and you froze as the fears you had about him not loving you immediately returned at this action. Before you could panic too much you noticed Michael raise his hand up to his mask and slowly pull it off his head, your heart could’ve beat out of your chest at the anticipation of finally seeing him. You didn’t know which one of you were more surprised by this action, but still you knew better than to react too quickly and possible spook him out of the decision.

Michael kept his head lowered and neither one of you moved for a moment. Soon enough you slowly stepped towards him, the closer you got the more you noticed his white knuckled grip on the mask still clenched tightly in his hand. You lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him taking his hand in your own and getting him to release the mask. You put it down beside you and gently cupped his cheek, every movement was slow and gentle as you tested the waters of what Michael would allow.

You tilted his face to look at you as your voice came out just above a whisper, “I love you Michael.” His eyes darted away and you noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. You couldn’t help but find this situation unbelievable, feared by so many, thought of as a monster, but for you he could be vulnerable, for you he would risk showing some humanity. You brought his attention back to your face as you spoke again, “I love all of you Michael, okay?”

Your thumb stroked his cheek and you watched his eyes close as the tension seemed to slowly leave him and his shoulders dropped from the tense position they held. You knew you shouldn’t push your luck with moments like this, being so rare. But seeing Michael like this, so exposed and vulnerable just for you did things to your heart you had never felt before. You leaned in slowly, giving Michael a chance to pull away if he wished before you gently brushed your lips against his.

He didn’t kiss back but he didn’t push you away, taking this as a sign to continue, you kissed him again. This time with a bit more pressure, it took Michael a minute but he began to reciprocate the kiss. It was a bit too rough, as you expected it to be, and a bit clumsy but the passion that it held made up for any lack of experience. You felt his hand hesitantly grab your waist which surprised you, but you did your best not to make any sudden movements that could spook him.

You placed your hands on his arms and slowly ran them up to his shoulders, he flinched away causing you to look at him questioningly, had you taken it too far? You followed his gaze to where your hand had brushed over a rather large cut on his shoulder. It wasn’t deep but you noticed the blood and dirt all stuck together across the area. You placed another soft kiss to his lips before standing up and grabbing his hand. “Come on, lets get you in the shower.” And for once Michael didn’t argue as he followed you happily to the soon to be very steamy bathroom.

#slasher fandom #slasher movies #fanfic #slasher #fan fic writing #michael myers #reading #slasher fanfiction #halloween movies #michael myers x reader #michael x reader #michael myers angst #horror movies #horror fan fiction

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softieekayy · 1 year ago

Text

In the dark of the Night

Hannibal x vampire!reader

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: the reader is characterized with having a mole under her left/right eye and brown/black hair. (She also comes from greek origins and I sincerely hope I don’t offend anyone.) reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🧸

Biologically, vampires were impossible. Their immortality and survival on blood didn’t make any sense, in the scientific and medical sense. At least that’s what Hannibal Lecter believed for the majority of his life. Until he stumbled upon one, in the dark of the night where in an alley there stood a creature of the night, blood thirsty, sucking on the neck of a lifeless man.

Hannibal paused, he didn’t know if it was in shock or intrigue, perhaps it was a mix of both. But at this moment, he didn’t care what it was. He was taken so dearly by this bewitching creature. Oftentimes, he wondered what vampires looked like, in his head, they were ugly beings with protruding teeth and rotten grayish flesh from the lack of sun. Not once in his life did Hannibal ever think that they’d be so beautiful. This woman who stood in front of him was bewitching with hair that cascaded beautifully down her back in perfectly done curls and makeup done with perfection and down to the outfit she wore. She was perfection.

“I wonder if I should let you live or die.” The woman in front of Hannibal smirked, snapping him out of his momentarily trace while discarding the corpse as though he was nothing. To her, he was nothing more than a blood bag. Hannibal noticed her fangs, sharp canines that looked nothing out of the normal.

