#the grabber x oc

[anarchy-n-glitter]

Copycat

Summary: After receiving a mysterious offer, a police officer drives to a remote location in the middle of the night to trade the notorious Black Phone off to an unknown buyer.

CHAPTER 1

He could lose his job for this. That was all he could think as he stared out at the slick roads glistening in the glow of his headlights. The rain continued to pour without any signs of slowing, which was unusual for that time of year. Though he was lost in thought he kept a keen eye on the road, trying his best to see through the haze of the rain. Headlights glaring from the other side of the road helped him, as did the brake lights of the cars in front of him. They took it slow. He couldn’t afford to take it slow. 

He had to wonder what else could happen if he were caught. Would they charge him? Did this count as tampering with evidence even though the case was long over and solved? 

His foot unconsciously pressed harder on the gas pedal. His hands tightened on the steering wheel - his knuckles turning white as he sped through the worsening weather, weaving through traffic with little concern for those around him. It wasn’t the greatest choice he could make. He took a moment to glance at the clear plastic evidence bag on the passenger’s seat with a weary eye. No amount of money should be worth it to do this… yet there he was. 

The buyer, who simply identified themselves as “Charlie” in their voicemail, seemed like one of those true crime freaks. She seemed way too interested in the phone - that stupid phone that winked tauntingly at him under the street lights, like it knew he was anxious. It made him feel dirty. Guilty. 

That damn thing gave off the worst energy when he was around it, like something was attached to it and that thing wanted to hurt him. He was honestly surprised it didn’t ring while locked up in the evidence locker. His hands shook when he unlocked the locker, and when he collected the phone, frightened it would ring and give him away to whatever lurked in the darkness of the closed precinct. The cop couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would willingly go near it, let alone buy the damn thing. 

“Charlie” said she was a writer trying her best to understand the horrors of the Denver Grabber, and that explanation made enough sense and solved the mystery of the missing mask. She definitely bought it off of another cop, which meant he probably had nothing to worry about when it came to keeping his job. Getting rid of the mask and now the phone felt like a relief to the officer, who truly wanted nothing to do with the items now that the case was over, and giving them to a writer seemed like a better option than auctioning them off to some rich freak years down the line. 

The rendezvous spot was an old, decrepit building just outside of the suburbs. It was an old warehouse just off of the main road in the middle of what was now a blossoming field filled with long grass and most likely all sorts of snakes and rodents. Even further behind it was a forest with dark, looming trees that he wouldn’t be caught dead near. The warehouse itself was built in the thirties and quickly renovated into a factory to build aircrafts and such during World War II. Sometime in ‘65 it was converted back to a warehouse for a quickly sinking company, and then it was closed officially in ‘73 and never sold. The vandals and drug addicts got to it quickly, leaving behind broken windows and knocked down doors as well as graffiti mosaics on the concrete. 

And now the cop was driving up to it with an offering. He felt dirty. He felt guilty.

“Charlie” was leaning against a black 1972 Chevy Nova with her back facing the approaching vehicle. She was parked under the mostly intact awning in front of the dark maw of the building. The awning was leaking water through small tears in its fabric and it landed on her car, splashing in the puddle that was no doubt forming on the roof. She remained dry though, nonchalantly checking her watch even though she knew that the cop was there. The headlights cast large shadows across the concrete walls of the building. A larger than life shadow for a larger than life person. 

The woman herself wore a large leopard print coat with the collar pulled up around her neck, undoubtedly to combat the quickly dropping temperature. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. On her hands were black leather gloves that beckoned the officer to come closer. She hadn’t said a word, nor had she really acknowledged him besides the slight hand wave. In that moment he realized he was handing the phone over to a freak, regardless of occupation. 

This is wrong, the officer thought to himself, this is a murder weapon. He believed the monster got what he deserved in the end, but handing off the phone to the first person who calls and is willing to pay felt wrong. Not only was it a murder weapon, but it bore witness to the murder of several children, and he wasn’t sure how he could handle looking at the thing knowing that. He had to wonder if there was something wrong with this “Charlie.” She’s probably seen worse, he rationalized as he got closer to her.

“Are you Charlie Myers?” She still didn’t look at him. Her hand came up to her face before she spoke. 

“Yes sir, I am.” Her voice was higher than he expected, and it sounded a bit muffled too. He wondered if she truly was the person who left the voicemail. It made him want to stop in his tracks. 

“You have the money?” He continued on, holding out the phone as he inched nearer. Her shoulders stiffened for a moment.

“Oh yeah, give me a sec I’ll get it.” Her gloved hand reached into her handbag, sending nervous chills down the officer’s spine. He knew something wasn’t right. His hand immediately shot to his right hip where his gun holster sat. His instinct told him to turn around and return the phone - his instincts told him this woman was no good. 

“Actually ma’am, can you do that facing me? Can’t be too careful these days.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight as the woman froze. Her hand was still firmly inside the handbag. She slowly turned around to reveal a ghostly white, porcelain mask. Black eyes stared at the officer as he froze in fear, unsure of what to do now that his suspicions were confirmed. 

“Sure thing officer.” 

This was a copycat killer. 

He moved quickly to draw his gun, but he wasn’t quick enough. From her black clutch, the buyer produced a handgun and fired three times, hitting the officer in the shoulder twice before hitting its mark: his chest. The officer let out a groan and fell to the ground in a matter of seconds. Despite everything she still wasn’t entirely used to how quickly they fell. 

Calmly, methodically, the woman stalked over, giving a horrifyingly closer look at the mask she wore to conceal her true identity. Through blurry eyes the officer saw the familiar porcelain, with reddish-pink cheeks to simulate blush and long painted on eyelashes. The lips of the mask were small and black and curled slightly upward in an unsettling smile. It looked almost clown-like, though not overtly so. She could be seen as a doll. 

The woman stared silently as the officer wheezed, choking on his own blood as it filled his lungs and throat. She tilted her head like a dog observing a squeaky toy, listening to his suffering. Her gaze shifted from the dying man to the phone that laid a few feet from what would be his final resting place. She looked back at him and pointed the gun at his head as the officer began to weakly sputter out cowardly pleas, clutching his chest and panting. His face was wet with rain and tears. The rasp in his voice was disgusting to her.

She pulled the trigger to finally silence him. No more rattling. No more pleas. 

The patter of rain echoed louder in the suddenly still night, along with the running engine of the dead officer’s car. Her gaze was focused on the phone. That damn phone. He used to yell about it - about the ringing, about the voices. When she was allowed near it she couldn’t hear anything, and it didn’t ring when she picked it up. That damn phone.

It was hers. 

_____________

It was fall when they met. She remembered the chilling weather and dying trees well. She remembered the clothes she wore, how her hair was done. She often could recall trivial things like that, especially when it came to meeting new people. 

She knew Max, and he considered her a friend. He came to her after losing his job, and while she knew the reason for it, she actually didn’t mind. Max not having to work meant that she could be around him more often. Yet, her selfish desires didn’t stop her from helping him. She considered that to be her best trait - her fierce loyalty and protectiveness. If there was a problem bugging someone she cared about she’d fix that problem. 

Max was rambling on and on in an anxiety-induced stupor as he tried to figure out what to do. No one would hire him with the record he now had, and on top of that he had to go to meetings mandated by the court. All she could do was watch, wait, and think. He eventually told her that he contacted his brother, and while he still had to look for a job, his brother would be taking him in. His brother who lived in Denver. 

 Denver.

Those words weighed heavily on her. It sunk into her chest and weighed on her heart - it ached. She didn’t like that at all. 

He must have wanted to leave her, like everyone else did. She didn’t like that. 

“Denver? Denver? That’s like, six hours away. I can’t hang out with you if you’re six hours away.” She wondered if she came off too strongly. Her hands were sweating. 

“To be fair, I am going there to get better.” He wasn’t even looking at her. 

“And I can’t help you with that?” She asked, not caring about how she came off anymore. 

“Look, you’re my best friend and I do love hanging out with you but I think it’s best for me to start fresh for a few months and then see-”

“I thought you said your family was fucked up. You said you wouldn’t ever go near them ever again.” She couldn’t believe that she ever took him seriously when he said that. The concerned look on his face turned grim.

“They… you know who I mean when I say that. My brother’s helping me and I’m sure he managed to get help, unlike me.” She felt he was saying this to placate her. His demeanor had changed, and she didn’t like that. It felt like he was shutting down, growing colder as he shrugged off her comments. 

“What did I do wrong?” She couldn’t help but ask him. He furrowed his brow.

“What? Nothing, I’m just -” 

“If I didn’t do anything wrong then why are you leaving me?” She raised her voice slightly, feeling her heart ache and race at the same time. “I thought you liked me!” 

He wasn’t sure how to respond. He did like her, she was his best friend. She had been there for him even at his lowest. She was sweet and kind but at the moment she was scaring him. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t upset her further. The look on her face was reminiscent of a madman, and part of him was afraid of what she’d do next. 

“You can drive me there if you want, come see the place and help me move in.” He offered, hoping that would be enough to make her feel better. Her expression softened for a moment, but she was still worked up. 

“Let me come with you. For the whole time. I’ll look for a job there and an apartment. Don’t cut me out Max, I’ve seen what you do. You just leave people behind and I won’t let you do that to me.” He nodded along, letting her get her thoughts out, hoping she’d calm down soon. He’d seen her worked up before but not like this. 

“Sure, we can do that.” He agreed half heartedly, watching her calm down at his reassurance. 

She remembered the day she met him, it was fall. She drove him to the small suburban home in Denver, brought his boxes of various items inside, and for the most part it seemed she wouldn’t be meeting Max’s brother.

Then he stepped out of the basement. 

He was tall, with shaggy, greying hair that dusted his shoulders. She wasn’t sure what to think as she froze in her tracks. He didn’t seem to want to speak with anyone, and as he avoided eye contact with her as he made his way down the hallway she thought she had gotten the hint.

“Oh, you must be Max’s brother.” She mused in a tone that hid her anxiety. Dark eyes stared at her for a moment. His lips were thin and a look of seriousness was chiseled into his features, as well as tiredness. His eyes, though. His eyes seemed to hold some sort of life. He looked as if he were sizing her up, waiting for her to make a move or say something. She shifted the box around in her arms, freeing one of her hands as she held it out for him to take.

“I’m Tanya.” She introduced. Much like moments earlier, he stared at her for a moment before gingerly taking her hand in his. Tanya wasn’t sure what to think just yet, but he was able to take Max in, and while he was a bit weird she was sure he was a good person. 

He glanced over Tanya, as if looking out for something, as he muttered his own name. “Albert.” His voice was much higher than she expected, and softer. She smiled, ignoring the changing expression on her new acquaintance’s face. He hadn’t let go yet. 

Albert wasn’t exactly thrilled about his brother coming to live with him. He didn’t care about the drugs Max would undoubtedly bring into the house, nor did he really care about what happened to Max. He cared about who Max might be bringing around. The girl in front of him could have been a good solution to Max’s problem, and even then he didn’t know why Tanya was there. He watched her with a distrustful eye from the basement window as she brought each box inside from her car. He wanted to know who she was and why she was there. She obviously knew about him, so what was she hiding?

“Sorry about this being kinda last minute, Max didn’t even tell me he was doing this until yesterday but… it’s really cool that you’d do this for him.” He tugged her forward by the hand she so graciously offered, causing her to drop the box of clothing. The pull itself wasn’t that hard, she was caught off guard by it. The noise it made was loud - loud enough to draw attention to what was happening assuming Max wasn’t outside. 

