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slasher-catcher · 2 years

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Spider Rings - Ch.1

Art the Clown x Reader

(Originally posted on AO3 by Frothy-Frowns -- relax, that’s my NotSFW username, I’m not ripping someone else’s work, lol)

Summary: In cute, playful banter, you accidentally marry a strange monochromatic clown with cold eyes. Congrats! Best of luck to you on your honeymoon~

First chapter is SFW. The next one is NSFW and has two versions for either genitalia, depending on the reader’s preference. Absolutely NO minors, please.

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18 Pages/ 8,561 Words ... so, uh, a pretty lengthy read.

Warnings: ... none in this chapter really, other than Art being Art. So like.. mild stalking? General creepy vibes? Some good ol’ fluff. Accidental marriage. Maybe hinted unhealthy obsession. Swearing. This closely follows the beginning of Terrifier.

I completely threw away the whole bathroom scene because that man will NOT be getting any ass if he’s been rolling around like a dung beetle. We have SOME standards, damn. (Reader’s description isn’t enclosed, but I sorta wrote this with them being plus sized in mind, so do with that information what you will. Also Reader uses they/them pronouns.)

“I think I just twisted my ankle!”

“Dawn, really?” Tara laughed in exasperation, propping the stumbling scarecrow girl up on her left, tucking her shoulder underneath her arm for support. Reader took to her right, snickering along with their drunken giggling. The little group had just left a rather rowdy Halloween party just down the street, slowly making their way towards Dawn’s car parked to the curb, a ways further than the line of cars of the fellow partygoers.

The outing sure was… something, as far as Reader could say. Parties weren’t particularly their scene, but Dawn was pretty persistent when she wanted to be (which was often, unfortunately), and Tara may or may not have bribed them with the promise of Halloween treats that were sure to be there. Reader could still taste the sweet icing of the orange and black cupcakes on their tongue. The sugary confection was certainly more welcoming than the aftertaste of a poorly made candy corn jell-o shot, anyhow.

The feverish night seemed to slowly simmer down to a chilly crawl the further the trio walked into the night, their chatter and clicking steps being the only sound in the hushed dark. Streetlights overhead lit the stretch of asphalt, concrete and their hair a mix of blinding white and cold orange, making their wriggling shadows seem a lot taller than what they really were. “Maybe ya wouldn’t have twisted it if you hadn’t gotten on top of that table,” Reader sighed, shaking their head and readjusting Dawn’s weight on their side. Dawn only shrugged her shoulders in dismissal, blonde hair bouncing with the movement. “And dance with clearance-isle Gru and his cluster-fuck of minions on the floor?? Hard pass, babe.”

Tara groaned in mock irritation, rolling her eyes.The print of her ribcage-designed top flashed a smidge in the cool lights every time she twisted a certain way. “Thanks a lot, by the way.”

“For what?” Dawn laughed.

“For promising you weren’t gonna get shit faced tonight.”

The girl pulled an innocent face that neither Reader nor Tara believed. “Guys kept buying me drinks. I can’t help it if people find me interesting!” “Yeah, it was definitely your mind that they were after,” Reader snarked sarcastically, earning them a swift pinch on their shoulder before Dawn fully pulled her arm off of them, retrieving her phone from her patchwork pockets. Tara easily caught sight of the cell phone’s glow and twisted her head, trying to sneak a better peek. “Who’re you texting?” Dawn raised her nose high into the air and tucked the screen against her shoulder, hiding it away from her prying eyes. “None of your business!”

Reader’s eyebrow raised as Tara pulled away from under Dawn’s arm, leaving her to fully walk without both of their support. “You gave that asshole your number, didn’t you?” Tara asked accusingly, nearly scoffing in disbelief. In hindsight, she really shouldn’t be so surprised. This was Dawn they were talking about. The girl has zero restraint for most everything that comes her way.

Dawn wagged a finger in her face back and forth mockingly. “Oh my god, you’re SO jealous.”

“Of what? That kid was talking to like, five other girls!”

Reader rolled their eyes and gave their head another shake. They could hardly believe that anyone would want to give their number to the meatheaded viking guy that kept purposely spilling his sticky, watered down witches brew punch on nearly all the girls at the party for a chance to chat, but Dawn was just a different breed, they reckoned. It wasn’t too long until they finally reached their designated curb, slowing down their pace when the car came into view.

“Oh, stop being such a bitch, just get in the car.” Dawn scooted past the both of them to round the vehicle, only to be stopped mid stride by Tara taking hold of her wrist. “Oh, you are not driving.”

Dawn dangled her car keys in her hand, letting them clink and clack, as if the gesture alone proved her sobriety. “I’m fine.” Tara wasn’t having any of it. The girl herself had thrown back the odd drink or three too, but at least she could walk a decently straight line without any assistance. Well… not much, anyway. Although, those Jekyll & Gins were beginning to talk back to her.

Nevertheless, she held her hand out to Dawn expectantly. “Give me the keys,” she demanded.

Reader nudged past them to lean against the side of the car, arms folded across their chest as they watched the two throw a minor fight over the keys, patiently waiting for them to finish. The ends of their long, billowy black sleeves fluttered from the chilly breeze that flew past. Their fingers tippy-tapped against their arms, tongue idly prodding at the little extensions they stuck onto their canines. In all honesty they were pretty impressed that the fangs had stayed intact all throughout the night – they were certain when they were sticking them on that they would pop right off in the middle of the party. Hooray for little victories! While the little group hovered around the car, across the way were a man dressed from head to toe in a clown costume, trudging along. The steps he took in his rather large black shoes padded louder the closer he walked towards them. The black trash bag that was slung over his back crinkled when his gloved grip tightened around it. After what felt like an hour – but what was definitely only a few heavy seconds – Dawn finally caved, letting Tara take the keys from her hand and slumping back into the cool metal of the car. Reader frowned in disapproval, arms crossing a little tighter against their chest when Tara gave a little stumble of her own. “Really don’t think that’s such a good idea either, girly. You smell pretty flammable yourself.” “Then why don't you drive us, Reader?” Dawn released a long, drawn out groan, beginning to lean her weight more and more on the hood of her car. It seemed like all those poison apple martinis were finally dragging her down into a full stupor. Oh boy. They sighed and scratched awkwardly at the back of their neck, fingers catching on the black lace, jeweled choker wrapped snugly around it. They sure did hope they didn’t accidentally rub off the two little fang bite marks they dotted right above it with red marker. “You already know I can’t drive. Besides, my place is nearby. Can’t very well drive you home and make it back, D.”

The blonde scarecrow only gave an unintelligible drunken grumble under her breath at that.

Tara groaned and stuffed the keys into her pocket. “Yeah you’re right, Reads. I’m fucking lit. But if I get something to eat, I can drive us, okay?”

Footsteps stopped more than a few meters away from the trio, crunching leaves silencing. The clown paused when their squabbling finally reached his ears, snapping him out of the set daze he had been in. With a frown he watched them from the shadows, as silent as the night around them. Pitch black eyes studied the three persons closely, as if memorizing their images for later.

“Did you say food?? Is there even a place that’s open late?” Dawn sat up a little from her perch on the hood, a light cringe stretched across her face. Reader nodded, sticking their thumb out and pointing it in one direction. “Well there’s a pizza place just ‘round here. Could give that a go, yeah? I can stay with you guys a tick longer until you get your bearings.”

Tara gave a short nod at the suggestion. “Yeah, that’ll work fine. Come on D, let’s-”

“Okayokayokay. Just give me… one minute.” Dawn mumbled, holding up a hand as her eyes fell closed. Reader hummed with a little concern, biting their lip until just a little fang poked out over their black painted lips. As aggravating and nerve-wracking as Dawn could be, they certainly didn’t take much pleasure in seeing her aching like this. “Fuck me,” Tara groaned, throwing her head back in annoyance, black hair spilling across her face. “Like, one minute, for real.” Dawn pleaded softly before falling silent, needing a moment.

The skeleton gave a sigh, shifting her weight until she stood comfortable enough to wait ‘one minute’ out. Her eyes began wandering around to take in the not-so-interesting scenery before they caught sight of someone in the shadows. Her brows furrowed as she stared at the tall, thin clown standing stock still, a rotten toothed grin stretched across his face and accented with heavy black grease paint as he stared right back at her. A chill shot down her spine.

“Take all the time you need, it’s okay.” Reader pulled their cross body bag a little closer, digging into it until they retrieved an unopened bottle of water and of ibuprofen, handing both it and the pills over to Dawn. The scarecrow didn’t hesitate to toss the medicine into her mouth and wash it down with heavy gulps of water, nodding a silent thank you towards them.