“I believe my death will bring you peace for your secret.” Hannibal responded breathlessly, stil so taken by the beauty in front of him. He watched as she moved fluidly, quick and fast, he observed how the moonlight beamed on her skin making her look ethereal. In a quick moment, she was in front of him, gripping his chin between her fingers as she observed. Hannibal didn’t know why nor did he care why but his breath hitched, not allowing air flow to get to his lungs. He couldn’t breathe but he didn’t care to, if he could die in this moment, he’d die a happy man. Death at the hands of a death Angel.

“I can hear your heart, are you scared?” The woman whispered in his ear, giving a slight lick on the shell of his ear as she huffed out a small laugh.

She pulled back, watching him curiously.

Something about him drew her to him. She didn’t want to kill him. However, her soul was drawn to his, something that she could tell was as old as she was. Older than life itself.

“Do as you please.” Hannibal whispered, closing his eyes, awaiting his death. Upon feeling nothing, Hannibal was confused, he wondered why she didn’t kill him. He opened his eyes, eyes that were the colour of rum and a slight tinge of maroon, eyes that held warmth hurried deep within. The woman in front of him was observing him, similar to a cat observing its prey, her blood stained mouth pulled into a slight frown.

She took one step forward, sauntering like a cat and in a moment, before Hannibal had known what happened, she stood next to his ear, whispering “Find me when you have time, we need to have a long chat.” Before leaving a small kiss on his jaw, leaving behind a red lipstick print, the only thing he’d have to hold on to for a long while.

Time passed quickly and before Hannibal knew, it had been decades since he’d seen the beautiful beast in that dark alley. He was a young boy then but a grown man now and somewhere deep in his soul, he missed her. He didn’t understand why and he won’t for a while, fate has decided to play a cruel game on him. He still remembers the inquisitive look that she held in her eyes and the way the moonlight made her look like an angel from the highest of heavens.

Even as he stood now, in the dark street, his face being lit by the moon, he thought of her.

His eyes were closed and his head tilted up, as if he was long awaiting death. She thought he looked like a fallen angel, craving for the touch of heaven again. Unbeknownst to him, the immortal beauty had been keeping up on him. She watched him grow from a 20 year old boy in medical school to the man he was now. A beautiful man with the appetite for something so dark.

“Hmm, you look as delectable as the night I met you.” She hummed, voicing her thoughts. Hannibal snapped his eyes open, looking towards her direction, bewilderment coating his face. Calling her a young woman would be quite the irony for she was as old as time itself.

She sauntered forward like a fox, her black lace skirt flowing down her legs seamlessly, lips stretching into a foxy smile with fangs protruding onto wine red lips. Even at night she dressed like a beauty and Hannibal could not stop staring at her, his soul wanted her, no, it craved her.

“You’ve developed quite the palette, love. A very interesting one at that.” She told him, leaning against the wall, a respectable distance still between them.

“You told me that we’d talk when I find you, it seems that you’ve found me instead.” Hannibal mused, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“It seems that I did.” She smiled up at Hannibal and he smiled in return. He may not know her in this lifetime, but their souls are well versed, knowing every inch of one another. The two walked forward to each other, two hunters coming together for the hunt of a lifetime.

“I believe we can have that talk now.” She told Hannibal, her lips almost brushing his own as their noses touched. Hannibal hummed in slight agreement.

“I believe that we can do the talking later.” He told her before kissing her, his lips twisting with hers in a passion that cannot be recreated. His hand gripping the back of her neck as her hands gripped Hannibal’s shirt, in an almost desperate manner.

She pulled back, giving Hannibal the chance to catch his breath, she didn’t need to breathe.

“Oh my dearest heart, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” The young woman told him, laughing a little when Hannibal pulled her close to his chest, resting his cheek on her head laughing a bit as well.

“So tell me now, why is it that you never killed me back then.” Hannibal asked her, leading her into his home and looking back at her. Despite the way her beautiful eyes glimmered in the warm light, they held a deep sadness within them.

“I’ve lived a long long life, my love.” She told Hannibal, caressing his cheek as she smiled. Hannibal leaned into her touch, wanting more.

“I’m here to listen to your pain.” He told her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Her body wasn’t warm, it hasn’t been for over a thousand years. It was cold, like a dead one.