Even a mere inches from his face she was unafraid, still staring into his eyes unyieldingly as her breath caught in her throat. She felt her nerves building, unable to break the feeling she had earlier when she first set her sights on him. It was a familiar feeling she felt before, one that had her cancel plans to drive Max out there in the first place. She could feel the way her heart shifted, the way she felt about Max changing in an instant. 

She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t throw everything away like that again. 

“He couldn’t stay with you?” He asked, whispering the question in her ear like it were a dirty secret. Tanya snapped out of her thoughts, taken off guard. 

“No… we talked about it though, tried to make it work.” She answered truthfully and out loud, though she made no effort to hide her displeasure with the situation. Her new, oncoming fixation with Albert wouldn’t erase the hurt and betrayal she felt from Max moving anytime soon. His grip on her hand tightened for a moment as he scoffed. “Again I’m sorry if it was last minute, I know he does stuff like that and-”

Albert backed away, suddenly smiling. She wondered if Max was behind them and checked over her shoulder, only to see no one was there. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Tanya.” Her heart fluttered at the sound of him saying her name. He crouched down to pick up the clothes that slipped out of the box when she dropped it, and all she could do was watch. 

“Thanks.” She muttered, trying to take the box back from him.

“I got it, don’t worry. You should get going, it’s a long drive back to Durango.” She couldn’t help but furrow her brow at that. Did he know how she felt? Did he know she hated the idea of living that far away? She brushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. 

“Oh I’m actually moving to Denver soon. I want to keep an eye on him.” That wasn’t entirely true anymore. Six hours was a long drive to come out to see someone she barely knew. He nodded halfheartedly. She wondered if he was actually listening to her. “It was nice meeting you too.” She continued, hoping to get a bigger reaction out of him, but she was met with nothing but his back walking away from her. 

“I see you met Al.” Max said, startling Tanya. She looked up at the face of the man she’d loved for months, and found her obsession was fading. He was a good friend. 

“Yeah, I did. Seems like he’ll be a good influence.” She remarked almost coldly. Her heart was set on someone else now, that much she couldn’t deny. He was odd and cold, but that never seemed to stop her before. She couldn’t do it again. 

She couldn’t do it again.

She knew she would do it again, and she was ready to sacrifice anything to get close to him. 

[stupidbeemeen]

⚠️NSFW: OC x Cannon⚠️

Arthur Harrow x OC

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My first NSFW work 🥺✨

Full pic:👇👇👇

[simpforpeterp]

Stanford Pines x OC

Gold Dust Woman

summary: In the summer of 1977, Stanford Pines meets a captivating woman in Gravity Falls. Long backstory short, she’s a witch from the Boiling Isles.

warnings: none

word count: 6.9k

Following along a winding road through the dense forests of Oregon in a convertible would normally draw attention. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over everything, and the wind whips through her hair as she speeds down the road. The soft hum of a Billy Joel song plays on the radio, blending with the rustle of the trees and the roar of the engine.

She sings along, not a care in the world with her sunglasses on and a scarf in her hair because of the wind. Celia Thorncroft, better known in the music scene under a different name, is looking to escape from the pressures of her music career and the exhaustion of being constantly in the spotlight.

It’s a lot of fun and it seems like the drinks and the drugs and the parties just keep roaring on but the longing for a simpler, quieter life is stronger. So, she’s driving until she finds somewhere to settle, at least for a while. Although, the more she drives the more she’s wondering if this spontaneous road trip will give her the peace she craves or if she’s just running from herself.

But it’s too late for that now, she’s sold her house and packed up everything she owns in her car. And with the smell of the pine trees filling her senses like the smell of freedom with the sun warming her skin, it’s hard to think that this could be a mistake.

She came to the human realm at 15, running away from home. Celia grew up in the Boiling Isles, where she developed her love for music amidst the chaos of wild magic. Her departure from the Isles was due to the ban on wild magic, which left her feeling stifled and yearning for freedom. Her parents along with the world tried to force her into a coven so she got out.

What else is there to do for a young kid to do in California but mess around? She hid her ears and headed to the strip where she instantly fit it. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. That got her into some deep shit she shouldn’t have been in. But it also helped her get big in music. Now at 19, she’s taking a break from it all. With two hit records, she has enough money to hold her off for a whole.

The road twists and turns and the sun dips lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. Celia keeps her eyes on the winding path ahead, her mind drifting between the exhilaration of her impromptu escape and the shadows of her past. The music playing on the radio fades into the background as her thoughts become more reflective.

That’s when she passes a sign for a small town ahead, Gravity Falls. She decides to stop there for the night. She slows the convertible and takes the turnoff, the engine rumbling softly as she enters the quaint town.

Gravity Falls is a stark contrast from Los Angeles. The streets are lined with charming, old-fashioned storefronts and cozy, dimly lit cafes. The town has a peculiar, almost timeless quality, with an air of enchantment that feels oddly familiar to Celia.

She pulls into a small gas station, the kind with a vintage pump and a weathered sign that says “General Store” hanging overhead. As she steps out of the car, she’s greeted by the faint smell of freshly cut grass and the distant chirping of crickets. Celia stretches, savoring the simplicity of the moment, before putting an illusion to cover her ears and heading into the store.

The bell above the door jingles as she enters and heads straight to the refrigerators. It’s almost empty in here so she drops the illusions on her ears and sighs. She doesn’t realize that she’s naturally an attention grabber in this small town.

She catches the attention of Stanford Pines, who’s buying cheap salty snacks behind her. Surprisingly, he hadn’t even seen her ears. Just her teeny tiny crochet top, and baggy shorts, perfectly embodying her carefree spirit. She has an effortless beauty, sun-kissed skin, and a smile that hints at a world of secrets. Little does he know, she’s smiling because her song is playing on the store’s radio.

Especially when she immediately rolls her eyes and shuts the refrigerator before putting the illusion back on her ears, which he does see. His eyes waver across her as his mouth slightly widens as she stomps over to a shelf that’s at the end of his aisle. She grabs a bottle of tequila before walking by him. He doesn’t know what to do and he watches in silence as she stops right beside him and looks around before leaning down to grab a metric ton of Pop Rocks.

“Um, Miss-“ Ford starts before clearing his throat.

“Oh, sorry, just grabbing dinner. I’ll get out of your way.” She smiles before turning to walk away. Dinner? Since when do tequila and Pop Rocks classify as dinner? He thinks.

He grabs whatever else he is gonna buy before silently following her as she places them on the counter. His mind is racing and he still doesn’t really know what to do but his feet move faster than his brain.

“Got an ID?” The man asks but he’s instantly distracted by her striking eyes and beauty as she slides her fake one across the counter.

“The song playin’ right now is mine,” She hums and he looks up from her ID, having barely looked at it.

“You’re…y- wow!” He laughs. “Gosh, I should’ve known from the second you walked in here. You’re good to go.”

“No, no, here.” She smiles so perfectly as she slides twenty-five dollars to the man. Her smile is enchanting as she grabs her stuff and begins to head out after paying way too much for her stuff.

She walks out as Ford places his stuff

on the counter before realizing she could be gone before he was out.

“Um, here, keep the change.” Ford groans, wasting a twenty on what was probably five dollars worth of stuff before running out the door.

Luckily enough, she’s putting the bottle on her trunk with the rest of her stuff along with all of the Pop Rocks bags but one that she brings her to the front.

“Hey, lady, stop!” Ford calls just before he trips over himself and falls face-first to the floor.

“Oh, shit, man,” She covers her mouth to hide her laughter at his tumble before she goes to help him up. Her eyes waver for a moment at his six fingers before looking back to his face. Six fingers, nice, she thinks. “Are you okay?”

“Y-you, how did you- what are you?” He asks mindlessly.

“I’m a singer.” She shrugs.

“No, I mean, your ears were just-“

“Birth defect, sometimes they point out when I’m stressed.” She interrupts him.

“No! I saw you draw a little circle of light or something with your finger and then your ears turned normal again. What are you?” He asks again.

“Look, man, I’m just passing through here.” She wearily walks to the other side of her car, leaving him to follow slowly behind her.

Ford watches Celia cautiously, his curiosity burning brighter than his embarrassment from falling. The twilight shadows stretch long as the sun sets further, casting a soft glow over the car and the two of them standing beside it. Celia’s casual demeanor contrasts sharply with Ford's mounting confusion.

“I’m not- I’m not trying to upset you or anything I just need to know. Seriously, what was that? I’ve seen some strange things in Gravity Falls, but that was something else. You look so…human.” He tries again.

“What are you talking about? I mean, do you hear the shit that comes out of your mouth?” She laughs awkwardly as she opens her door and takes a seat.

“Please, don’t go. I am knee-deep in my research into the paranormal and supernatural, which has made me somewhat of a recluse but I’m not a stalker. I’m not gonna follow you but it’s not beneath me to fall to my knees and beg,” He walks to stand just beside her door as she turns the car on. “I know what I saw. And maybe you disguise whatever you are with your pretty hair and your eyes and your smile but I just saw you do something insane and I need to know more.”

“You think I’m pretty?” She turns to look at him and he just sighs. Ford looks a bit sheepish but maintains his earnest gaze. Celia, sensing his sincerity, softens. “Look, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just...I’m not in the mood for more questions right now. I’m here to get away from everything and this is a small enough town that maybe I’ll choose to stay here. But I don’t want this to be just a copy of what my old life was like with people wanting to know every single thing about me for superficial reasons.”

“I understand. And if you’re not up for talking about it, I won’t press. But, if you’re staying in town for a bit, I’d like to offer you a proper meal. It’s the least I can do for someone who’s had such a weird night.” He offers, trying desperately to not let her go.

“You’re stubborn.” She pulls her sunglasses off of her head and sets them down. He puts a smug smirk on his face as he slowly lowers himself to his knees before clasping his hands.

“Please?”

“Beg a little harder and you’ve got yourself a deal.” She laughs.

“I need to know your name to beg better.” He smiles.

“Celia.”

Ford looks up at her from his kneeling position, the gravel digging into his knees, but he doesn’t care. There’s a flicker of something unnameable in his eyes—part desperation, part admiration, part fascination. He’s not sure if it’s because of what he saw or because she’s the most captivating person he’s met in a long time. Probably both.

“Celia,” He repeats as if testing how it feels on his tongue. “Celia...please, don’t leave. I’ll do anything. I’ll even throw in dessert.”

“Dessert, huh?” She smiles this beautiful smile that makes his heart feel warm. “You really know how to sweeten a deal.”

“I’m nothing if not resourceful,” He says, getting back on his feet. He brushes the dirt off his pants and grins at her, his usual seriousness softened by a playfulness that surprises even him. “Come on. You’ve got to be hungry for something other than Pop Rocks and tequila. That’s no dinner, that’s a crisis.”

“You know, you’re a strange guy, whatever your name is.” She laughs, the sound genuine and warm.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. My name is Stanford but just call me Ford.”

“Alright, then. I’m driving though. Hop in.” She unlocks the doors with a small grin.

“Can’t argue with that.” He shrugs.

Ford walks around before opening the door. He awkwardly tucks his lanky frame into the passenger seat, looking somewhat out of place in the low-slung car, but Celia just finds it endearing.

“Here, let me help you out.” She says, drawing another circle with her finger in the air and doing his seatbelt for him before childishly laughing as he freaks out.