The vampire raised an eyebrow, snorting in amusement. “Y’know, I could have just handed you a couple of fentanyl and you took them without even looking at them. For shame, Dawn. For shame.” The water bottle crunched loudly as Dawn drained it empty, gasping when she finally pulled it away from her lips. “At this point I’m willing to suck twelve dicks if it meant my head would stop spinning.” Reader choked, barking out a surprised laugh. “Jesus christ you’re a hazard to society! Your mother must be proud.”

Dawn grinned, tossing the plastic bottle into her car carelessly. “Who do ya think taught me, Reads?”

And just like that, Reader’s laugh turned into a thread of strained wheezes, leaving them to clutch their stomach.

Neither friend noticed Tara’s stiff stance as she continued to lock eyes with the clown nervously. Her shoulders fully tensed up when the clown’s dark eyes released their grip onto Tara and darted swiftly over to land on Reader as soon as they began laughing at whatever they and Dawn were talking about.. A bead of sweat began to form on her brow from her rising anxiety. Just what was this guy's damage? “.. D. D, Reads, look.”

Prompted by her urgent hissing, they both turned their heads towards where she was staring.

“Holy. Shit.” Dawn began laughing at the stranger in the shadows. Reader blinked, taken quite aback when their gaze fell onto the man in the shadows of the buildings, who already had such a piercing stare settled onto them. Not a shred of light seemed to reflect in his gaze.

Did.. did he recognize them from somewhere?? He couldn’t have been at the party they just left, he was coming from the wrong direction. That, and Reader was pretty sure that they’d remember a unique face like his. The sharp, protruded cheekbones with an equally sharp chin that jutted out, a large hooked nose with a little black dot on the tip and heavy makeup lined around his eyes and mouth sure did stand out, even in the dark. They could tell that he certainly put a lot of work into his costume, and it definitely showed.

They raised a hand and gave a polite little wave, their sleeve swaying with the movement. “Uh, hey there! Lovely night, isn’t it?”

“Reader!!” Tara hissed and grabbed their waving wrist, tugging them back and making them give a little squeak in surprise. “That is not funny. I’m about to scream.”

Reader turned to look at Tara, face twisted in confusion as they rubbed at their wrist. “I.. I wasn’t jok-”

“Heeeey, handsome!!” Dawn called out, waving widely to him, laughing loudly. “My friend wants your number!” “Dawn, cut it out,” Tara grimaced, looking back and forth between her heckling friend and the menacing stranger. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Dawn disregarded her friend’s demand, always looking for a way to further stir the pot of trouble. “Come buy us dinner!!”

As the two quarreled, never did the clown’s piercing stare leave their vampire-dressed friend. A little trickle of worry began filling Reader when they realized that he never blinked once. Their hands slowly closed into one another, twisting with concern. Aw man, was he needing something? He seemed so unnaturally still. They took a short step towards him, tilting their head to the side. “Hey, um.. do you need help with something? Is it … your bag? I could help carr-” “Oh my god you guys, stop!” Tara’s breath got momentarily caught in her throat when Reader took a step closer towards that.. thing. Her hand shot out to once again grapple their friend and yank them closer, keeping her hand around their wrist. “Just shut the fuck up.” Their eyebrow twitched in annoyance with their friend, yanking their wrist out of her grip with a silent huff. Heaven forbid they manage to get one word in without her interrupting. “T, please. I was just saying hello. That’s not a crime.” “Maybe he’ll drive us home,” Dawn snarked at Tara, swiping the keys from her to dangle in front of her face.

“Seriously you guys, I wanna leave. Now.” Tara deliberately looked away from the stranger, not being able to handle those ice cold eyes peering at them from the dark. Of a clown, of all things, a fucking clown. They gained some weird creeping Peeping Tom and he just HAD to be a clown.

Reader pinched their brow in frustration before calling out to the lingering clown once again. “I’m sorry for my friends, sir, we…” When they had glanced back towards where he had been located, the shadows were bare. Their face creased with confusion and gave the whole street a quick look around, frowning lightly. “... where did he go??”

At their ominous words, Tara whipped back and glanced around as they had, feeling her anxiety increase tenfold. A sticky ball of dread began growing inside Tara’s belly, forcing her to nudge Dawn awake from her slouched, lethargic fog. “Let’s go. Come on, let’s just go.” She tugged her off the car’s hood, pulling her along. Reader trudged along right behind them, arms beginning to hug around their center. The encounter succeeded in throwing them off their kilter a bit. The guy hadn’t even said a word and the girls had treated him so awkwardly. Oh, they could already tell that this will eat away at them for at least the next few nights.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

The large, brightly glowing sign that read PIZZA, WINES & LIQUOR buzzed over the pizza shop with a hum. Inside the shop, rock music accompanied both Tara and Reader as they sat together in one of the few booths provided in the small closure. Reader lightly swung their feet, keeping themself occupied by sipping on the drinks that were provided and carefully folding the napkins they plucked out of the table's dispenser. They hummed along with the overhead guitar solo as they slowly created a little origami creature.

Tara leaned against the pale bricked wall of the inner booth, thumb sliding across her screen every couple of seconds. She was going through the reel of selfies that were taken at the party, many of the three friends laughing along and having fun.

"Oh yeah? You dressed up?" At the main counter, the owner stood with a telephone pressed to the side of his face, rapping his knuckles against the counter as he spoke. "Oh, you sick fuck… where am I gonna go, back to my wife?" He replied as if whatever notion the person on the receiver had said was incredulous.

Tara’s eyes pulled away from her screen and glanced over her shoulder at the pizza man, unimpressed with the one sided conversation. Out of curiosity she looked back at Reader to see if they too were listening in, but they seemed to be completely into their own little world.

The man's chatter went on and Tara decided to sink herself back into the photo reel, until a brightly flashing red battery icon took over the screen, before it completely turned black. Her tired face reflected back at her. "Great."

Almost as if summoned by the dying battery, Dawn’s heels clacked loudly on the tiled floor as she made her way back from the bathrooms, the toilet still running loudly in her wake. The restaurant phone began to ring once again in the background as she slid into the empty side of the booth, groaning in relief.

"That was the longest piss I have ever taken."

Tara placed her phone back into her pocket, sarcasm dripping off her reply. "Thank you for sharing that."

Reader snickered under their breath, fangs poking out from their lip as a smile tugged on the corners of their mouth. "Charming as always, D."

Dawn made a face at them before pulling her own phone out, scrolling through her notifications. "This guy wants me to meet him at his apartment right now."

"What a shocker," Tara replied easily, taking a peek across the table at her phone, as if to read the message herself.

Reader glanced up from their napkin, giving Dawn a raised eyebrow before returning to their folding and creasing. "Are you gonna do it?"

The scarecrow shrugged, a mischievous smirk pulling at her lips. "I told him I would."

That made Tara’s eyes snap back to their friend. "What??"

Dawn pulled up from her phone with a roll of her eyes. Jesus, sometimes Tara’s nagging really grinded on her nerves. “I’m kidding. I have a little more self respect than that.”

“If only you had a brain.” The skeleton replied, side eyeing their friend with a smirk, folding her thin arms and propping them on the table. Dawn sent a snarky face at her in response. “I’ve been wanting to use that one all night.”

“Congratulations,” she sneered saucily before tucking back into her phone screen. Just as the word had left her mouth, the door of the shop was tugged open with a clatter, doorbell tolling with a ding of the new arrival. The monochromatic clown that they had unofficially met in the street pulled his way through the door, trash bag sitting heavily over his back.

Neither the scarecrow nor the vampire looked up, too preoccupied with their activities to take notice, but the skeleton sure did. The bell caught her ear and had her looking over, only to feel her heart drop hard at the sight of the clown. Her chest began hurting with rising anxiety when she saw that his seemingly soulless eyes instantly targeted and locked onto Reader as he made his way to the booth parallel to their own. He stuffed the trash bag in first, pushing it against the wall and sliding in after it. His gloved hands folded together and were placed onto the table before him, settling into a comfy position. His gaze never faltered.

Tara took a slow, shuddery breath before nudging Reader’s side. “R.. Reader…”

Reader’s eyebrow twitched, a little stamp of tongue sticking out from between their lips in concentration. After making one final crease, Reader finally sat back against their seat in triumph, lifting the folded napkin up off the table. In their hands sat a little bat, its wings stretched out wide. “Look! It’s a little baby! A stinky sky puppy!” They grinned, little fangs flashing. They turned towards Tara, holding the creation out in front of her. “Tadaa!”

Tara shook her head, lazily swatting the napkin off their palm before taking their shoulder into her hand, pulling them closer to her. She tucked her face low, whispering into their ear. “That guy is back.”

Reader blinked, frowning when she had slapped the origami creature out of their hand. Rude.

It took a second longer for her words to register in their brain. “..Guy??” Prompted now, their head swiveled to the left and gave a surprised little jolt when the previously empty booth beside them was now preoccupied by the mystery man from the shadows. A shiver rolled down their back. Had he been staring at them the whole time?