“I was born in 487, in Ancient Greece, during the Hellenistic period, I was a priestess of the great goddess Artemis, a goddess of the hunt. A young woman who was to spend the rest of her days living in the temple of the goddess. Of course, back then I hadn’t known what life would hold for me. I was young and naive, wanting to help anyone who came to the Goddess’ temple.” She told Hannibal, her eyes closed and head tilted back as she reminisced the days of her early youth. Even though it had been over 2,400 years ago, she remembered it clearly.

Hannibal observed her closely, her hair that was once up nearly now lay in curls down her back as one hand held a glass of red wine he had kindly poured for them. Her nails were long and sharp, like claws but nothing out of fashion. She truly looked like a temptress, and maybe, just maybe, many stories of vampires being beautiful stemmed from her.

“There was this one night, it was cold and rainy all day, an indication that a storm was about to come. Many thought that the great god Zeus was upset hence why everyone stayed home that day. Women that came to pray for their daughters didn’t come, pregnant ladies hoping for a safe birth didn’t come and men who prayed for a good hunt did not come.” The old vampire told Hannibal and to him, it seemed like a myth. Her life, her humanity was so long ago that it seemed impossible to Hannibal yet it was. She was living proof of it.

“Yet there was this man who came, seeking shelter in the temple.” Hannibal listened to his companion continue her story.

“A young man in his 30’s I assumed. But he was beautiful, more beautiful than any creature I had ever seen. His hair was long and blonde and he was dressed in the richest of robes. I, being the young lady I was, allowed him in. I trusted him, fed him and gave him shelter from the rain. And he betrayed me.” She told Hannibal, the glass that she had been now shattered as broken shards embedded themselves into her skin.

Quickly Hannibal took her hand, eyeing for any injuries yet finding none.

“Are you hurt, my dear.” He asked her and she simply pulled her hand away before shaking her head no.

“What happened? What did this man do to you?” The older man asked her, running his hands through his slowly graying hair, worried about what she might say next.

“He betrayed me. That night, after feeding him and giving him a place to sleep, I went to pray to the goddess, to pray for the safety of my community and the children and for the families to never starve. I was just setting up her altar after praying when he attacked me. A growling creature with teeth as sharp as a sword and glowing red eyes, he turned to me and smiled and said “you’re a stupid little lamb aren’t you. Letting strangers you don’t know into your sanctuary.” Those words were the last I heard before searing pain and finally, darkness.” She sighed deeply, as if she had just breathed out the pain she held in her heart.

Hannibal felt pain for her and the way her life ended. She may be alive but she’s a walking corpse, she doesn’t breathe nor does she sleep. She’s not warm and she’s not alive. There’s no beating heart in her body.

“What about your family?” Hannibal asked her, making her smile slightly and look up at him, she stood up and walked over to him, running her hand through his hair and Hannibal leaned into her touch like a cat.

“I believe they simply thought I died in the storm, and I believed that it was best for them to believe that. My sister went on to have kids and so did my brother. However, my mother and father never really moved on from losing me.” The old vampire told Hannibal, and he nodded, understanding her reasoning for not going back.

“Come my love, you have work tomorrow and I have things to do.” The brunette told him, leading Hannibal up the stairs to his room and he followed behind her as if in a trance. Once reaching his room, he took out his nightwear and sat it on the dresser as the young woman watched.

“Are you going to leave again?” He asked her, not recognizing the voice that came out of him. He sounded like a small boy asking for someone to stay. He sounded pathetic to himself.

“Only to get my stuff. Unless you’d like me to leave.” The young woman winked towards the end of the sentence and laughed. Hannibal laughed when he came up to her and leaning down to her level, he placed a kiss on her lips and she returned it with just as much passion.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She told him after pulling back from the kiss, and kissed his cheek.

Their one morning turned into another and another and sooner than later, they moved in momentum. One could not function without the other, a flowing river.

Hanniabl proposing to her wasn’t very secretive, he did it in their kitchen, while she marked work of her students, the pair had decided to settle in Baltimore, Maryland where Hannibal worked as a psychiatrist and his wife as a teacher. She always had a thing for children and teaching. Unfortunately due to her being physically dead, she could not have any children of her own.