“Y- you just-“ He starts as he looks at her with wide eyes.

“Tell me where to go, I’ve never been to this town before.” She giggles.

Ford takes a deep breath, trying to process the casual display of magic he just witnessed. Her laughter and the sparkle in her eyes make it difficult for him to stay too shocked, though. There’s something undeniably captivating about her, something that goes beyond the mysterious magic she wields so effortlessly.

“Well, there’s a diner just a couple of miles down the road,” He says, finally managing to pull his thoughts together. “It’s not fancy, but the food’s good. Turn left up ahead.”

Celia gives a nod and the car roars to life as she presses the gas. The convertible smoothly glides back onto the road, the wind catching her hair again as they drive towards the diner. Ford sneaks glances at her, still curious about the woman beside him, but now also genuinely intrigued by the person she is beyond the magic.

It felt more casual when he took this on as a sort of challenge to gain her trust to know more about her but things feel weird now. He’s never been the type to flirt or chase after anyone but when he was on his knees in front of her car, he felt that same vulnerability.

“So, Ford,” Celia starts, her voice light as she navigates the road, “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Research, mostly. Gravity Falls is…well, it’s unlike anywhere else. There are strange things here, things that defy explanation. I’ve been trying to uncover the mysteries of this town for years.” Ford tells her, leaning back in his seat as Celia glances at him, raising an eyebrow.

“And you’re telling me that you’ve never met anyone who can do what I just did? It’s basic shit, everything you’ve seen so far is like what you learn in the baby classes.” She laughs.

“Not exactly. I’ve seen some bizarre things, but- um, nothing quite like you.” He clears his throat.

“So, I’m not from around here. But you already figured that out, didn’t you?”

Ford nods, the gears in his mind still turning as he considers what she might mean by that.

“I did, but there’s more to you than just that, isn’t there?” He sighs, turning to look at her.

“Maybe,” She says with a teasing smile. “But you’ll have to earn those answers, Ford.”

She turns up the radio as they make their way to the diner and he’s still stuck observing her. He shamelessly takes out his journal and begins his first attempt at drawing her. She looks over and notices the drawing before shrugging it off and turning back to the road.

Her fingers tap on the wheel as she seems to effortlessly maneuver the vehicle. Despite her singing and wild eyes often looking back to the man in her passenger seat. And then the song changes and she’s singing again.

“Ugh, I wish my name was in a song,” She hums before going to sing. “The sailors say Brandy you're a fine girl. What a good wife you would be but my life my love and my lady is the sea.”

“This song is depressing.” Ford looks up from his journal.

“Yeah, but it’s so catchy.” She shrugs.

“She can’t be with the guy she loves because he loves the sea more than her? Shoot me,” He jokes. “You know, I’m not much of a music person.”

“How can you not be a music person? Music is the foundation of pretty much everything.” She tries.

“That is most definitely not true.”

"Oh, come on! Music is like... the soul's language. It can express things words just can't. Especially if you’re too chicken to say what you mean out loud like me.” Celia giggles.

"I’ve always thought science is more the foundation of everything. The universe doesn’t run on melodies, it runs on laws and equations." Ford tries.

“Maybe," Celia concedes, but her eyes twinkle with a challenge. "But music is what makes life worth living. It’s what turns those laws and equations into something you can feel. It connects people and stirs up emotions, even memories. Like right now—I bet you’ll remember this drive whenever you hear 'Brandy' from now on. And you’ll think of me and how we just met and probably how beautiful I am."

“You’ve made yourself unforgettable without the song.” He chuckles.

“But in thirty years when you hear it again, it’ll feel like you’re right back in this car with me.” She smiles.

She’s still smiling as she pulls the car into a spot near the entrance of the diner. It’s a simple and cozy place, nothing too alarming. As the two step out of the car and start walking up to the diner, Ford gets more nervous. He holds the door open for her and things feel different again.

That’s amplified as he sits across from her in a booth. When he looks at her, it’s like he knows that he’s in trouble. Like there’s something special about this girl that led him to her. Other than the fact that she’s magical in the most literal way possible.

A few locals are scattered throughout, quietly enjoying their meals, but the place is far from crowded. The soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of dishes create a comforting background noise.

Their drink orders get taken, hers being an iced tea, no sugar, three lemon slices. His eyes drift to her again after the waitress walks away.

“What?” She asks.

“You’re very particular about your drinks, huh?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Iced tea, three lemons. Club soda, two limes. Martini with two olives and an onion. I'm particular about a lot of things that don’t really matter.” Celia sets the menu down and leans forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, tell me more about this research of yours. What kind of mysteries are we talking about here?"

Ford leans back against the booth, considering how to frame his answer.

"Gravity Falls is a magnet for the strange and unexplained. Cryptids, paranormal events, anomalies in the fabric of reality itself. I’ve dedicated my life to uncovering these mysteries, trying to understand what makes this place so...unique." He speaks and Celia listens intently, clearly intrigued.

"That sounds incredible. And a little dangerous, no?" She asks.

"It can be," Ford admits, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But I’ve always believed that understanding the unknown is worth the risk. Knowledge is the greatest reward."

“You’re a nerd,” She tells him. “A cute nerd but a nerd nonetheless.”

“I haven’t been called a nerd in so many years.” He shakes his head with a small smirk growing.

“Maybe not to your face.” She laughs.

“I’m an anomaly myself. I’m sure you’ve noticed my extra finger,” He shows her his hand in an attempt to make her tell him something about herself too. “I was made fun of for most of my life but now I live alone so, there’s that.”

“I didn’t notice,” She lies, no wedding ring, she notices. “Wait, no one ever liked your fingers?”

“No, they called me Freaky Ford. I guess they couldn’t think of a better nickname.” He shrugs.

“Not even in college? You didn’t have girls around the corner for you? With an extra finger?” She asks, in disbelief.

“What? No, why would they?” He asks, obliviously.

“I think six fingers is cute. It’s special. Important people always have something weird about them anyway.” She tells him.

“Cute? You think my fingers are…I’ve never-“ He gets nervous before clearing his throat.

When the waitress comes by, they place their orders and settle into a comfortable silence, the buzz of the diner creating a pleasant backdrop. Celia looks out the window, her thoughts drifting as she absentmindedly taps her fingers on the table.

He’s still nervous, tangling his fingers in his coat and tapping his foot over and over again. She makes him so nervous and he doesn’t know why. But he hasn’t been able to converse with any other anomaly or weird thing like this. Let alone have it call him cute.

“So, Celia,” Ford begins, breaking the silence. “Why Gravity Falls? Why now?”

“I just needed a break from everything. I’ve been on the road for a while, trying to clear my head. When I saw the sign for Gravity Falls, something just...called me here. Maybe it’s the weird energy of this place, or maybe I just needed a change of pace. And also, I don’t like driving in the dark.” She tells him nonchalantly. Ford nods, understanding the need for change all too well.

“Where are you from, really?”

Celia hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching his before she answers.

“I’m from a place called the Boiling Isles. It’s...not exactly on any map you’d find here.” She says quietly.

Ford’s curiosity piques again, but he can tell this is something important to her, something she’s not used to sharing.

“The Boiling Isles... sounds intriguing. And definitely not anywhere near Oregon.” He tries to lighten the air and she laughs softly.

“No, definitely not. It’s...well, let’s just say it’s a place where magic isn’t just something you read about in books. But it’s a lot more complicated than it sounds. I left because...well, I needed more than what that world could offer me. I wanted to be free to make my own choices, to live my own life. So I came here, to this world. The place went to shit after they banned the use of wild magic and tried to shove every witch into a coven where you could only use one type of magic. It’s fucking stupid.” She sighs as Ford’s mind races, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what she’s telling him.

“And you’ve been here ever since? Living among humans, hiding what you are?” He asks.

“Pretty much,” She nods, her expression bittersweet. “I’ve had to blend in, keep a low profile. But sometimes it’s hard to keep everything hidden, especially when people start asking questions.”

“Like I did,” Ford realizes, feeling a pang of guilt.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind, really. You’re different. You actually seem to care about what’s behind the magic, not just the spectacle.” Celia smiles reassuringly and Ford returns the smile, feeling a strange sense of connection with her.

“Well, I’ve always been more interested in the why and the how of things. And you, Celia, are definitely something worth understanding.” He says nervously.

The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of comfortable conversation and shared laughter. Celia and Ford find themselves effortlessly navigating from one topic to the next, their connection deepening as they learn more about each other. The food is delicious in that simple, comforting way that only diner food can be, and for a while, the worries of the world outside fade away.

Ford watches Celia with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. There's something magnetic about her, something that draws him in despite his usual cautious nature. He’s always been focused on his work, driven by a singular purpose, but now, sitting across from her, he feels something shift inside him—something he can’t quite name.

He pays the bill, and they both slide out of the booth, making their way to the door. Outside, the night has fully settled in, the stars twinkling above them in the clear sky. The cool air is refreshing after the warmth of the diner, and they stand there for a moment, basking in the quiet of the small town.

“So…need a ride home?” She asks.

“I walked to the store so I’m good walking back to my place, it’s not too far.” He shrugs.

“Oh, come on, man. I’ll drive you home.” She laughs.

“I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You’re not,” She shakes her head as she steps into the car and shuts the door. “Hop in.”

The drive is mostly silent as Ford directs her to his home, a cozy cabin on the outskirts of town. The drive is short, but the tension in Ford’s chest grows with each passing minute. It feels like there’s still so much to know about her but she keeps throwing him off and doing things he’d never expect.

She turns off the car and immediately picks her legs up on the seat when they arrive. With magic on her side, the bottle of tequila drops on her lap and she puts it beside her.

“So, I guess I should probably find a place to stay for the night. Do you know any good motels around here?” She asks and Ford hesitates, his protective instincts kicking in. The thought of her staying alone in some run-down motel doesn’t sit well with him.

“Actually…if you’d like, you could stay at my place. It’s not much, but it’s safe, and I’ve got a spare room.” He offers.

“Are you sure, Ford? Inviting a girl you just met back to your place? Isn’t that how horror movies start?” She smiles teasingly.

“I promise, I’m not a serial killer. Besides, it’s the least I can do after you let me interrogate you like a criminal.” He chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Alright, then. I’ll take you up on that offer. I’m opening this now though.” She picks up the bottle again, pulling off the lid.

She leans back in her seat as she takes a sip straight from the bottle and he watches in something between awe and horror. She pulls it away from her lips before holding it out to him. Drinking tequila outside of his own house in a girl’s car would be a new experience for him.

“What are you?” He asks as he takes the bottle from her hands before bringing it up to his lips.

“I’m a witch,” She says as she takes the illusion off her ears. “Lucky for me, I look mostly human.”

“That you do, Celia,” He chuckles, handing her the bottle back.

“I’ll try to answer whatever I can but there’s a lot I don’t know about myself or my people.” She tells him, looking at Ford and giving him her full attention.

“Where does magic come from?”

“Well, every witch has a sort of bile sack attached to their hearts which is where magic comes from. But the broader answer is the Titan,” She explains and he quickly fumbles for his book. “But honestly, Ford, none of this matters. I’m not some strange oddity that inhabits this place, I’m just rolling through.”

He puts the book down as he looks at her. She brings the tequila bottle back to her lips and turns to face him more.