.. They found it a little concerning that they found that a little exciting.

The bat had smacked into Dawn, making her sputter and swat it away from her, looking up to make a comment on it, but paused when she noticed that both Tara and Reader were looking off to the side. She followed their gaze, and laughed. “Look, it’s your boyfriend~” She winked at the vampire before returning to her phone.

Reader’s cheeks warmed a little at the teasing, but otherwise hadn’t looked away. They seemed to have entered a staring contest with the clown man. The rock music overhead still strummed along as their eyes stayed locked. They could already feel their own eyes beginning to sting. How could he go this long without blinking?? Honestly they were beginning to feel pretty impressed. Reader’s ears twitched as the sound of the shop owner’s voice sounded in the background, him talking to a new caller. “I told you this a week ago.” He spoke, tone irritable. “We’ll go to your mother’s…. I don’t know, six weeks from now.”

The clown didn’t seem to notice anything else in his environment, fully focused on the vampire sitting across from him. Slowly, his head tilted to the side, gaze never breaking. Almost instantly, Reader did the same, head slowly tilting to the side, mirroring the stranger. Something about the exchange felt so … intimate. In a way that Reader could neither comprehend nor explain. A smile broke across their face.

The clown stayed absolutely stationary, but Reader didn’t miss the way the black corner of his mouth twitched upward.

The pizza man seemed to have finally taken notice of his newest customer and tugged the phone away from his face. “Ey I’ll be right with ya, buddy!” Not a second later he was mumbling back into the receiver, scoffing under his breath. “You gotta see the shape of this fuckin’ guy that just walked in.”

If the stranger had heard any of the man’s words, he didn’t give any indication that he had. He stayed, frozen in time, as still as a professional New Yorker statue performer. Which is why it made Reader jolt again in surprise when suddenly he sat rod straight in his seat, shoulders pulling back and flashing a bright grin at Reader. Were his teeth that red before?

The goofy face and the absurdity of the situation had Reader finally snapping. Their face cracked into a wide grin, fangs flashing brightly as they released a sudden burst of laughter, lifting a hand up to cover their teeth. The clown’s head tilted again, their odd reaction seeming to catch him off guard. His grin faltered for a moment, eyes searching the giggling vampire trying desperately to muffle their noise. Slowly, his red and black toothed grin stretched even wider, dark eyes crinkling as an actual authentic smile took over his face. Oh, he liked that reaction… he liked that a lot.

Tara had been keeping her eye set on the stranger as well, not trusting anything about him. Something was off about him, she just knew it. Reader’s sudden outburst of giggles made her damn near leap out of her skin in surprise, snapping to look their way. Did they not see it too? Even with the way he’s been just oogling them??

She dropped her hand back onto their shoulder, swiftly pulling them back to facing her. She lowered her head to them, aggravation etched heavily in both her expression and voice as she hissed to them. “Reads, stop it. He’s fucking creepy. You’re only making it worse!”

The vampire only shook their head in dismissal, waving her off with a lighthearted smile. “Oh it’s fine, T. He’s just playing around.”

“It’s creepy.” She repeated, not relenting.

“I think it’s pretty charming, really. Look!” When they both turned to look at the clown again, his position changed once again. His elbows were planted into his table, gloved hands had their fingers laced together for his pointed chin to settle right on top of them, smiling brightly at Reader as if he had been waiting for them to look at him again. Their pleased reaction made his grin widen just that much. Reader returned the toothy smile, cheeks warming under the heavy attention. It wasn’t something they were used to, and in most circumstances made them uncomfortable, but the way the monochromatic stranger looked at them so warmly had their chest doing.. something. Something they couldn’t quite put their finger on, but it sure did feel fluttery. Exciting. They easily fell back into another eye lock with the stranger, enjoying the silly faces he pulled, and the rather cute toothy smile.

Tara gulped silently, painted lips twitching into a harder frown. Something was wrong about this. He was wrong. Everything about him was wrong. She didn’t like how his eyes bore so deeply into Reader. She shook her head, short black hair gently fluttering along with the movement. Reader’s second burst of giggling after the clown made yet another weird face – this time, he lifted a knuckle up to his large hooked nose and gave it a little cranking motion, sticking his nasty tongue out, face scrunched – made her shudder, arms wrapping around her middle.

Almost miraculously, The scarecrow finally pulled her nose out from her phone screen again. Her brow furrowed as she took in Tara’s tense posture. “Are you okay?” She received no answer, and turned her head to follow their gaze to, surprise surprise, see that the clown was still upsetting her. Reader seemed fine enough, so why couldn’t she be?

Tara slowly pulled her eyes off of him to finally look back at her friend across the table, gaze hard. “I think we should get our food to go.”

“Why?” Dawn frowned back, not at all pleased with the idea of leaving after they’ve just got settled down. She followed the skeleton’s stiff gaze as it flicked back across Reader and landed on the clown man once again. “Him?”

As far as Dawn could see, the guy was just a fucked up looking weirdo. Reader seemed into it enough, so what was the deal? She didn’t want to get up just because some ugly guy had the hots for their friend. She knew Tara could be a little protective of them – and her, on occasion – but jesus, sometimes too far was too far.

“Seriously, I wanna leave.”

An annoyance dripped off Dawn as she yanked her phone off the table and pulled out from the booth. “Jesus christ.”

Tara’s heart dropped again that night, feeling a cold sweat forming as Dawn made her way to the clown. “D, stop.”

She took no heed of Tara’s empty words as she stood in front of the guy. Despite her being literally right there in front of him, he seemed completely zeroed in on Reader, eyes not wavering for a millisecond off of them. God, this freak had it bad, huh. “Um, excuse me. Excuse me.” Dawn batted his arm. It was like she was just a gust of wind, because he didn’t acknowledge her existence. Or anything, for that matter, outside of Reader.

Reader blinked when Dawn scooted herself in front of the clown, brow raised in curiosity. What was she planning to do? They certainly hoped that she wasn’t planning to bully or embarrass him, as she was pretty known to do every so often. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong, so what was the problem?

The man didn’t seem to see a problem. Hell, his dark gaze stayed absolutely locked onto them, even with Dawn lowering her hand to hover right in his face and beginning to snap loudly not two inches away from his face. He didn’t even blink, painted lips tilted upward and eyes lidded lightly as he stared deep into their soul. It… made a shiver crawl down their body, though definitely not an unwelcome one. They swallowed, feeling the air between them become more and more intimate the longer his lidded eyes glued to them. Hoh boy.

“Can I get a picture with you??” Dawn persisted, head tilting until it completely covered his eye’s path, golden hair falling from her shoulders and down in a curtain, further blocking his way. Reader suddenly took in a breath of air, not realizing that they had been holding it for the majority of their locked gazes. Had their heart been pounding in their chest this whole time?? Slowly they placed a hand over their chest, as if to steady the beating muscle.

Dawn’s light irritation grew when the clown’s gaze seemed to stare right through her, as if she were just air. You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Dawn, come on.” Tara urged, hugging herself tighter.

“Shut up.” She waved her off like a pesky fly, trying to grab the clown’s attention again. “Hello? Helloooo??” She blinked in annoyance. Finally she reached out and grasped his closest arm, lifting it out of the way and dropping it over the back of his booth seat. “Okay, I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes.’” She surged forward, plopping herself right onto his thigh, moving to press her faux straw covered chest against his, making herself comfortable. Reader blinked in surprise at Dawn’s sudden invasion. They frowned at her, suddenly feeling heavily shameful at her intrusion of his personal space, as if they made her do it. “Jesus, Dawn! Sir I-I’m sorry, she’s..” Their words tapered off when his deep, dark eyes once again met theirs when Dawn took her seat on him, moving out of the way. They became flustered once again. Even with their rambunctious, personal-bubble-popping friend making herself cozy on his lap, his attention never faltered, never waned, never blinked. Reader felt their face beginning to heat up once again. Why did that make them feel so warm??

The scarecrow wiggled, making herself comfortable and preparing him for their photo shoot. She reached up and began tugging on the little black hat that sat on top of his head, purposely pulling until the string that held it in place around his head snapped against his face, hat dropping from her hold and tumbling to the floor. The pop from the string seemed to finally, finally break him of his concentrated gaze, slowly turning to look at the blonde who invaded his personal space. The lidded, pleased stare from before fell into something cold and unreadable, mouth falling flat. Tara shuddered at how quick his expression fell.

“Uh, oh.” Dawn reached a hand up, tapping a finger on the tip of his hooked nose, right on the little black dot that sat there. “Sorry.” She batted her golden lashes at him innocently, not at all registering the cold, unimpressed glare he laid on her as she bent over, swiping the little hat off of the tiled floor and setting it right back onto his head. His head slowly lowered, glare seeming to get icier when she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and arch her chest up, pressing it right against his own as she posed. Her arm stretched out with her phone in hand, clicking as she began taking pictures with him. Her hair effectively covered half of his face, sticking to the white and black makeup.