“What are your thoughts on marriage?” Hannibal asked her one day, not bothering to look up from the veggies he was cutting. His lover smiled at him, putting her hand under her chin in faux thought, fangs poking her cherry lips.

“I have never really thought of it. I’ve had lovers, yes, I’ve been a mistress and everything in between yet I have never thought of marriage. Why do you ask?” The smile never left her face as her attention was fully directed towards Hannibal. She sat up straight, dark hair cascading down her back in Hollywood curls as she crossed her legs one over the other before pulling up the sleeves of her sweater.

“If you’ve had lovers, you never thought of marriage?” Hannibal questioned, a small hint of laughter in his voice. He looked up at her, hair disheveled from the long day he’d spent with patients.

“They were lovers, not someone I’d consider spending the rest of my life with.” She told Hannibal in a nonchalant tone. Her eyes held warmth when she looked at Hannibal, he noticed the way her body lost its rigid posture around him and the way she let herself become more loose.

“Would you marry me?” Hannibal dropped the question, his breath hitching in his throat while he anticipated her answer. Anything other than a yes would kill him, physically and emotionally.

“Without a doubt.” The dark haired woman told him as she hopped down from her place at the kitchen bar and made her way towards Hannibal. He looked over his shoulder at her, smiling at her.

“If you’d said anything other than a no, I think I would’ve died.” Hannibal told her, standing up to his full height, towering over his lover. He pulled her into his embrace as she rested her hands on his chest, looking up at Hannibal with a love drunk look on her face.

“When should we start planning?” She asked him, elated beyond means yet not letting an ounce of it slip through her voice. Hannibal let out a laugh before bending down to kiss her passionately.

“You can do the planning, I can assure you that money will be no issue.” Hannibal informed her as he went back to continuing their dinner.

“Sweetheart, I've more than enough money to last us for generations. I’ve been alive for so long and many of my lovers have transferred their assets to me as well. So yes, I agree, money will be no issue.” She laughed and Hannibal laughed with her.

It was not long after this dinner that the wedding planning began.

(Y/n) had a famous dressmaker that she had turned into her kind to forever make her dresses. A polish woman by the name of Olg, a fiesty woman. No matter how grumpy she may seem, the older woman had always thought of the brunette as her own daughter ever since she lost her own.

“Olga! It’s good to see you!” The young woman greeted the older lady with a tight hug and a kiss to the cheek. The older one returned the hug before pushing her back to take her in.

“Still the mournful colours you wear. Reds and blacks and grays. I see that nothing has changed.” Olga told (Y/n) with a distasteful tone. The younger one never listened to Olga when she told her to wear more colourful clothes. The only colours she had in her pallet were blue and red.

(Y/n) laughed fondly before hugging the old lady again and dragging her to the car. The ride home was filled with chatter about everything and nothing. Olga pestered the brunette about Hannibal and to know more about him. She was excited, her daughter, not by blood, finally found love within her life. Someone whose eyes light up when she enters the room and the one person who looks at her as if she hung the stars specifically for him.

“Have you thought about wedding dress fabrics?” (Y/n) hummed in thoughts the question. When she was born, it was a plain white fabric wrapped around you. Although she was very fond of the dresses that were worn in the 1800’s. The puffy dress with off the shoulder sleeves, ugh, (y/n) loved them so much. She liked to think that they were the height of fashion, Olga liked to disagree.

The ride home went by faster than the two ladies expected yet they were not disappointed. Olga was happy to be here to judge the groom in person.

“Do you smell that?” (Y/n) sniffed the air, smiling as she straightened out her dress and fixed her hair before bending down to pet Lucius, a fluffy black cat that wandered the grounds of the Lecter home. Olga indeed did smell that, she smelt meat with a tinge of blood and she was absolutely starving.

While the young brunette cooed at the cat who was now spread out on his back, Olga examined her surroundings. The home was nice and modern, it was a large home with a glass front.

“Do you like it?” (Y/n) asked Olga before guiding her into the home. It was just as beautiful on the inside with a blue coded interior.