“I’m just a girl, even if I have pointy ears. I mean, I guess I am an oddity to you but I’m just…Celia.” She shrugs and he closes the journal. She offers him the bottle once more and he surprises himself when he takes it.

He’s never been one to invite people into his personal space, let alone someone as captivating as Celia. The thought of having her in his home, sharing his space, sends his nerves into overdrive. But the tequila cools that all down. They start talking about normal people things.

He explains to her more things about his work and what he’s found here and to his surprise, she listens. She rests her head on her hand, her elbow pushed against the back of her seat with her body turned to face him. That gets him talking more about his life, how and where he grew up. The only detail he leaves out is his twin brother. He doesn’t want to dump that on the pretty girl listening to his ‘nerd talk’ so early.

Then they start talking about the world and pop culture, Ford feeling like there’s so much he doesn’t know. For the first time, he feels like there’s something about the world that he’s missing that everyone else can see, not the other way around. But with her, it starts to make more sense. And to his surprise, she starts conversations about books she’s read in her time here and she understands them in a way he doesn’t.

“No, don’t even get me started on Gatsby. It’s a flowery love story disguised as great literature.” Ford rolls his eyes, taking another sip of the tequila and realizing he’s feeling buzzed out of his mind.

“Have you even read it?” She asks.

“Once a long time ago, but I remember enough to know that it’s a bullshit love story about a rich guy and a girl he lost.” He laughs.

“No, it’s not!” She shrieks with a wide grin as she sits up more. “Gatsby doesn’t love Daisy and Daisy doesn’t love Gatsby. If anything, Nick Carraway was in love with Gatsby. No man who’s not in love with another man spends pages describing the other man’s smile. Daisy isn’t just a girl Gatsby lost. She represents the American Dream—the idealized version of success and happiness that everyone’s chasing. But Gatsby doesn’t really love Daisy for who she is. He loves her because she’s the embodiment of everything he’s been striving for. She’s not a person to him; she’s a symbol.”

Ford listens intently, captivated by her intensity. She is so different from anyone he has ever met and he can’t help but hear her.

“Gatsby didn’t build his life on anything real. He built it on the image of Daisy’s dreams, on this idea that if he could just have her, he’d finally have everything he ever wanted. But that’s the tragedy of it—what he’s chasing isn’t real. Daisy’s not the perfect, pure vision he thinks she is. She’s flawed, just like the American Dream itself. And Gatsby’s so blinded by his obsession that he can’t see it,” Celia pauses, letting her words sink in, before taking another sip from the bottle. “The whole story is about the emptiness of that chase. Gatsby’s life, his wealth, his parties—they’re all just distractions, illusions to cover up the fact that he’s desperately trying to reach something that doesn’t actually exist. And in the end, it’s that illusion that destroys him.”

Ford is silent for a moment, processing what she’s said. He’s always dismissed The Great Gatsby as a superficial love story, but the way Celia describes it makes him see it in a new light. There’s something profound in her interpretation, something that resonates with his own understanding of life’s complexities.

“Maybe I need to re-read the book.” He chuckles.

“Smart people are sometimes the ones who never see what’s in front of them.” She laughs.

“You think I’m smart?” His eyes fall on her again.

“Come on,” She jokingly pushes his shoulder and he smiles.

“Show me something, what else can you do?” He asks, his words beginning to slightly slur.

“What do you want to see?” She smiles and slightly tilts her head.

“Anything you’re willing to show me.”

“Wanna see what you’re gonna look like at sixty?” She giggles.

“Sure, if I even make it to sixty.” He jokes.

There’s purple light surrounding the magic as she shows a projection of him at sixty years old. They both observe in silence for a moment, he doesn’t look bad.

“Not bad.” Celia hums as she drops the projection.

“You are something else.” He smiles at her as she quickly leans over to grab his left hand.

He watches as she just looks at it for a moment. Her hands are soft, softer than his. And she carefully holds his hand with both of hers as she observes him.

“If you have six fingers, how do you know which one your wedding ring would go on?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess…the fourth one still? But it would look strange,” He shrugs as he wiggles the fourth finger. “No one would have me anyway with my extra fingers.”

“That’s not true, I’m sure a lot of people would have you.” She leans her head to rest on the headrest all while turning to face him again.

“That’s easy for you to say, I’m sure everybody wants you. You’re famous, you’re probably stupid rich, and you’re gorgeous.” He tells her.

“That’s not enough to marry someone.” She shrugs.

“But then talking to you is so easy and so…fun? I’ve never felt like this talking to someone. I get stuttery and I say the wrong things but I haven’t messed this up yet,” He says honestly. “And you aren’t even human. Of course, the girl I can actually talk to without saying something stupid is a witch.”

“I promise you, you are a catch. The quiet nerdy types make the best boyfriends because they, usually, won’t go chasing after every pretty girl in sight.” She tries. Ford laughs softly, his nerves easing just a bit as they continue to talk.

“You’re probably just saying that to be nice,” He says, half-joking, half-hopeful. God, this tequila is messing with my mind, I could almost think she likes me, he thinks.

“Not at all. You’ve got this whole silly little genius vibe going on. It’s cute, six fingers or five.” She smiles, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“Silly little genius, huh? That’s a new one,” He chuckles, feeling a warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with the tequila.

“Yeah, and it’s kinda hot,” Celia teases, giving him a playful nudge. Ford feels his face flush, a mix of embarrassment and excitement bubbling up inside him.

“You’re just full of surprises,” He murmurs, almost to himself.

“Hey, life’s too short to be predictable.” She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “You know, you’re really fun to be around. I wasn’t expecting that when I walked into that store today.”

Ford’s breath catches in his throat as he meets her gaze. There’s something about the way she’s looking at him—like she’s seeing right through all his layers of self-doubt and insecurity. Before he can overthink it, she’s leaning in, closing the distance between them. And he wants to let go, to just exist with her in this moment and forget about everything else.

“Wanna know something else that’s fun?” Celia says, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.

“W-what’s that?” Ford stammers, feeling his heart pound in his chest. That’s when he starts hoping and praying she’s gonna do what he thinks she’s gonna do.

“This,” She laughs so softly as she gently pulls him closer to her by his jacket before kissing him.

To Ford, it’s like a bolt of electricity shoots through him. His mind races, trying to process the fact that this is really happening—that this incredible, magical woman is kissing him. He leans into her completely, having never experienced anything quite like this. Her hands run along his shoulders and he feels everything in him suddenly turn to her.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands as she kisses him so perfectly. He places his over hers as she sits up ever so slightly.

“Can I-“ She whispers against his lips, gesturing to his seat.

“Yes.” He breathes out, nodding.

She sits up and puts one knee on the side of his legs before using that to help her bring her other leg around. She slowly sits down, now straddling his lap. Her hands cup his face as she leans down to kiss him again. His hands find her waist as he desperately holds onto her.

“You are-“ He breathes out before she leans down to place her lips on his jaw.

His breath is taken away from him as soon as she drags her lips down his neck. No one has ever felt so good on his skin. The kiss is hungry and desperate, his hands gripping at her shirt.

Celia pulls back after a moment, still smiling as if nothing monumental just happened, but Ford is left stunned, staring at her like she’s just turned his world upside down.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” She teases as if this was all just another casual moment in her day. She’s still smiling at him as she gently brings her hands up to fix his glasses.

“I…you…” Ford’s lips tingle from the kiss, and he can barely find his voice to respond.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite…unless you ask nicely.” She winks, and he swears his heart might actually stop.

To Celia, it’s just a fun, spontaneous moment—an expression of the instant connection she feels with this quirky, endearing guy she’s just met. But for Ford, it’s something much more. It’s like the world has shifted on its axis, and suddenly, nothing will ever be the same.

“What do you want, Ford?” She asks quietly, placing her hands on his shoulders, his hands falling to her hips.

“It’s been a long time, Celia.” He says nervously.

“I’m sorry, I can go.” She leans back the slightest bit but his hands don’t let go of her hips and hers don’t let go of his shoulders.

“Don’t be sorry,” He says quickly before softly chucking. “I just…you’re so out of my league.”

“I promise you, I’m not.” She smiles.

Celia studies Ford's face, her eyes twinkling with that playful mischief again. He’s still trying to catch his breath, still trying to make sense of everything that just happened. Her smile softens as she takes in his expression, a mix of awe and disbelief.

She gently pushes his messy hair back and he feels like he’s gonna burn into ash if he pulls away from her.

“You’re thinking too much.” She says before gently leaning to place another kiss on his jaw.

“I can’t help it. All I do is think.” He breathes out from her kiss.

“Just let go for a while.” She shrugs with a mischievous grin.

Ford swallows hard, nodding slightly as if he’s trying to convince himself to follow her advice. But she can see the hesitation, the way he’s grappling with the fact that this—this amazing woman, this magic, this connection—is all real.

“Hey, wait,” She smiles again as she looks behind her for a moment. “I totally learned a bit of construction magic before I left.”

“C-construction magic?” Ford stumbles through the sentence.

“Yes!” She says like it’s obvious with her smile widening.

Celia grins and glances around, then turns her attention back to the empty space behind her. She closes her eyes for a moment, and with a simple gesture, her fingers weave through the air, orange light swirling around them. Within seconds, a small, cozy cottage materializes, complete with a softly glowing fireplace, plush seating, and windows that overlook the starry sky. Ford’s jaw drops as he watches the house appear out of nowhere, perfectly crafted, as if it had always been there.

“You…you just…built that?”

“It’s only temporary, I can destroy it as quickly as I built it.” She assures.

Ford blinks, still trying to process what’s happening. He looks from the cottage to Celia and back again, his mind struggling to catch up.

“That’s- it’s incredible,” He finally manages to say.

“Come on, let’s check it out.” Celia gives him a playful nudge.

She starts to slide off his lap, but before she can move away completely, Ford finds his courage and, with a burst of determination, gently grabs her hand to stop her.

“Wait,” He says, his voice shaky.

“Yeah?” Celia turns back to him.

Ford’s heart pounds in his chest as he looks up at her, the realization finally settling in that this is real, that she’s real, and she’s here with him. It’s overwhelming, but there’s something in him that refuses to let this moment slip away. He takes a deep breath, summoning all the bravery he can muster.

“I…I want to kiss you again,” He stammers, his face flushed. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course, it is,” She whispers.

Ford’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches up to cup her face, his movements awkward and hesitant, but the earnestness in his touch makes Celia’s heart skip a beat. He leans in, slowly, almost nervously, as if afraid he might do something wrong. His lips brush against hers, tentative at first, but then he presses in a little more, and the kiss deepens.

She holds her hands over his, leaning into it. To him, it’s like stepping off a cliff and finding that instead of falling, he’s floating—weightless, free. But his nerves get the better of him, and he accidentally bumps his nose against hers, which makes him pull back, flustered and embarrassed.

“I-I’m sorry,” He mutters, looking away, his face burning with mortification.

But Celia just laughs softly, a sweet, melodic sound that eases his anxiety.

“Hey, it’s okay,” She says, tilting his chin up so he’s looking at her again. “You’re doing great.”

Ford hesitates, still feeling a bit awkward, but her reassurance gives him the confidence to try again. He kisses her once more, this time with a little more certainty, even though his hands are still shaking slightly as they rest on her waist.

Celia smiles against his lips, her fingers threading through his hair as she leans into him, deepening the kiss. She can feel the way he’s pouring everything into this moment, how it means so much more to him than just a simple kiss, and it makes her heart swell.