Tara couldn’t believe Dawn, shaking her head in disapproval, hand reaching up to rub at her neck anxiously. Of course the outgoing brat would pull some shit like this, just to rub Tara’s fears and concerns right in her face. It was times like these that seriously made her question their friendship.

Dawn pulled away from the camera to look back over to the clown, suddenly snatching his chin in her hand, squishing his prominent cheeks inward until his black painted lips puckered outward. Pleased, she turned back to the screen and puckered her own lips into a duck face, pressing the side of her face against his and taking two more pictures with him. He stared coldly into the camera. When the scarecrow decided that she’s had enough, she released his chin from her grasp, a fake smile flashing as she tapped his nose once again. “Thanks.”

She pulled herself out of his lap without another word, returning to their booth. The man stayed frozen in the spot she maneuvered him in, arm still slung over the back of the booth, frown prominent. Reader frowned with concern. They knew Dawn could be a bit much, especially to people who weren’t already used to her antics. They hoped that the stranger wasn’t too upset with her forwardness.

Tara fixed Dawn with an icy glare when she slid back into her seat. “What the hell is wrong with you??”

Dawn grinned, already beginning to post the pictures onto her media. Her followers will definitely get a kick out of this weirdo. “What, didya think he was gonna hack me up into little pieces or something?” She scoffed, as if the very notion was ridiculous, thumbs tapping away.

Reader sighed, raising a hand to rub their nose bridge. “D, really. Silence doesn't equal consent. You shouldn’t have done that, and you know it.” She rolled her eyes and sent a short sneer Reader’s way before burying back into her Instagram. “Not you too, now. Relax, it’s not like I fucked your little boyfriend or whatever.”

Both Tara and they cringed and Dawn’s crude words. Jesus, she really had a way to make people uncomfortable.

By the time the pizza man had hung up on his call and made his way over to the clown, the mystery man had shifted back to his previous objective of fixing Reader with a rather smoldering stare, hands clasped together again and settled on the table. “What can I get for ya, buddy?”

To nobody’s surprise, the clown didn’t answer or even acknowledge the shop keep, only keeping his eyes locked on Reader. They tilted their head once again, feeling warm under his gaze. Was it getting a little hot in here?? It was beginning to feel so bizarre, how his eyes could go from iceberg cold to blazing warm with just a mere glance.

The pizza man’s patience seemed to already be thinned by the previous calls, making his tone snap a little when he pressed further. “Hey. Hello?? If you don’t order anything, you’re gonna have to leave.”

“You already have eight liiiikes~” Dawn tapped her phone screen with her nail, making a light clack, clack noise as she called over to the clown in a singsong voice. Her comments were already beginning to flood, asking about the creep.

“Can you hear me in there?” The man pressed further, lowering himself until his face was eye to eye with the clown, trying to grasp his attention like Dawn had. But just like he had the scarecrow, his dark eyes zeroed right past the shop keep, as if locked into tunnel vision and Reader was the only focus. They shifted a little in their seat, biting their lip and studying the clown. Seconds later, the pizza man gave up, standing up straight and dropping his hands in exasperation. “Oh god, it’s gonna be a long night,” he grumbled, walking back into the kitchen.

Reader’s eyes trailed after the shop keep as he walked off, before flicking back to the clown. They fumbled with their fingers a little, brows furrowed in concern. The poor guy must be so uncomfortable now, making them feel for him. They shuffled in their seat again, as if working themself up to talk to him. Finally, they found their nerves and opened their black painted lips. “Hey, um.. are you alright? Dawn can delete those pictures, if they make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry about all that.”

“Tch, like hell I will,” the girl injected, scoffing. She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, not bothering to pull up from her cellphone. “Everyone’s eating this shit up.” Reader’s eyebrow twitched in mild irritation, fingers tapping hard on the table before them in an attempt to relax themself. Maybe if their fingers wiggled around, they’d lose the sudden urge to wrap them around her throat.

The clown’s head tilted slightly to the side, eyes boring into theirs for a moment or two longer, before suddenly sliding out of his booth, standing up tall. They leaned back slightly, taken aback. They didn’t expect him to be so tall. Tara tensed beside them as they both watched the man approach one of the other empty booths. The table still had paper plates with crumbs and pizza crusts on it. In the middle lay a small pile of money, a dollar bill and coins for a tip. The clown looked over his shoulder at Reader and back at the table, as if making sure that they were watching him. And watch him they did, both confusion and curiosity painting their face.

His dirty fingertips that were uncovered by the rest of his gloves reached down, pinchin the quarter off the table, and lifted it up. The overhead lights caught on its face, making the coin shine a little as he held it up for them to see. He then made a show of turning on his heel until they were facing his back, taking a knee in front of the toy capsule vending machine slots that sat right next to the entrance to the little shop. Reader leaned to the side, trying to see what he was doing. Tara only shook her head, squeezing her thin arms around herself as if for protection, sinking lower into the booth seat.

The sound of the quarter slotting into the machine and the loud cranking of the knob made their eyebrows raise higher. Was he getting himself a toy??

The clown took a moment to crack open the capsule, plucking the item out of its container, before swiftly pulling himself up from the tiled floor. With a giddy smile, he nearly skipped his way back over to the trio’s booth before once again taking a knee, kneeling in front of Reader. Tara pressed herself against the pale brick wall in agitation. The man’s movements caught Dawn’s attention and she looked up from her screen, wanting to see what would happen next.

He raised the toy up for Reader to see, other hand waving at it in a silent ‘tadaa!’ Between his index and thumb fingers rested a little ring, metal with two hearts stuck side by side. He grinned expectantly at Reader, gesturing to the ring.

Reader leaned further back into their booth seat, blinking in surprise. Was.. was this for them?? Oh, that was rather cute. Their face began warming again as their eyes flickered between the ring and the clown’s face, lips parted in silent question. From across the table Dawn snickered, not believing what she was seeing. “Aww.”

“I-is that for me?” They asked shyly, lips beginning to quirk upward.

The clown nodded gleefully, showing off the ring once more, before holding up a finger in a ‘hold on’ gesture. Before they knew it, the mysterious man was reaching out and taking their hand in his, making Reader’s breath catch in their throat.

Tara’s shoulders lifted up, putting her own hands on top of the table’s surface. “What are you doing??”

The clown paid no mind to her as he lifted up Reader’s hand with care. Another shiver ran down their spine when they realized just how much bigger his hand was compared to their own. Slowly, the clown slid the double hearted ring onto their ring finger, until it finally rested at the base of their digit. He held their hands a moment longer, as if admiring the metal adjourning their finger, rubbing his large thumb over it. With flourish he released their hand and waved his own around it, as if showcasing the little thing with pride. His head tilted to the side, smiling almost bashfully as his hands came down to clasp over his chest in adoration, eyes lidding.

Reader’s face burned hot through the whole transaction, mouth fallen open. Oh, oh that was just precious. A bright, toothy smile stretched across their heated face, lifting their other hand to cover over their mouth, bashful. “Oh, oh my. This is so sudden. I do!” They giggled, eager to play along with the silly, silly man. Their words had him shimmying his shoulders almost shyly, red teeth glinting brightly under the lights.

Suddenly Reader’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh, just a sec!”

They pulled their cross body bag up into their lap, sticking their tongue out as they dug around for what they were looking for. The clown watched curiously, hands still pressed to his chest in endearment. Once they finally caught hold of what they were searching for, they smiled wider, pulling it out and holding it up for him to observe.

In their hold was a little plastic spider ring, one that they had collected off of the cupcakes they scarfed down at the party. They loved it when the treats had little garnish toys and picks, especially when they were silly little rings. Apparently holding onto the thing was a good decision, because the way the clown’s dark eyes lit up at the sight of it had their chest feeling that certain little fluttery warmth from before.

“Reads-” Tara began nervously from beside them, not liking this one bit. It was bad enough that the creep came over to initiate the act, but they didn’t have to encourage him! Reader paid her no mind as they carefully took hold of the clown’s hand, much like he had theirs. With a soft smile, they slid the ring onto his much larger finger. They couldn’t push it up very far, what with the rest of his glove stopping them, but it was on nonetheless. “See? Now we match!”

Dawn was pressing her hands over her mouth, trying desperately to stifle her loud laughter and the absurd act that was taking place in front of her. The clown slowly retracted his hand to hold it up to his face, expression soft as he turned his hand in different angles, admiring the little plastic spider as if it were a three carat diamond ring.

Reader smiled, pleased with the soft expression of happiness he held. “I know it’s not as fancy as mine, but I hope it’ll suffice?”