“Hm, it’s quite nice. However it compares nothing to the estate that one Lord gave you. Madly in love, he was.” Olga reminisced, pointing her finger at the younger woman who laughed boisterously. The younger woman led Olga into the kitchen where Hannibal was just finishing up the dinner.

“Oh hello, my love.” Hannibal perked up at the greeting before turning around to greet his wife to be. (Y/n) kissed him on the jaw and hugged him and he returned the hug.

“Hello Angel.” Hannibal smiled, caressing her cheek before kissing it in greeting. (Y/n) pulled back before walking back to Olga and introducing her.

“Hans, this is Olga, my mother in all but blood.” (Y/n) enthusiastically introduced the older woman who was busy sizing up the tall man. He had charm and was good looking. He could also cook. However, all that mattered was that he loved her daughter and that she loved him.

“It's a great pleasure to finally meet you, (y/n) has spoken greatly of you.” Hannibal smiles at the woman who nods slightly at him in acknowledgement. He gestured for all of them to take a seat and they did, Hannibal sitting at the head of the table with his fiancee on the right and Olga on his left. Dinner was a silent deal, Olga didn’t know how to feel. There were many times in the past where (y/n) had come close to marrying yet never did. She only hoped that this couple would last for eternity and beyond. Olga knew deep down that it will, she could see it in the way they both looked at each other. Hannibal looked at her as if she was the breath of fresh air he’d been looking for his entire life while (Y/n) looked at him as if he was the only thing that she lived for.

Dinner was a silent affair and Hannibal was an excellent cook. After dinner, (y/n) wandered off into her study to mark the remaining work of her students as Olga cornered Hannibal in the kitchen.

“She’s loved men greater than you, many Kings and Lords who were willing to lay their lives down for her beauty.” Olga informed Hannibal who listened intently, trying to ignore the clenching feeling in his heart. He knew that his lover had many before him yet he never felt insecure, not until this moment that is, the words from Olga’s mouth put that into perspective. If great kings and lords were willing to die for her, then who was he to deserve her love?

“Yet she never married any of them.” Hannibal retorted looking up at Olga, maintaining eye contact as some form of dominance.

“No, she almost did though. A man, a lord really. A widowed man, he was. His wife had succumbed to the chills and (Y/n) was new at court, quickly catching the eye of the young lord.

Their love was pure and young, like a freshly bloomed flower. However it did not last unfortunately, the young lord succumbed to a strange illness that (Y/n) would never die from.” Olga told Hannibal who listened closely to a piece of his fiancée’s history. Olga stood leaning against the counter, watching Hannibal, waiting for a reaction.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. However, she has me and I have her, I am not succumbing to any illness soon.” Hannibal smiled at Olga in a sarcastic manner who just smiled back at him, glad that he hadn’t let the jealousy overcome his conscious mind.

“You, my boy, will do just fine.” Olga pat Hannibal on the back and wandered off, leaving the older man to his own thoughts. Hannibal himself wasn’t less than royalty, he was the Count of Castle Lecter in Lithuania, his mother was a descendent of a family that ruled over Milan for 290 years.

He was on par with any king or lord that would die for his wife to be. She was beautiful, perhaps even the most beautiful creature to walk this earth.

Lost in thought while doing the dishes, he didn’t notice his lover walking in. The slight touch of her hand on his back caught Hannibal off guard as he let out a sigh of relief once he saw it was only his lover.

“Are you alright?” She questioned him, a worrisome look on her face as her eyebrows furrowed together, wondering what made him so panicky. Her hand travelled from rubbing his shoulder to caressing his face. Hannibal sighed gently before allowing himself to lean into her touch, cherishing every moment.

“I’m quite alright, dear.” Hannibal told the young brunette in a soft yet tired voice. She muttered a quiet “oh Hannibal,” before encasing him in a hug. Hannibal hugged her tightly, afraid that she was just a dream that his mind had conjured up before burying his face in her neck, allowing himself to breathe in her scent.

(Y/n) pulled back from the hug, bending her neck down to look at Hannibal as a frown overtook her beautiful face. She carded her hands through his hair before they settled on his face.