Ford’s nervousness starts to melt away as he loses himself in the kiss, his world narrowing down to just the two of them. When they finally part, he’s breathless, his mind spinning with a mix of emotions he’s never felt before.

“You’re amazing,” He breathes out, almost in disbelief, as if he’s trying to convince himself that this is all really happening. Celia grins, her thumb brushing over his cheek as she whispers back,

“You’re amazing and adorable.”

[myers-meadow]

Meadow's Masterlist for Michael Myers & Thomas Hewitt & The Grabber

My list of works is growing and growing, so I split my masterlist up. Here is the list for the fics I've written for Michael Myers, Bo, Vincent and Lester Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt and The Grabber. Created and last updated on 24-04-2023. All my writing, even the shorter pieces that don't go onto AO3, are reblogged over at @myers-meadow-archive for ease of keeping track and archival purposes.

The link to my list for my other masterlist with Otis Driftwood, other horror writing and several other fandoms is here.

The links are in order of fandom, the newest writings are at the top.

Reblogging my writing is very much appreciated, but reposting it, on any site, is plagiarism.

Michael Myers

Feeding him by accident (sfw, oneshot)

Sunday roast (sfw, oneshot)

With s/o who likes being picked up (request, headcanons)

RZ Michael Myers x female therapist: New urge (heed warnings, oneshot, 18 +)

Wrapped with a ribbon (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Through lace curtains. (18 +, drabble)

Valentine's Day in Smiths Grove (sfw, oneshot)

Care for me, 18 +, heed the warnings for each chapter. part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5 (final)

Stargazing (fluff, sfw, oneshot)

Untitled fluff (sfw, oneshot)

Shapes on his skin (fluff, sfw, oneshot)

Floral and fading (smut, oneshot)

Priest! Michael Myers (RZ) 18 + heed warnings

Bo, Vincent and Lester Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x reader: Planetarium. (angst, comfort, sfw, oneshot)

Multi-chapter fic Vincent x OC x Bo/Poly Sinclairs. The Ambrose Summer Vacation. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. (ongoing, 18 +)

Vincent Sinclair x gn reader: art and comfort request.

Bo Sinclair x fem OC: Sweet treat. (18 +, oneshot)

Ambrose Boba Tea Shop AU Vincent/Mango boba; Lester/Black milk tea

Vincent x you/female reader x Bo Drabble

Thomas Hewitt

Letter by letter (sfw, oneshot)

Musings of Luda Mae (Sfw)

Kiss your boyfriend (dark, oneshot)

Safe with him (dark, spiritual sequel to Kiss Your Boyfriend, drabble)

The Grabber

Eggs for breakfast (request)

The Grabber x Max's girlfriend: The rhythm of life (heed warnings, one-shot).

Punishment (18 +, heed warnings, drabble)

Birthday headcanons

Male reader headcanons (request, sfw)

Request masochist reader (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Helpful people get rewarded (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Request for apprentice reader (sfw)

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

[voidbeau]

Silly TWOMP Halloween Headcannons!

Mostly Mr. Flower centered (plus my oc x cannon ship because i'll sail this thing to the ends of the earth) because i don't talk enough about him. At least, I don't talk enough about my take on him!

It's the seasons of spooks and I'm excited!!!

But not everyone is…

We know Mr. Plant and Argos love Halloween. Especially Argos! But I like to think Mr. Flower isn't the hugest fan. He likes fall and can appreciate some parts of the Halloween aesthetic, but he's mostly just not really that into the all out horror stuff. Not his thing, but he'll tolerate certain Halloween activities for friends and loved ones!

With enough convincing, you may even get him to try going thru a haunted house with you, but watch out! He's a grabber. If Mr. Flower is startled he'll death clutch the nearest person/thing to him.

Of course he'll play it all off and deny any of it happened once you're out on the other side.

"I did not cling to you the whole way!" "That was Argos..."

With that in mind, Thorn LOVES talking Mr. Flower into horror movie nights. Great excuse for immediate couch cuddles with your difficult boyfriend. --- Also, Every one of Mr. Flower's Halloween loving friends every year vs Mr. Flower:

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Writing Masterlist.

Hello my name is Bex! Welcome to my blog and my writing’s masterlist.

May I ask that before sending me any asks or interacting you read my Rules/Who/What I Write For. Thank you so much!

—

My Ao3 has a good portion of my stuff but you will find ALL of my writing in this list! Here are my tips for writing smut! Here is my writing process. And Here is my ramblings about things important to me to include in my writing if you care about some of the meaning behind what I do.

Here is the link to my Ko-fi if you wanna support me and what I do.

Did you know I also do commissions? Here is the info!

Writing Links Below The Cut!

Freddy Krueger Masterlist.

Billy Loomis/Stu Macher Poly!Ghostface Masterlist.

Ethan Landry Masterlist.

Mickey Altieri Masterlist.

Danny Johnson/Jed Olson/DBD Ghostface Masterlist.

Buddy Swanson/Metal Killer Mastlist.

Sam Wescott/The Wood Carver Masterlist.

Leslie Vernon Masterlist.

Charles Lee Ray Masterlist.

Tiffany Ray Valentine Masterlist.

Bo/Vincent/Lester Sinclair Masterlist.

Gabriel May Masterlist.

Herbert West Masterlist.

Poly!Coven Masterlist.

The Grabber Masterlist.

The Driller Killer/Johnny Masterlist.

Warwick Wilson Masterlist.

Ash Williams Masterlist.

Event And Sub Masterlists:

Commissions Masterlist.

Love Letter Masterlist.

Fake Fic Ask Masterlist.

Multi-May Masterlist.

Kinky December Masterlist.

Amber Cottrell OC. Freddy's Girl.

Misc.

"It Was Inevitable" Micheal Myers X FEM! AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"We Match!" The Ghost/"Mitch" X AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"Making Him The Exception." Machete Sam X AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"King Of The Kayaks." Steve The Kayak King X GN! Reader. NSFW.

"Perfect Pretender." Alex Browning X Tod Waggner X AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"Something Life Affirming." Willaim Bludworth X AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"A Deep And Festering Need." Edward Porris X GN! Reader.

[typewriting-robin]

The Way I See You

Victor/Robin MC (M x F)

cw: angst, nightmares, ptsd, negative self-esteem, age gap relationship (MC is 24, Victor is...god knows how old), daddy issues, nsfw (rated e), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

Word count: 5476

note~ it is recommended but not required to read the OC/MC master list and scroll to the very bottom for Adaline, the Robin that corresponds to Victor.

Deep down inside, Adaline knew that her relationship with the leader of Crown was odd. He would catch her in one of her daydreaming spells. It would usually start with an attention grabber. A tap on the shoulder, or a rose would manifest in her lap.

“How about a magic trick to turn that frown upside down!”

Victor’s magic tricks varied. Sometimes they were card tricks. Other times he would pull impossible things from a hat. On one or two occasions he used a tablecloth and summoned a very angry Jude, who threatened to leave him bloody. 

Each time, the memories would evaporate, the way the sun would evaporate the ice surrounding a flower, breathing life and nurturing it.

Their relationship began to change rather quickly. One night she had a nightmare. It was her most recurring one. The fire that broke out at her childhood home when she was 11.

After waking up, she walked around the corridors of Crown manor in an effort to calm herself. That she was in no danger.

“Little Robin,” Victor’s voice cut through the darkness as he too wandered the halls.

“I know, I should be asleep,” she said before he could scold her.

A smile played on Victor’s lips. “I usually would say that but my Robin isn’t quite an ordinary lady. If she happens to be up, then the reason must be important.” There was a pause. “Did your typewriter get swallowed up by an alligator?”

Adaline laughed at his words and the sheet improbability of it, momentarily forgetting her nightmare. “No, of course not!”

“I’m sure you can tell me all about it while I have my boys deal with our pesky alligator. Come follow me,” he said, continuing the joke and beckoning her.

Adaline breathed in before following him. He pulled her into a room that was only just smaller than the ballroom. “Where are we?”

“Home in a home! My room, of course! Now my guest…do you desire for water, milk, tea, perhaps. Chamomile works wonders for sleep!”

“Chamomile will do.”

Minutes passed before he served her a cup of warm chamomile. “Thank you. I used to drink a lot of this when I was young. I was always a little anxious growing up, you could say.” With her finger, she twirled a lock of her honeyed blonde hair. She had inherited the color from her mother. In fact, she strongly resembled her mother rather than her father, who was tall and almost always draped in black. Ellis reminded her of him in terms of his style, but there was something about Victor that truly reminded her of him.

His chamomile tasted like the one her father made, with a dollop of honey for extra flavor.

Victor likely knew she was having nightmares but he didn’t question her nor probe her, only offering her his company and attention. And then one minute she was awake, the next, it was broad daylight and she had woken up in Victor’s bed alone, without a single nightmare.

That’s how it began.

It started off once every few days but lately her sojourns to Victor’s room were becoming more frequent. He was always so kind with her, so patient and never probing. The members of Crown didn’t seem to mind seeing her with her veil off, least of all Victor, who helped her meet Roger, who treated her burn scars with various salves and took notes on her progress.

“You have such lovely hair,” Victor said one night. The nightmares were now gone since she started sleeping with Victor. “Beautiful, beautiful hair. I can tell you take perfect care of it.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me knowing you have such radiant hair as well.”

Victor motioned her to sit down on a chair facing a mirror where he ran a hairbrush along her long, honey colored hair while humming softly. He moved the brush slowly as if fearing he’d pluck out one of her strands of hair even if by accident, which made her heart flush with warm feelings.

The fire had singed all of her hair, marking her as unrecognizable alongside her burn marks. She had been mistaken for a servant child and sent to an orphanage. Her hair didn’t grow, not immediately as she recovered, passing off as a boy. But when she was just shy of turning thirteen, a miracle happened: her locks had begun to take root.

Adaline would refuse to cut her hair if she could help it, as her hair served many purposes. It was, to her,  her one remaining beauty, inherited from her mother. It also hid her for when she didn’t wear the veil, falling down her waist. She didn’t trust her hair with just anyone, but Victor was so unfailingly kind to her.

She saw his violet eyes focusing on her hair, now applying some kind of lotion on it. “What is that?

“This? A lotion made to make your hair glow. The queen uses it every night before bed.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

Victor smiled. “Indeed. And don’t worry, there’s plenty to go around.” He rubbed the lotion all over her hair, which had a rich fragrance that she couldn’t pin down.

“Does my hair have split ends?” she asked. “I don’t get it cut very often. Sometimes when I say to just trim it, the salon instead makes a mess of it.”

“A little, yes. One of the maids here is an expert at trimming hair. Allow me to help you tomorrow with that and you’ll feel as good as new!” Victor drummed on her shoulders, indicating he was done. “Ready for bed?”

“Yes.” 

Victor’s bed was twice the size of the one in her room, giving them their own space to lay. He tucked her in. “Do you want to read a story? Or perhaps I’ll tell you one?”

Adaline yawned. “No, thank you. I’m sleepy tonight.”

“Very well. Pleasant dreams, my Little Robin.”

Adaline quickly drifted off to sleep, her world sinking into the comfortable inky black shades of sleep amidst acceptance and warmth. 

…Except, when Adaline woke up, the moon still shone brightly outside, indicating she had risen far too early. Victor was asleep next to her, appearing peaceful and years younger than the likely age he was, which dispelled the notions she had grown to have about him as her father figure. Adaline stared at his features, admiring his beauty.