Their words seemed to snap the stranger out of his haze, blinking for the first time that night as he’s brought back from whatever he had been thinking. With flourish, he took hold of their hand once more, lowering himself further to press a kiss to their ring. Tara felt like she was about to be sick as the clown pressed kiss upon kiss on the little metal hearts, moving onto pressing his lips to their much smaller knuckles.

The vampire choked, sputtering at the sweet little kisses. Oh my god, oh my god that’s so cute??! Their face burned an entirely new shade of red and they began giggling in both bashfulness and disbelief, laughing harder when the clown began kissing up their hand and slowly making his way up their arm.

He never ceased and didn’t seem like he would, lacing his fingers with theirs and trailing his lips up their sleeved arm to their shoulder, trying not to smile too hard as he did so. Their laughter cracked into a gasp at the feeling of his lips landing on their uncovered collar bone, lips leaving a black smudge in his wake. Oh shit, oh fuck, when did it get so damn HOT in here???

“Hey, you can’t-!” Tara sat up straight, wrapping her hands around Reader’s arm closest to her and yanking them towards her, pulling them away from his creepy attacks. They gave a surprised yelp at the sudden interruption, whipping back to look at Tara. The clown’s curved eyebrows shot up high when they were pulled away from his grasp, parted lips suddenly pulling into a snarl. He slowly pulled up from his knees and stood ramrod straight, staring over Reader’s head at Tara, fixing her with the chilliest, most hateful glare she had ever been given. Her eyes widened in fear.

“Oh shit??” Dawn choked, fumbling with her phone in her hands, quickly swiping until her camera was pulled up. If any drama was going to go down, she’d be damned if she didn’t record it!

“Ey, what seems to be the problem ov-” The pizza man returned, hands holding paper plates of large slices of pizza. The clown’s threatening, towering stance and nasty bearing teeth had him pausing. “Oh hell no, I don’t think so, pal!”

The shopkeeper plopped the plates onto the booth table behind them before gripping onto the clown, grabbing fistfulls of the back of his black and white costume and forcefully shoving him towards the front of the restaurant. “Fuckin’ FREAK! Get outta here!”

The trio all watched, wide eyed as the much shorter man shoved the clown out of the door, bell dinging as the clown stumbled into the street, whipping around in anger. The man quickly stepped back to snatch up the black trash bag that had sat in the booth, tossing it out with the clown. “Take your shit and don’t come back!”

Tara felt immensely better without having the creep hovering around them, but Reader stared through the glass door at their silly clown, hands clutching onto the front of their chest. What had happened?? They just looked away for a moment, what could the clown have possibly done to warrant such a forced leave?? They were just playing around, that wasn’t bad, was it? Their shoulders fell, unsure of what to even think.

The clown stood fuming, fists clenched tightly into balls at his side. His head snapped back to glare through the glass, but fell short when Reader’s crestfallen face caught his eye. His shoulders and hands slowly released their tension as he met their searching eyes.

Slowly he lifted both of his gloved hands up, pressing them against the cool glass and leaned his face in. Reader watched, brows beginning to knit together, lips parting. Just what was he planning to do? He couldn’t come back in.

Reader’s mental question was quickly answered as the clown’s tongue fell out of his opened maw, and slowly dragged it up the glass, hot breath fogging around the muscle’s path. His wide eyes stayed locked onto theirs the whole time, pulling back only to repeat, running his tongue slowly up the glass.

Their jaw fell completely open, face feeling so hot that the color was surely spreading to their ears and down their chest. Not once did they look away. They couldn’t. Not with how heavy his gaze had gotten. Not with the way his chest seemed to heave up and down as he breathed heavily. Not with the way his fingers gripped hard against the glass, as if struggling hard not to just rip the thing open to enter again. Not with the way he licked the glass like he wanted to do it to them.

They swallowed thickly, lifting their hand up to attempt to cover their flustered face, but it was much too late. The clown’s mouth twisted into a hungry grin. He already saw it.

And boy did he seem to like it.

“I said GET! GET OUTTA HERE!!” The man whipped back around when he noticed the trio still staring at the door. The man’s face grew a ruddy color as he grew angry. “I’ll call the police, freak!”

Slowly, oh so slowly, the clown removed his fingertips from the glass, pulling himself away from the door. He momentarily broke eye contact to haul the hefty black bag over his shoulders. When he looked back at Reader, he gave a toothy smirk and a saucy wink, fingers wiggling in a wave goodbye as he slowly left their eyesight.

“... Holy shit,” The scarecrow bursted out laughing, smacking the table. “Oh my GOD, that guy was obviously turned on by you!”

Tara finally sat up properly in the booth for the first time in what felt like hours, releasing a long breath and glaring heatedly at Dawn. “You’re fucking sick, you know that? That was insane. Insane! Right, Reads?”

Reader didn’t reply, staring at the wet strip on the door. They rubbed their cheeks bashfully, looking off to the side. Wow, what a night.

“You three okay?” The pizza man grabbed the paper plates from the other table, placing them in front of the trio. Dawn wasn’t hesitant to swipe her plate, beginning to fold her piece. “Oh, he’s harmless.”

Tara paused, but eventually gave a short nod, beginning to pick at her pizza’s toppings.

The man placed his hands on his hips, looking down at the vampire. “You okay?”

Reader fingered the little double hearted ring that still sat on their finger, nodding absentmindedly. That seemed to please the man well enough as he patted the back of their booth comfortingly. “Don’t worry ‘bout him, he won’t be comin’ back. I’ll make sure of that.”

The vampire hummed emptily at his words, not really feeling much comfort from them. They.. they really liked the silly clown guy. It was a shame that they couldn’t get to know him a little better. Now they’d probably never see him again. That thought alone had them sighing silently, propping their head up in their hand, leaning on the table disheartenedly. Tara side eyed them curiously, picking off bits of her slices and chewing them.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

“And you’re sure you’ll be fine heading back by yourself?” Tara asked persistently, giving Reader a searching look, as if looking for any reason to walk them home. Lord knows they didn’t need another Halloween freak tailing after them like a lovesick dog.

Reader laughed quietly, patting her arm reassuringly. “Yes, mom. Seriously, I’m solid. My place is just a block away. You should worry about getting home yourselves.”

Dawn tucked her phone back into her patchwork pocket, stretching her arms high above her arms. “We’ll be fiiiiine. We’ll even text ya when we get there.” “That might be a little tough, considering my phone died a couple minutes ago,” they winced, smiling strainely. “I’ll put it on charge when I get home. G’night, guys!”

“See ya, babes.” Tara and Dawn parted, beginning their trek back to their ride. Reader let out a tired sigh and turned the opposite direction, walking down the sidewalk. The walk back wasn’t very difficult, but it did sting a bit from being in their pinching shoes all night. A bad decision on their end, really.

They climbed the steps to their apartment and paused at the door, sliding their hand into their bag to fish for their keys. They blinked in surprise when their fingers clacked against something.. rectangular??

Curiously, they grabbed hold of the thing and pulled it out, baffled.

When the hell did a VHS tape end up in their bag??

The next chapter(s) are still being worked on. I’m unsure when they’ll finally be finished, but just know that they ARE being worked on. I’m just trying to make it a nice, long read. I haven’t seen Terrifier 2, so if I write something in the next chapter that seems off with the new info, that’s why. I’m too short on muns right now from moving into my new apartment to go see the movie. (And boy lemme tell you just how SAD I am about it ;;;; )

#x reader #reader x character #slasher x reader #clown #art the clown x reader #coulrophilia #terrifier #all hallows eve #long post #ao3 #clown x reader #minors dni

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skylarsblue · 2 months

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Did someone order a 20,000+ word chapter?

CAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU BITCHES GET, FEAST, FEAST MY BELOVED GREMLINS.

DEVOR THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR, LET THY SOULS AND MINDS BE FULL

(Please, my wrists hurt so bad-)

#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #michael myers #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #rz michael myers x reader #michael myers x fem!reader #female reader #stuck on a childhood crush #soacc #slasher community #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher fucker

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vashti-refused · 3 months

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Thomas Hewitt + AO3 tags

#he ate my heart and then he ate my brain #thomas hewitt #vashtiOC #leatherface #the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning #tcm 2006 #ao3 #ao3 tags #slashers #horror

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katsukiizmoon · 11 months

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Fanfiction Writing / Reading

Hi everyone, I wanted to make a little post on general fanfiction writing and reading etiquette etc for everyone. For reference I've been writing fanfiction since I was 12, I'm now nearing 23 and I've been on tumblr since 2013. There's links to resources for those that would like them.

-> GENERAL ADVICE

Color Coding Dialogue On Tumblr: While using color can create visual contrast in things like titles or description, using it to color code dialogue can cause problems for those who are neurodivergent or vision impaired. For instance, I have trouble reading things where the dialogue for one character is bright in color. This means I miss out and can't read and support many new writers.