“How will you tell me what’s wrong?” She asked him gently and Hannibal, just for a brief moment, lost control over himself.

“Olga told me about your past.” Hannibal barely whispered out in a bitter tone. “She told me about the man who you nearly married and the kings and lords who were willing to lay their life down for you.”

“Oh my dear heart, that man was someone I loved years ago. But you, my dear, you are my love now. My star and my moon.” Hannibal relaxed at her words of reassurance, fully pulling away from their embrace.

“Let’s head up to bed now, I’ll start a fresh bath for you. It’ll help you relax.” She smiled at him and patted his cheek before heading upstairs.

Hannibal stole a quick kiss from his girlfriend before going back to doing the dishes. Once he finished, he wiped his wet hands on a towel and removed his apron and hung it on the hook before heading upstairs. Halfway up and he can already smell the scent of jasmine and sandalwood beginning to drift through the air. Hannibal tilts his head up and takes in a deep breath, already feeling a bit relaxed.

“There you are my star.” (Y/n) called out to Hannibal as she got up from the bed. “I’ve been waiting patiently for you, truly had half a mind to go and grab you myself.” She tells him, Hannibal laughs as he makes his way to their bathroom.

Even at the end of the day she looks like an Angel. His beautiful angel, crafted by god just for him. He removes his clothes, putting them in the hamper and then getting into the bath. Sandalwood and Jasmine, the scent that comforted him the most simply because it belonged to his wife. He remembers the first time he saw her, in that alley way, smelling like freshly bloomed jasmine with a hint of sandalwood.

“Take your relaxing bath, I’ll see you in bed.” The young woman told her lover before kissing him on the corner of his lips and strutting into the room. Hannibal relaxed fully now, lowering himself into the extremely hot water. It felt nice to have someone care for him like this. Sometimes he let his mind wander and wonder if this is the type of love Mischa felt when she was being cared for by her elder brother. He missed his sister, his little star in the sky. Now she truly was a part of the sky. Shaking his head, Hannibal closed his eyes and drifted off a short sleep.

Once he woke up, 35 minutes had passed and his body had already pruned. Quickly getting out, he moisturized and put his night suit on. His wife, although they weren’t married legally, was on the bed, reading a book that was centuries old. She was there when it was written, hence her copy is an original.

“I thought you weren’t coming out of that bath today.” She joked, smiling up at him.

“It seems like you made it too relaxing.” Hannibal joked back, poking her side making her laugh. Sweet laughter that sounded like wind chimes. She set her book aside, arranging the pillows so that she laid down properly on them.

“Ready to sleep?” Hannibal asked her, moulding himself around the shape of her body.

“With you? Always.” She tells her husband, moving closer to rest her head on his beating heart, allowing it to lull her to sleep. Hannibal moved his cheek atop her head, breathing in that familiar scent of metallic blood and jasmine, allowing the scents to send him to a dreamless sleep.

The next morning was usual, Hannibal woke up first, made breakfast, woke up his wife and Olga, ate breakfast and then got dressed and headed off to work, he was now consulting with the FBI.

(Y/n)’s routine was the same as well. She ate, came up, got dressed for her teaching job, grabbed her papers and headed off to school.

Olga, well, she didn’t exactly have a job however, she had decided to get a head start on the wedding fabric. She knew that (Y/n) wanted something that was classic and elegant yet also wanted lace. She headed to multiple fabric stores and picked up multiple fabrics, allowing her surrogate daughter to pick one she liked the most. She wouldn’t admit it but Olga was excited, her daughter had happiness once, yet it was snatched straight out of her hands and now, she has a second chance at it with a great man.

The day came and went, by the time she reached home, it was 3pm and two hours later, (Y/n) returned home.

“Olga! What is all of this?” She asked surprised, shutting the door and taking off her gloves and coat, (y/n) put them on the couch and sat beside Olga.

“I brought fabric. The sooner you choose the type, the sooner I can begin the design.” Olga told her. The younger girl looked at Olga for a moment before hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek.

“You shouldn’t have!” She told her once, pulling away from the hug.