She slipped out of bed to use the privy. Predictably, Victor had the best one in Crown Castle, with plumbing she wasn’t even used to before cleaning up and returning to bed.

Victor had turned in the interim, facing her side, but still asleep.

She could see his beauty mark as he slept, his lips upturned. It was on his left side of his face, on the very border of his lips. Adaline recalled how her father and stepmother would kiss her goodnight. Without thinking, she leaned over and kissed his beauty mark, her lips grazing over it.

Instantly, regret pulled at her, gnawing at her insides as heat rose in her lower back. What have I done?

Victor didn’t react, as none the wiser.

Her heart raced as she tucked herself into bed, praying to every known deity that Victor didn’t stir or that he had even felt that kiss. Why did I do that? He’s a man, not your father.

Yet he was so kind to her, so funny and gracious and patient with her.

She had a fitful sleep that night, unable to get over the regret she faced as new regrets kept swarming in. Did that count as a kiss?

She left the room and got ready for her observations the next morning before Victor could even wake. There was no way she could ever meet his gaze today.

She sat in the lounge, taking notes with her pen.

“You’re sighing,” a slinky voice said, coming from the depths.

Adaline didn’t even notice she was sighing. “Good morning, Alfons,” she said, ignoring him. She had attracted his interest upon moving to Castle Crown on account of her being difficult for him to enchant.

But Alfons plopped up next to her, sitting too uncomfortably close. “You don’t appear to have writer’s block. Is it matters of the mind? Or perhaps that of the heart? Hmm?”

“Be quiet,” she said, wanting to shoo him off. Since she covered her neck in its entirety. Alfons could only be seen as a nuisance to her. “I’m trying to think.”

“Might I help you? I enjoy thinking as well.” He grabbed a lock of her hair, fingers deftly running down. However, she quickly swatted him.

“Stop that!”

“It’s shinier than usual today. And softer. Reminds me of our leader’s hair.”

“Go touch his hair then.”

“Ah, but Victor isn’t a lady like yourself. A lady’s hair is much--”

Adaline grabbed her pen and moved to face Alfons, as if ready to stab him. “Not a word more or else I will draw on your face.” She hated being teased. Roger was enough already but she benefitted from him so she was able to grin and bear it. Alfons, on the other hand, had nothing of value to her.

Then she paused in realization now that she was close to him.

Being this close to him reminded her of last night, when she kissed Victor.

“You’re doing it again. Is that a sigh I’m about to hear once more?”

Adaline sighed-- in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll ask you since you’ve kissed people.”

“Kissing? Is my Robin--”

She rolled her eyes. “Nevermind. I can’t ask someone like you anything. It’ll be better if I ask Roger.”

Instantly, Alfons relented. “I’ll stop.”

“What is a kiss?” she asked. “Don’t laugh at me. Are kisses--specifically the ones on the lips-- supposed to be romantic or sexual? Like a stimulant?” Then she realized that Alfons was the perfect person to ask this. She gripped her pen, the edge of it near her lips. “Actually, say you use your…ability on someone, yes?”

“Yes? Keep going.”

“And you kiss someone, does that count as a kiss?”

“Of course it does. They believe me to be whatever they desire.”

“I see. And what if they’re in a state where they’re prone or asleep or perhaps don’t react. Does that count, even if the one being kissed is unaware?”

Alfons rubbed his chin with his gloved hand. “If a tree falls down and no one hears it, does it make a sound?” he asked her.

“It does since it fell, didn’t it? It doesn’t negate the fact that the tree fell in the first place.”

“But no one heard it,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “Therefore it did not happen. Not truly. That is why my ability does not count,” he paused for a beat, “to some, anyway. Are you going to write that in your little fairy tale book of secrets?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Now go away,” she said, properly shooing him off with her pen.

Thankfully, Victor wasn’t present for most of the day, so she was able to get her work done and meet with Roger for treatment and to help him with his research on her scars and the pain that would flare in her right shoulder.

When the time came to go to bed, Adaline opted to sleep in her room.

Her world turned black, then morphed into red. Not the familiar red of the fire that consumed her and snuffed out everything dear to her. She was back to that night when she met Crown, the man standing in his pool of blood. She remembered Victor was not there.

“Take the knife and slit your own throat,” William’s voice commanded and Adaline’s arm rose, knife in hand. She was powerless, out of control. Just like the man she found laying in a pool of his own blood that night.

“Please…no…don’t make me do this!” She was shaking but her arm was no longer hers in her final moments. All she could think of was how she’d never see Victor again. He’s never show her his magic tricks, his jokes, nor comfort her when she--

“Now!”

She rose from bed, touching her neck. The scars were still there but she was here. Alive. And healthier than before. “I can’t go to Victor. I’m too dependent on him,” she murmured. She thought of the kiss, the stupid kiss she initiated. He was her father figure and those were her feelings towards him.

Victor never came that night but he was at breakfast and had instantly called for her attention when she arrived in the room. “Little Robin! Over here! Yoo hoo!” Yes, he was a little embarrassing but it was endearing and a smile slipped out of her lips.

I can do this. “Good morning, Victor.”

“How did my Robin sleep?”

“Okay, I guess,” she said, lying.

Harrison, who was nearby, let out a hmph noise. 

“I have a mission for my Little Robin today. You shall accompany me to a ball tonight!” He let out a boisterous chuckle. “And you shall be my lovely, lovely date.”

“Huh?” She hadn’t been to a dance since she was a child but-- “date?”

“Of course! I asked for you, yes.”

“He wants to present ya to Queenie,” Jude said over his paper. “G’luck. You’ll need it with this clown.”

With a flick of Victor’s hand upwards, Jude’s newspaper tore into fourths, then eighths, then sixteenths.

 “I was reading that ya annoyin’ git!”

But Victor did not care one bit, running out the room and giggling. “Meet me in the courtyard!”

After she ate, Victor was indeed inside the gazebo. “Why did you want me here?” she asked. 

“Simple! Because we’re going to practice dancing together.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to do it in the ballroom?”

“Indeed, my precious and sound minded Robin, but we are going to an outdoors event, with fireworks!” He made motions with his hands and sound effects simulating fireworks, which made her laugh. After her laughter died down, he bowed to her, which made her heart race. “May I have this dance?”

Adaline was trained to dance a long time ago, before the fire. She was trained to dance at the same time she learned to walk. She had even taught her stepmother the basics. Doing this with Victor was like returning to a warm, cozy room with a blanket, coming to her like second nature. He was strong, his movements confident. Even when he danced, Victor’s personality seeped forth.

“You’re a natural. I don’t even have to recite the steps,” he said.

He never said anything bad or remotely negative to her, even when she made a mistake. “I enjoy moving with my body.” Regaining control of her body was a long and arduous process but now she was committed to keeping it that way. She danced back in her apartment sometimes. Running was primarily her way to keep her body in her control. She was swift, lithe. The picture of a Robin.

“Very graceful.”

“So are you.”

“I love a good dance, even with only the music of the outside playing.”

“Me too,” she said, meeting his face.

That was her mistake. She saw his beauty mark, the same one she kissed, and fumbled, losing her rhythm and stepping on his toe. “Ahh sorry! I lost control! It won’t happen again!”

But Victor was unphased. “It’s quite alright! We must keep practicing!”

***

It had turned out that the reason why Victor was out for most of yesterday was in preparation for the ball.He had gotten everything ready for them, including her dress, accessories, and makeup. Her dress was pink, which added an innocence to her look and Maria, her maid, had her hair in an elegant half updo. 

Victor’s words rung in her head. “I’d like to offer you a choice to make for tonight,” he said after he concluded dance practice. “I prepared makeup for you tonight, but you needn’t wear it, my dear Robin. The choice you make is up to you.”

Maria gestured to the makeup box. Everything was in here. Lipstick, rouge, powder, shadow, and makeup for her brows and lashes. But most critically, there was a liquid there that matched the color of her skin. This is what Victor meant.

She stared at the liquid for a spell, pondering if she ought to wear it. It would conceal every last one of her pink and white burn marks, mostly the ones on her face and neck. For just one night, she could live normally But…

“Use everything but this one, please.” If the partygoers couldn’t take her face, her injuries, then at least she had Victor on her side.

***

Victor gasped when he saw her. “You look positively radiant, my Little Robin! A perfect vision!” 

Adaline’s heart was already racing in adrenaline when Maria finished her makeup job. She knew Victor was waiting for her as she walked down the stairs. When he said those words, she felt like running as a reflex.

Her cheeks were completely red. “T-thank you.”

“I see you chose everything but the foundation. A wonderful choice you made!” He leaned and took her gloved hand, kissing her palm. A subtle heat bloomed from the core of her belly upwards, spreading, spreading until she felt entirely flushed.

He was her father figure, right? So why was she feeling this way? Like she wanted to both run away from and collide with him.

When they were in the carriage, she spoke up. “It’s because of you,” she began as she stared at the window, watching London’s scenery. She turned to face him. He was already gazing at her.

“What was?”

“I didn’t wear the…paint because I knew.” She met his jewel-like eyes. “I knew you’d be there with me every step of the way. You’re always on my side. Since we met.”

His hand moved over hers, causing her heart to race. “And I’ll always be.” 

His hand covered hers for the rest of the carriage ride.

The band played a lively tune when they arrived at the ball. It was an outdoors affair, with rose gardens and marble statues.

Victor wordlessly offered her his hand after he made his greetings and presented them to the Queen, a larger than life woman wearing all black. They danced slowly in time to the music, two bodies dancing as one.

“All eyes are on you,” he said.

Adaline wanted to dismiss it as something someone with a silver tongue would say. “You jest.”

“Look beyond you.”

She felt her cheeks redden, feeling glad yet again that she opted to wear rouge. “I think…” She looked beyond them at the onlookers. She recognized William and Elbert there, and not too beyond Elbert was Alfons, looking at them with a sly expression. It took every fiber of her being not to stick her tongue at him. But all were looking at them. “I think you’re right. Let’s keep dancing.”

It was just as they danced earlier in the courtyard, only in fancier dress. There was no one but her and Victor. She was used to his touch, his gaze, his warmth. They were all things precious to her. Things she thought she had lost, but now found.

Their palms touched and they swayed. Then they heard an “ahem”.

“William! My eldest and co-conspirator. How are you tonight?” Victor’s tone was not unlike a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

William’s arms were crossed, his gaze playful. “How long will you continue to hold our Robin hostage?” his ruby red eyes gazed from Victor, then hers.

“I am not held hostage!” she said, interrupting their conversation, but William ignored her.

“You’ve kept her caged to yourself all day and all night. Allow one of us to have her.”

Victor pouted, but acquiesced. “You may have her. For now. Do take care that our adorable hedonist does not lay an arm on her.”

William was also an adept dancer. “I understand why Victor won’t let you go. You’re an accomplished dancer. Few can keep up with him.”

“I have a lot of deficiencies but as a Robin, I have the best speed and stamina.”

“Nonsense,” William said. “You have a surplus of admirable traits. Otherwise our leader wouldn’t be at your side the way he is. If you left Crown, he would be heartbroken.”

Adaline didn’t say anything, not immediately. “I…” William knew Victor best and he was confirming that Victor cared just as much about her as he did. “They need me at the post office but…”

“No one loves his magic tricks more than you do.” He glanced at Victor, who was standing near some of the Queen’s family, pulling a turtle out of a chalice, which elicited horrified stares.