Showing support for your writers: I don't think demanding reblogs is an appropriate response. However, as someone who has been here for a long time, it's important. You can show your support by commenting, liking, reblogging (and reblogging with tags gives brownie points). Generally : liking will be lost in a sea of likes over time making it harder for you to find that fic again but shows you thought it was good, reblogging shows you enjoyed the fic enough to share it with those on your blog (you can even have a side blog dedicated to fics) and would like to find it again, reblogging with tags or comments says that you enjoyed it enough to share it, push it higher in the tags and that you had thoughts. This helps motivate writers ! Feel free to send them an anonymous ask if you're shy, expressing that you really enjoyed their work.

Use of italics and bold in works: Italics and bold should be used to indicate stressing or importance of certain words. EX: "no you did it!" vs "no you did it" ! You don't need to italic entire dialogue unless it's in certain situations (flashbacks, memories, whispers, etc)

Plotting & Timing: Plot and timing can be a really useful tool! Understanding what your characters are doing and having the plot move smoothly is important when writing. It prevents gaps and promotes interest. Even some of my works move a little too fast, and it can sometimes cause confusion.

READ, READ, READ: Reading is probably the fastest way to increase and broaden your horizons as an author. It allows you to gain a larger vocabularic range and new metaphors. And it helps you find what could be plot holes and more.

SMUT ; Cum Timing: I've written this before, it can happen but it's unlikely. I'll make a whole post dedicated to.. smut. But for now. Here's some other scenarios and miscellaneous notes: -> bottom cums really early on, then the top cums later -> top cums extremely early on, proceeds with oral on bottom -> top can't get it up (this happens a bit with drugs involved) for a while and gives pleasure to bottom, then stops and gives up on an orgasm

Those are a few of my main, overall tips but I'm going to link you to a bunch of resources, too. I understand more than anyone what it's like being new to this. But one of the biggest pieces advice I'm going to give you is:

Allow your writing to be objectively "bad" at first. It always comes with practice. My first fanfictions I used "~" like it was a goddamn period. It's okay.

-> RESOURCES

"writing resources : words are hard"

"describing feelings, emotions, and tone"

"au prompt list"

"how to write medieval smut"

"starting a new paragraph"

"writing resources: world building"

"writing fight scenes"

"ways to further develop main characters"

There are tons of writing blogs on tumblr. You can send them an ask anonymously if you have any questions and they may respond with some good resources. Being a little more on the accurate side, even if you accidentally fuck up a bit, gives you brownie points a LOT.

Have a nice day OwO !

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heartlesscorpse · 2 months

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Eat You Alive

I FINALLY FINISHED AND POSTED!!!!!!! FUCK it took longer than what I was anticipating but in the end, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I finally finished my fic and I can fucking move on with my life, get my shit straight and do some other posts on here and maybe plan myself out another Pyramid Head x reader fic if I’m itching for any more ideas. 1st person pov was whack, Idk why I chose to write it like that so it may look a little fonky wonky and I’m definitely leaning to do 3rd person in my future reader fics with any slashers. (Besides GN!reader I’m definitely opting to maybe doing some male!reader fics as well), maybe with a couple other slashers like Ghostface or Michael Myers besides Pyramid Head, I dunno. But besides that — I’m fucking tired. I’m going to lie down in bed and die now. _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

#pyramid head #dead’s writing #pyramid head x reader #slashers x reader #gn reader #smut #ao3 fanfic

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pedzs · 1 month

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“Did your angel ever betray you?” FANFIC 🖤

@yaztheangel uploaded a new chapter of The Mask of Beauty and Rage, and I just had to capture a moment from it! So happy its back!

Read it on AO3 🖤

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slxsherwriter · 1 month

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Waking Up

Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera

Parings: Luigi Largo x Reader

Word Count: 1,414

Warnings: Scars, talk of surgery, mentions of addiction, cursing, talks of violence

Series: Genetic Repossession

Author's note: A straight continuation of Better Me Than You. Just a short little fic to detail a little fallout and Luigi getting to display a slightly softer side.

Beeping. A gentle, steady beep. It was the first thing that registered. A gentle tickle on the brain that brought you back to the conscious world. Slowly. Disoriented and feeling like you were swimming through a dense fog, it was a struggle to latch onto the feeling of waking and not get pulled right back under. That was until a not so gentle touch yanked at your head, causing a groan to slip from a chest that seemingly didn't want to expand right away.

“For fuck sakes!” A familiar harsh voice yelled out, breaking the peaceful quiet of the room. “Be fucking careful or I'll take those fucking hands and mount them like God damn trophies on the wall. How the fuck did you ever become a fucking nurse?” It took effort but finally, you forced your eyes open. The world was blurry for several long seconds as you tried to blink your vision clear. Low lights made the adjustment easier, no harsh fluorescent lights greeting. A thud sounded somewhere off to the side but there wasn't enough energy or care within you to turn your head. Right now, the focus needed to be on what the hell happened.

‘“I'll get the doctor…”

“You fucking do that,” the voice barked. Warmth encompassed your hand and finally, Luigi came into focus. There was a hesitant smile on his face. “Hey there, sweetheart.” Oh, shit. A soft pet name. Yeah, it had to be bad. Your throat and mouth felt incredibly dry, as if someone had filled it with cotton. A soft cough came when you opened your mouth to respond, though it hardly hurt the way that could have been expected.

“I…”

“Easy. Here.” The water was soothing and cold as it washed down. Definitely helpful. The room spun a little when you shifted your head again. Before Luigi could say anything else, a doctor came in. A soft greeting before the exam started, though right then as he babbled, words you should understand sounded foreign.

“We'll start weening back the medication, hopefully clear your head up a bit. I know things probably aren't making a lot of sense right now…” Well, that was hitting the nail on the head. Your vision started to blacken at the corners, slowly creeping and consuming your field of vision. “Get some more rest.”

Your head felt significantly more clear the next time your eyes opened. A little sore and sorry. The room was quiet. Not a typical hospital room. Grunting softly, it took a little effort to shift your weight and work to a seated position. The family home, your room with Luigi, that was where you were specifically. Part of you was surprised and part of you wasn't all things considered. Curiosity got the better of you before anything else. No one else was in the room, so you took the opportunity to carefully pull back the covers and pull up the shirt. A large wound ran across the left side of your abdomen, sutures keeping the skin shut. Where the knife had entered you and likely where another, that one by skilled hands, tried to do damage control. Across your chest was a marring wound that didn't require sutures as it hadn't pierced flesh deep enough to require such treatment. Alive. You were alive. Something you should be grateful for, even if it broke the streak of never having had surgery.

The door opened.

“Shit, you're awake.” The shirt dropped from your hand, as if you were guilty of doing something that you shouldn't be. Luigi quietly closed the door behind him and moved to the bedside. “Had to replace your liver, bastard really got a good jab into you…” You would never expect him to be all that great at comfort and it was apparent he was struggling at the moment. Giving him a reprieve, you offered a small smile.

“And I take it that he was relieved of his own?” That seemed to lessen his worry and the uneasy nature about him that was a little unnatural feeling. As if he had been unsure how you would handle everything. “I'm honestly a little surprised to be awake at all…”

“It was close,” he admitted. “Doctors weren't all that sure you were going to wake up.” He settled down on the edge of the bed, careful to not jostle you too much.

“I thought I was dead when my knees hit the ground.” Which was the truth. You had accepted that your dying act had been protecting the man beside you. A worthy trade in your eyes.

“Shit fucking security has been dealt with too. How the fuck he got in there and that close with a weapon is ridiculous.” The words grew in volume, Luigi seething as if the event was happening all over again. It was a valid point. No one should have ever gotten that close or been allowed in with a hidden blade. Everybody was supposed to be checked. Not only to keep the Largo's safe but for the general safety of the event. It looked bad when shit like what had happened actually happened.

“And the PR nightmare that is surely causing a shitstorm?” He rolled his eyes in response.

“Nothing that you have to worry about right fucking now. You aren't getting paraded in front of the press until you can actually stand up.” Judging by the fact that you were able to sit up with pain, you thought that it may be at least a week before you would be able to get yourself to your feet and put on a face that did not show just how much discomfort and pain that you were in. Being able to school your features was too important in order to maintain appearances, so you would have to take it careful.

“Right.”

“I mean it. I don't give a shit what my father says. You are staying in bed and healing until you get a clear from the other docs.” You held up a hand, hoping to placate the man before he ended up stabbing whoever came into the room next. A high possibility on a normal day but judging by the slight redness to his cheeks, he was particularly worked up.