“Nonsense child. Now choose your favorite fabric.” And with those words, (y/n) began to finger the fabric and examined them closely. Some were beautiful crème coloured fabrics with a pearl sheen and others were decorated with gold threads and white coloured flowers embroidered. It was simply beautiful. However, the one that truly caught the young woman’s attention was a beautiful ivory coloured fabric with beautiful lace detailing and the fabric was woven with silver, causing it to have a beautiful shine in the sun and light.

“That one is it.” Hannibal called out from the door making his wife jump. She glared at him for a moment before running her hands through her hair. He laughed and shed his coat jacket, sitting next to his wife.

“It's beautiful, isn’t it.” She told him and Hannibal nodded. The fabric truly was one of a kind, however, his wife was more beautiful than any fabric or creature.

“I agree but I think that you’ll make it shine even more.” He tells her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and kissing her. (Y/n) raised his hand to his cheek, deepening the kiss a bit more.

“So that’s the fabric I assume.” Olga guessed.

“Well then, I’ll get started on the dress.” Olga kissed (y/n) on the cheek and headed to the sun room that was converted into her studio.

4 months passed by and their routine continued. Hannibal and (Y/n) headed off work while Olga worked on the dress, keeping it a secret from the bride. A month later, the dress was ready.

“The flower arrangements are beautiful, aren’t they.” The brunette gushed over the flowers, clutching onto Hannibal’s arm as he agreed. They truly were beautiful. Baby’s breath paired with lilac coloured flowers.

“Have you sent the invitations?” Hannibal asked the wedding planner who nodded. Hannibal nodded in acknowledgement and placed his hand over his wife’s.

“Everything will be perfect, my love.” Hannibal tells her normally, kissing her forehead before muttering a soft “And anyone who messes it up will be our dinner.” (Y/n) smiled at that. They weren’t innocent, Hannibal supplied her blood and the rest ate with her.

Their wedding date was in a week and good lord did that week come fast. At work Hannibal had made good friends with Will Graham and that man was his best man. Hannibal had friends, many friends, yet Will Graham was surprisingly his closest.

“Are you ready?” Will asked Hannibal who looked at him through the mirror.

“To marry her? Any day.” Hannibal replied in confidence, making Will laugh.

“I just went to see her, she looks like a vision come true. Now I see why you call her angel.” Will laughed, running his hands through his unruly curls. Will hadn’t only become friends with Hannibal, he also became friends with his wife. Will reminded (y/n) of her brother, one that she never got to see grow.

“Are you ready?” Maya asked (y/n), straightening her veil before grabbing ahold of her hands.

“Maya, I’ve been waiting over 9 centuries for this, I am ready as I'll ever be.” (Y/n) tells her long time friend, squeezing her hands in confirmation.

“Alright then, let’s get you married.” Maya said, linking their arms together.

Will was right, his wife to be was a beautiful vision. Olga did so wonderfully designing the dress, it was reminiscent of fashion during the Tudor period, with a beautiful ivory bodice decorated with the most beautiful blue and gold birds and flowers, the skirt was simple and trimmed with lace as well as the arms. It was a heavy skirt with multiple layers of fabric. A true Tudor wedding dress. Her hair was done up and a few loose curls framed her face, the makeup suited her well, dark eyes with a dark lip and the finishing touch was a dark blue lace choker, with a pendant depicting the goddess that she once served.

“You are stunning.” Hannibal sighed out in disbelief, still looking at his wife and took her hands in his bigger ones.

The priest officiated the wedding and they said their vows, sealing the ceremony with a kiss.

Maya cried at the Vows while Will teared up a little, praying to whatever god there was to find a love like theirs.

“I’ve waited a thousand years for you, Hannibal. I’ll wait another thousand if it means to have you in my arms.” She tells him, placing her hand on his cheek as he leans into it.

“I’d wait a thousand years to feel your touch and your love again, my beautiful, beautiful wife.” Hannibal tells her, tilting her chin up before kissing her again. They are finally married now, after centuries (Y/n) found someone to love for centuries to come and Hannibal found someone to love.

Tagging my beauties: @chchchcheni @shawty-writes-a-little @jake-g-lockley @dimitrisebastian

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