“Oh dear. Should we do damage control?” she asked.

“Victor must reap his consequences. This is the norm.”

She laughed. 

“You love him,” he said.

His words echoed in their mouth and Adaline was momentarily lost for words. “As a daughter would a father,” she said too quickly.

William smirked. “Is that what you believe?” His eyes narrowed.

“Y-yes,” she said, showing hesitation. She recalled the way she felt when she kissed the corner of his lips. How her heart, her body, her mind were consumed by it during and ever since then.

William let her go. “Then go to him and do what your heart tells you to do.You are in control of yourself, Robin.”

Victor was waiting for her, having given the turtle to a noble’s child, who at least found amusement in his antics. “My Little Robin. Did my eldest fill your head with his pretty little words?” His palm touched her. Despite them being gloved, she felt as if they were bare.

“He tried, but I can resist him.” Her words weren’t necessarily true, and she wondered if Victor could also detect her lie.

“A valiant effort!”

They danced until the fireworks commenced, which signaled the end of the event. Their hands found each other as they sky lit up in various shades of gunpowder. “Should we go with the other Crown members?” she asked him as the crowd began to disperse.

Victor shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too much of a risk to travel this late and with this many nobles afoot.” Adaline’s stomach dropped from his words. “But you shall be safe with me!”

“Do they want to kill us?” she asked as they departed to the carriage. 

Victor took out a pocket watch and began to time the carriage. “My darling Robin, everyone does. Now if this carriage goes over seven minutes, we must make our disappearing act.”

Luckily the carriage stopped just after six minutes. “Did we arrive?”

He looked out the window. “We did, and not a moment to spare! Now, shall we?”

They were not at Castle Crown, but at a hotel.

“I had the servants help with our booking. Will you be alright with this arrangement?”

She nodded. “I understand the travel risk so yes.”

Naturally, this was one of the most well regarded hotels in all of London, and for England, for that matter. It was opulent, with it having a royal theme. Adaline found a mirror, where she saw her makeup had begun to run and her hair had loosened.

“Are you feeling alright?” She saw Victor’s expression through the mirror. His eyebrows were knitted in concern. William’s words echoed through her ears. If you left Crown, he would be heartbroken.

She turned to him. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a lot of things on my mind.”

He sat on the bed, patting the side for her to sit next to him, which she did without a second thought. “Won’t you tell your dearest Victor what’s on your mind?”

Adaline hesitated. “Just tired,” she lied.

Victor’s hand moved to her chin, tilting it in his direction. His eyes were so gentle, yet carried a weight to them. Much like she did. “My Little Robin…you know it’s not good to lie.” So he did detect when she had lied to him.

Adaline decided to come clean. “William said if I left Crown, you’d be heartbroken.”

The words hung in the air, sucking all the energy out. “Well…he’s….” Victor began, faltering. “He’s right. I wouldn’t make heads or tails without my swift Robin. She’s become important to me. More than she’ll ever know.”

His beautiful jewel-like eyes softened. William said she loved him but her own heart had to tell her. She closed her eyes, listening to her heart. All she could hear was it drumming in her chest as the memory of kissing his lips flooded to her again. She had lost count of how many times she replayed the memory.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Victor’s soft gaze on her. So she moved forward and raised her body, her lips once again grazing his beauty mark.

Victor didn’t react, which brought Alfons’ words back to light. If a tree falls down and no one hears it, does it make a sound?”

But her lips very much did that and he was awake this time.

“Sorry, I won’t do it--”

“My Robin!” he said, moving forward, his lips meeting hers again. He was soft, caring, and warm. All traits she had thought of him since the start. His kisses taste like champagne, like a celebration. He broke the kiss, adding small pecks. “Do not apologize,” he said between kisses. “Ever. Kiss me anytime. Anywhere.”

Her arms encircled around his neck, deepening the kiss.

“Just as you did the other night,” he said, to which she stopped the kiss.

“Huh?” She pulled away from him, but he kept his grip tight on her.

“It left me in a state of shock when you did that! Whatever impulse did you go through to kiss me like that in my sleep?”

“Wait. You felt that?” she was mortified. Now, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there. 

“Of course I did! To know my Robin loves me back…is that why you didn’t come the next day?”

“No! I mean…yes. I won’t ever--”

Victor interrupted her again. “Always kiss me. You have my heart, Robin.”

With that, she leaned in and kissed him again. Victor’s kisses were bountiful, each feeling like the sparks she saw in the sky that night, like magic. Pop. Pop. Pop.

He laid her down on the bed, her hands moving to run her fingers through his silky black hair. He was everything to her and so much more.

“My Robin,” he said.

“Call me by my name.”

“Adaline,” he said and he was rewarded with more kisses. 

She broke for air, but kept her grip on him. “My family would call me Della.”

“Della,” he said, his voice soft. Kiss. “A beautiful name.” He moved to kiss the scars on her neck. “Della…” Goosebumps littered her entire body. No one called her Della since the fire. Not until tonight. “Della, my Della.”

His words were like the wind to her, compelling her to take him. “Victor.” She deepened their kisses, sliding his coat down. She knew this was the man she wanted to spend her life with. Their relationship may have been odd, but this was what her heart wanted more than anything else in the world.

“Della,” he slid the dress off, leaving her in her corset. “I’m afraid I have to make you undergo another choice tonight. I’m sorry I keep doing this to you, my dear, but it is life altering.”

“I want to,” she said without hesitation. “It has to be you. Tonight. On the day when I’ve felt like…no. I’ve become Della again.” She unbuttoned his black undershirt, exposing him.

Victor nodded. “My Robin…er, Della--habit--a wise, confident decision on your part.” He pushed the strings of her corset, laying it beside them as he worked to free her from her chemise.

Adaline suddenly felt nervous, as if the reality of the situation was finally hitting her. 

Sensing this, Victor spoke up. “We can stop. No one will fault you for this.”

“I want to. I want you.”

“Then…” he kissed her scarred cheeks. “Allow me to teach you everything you need to know.” He placed her between the pillows after exposing her, his lips leaving no place unkissed. Every scar, everything white and pink and red and in between was blessed by Victor's lips. She thought of earlier as to why she didn't wear the foundation. She didn't need it. Not when Victor would always love her. 

“Let me see you too, Victor,” she said after he fully undressed her. 

He did as told and revealed himself to her. His hair appeared even more luxurious in this bare state. 

“You're gorgeous,” she whispered. 

Victor kissed her earlobe. “Would you like to learn a magic trick?” He asked, his voice lower than before.

“Please. I adore your magic tricks.”

Victor's hands tickled her abdomen before lowering, lowering between her legs. One finger slid inside her, her walls contracting. “It appears you're more than ready for my trick.” She kissed him deeply as he moved his finger inside her, circling around her nub inside her. But what surprised her was a second one being inserted at a different angle. 

“Victor!” She moaned. 

“Let me teach you, Della,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. He moved his fingers at two different angles. “Move your hips for me. Up and down. Set a nice rhythm. Like we're dancing again.” She did as she was told. “A perfect dancer. So pretty.” He said amidst her growing moans. “Keep going, my darling Della.” She moved in tandem with his fingers, her noises growing louder and louder.

“Sing for me, my Little Robin!” His fingers were now edging her decisively as she felt her entire body lighting up like the fireworks again but this time it wasn't a pop but rather something greater than that. She trembled, her body ringing out for him, moans echoing throughout the bedroom. 

He slowly withdrew his fingers from inside her. “You were so wonderful,” he said. “Would you like to stop here?”

She shook her head. “I want you to teach me everything, Victor. I'm certain.” 

He leaned in to kiss her, which she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. His now dried fingers were weaving through her hair as their bodies aligned. 

She breathed in and Victor cupped her cheek. “I've always desired you,” he said. “And when you were in my bed…” he slowly began to push inside her.

“Yes…” she said as she felt his intrusion. A sweet pressure as he entered her. She had been stretched out thanks to his fingers and she had never felt so complete, so full the way she did now with Victor. 

“I wanted this too. Now let's do one last dance for the night, shall we?”

Their hands found each other’s now stripped free from gloves as he made love to her, each and every one of their fingers intertwined so intimately, like the strings of a piano key, striking a nerve inside her as they moved as one. 

“My dance partner,” she whispered between their kisses and thrusts.

Their movements became more frenzied but their hands never unlocked as they kept going. “I'm afraid I'm about to…”

“Let go,” she said, her hands gripping tighter as she moved even more swiftly underneath him. She was the fastest of the Robins, after all. 

Victor's climax came and he spilled himself inside her, slowing down. Adaline gripped her hands tight, hoping to come again but she couldn't achieve it the way it had happened with his fingers. Victor pulled out of her swiftly and began working his fingers inside her again, this time pumping in and out of her, his fingertips grazing the sweet spot that made her react in increasingly louder moans and whimpers. “I want to make my Robin sing all night. It’s one of the most wonderful sounds I’ve ever heard.”

It only took a few moments for her body to respond the way he did, her body shaking as she cried out his name.

His arms went around her, spooning her from behind. “You're precious to me, Della. Thank you for choosing me. For wanting me back.”

Adaline smiled as she closed her eyes.

“And it seems my Della requires less teaching than I thought. She'll be an expert by the end of the week.”

She turned around to face him, kissing his beauty mark again, her leg wrapping around his. He gave her his widest, most sincere grin. “End of the week? How about the end of the night?”

[the-slasher-files]

SLASHER FILES' BLOOD FEST 2022 MASTERLIST

Just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who joined in, even if it was just for a week. I appreciate you all and you are all so talented. Thank you... See you in October 2023 🔪🤍

WEEK ONE

Jason in Trick or treat by @morgue-ratt

Micheal Myers - Teeth by @yeyinde

Jason & The Coven by @thrall-of-the-hill-arch

The Huntress - A Mother's Love by @reijniana

Vampire OC - Payment Plan by @thesightstoshowyou

Bo Sinclair x gn reader by @boxxyass

OC x reader by @queendeeshorrorimagines

Grabber - I won't tell by @lucifers-horror-harem

Werewolf x afab reader by @applesontheground

Billy Lenz x reader by @feelin-woozy

Our strange duet by @morvantmortuary

Sacrificial night by @the-slasher-files

WEEK TWO

OC x reader by @queendeeshorrorimagines

Asa Emory in God Complex by @morgue-ratt

Touching in the dark @morvantmortuary

Herbert West x gn reader by @applesontheground

Give in by @the-slasher-files

Heavens night by @lucifers-horror-harem

Sugar and Scarlet by @bisexual-horror-fan

Next by @thesightstoshowyou

Michael and Anne by @thrall-of-the-hill-arch

WEEK THREE

Leslie Vernon x gn reader by @applesontheground

Vincent Sinclair x gn reader by @boxxyass

We match by @bisexual-horror-fan

Glass by @morgue-ratt

WEEK FOUR

OC werewolves x gn reader by @applesontheground

WEEK FIVE

Norman Bates x gn reader by @applesontheground

[marksbear2]

FANDOMS

So this an update!! I added more things and such with new rules.

keep in mind these are not ALL OF THEM

Euphoria

The boys

We are who were are.