“I'll keep my ass in bed until given the all clear.” Repeating back the near order had him pausing and returning his eyes to yours. It accomplished just what you had hoped as his shoulders dropped a bit, his body going just slightly more slack. Tension unwinding from a constantly tense man. There was something on the tip of his tongue as he went to start speaking and thought better of it after a second. Silence reigned for a moment, neither of you willing to say something right away, for different reasons. You wanted to know what it was that he had been ready to say, while he was restraining himself. Until finally, finally he broke.

“Did you need any more Zydrate?” Ah, now it made sense. As uncomfortable as you were starting to be, the dull throbbing becoming more insistent and increasing in intensity as you sat there, you weren't willing to mask it. For multiple reasons. One of which was clearly on his mind. Shaking your head, you decided to recline yourself slowly instead, hoping it relieved enough pressure on the wounds to calm them down mildly.

“No, I'm okay. Would be preferable to not have to take any more.” It was impossible to miss the small sigh that rushed out of him. One addict in the family was enough. “Rather be uncomfortable and have a clear head anyway. Hated that I couldn't understand what was being told to me when I woke the first time.”

“It gets bad enough you don't need to go being a martyr. Take the fucking medicine, okay?” You nodded your consent, even though you both knew that there was a likelihood that you would ignore it entirely. His hand engulfed yours again and you used what little strength that you had left to give him a tug. A silent request for him to just lay down beside you. He grumbled a bit, an attempt at putting on a show, before he did just that. Carefully, his body settled down onto the bed beside you and with just as much care, his arm wrapped around your waist. Warmth seeped into your skin. Settling enough that you began to drift off once more.

#slasher writing #horror writing #slasher x reader #reader insert #slasher x you #luigi largo x reader #luigi largo #repo the genetic opera #repo! the genetic opera #bill moseley characters #cross posted on ao3

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bebx · 10 months

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“I’m so normal about this man” I need to eat him

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spinning-stars · 9 months

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Hannigram head cannon but with pictures ❤️🤯

Requests are open btw!🖤

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

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Rock Bottom Ch 2 - The Prey

3.2k Words (20k overall): Corey observes Michael from a distance, then strikes out on his own to make a kill, only for Michael to take all the action in more than one way, while Corey watches. Reader gets railed.

Michael Myers x Reader; Corey thirsting for Michael

She manages to free her legs to either side of Michael. They're spread wide. Her feet are even farther from reaching the floor now. Michael closes the small gap between them with a thrust, and she groans. Corey can't see the knife, but he waits for the life to leave her eyes. It doesn't yet. It doesn't seem to at all. Michael is playing with his prey again, Corey thinks.

Rock Bottom Index / Other Chapters

EXPLICIT 18+ MINORS DNI variety of depravity including possible r*pe

Corey pulls up the hood of his sweatshirt and tries not to make a splash as he crosses a creek bed. It’s dusk, and he’s in a neighborhood not far from where he first encountered Michael earlier this week. Corey had emerged from the sewer changed and wanting more. He found a small amount of relief in the shower afterwards, and with Allyson later that night, but a different need remains unmet. A deeper void needs filling.

Michael’s lair is close to Prevo Auto Yard where Corey works. He doesn’t know it, but Ronald used to give leftover takeout to the vagabond Corey killed. That’s how close Michael’s lair is. After work, Corey watched from the overpass as Michael left the drain, then Corey followed him on foot. He’s been tracking Michael for an hour now. The darker it gets, the more trouble Corey has keeping up, and it’s not because Michael is fast.

Michael is like a cat. He slinks, he stalks, he watches, he seems to teleport small distances, making no noise at all. He’s solitary. He feeds. He plays with his prey. He naps, for years at a time. He seems to be drawn to people who don’t show interest in him at all, people who don’t see him coming.

Michael hasn't attacked anyone tonight, but he may be casing houses for new victims. Corey isn’t sure yet how Michael chooses his prey. He feels like he knows Michael intimately, but that’s only in a cosmic, metaphysical way. Most of Corey’s practical knowledge about Michael is based on news reports and rumors, just like everyone else. Based on that, most of the victims don’t seem to deserve it. There must be something to learn from watching Michael in his element.

Corey looks around 360° and sees Michael nowhere. He spends another few minutes trying to locate him then resigns himself to calling it a night. If Michael has noticed Corey on his tail, he may be getting ready to kill him, but the prospect of Michael popping out from behind a bush and attacking him excites Corey more than it scares him. Nothing scares Corey now.

A crash comes from the one-story house closest to Corey, and a light turns on inside. Corey ducks behind a tree to watch. He expects to see Michael bringing his knife down on an unsuspecting stranger. What he sees is a man and woman arguing. It's a huge window. Michael is nowhere in sight. The man wears a t-shirt that was once white, ripped jeans, and an unfastened belt. The woman is in a button shirt and underwear. She throws something at the man. Another crash. When the man turns around, he’s holding a pistol.

The man corners the woman in the kitchen and puts the barrel of the gun against her throat where it meets her jaw. She grabs a bottle from the stove, smashes it on his head, and expertly disarms him. She's pointing the pistol at him now. Corey recognizes her - It’s her. She picks up a pair of jeans from the floor and pulls them on with one hand. She leaves, slamming the door behind her. A thick, dark liquid trickles down one side of the man's head and he winces.

She's a Haddonfield Sheriff’s Deputy, or at least she used to be. Squad cars could be on their way right now. Corey disappears into the night.

2019

The first time Corey met her, it was Summer 2019. Corey was working at Prevo saving up for college. It wasn’t unusual for a law enforcement officer to stop by Prevo. Criminals use scrap yards for unsavory purposes, like ditching a getaway car, or worse, disappearing someone’s ride after disappearing them . She came into Prevo that day tracking a warrant.

While Ronald fetched something in the office, she wandered into the garage where Corey was working. She leaned against the truck he was fixing. He was getting ready to weld, so he warned her, “Uh, you should probably go back in the office. It’s not safe.” He gave her a shy, apologetic smile, and put his welder helmet down.

She moved closer instead of moving away. Uncomfortably close. Corey relented and pulled the welder’s helmet back up over his curls and waited.

“I like your jumpsuit,” she said as she sized him up. Corey was built solid. His unassuming posture made it easy to miss sometimes, but not to her.

“Heh, it’s just, uh, the uniform. We all have it,” Corey nervously chuckled. He took his glasses from his jumpsuit pocket and put them on, pressing them up into place with a brief little smile, then blinking. He looked down at her nametag. She must have thought he was looking at her chest. She seemed excited.

“Mmm,” she reacted. “Same here. Our uniforms aren’t as practical though,” and unbuttoned her top two buttons. She was wearing a thin undershirt, so the gesture wasn't completely obscene. “Not a lot of room to stretch.” She clasped her arms behind her butt and jutted her chest out, tossing her head to the ceiling. She met Corey's eyes again. “You look like you could do just about anything in yours.”

“Heh,” Corey blushed, looked around, and adjusted his glasses. She glanced at his crotch and he reflexively covered himself with the dirty rag in his hand. She didn’t see his growing bulge, but she knew. She winked.

Ronald returned from the office and cleared his throat judgmentally, "Deputy." Corey didn't have any business getting mixed up with a woman like that. Joan would have Ronald’s head.

She rolled her eyes, then smiled at Corey one last time. " Corey . Bye, Corey." She turned to Ronald, noticed the security tape in his hand, and squealed. "You're the best, Ron!"

"Heh, bye," Corey mumbled to no one, smiling. She was smoking hot and had a nice ass. He wiped his hands with the oil rag. Corey sensed she would forget about him by the end of the day, whereas he would think about this for weeks.

A few months later, around the time of Jeremy Allen's accident, she was stationed at the courthouse in pre-trial security screening. When Corey was arrested, he spent a week in jail. Two deputies, Hawkins and Mulaney, escorted him to the courthouse in the back of a squad car for his arraignment. Hawkins seemed to feel for Corey and treated him nice. "Shackles, Mulaney? He's just a kid."

Mulaney was a prick. "Protocol. Take it up with the Sheriff, old man."

They entered the courthouse through the inmate tunnel and approached the high-security screening station. Hawkins put his hand on Corey's back. "It's okay, son," nudging him toward the metal detector and body scanner. It was heavy duty enough to scan body cavities, but they still did pat downs.

She and a male deputy were both standing behind the body scanner wearing latex gloves. They always make sure there's a woman available in case a female inmate needs a pat down. Corey recognized her and blushed. "Aggravated Manslaughter," Mulaney proudly informed her. She raised her eyebrows and motioned come hither to Corey with both hands. "I know you," she said softly. "Arms out, hands facing down."

She started with his fingers, dragging her hands along the tops of his arms, in toward his neck. She gave his biceps a little squeeze and whispered, "Oh, hello." Corey gulped. Then the underside of his arms, starting with his broad palms. It was uncomfortably intimate, but Corey savored what might have been the last time he'd feel a woman's touch for years. She rounded the corners of his armpits and ran her hands down his sides. Corey shuddered. She stepped closer and said "I like this one even better," giving his prison garb jumpsuit a tug. She did remember.