What we do in the shawdows

Jujutsu Kaisen

Hunter x Hunter

Chainsaw man

Banshee

Marvel,DC, and XMEN

Interview with the vampire 2022 one

ANY SLASHER

Nine perfect strangers

Stranger things

HOLLYWOOD

Fnaf

Overwatch

Tf2

Supernatural

ELITE

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

YOU

PEAKYBLINDERS

APEX LEGENDS

Top gun maverick

Naruto

NBC Hannibal

9-1-1

criminal minds

shameless

Actors/Dilfs

WWE

The Witcher

bullet train

fight club

LUCIFER.

THE LOST BOYS

BIG MOUTH

AMSTERDAM

HAMILTON

Call me by your name

GLASS AND SPLIT

Altered carbon

Kick ass

Heartbreak High

Young royals

Don't hug me Im scared

The black Phone (Only Vance and The grabber)

Mysterious skin

Heartstopper

BTS

The summer I turned pretty

Doom Patrol

White collar

Bullet train

American gigolo

The umbrella academy

Top Gun

Cod

DBD

Teen wolf

Saw

The quarry

Fallout

Elite

The witcher

Breaking bad

On my block

AND MORE THAT I CAN'T THINK OF THE MOMENT

I write for like thousands of fandoms so I maybe can't remember them all just add the fandom from the characters they are from. I can honestly write an OC x reader I don't mind at all

I don't have many boundaries. Just nothing that's too weird to write. Like on my blog I don't care much about something crazy or weird or something out of this world crazy.

I definitely don't write for female readers. Or incest and just lots of things that other writers don’t write.

So the reader is mostly he/him he/they or they/the, ftm(Trans)

[ryroth-tss]

What we need to be to make it

SoftDOM!The Grabber x Captive! Reader (OC)

Summary: Cherry is The Grabbers latest victim. But he hasn't done with her like the others, because Cherry is a Good Girl.

---- TW: Dubious consent, non-con elements

Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-conRape, The sex here is dubious so rape tags are added, Dubious Consent, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Come Eating, Vaginal Fingering, Praise Kink, Original Character(s)

AO3 link:

[ilovesvancehopperandbruceyamada]

GIVE ME REQUESTS PLEASE 😭😭😭

I do:

Yandere

Poly

Dead reader

Your oc x tbp character

Smut

Tbp characters x reader

I don't:

Dead black phone character

Character x Character

Yandere reader

Pregnancy

Grabber x reader

Finney's dad x reader

I ONLY DO THE BLACK PHONE CHARACTERS

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

List of Characters Fanfic Requests III

ATTENTION ALL FANFIC READERS! I REPEAT, ATTENTION ALL FANFIC READERS!!!

My third list of character fanfic requests and request inbox is now opened. My other two fanfic lists are still open for requests, so please send them in.

List of Characters I

List of Characters II

I take my time into writing requests, since I’m busy with my job most of the time and writing my stories, so the request box will be opened and closed from time to time so that I can catch up.

And as a side note here, I DO NOT write for Character x OC fanfic requests AT ALL. I write Character x Reader fanfics ONLY...

List of Characters III

Marcus Corvinus-Underworld Evolution 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Michael Corvin-Underworld 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Lucian-Underworld 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Albert Shaw/The Grabber-The Black Phone 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Legolas-Lord of the Rings Trilogy 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Thranduil-The Hobbit Trilogy 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Aziraphale and Crowley-Good Omens 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Albert Wesker-Resident Evil 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Shadow Moon-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Mad Sweeney-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Technical Boy-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Mr. World-American Gods 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Michael Kenmore-Stargate Atlantis 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Todd the Wraith-Stargate Atlantis 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Lestat de Lioncourt-The Vampire Chronicles 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Warlock-Warlock and Warlock the Armageddon (With Julian Sands) 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Bo, Vincent, and Lester Sinclair-House of Wax (2005) 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Symbols:

🌸-Fluff 

❤️‍🔥-Smut 

👐🏻-General 

 💐-Dating 

 💘-Romance 

🖤-Angst 

🔪🩸-Violence 

 🔞-NSFW

Citrus Scale:

🍑 (Peach)-No Sexual Interactions 

🍎 (Citrus)-Romantic hug/or kiss 

🍊 (Orange)-Romantic hug/or kiss with a hint of sexual interaction 

 🍈 (Lime)-Heavy making out with light groping 

 🍋 (Lemon) Actual Sexual Intercourse

[laura-the-yellow-cat]

The Ghost of Butcher Man My NEW MSA X Legend Quest Enemy OC

Full Name: The Ghost of Butcher Man, Chad (in the past)

First Name:

Las Name:

Nicknames:

Gender: Male

Profile Pic

Age: 5 (his past/child from), 37 (his adult from, later his ghost from; deceased)

Blood Type:

Occupation:

Actual or Past Occupation:

Favourite Shows/Games: ___/___/___

(___,___,___)

Favourite Food:

Instrument:

Favourite Animal:

Family Members Relatives:

Other Family Members Relatives:

Species: Human, later Ghost

Friends:

Enemies:

Alignment: Good (in the past), Bad/Evil

Likes: Being kind, friendly and helpful (in the past) Being a butcher, sings Ring around the rosies song (if he saids and stops sing like "We'll fall... Fear!"), Being strong like his father, being helpful for his mother, Everybody stucks in his big house,

Dislikes: Not being a butcher, his big sisters are treating him like a little child, Everybody are escaping from him and his spooky big house

Hobby:

Goals:

Weapons: Cleaver and Butcher's Hook Grabber

Powers and Abilities:

Skills and Abilities:

Fears/Phobias:

Skin Colour: ___ (his past from), Electric Blue (his ghost from)

Eyes Colour: Sky blue (his past from), Light Blue (his ghost from)

Hair Colour: ___ (his past from), Light Sky blue (his ghost from)

Clothes: ___ (his past from), Butcher Clothes and Vest (his ghost from)

Shoes: ___ (his past from), Boots (his ghost from)

Accessories: ___ (his past from), Apron and Gloves (his ghost from)

Nationality:

Sexuality:

Hair Styles: ___ (his past from), Pushed Back Long (his ghost from)

Mustache Style: Hungarian Mustache

Beard Styles: N/A

@sfcabanasstarcgs and @mysteryideasgroup

This one sounds like Philip (from The Owl House/his child from) and Butcher (from Hello Neighbor: Welcome to the Raven Brooks and Secret Neighbor)

[myers-meadow]

Meadow's Masterlist for Otis B. Driftwood, Gaunter O'Dimm and more

My list of works is growing and growing, so I split my masterlist up. Here is the list for the fics I've written for The Witcher 3, Otis B. Driftwood, Jason Voorhees, Moon Knight, Hellboy and The Conjuring franchise. Created and last updated on 29-04-2023. All my writing, even the shorter pieces that don't go onto AO3, are reblogged over at @myers-meadow-archive for ease of keeping track and archival purposes.

The link to my list for my other masterlist with Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, the Sinclair brothers and The Grabber is here.

The links are in order of fandom, the newest writings are at the top.

Reblogging my writing is very much appreciated, but reposting it, on any site, is plagiarism.

Gaunter O'Dimm

relationship headcanons (sfw)

multichapter (completed, nsfw) (AO3)

oneshots (nsfw) (AO3)

Otis B. Driftwood

Heaven help the fool who falls in love (18 +, oneshot)

A muse for him and him alone (heed warnings, multichap)

Gn reader: Knocking on a stranger's door (sfw, alternate beginning to Sweet thing)

Fem reader: Sweet thing/forgotten hot cocoa (mild smut, oneshot)

New Year's (drabble, sfw)

Gn reader: Late Night Visit (to the Firefly House), (sfw, oneshot).

Dating headcanons

Slow burn Otis Driftwood x OC in an AU shared with @immortal-velociraptor and @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better. Chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter 6.1, chapter 6.2.

Other horror characters/Multiple fandoms

Valak x reader, Ed Warren x reader: Serpent Tongue (dark, 18 + heed warnings, oneshot)

Jason Voorhees x reader: A Strawberry Summer (fluff, sfw, oneshot).

Slashers and their favourite flowers headcannon list

Notes from your slasher S/O

Other fandoms

Nuada Silverlance from Hellboy 2 - multichapter (completed)

King Radovid and Geralt of Rivia oneshots

Moon boys and Arthur Harrow x OCs: Chapter one.

Dividers made by me; Knight Daniel Ridgway's Women Washing Clothes by a Stream and Claude Monet's The Artist's Garden at Vétheuil.

[brokenhcrt]

PINNED POST!

indie sideblog for my fandomless ocs. this blog is 21+, and my partners are to also be 21+. mun is 27

follows from: drummerdaines

low / sporadic activity. default muse is MADDOX LAKE if no muse is stated. opens memes navigation

maddox lake, model & bridesmade for hire, 25, sabrina carpenter | witch, bisexual phoenix hastner, receoptionist for a law firm, 25, joe keery, gay storm simms, lead guitarist & writer for vulgar crown, 22 - 29, joe quinn, pansexual theodora winifred, jobless, 140 ( immortal ), grace van dien, bisexual ashlee georgia, job tba, 25, miles robins | ghost human hybrid, bisexual mylene baines, librian, 48, leigh anne pinnock ( main ) | demon,bisexual sky carpenter, telemarketer, 50, mackenyu ( main ) | demon, bisexual whitney gibbs, horror com youtuber / gamer / twitch streamer, 25, adeline rudolph, bisexual tiffany 'tink' bell, retail worker, 26, katherine mcnamara, pansexual bianca winters, ice rink employee, 26. courtney eaton | winter spirit, pansexual harlow beaumont, ex childstar, waiter, 24 ( subjected to change ), charlie gillespie bisexual alexander wright jr, mechanic, 25 ( subjected to change ), jeremy shada, bisexual lavender henderson, lead singer of unholy martyr, 27, karen fukuhara bisexual mary castro, guitarist for unholy martyr, 26, camilla mendes lesbian

mun uses animated icons for ooc posts

blogroll:

drummerdaines ( oc drummer for a heavy metal band ; FOLLOWS FROM HERE )

piecedpirates ( mumu one piece ; main prioity / fixation )

wiildhcartsrun ( resource / writing blog ) 

hollowkidds ( ma.yahart & fark.leminkus )

rules:

basics

21+ for rp partners. this is a sideblog so follows will come from drummerdaines, who is a muse linked with storm

once sm.ut starts to happen, icons / gifs will be dropped out of respect for those who created the ones i use, a banner will be used in it's place , this made by cafekitsune

nsfw comes in many forms and i welcome all types as i do like my horror

blog runs on a queue & is low priorty ; i mainly work with muse instead of trying to force it

i am open to writing on discord, and have many more muses avalaible there too, including canon characters

will give out my discord to those intersted in it

due running three other blogs, i will be putting focus onto replies for here on saturdays and sundays. with piecedpirates getting most of my attention during the week though of course if something is giving me dopamine, i will chase that

will not

ship with muses under 18, prefered to not interact with muses under 18

ship minor x adult, incest ( inlcuding foster, adoptive & step )

write with characters like the grabber or pennywise

banned faces are: the dead, abusers, john.nydeep, amb.erheard, no.ahschnapp, chi.naannemc.lain, tay.lorswit, jos.huabassett

specfic bans, these fc aren't banned overall, i just wont engage in a romantic / shippy plot with: bar.rykeoghan fc with maddox and jose.phquinn fc with theo, gracevandien fc with storm. sorry h3llch33r fans ruined this for me

write with people writing real people, including wwe stars as their 'characters'

[mandowifey]

Self indulgence is doodling your insert/reader getting snatched up by a nasty killer boy.