She popped a squat as she ran her hands down Corey's hefty thighs all the way to his ankles. She hooked her hands around his ankles and did the backs of his calves and hamstrings on the way back up. Corey was getting hard, but she was blocking anyone else's view with her head, then body, as she stood up.

Her hands approached the apex of Corey's back legs. Her male counterpart smirked and looked the other way, clasping his gloved hands behind his back like a soldier and adjusting his posture. She gave Corey's ass a quick squeeze with both hands. The chub in his groin thickened. She looked down and kicked his foot lightly, "Spread 'em."

"Alright, we're on a schedule," Hawkins said, shaking his head.

"Tell you what lady," Mulaney piped in. "I've been bad . You've got my number. Heh heh."

"Dream on, Doug." She squatted down again and finished up by frisking Corey's inner and outer legs, bottom to top. When she got to his crotch, she seemed to like what she saw. She stood up, leaned a thigh into his hardness, and brought her lips to his ear. "Good luck." She rotated his shoulders and Corey shuffled his feet to face the courtroom. She sent him out with a pat on the butt.

Her male counterpart glanced down at Corey's jumpsuit. He said, "hey man, no sharp objects," and laughed with Mulaney as they high-fived. Corey was beet red. A boner joke, how original.

Behind Mulaney and Hawkins, another pair of deputies escorted an inmate through security. The inmate eagerly approached her and extended his arms. The deputy laughed, "Shopliftng? Ha, fat chance." She stood with her arms crossed and nodded toward the male deputy. Shoplifters didn't interest her.

Present Day

It's been two days since Corey met Michael. He wakes up with clarity: The man who was roughing her up would be the perfect victim if he's not already dead. Corey thinks about it while he works on a station wagon. Knives are kind of Michael's thing. He considers taking a wrench from the shop. Corey doesn't stop by the sewer after work. He wants to do this on his own and prove himself. He puts the wrench in his backpack with his scarecrow mask and rides his motorcycle back to the neighborhood. He turns off his headlight and idles. There’s an old red truck in the driveway. No patrol car.

Corey parks his bike on the next street and creeps through the woods. It’s dusk. He sets his backpack down against a tree and watches through the window. The scene is illuminated by a brass floor lamp that stands between the den and modest kitchen. There's a hall behind the lamp. The man is wearing an A-line tank, sitting in a recliner that has seen better days. He's eating a TV dinner. The glow of the television illuminates the stains on his shirt. No one’s going to miss this guy.

Corey leans down, without taking his eyes off the window. He removes the scarecrow mask from his bag. He stands up. “Pull a gun on a woman?” Corey thinks under his breath. “Do it again. Fuckin' coward.” It sounds tough in his Northern accent. There’s something about guns Corey doesn’t respect. He and Michael have that in common.

Corey uses one hand to place the mask on his face and the other to position the elastic in his curly hair. Next, he removes a hefty, two-foot wrench from his bag and stands up straight, enjoying the weight of it in his hand. He lets it drop to his side and the wrench extends itself with a satisfying clink.

Corey strides slightly uphill toward the house. He doesn't make much of an effort to hide, but there's no light in the yard, and the idiot is absorbed in the tv. The man is laughing with a shitfaced grin, chewing with his mouth open, until he seems to see something in the yard. The douchebag puts down his fork and slowly finishes chewing, squinting out the window. Corey ducks out of his line of vision, still making his way up the hill with his eye on the kitchen door.

The douchebag begins to stand. Crumbs fall off his shirt. Behind him, a shape emerges in the hall. The imposing silhouette could only be Michael Myers. The man doesn't see Michael. He's still squinting into the yard, and standing not quite upright. Michael steps forward. His mechanic suit is like Corey's, but the collar is upturned and his arm muscles are visible through the fabric. Corey's jaw drops and his briefs tighten. Michael stands with his arms to his sides, not holding a weapon. His fingers twitch.

Corey is torn between walking faster to claim his kill and just watching Michael work. Michael doesn’t give him much of a choice. He grabs the brass floor lamp with both hands and disassembles it in one swift motion. The lampshade rips against the wall with a crash and its light flickers out. The man sees Michael's reflection and looks around like a helpless animal. His eyes bulge.

The lamp rod is in two hollow parts with a wire in between, like long, brass nunchucks. Michael wraps the middle cord around the guy's neck, brings the rods together and twists them like a tourniquet with one massive hand, holding the man up by his belt with the other as he flails. Corey drops the wrench into the grass and rushes closer to the window.

The man is grasping at the cord with both hands and tries to make eye contact with Corey, as if the grown man in a scarecrow mask will save him. The TV continues to illuminate his dirty shirt in pale colors. Michael releases the man's belt and wraps his arm like an anaconda around the man's torso to stop his flailing. The man's movements slow down. He's not dead, but he's weakened. Michael loosens his grip and discards the lamp. Playing with his prey. The man gags and coughs, trying to catch his breath.

Michael stands still again, feet spread. He wiggles his fingers almost imperceptibly, then stops. His physique is one to behold. His lower jumpsuit is tight on his thigh muscles and crotch. Does the thrill of the kill turn him on, or is Michael just packing ? Corey feels movement in his own jumpsuit and adjusts the crotch.

Michael seems to see Corey out the window. Corey wonders if Michael would let him kill the guy, and bangs the window. He side-skips toward the kitchen door to let himself in, curls bouncing. Michael crosses the kitchen in two long strides, his boots heavy on the linoleum. He locks the kitchen door without looking at Corey, opens a drawer by the sink, and removes a knife. He returns to the living room in no hurry at all.

"Hey!" Corey protests. He jumps back over to the window and bangs on it. Michael ignores him and stands there with the knife. The man has grabbed a shotgun from the wall. Michael push-kicks it away, unphased. His work boots break the man's fingers and send the shotgun crashing into the TV. Sparks shoot from the TV as it dies. The man holds his limp fingers in his good hand and sobs as smoke comes from the TV. He's drooling.

With an effortless swing of the knife, Michael finishes him off from arm's length. The douchebag raises both hands to his throat and gurgles. Blood trickles over his mangled fingers. He drops to his knees. As life leaves his eyes, he looks at Corey, then falls forward onto his face, out of view.

Corey's disappointment at being locked out of the house quickly turns to elation and arousal. Watching Michael kill was more satisfying than he could have imagined. He had a front row seat to an apex predator in its natural habitat. That was worth more than killing the guy himself. Michael killed him so much better than Corey could dream to. It was art. Michael is so much bigger, more powerful, more equipped . Corey is turned on by his own inferiority, but also wants to learn.

Michael stands there breathing and waits. Corey bangs again on the window. Now that it's over, he wants in. Even if Michael chokes him. Especially if Michael chokes him. Below the window, Corey palms himself through his jumpsuit. A wet spot appears. His brow furrows and he breathes heavily, and looks back up at Michael. Corey's breath fogs the window. Corey is painfully engorged, the wet spot growing at the front of his jumpsuit. He must relieve himself. He fumbles frantically with his zipper and reaches inside. He begins to stroke himself. Michael's mask tilts, watching him.

A shadow moves behind Michael. Michael side-steps out of the way and turns his head toward the hall, waiting. His fingers twitch. There's someone else in the house.

The female deputy emerges from the shadows. Her eyes fall on Corey's mask and she screams. Michael whips around and grabs her by the throat, slamming her against the wall. Her scream turns into a whimpering cough. Michael effortlessly lifts her off the ground, dragging her up the wall. She kicks and thrashes, and her arms disappear behind his chest.

Michael reaches between her and himself. A knife clatters to the ground with barely any blood on it. She groans loudly. Her strength doesn’t seem to fade. Michael is so much bigger than her. He seems to take up the whole hall. He jabs his body into her again. And again. She screams, and Michael covers her mouth. A picture frame falls off the wall behind her.

With a single step and pivot, Michael flips her to the other wall, her legs wrapping around him. Michael presses his body into her. Corey removes his mask and takes in the view. Michael's sculpted ass flexes rhythmically. Around his waist, the jumpsuit looks looser than Corey expects.

Michael's jumpsuit is unzipped . He's not killing her. He's fucking her. Michael Myers fucks, and Corey has a front seat view. Corey pumps himself furiously. Michael continues thrusting into her, faster and faster. His upper back muscles flex intricately under his jumpsuit.

She moans and squirms. Michael pins both her arms above her head and quickens his pace. The screams and groans run together into one long cry. Corey breathes heavily, desperately milking his engorged cock. His eyelids are heavy. He blinks hard and forces his them open, not wanting to miss a second.

Michael finally slows down. He thrusts her into the wall three more times, much harder and slower, then holds perfectly still, his monster cock still pinning her to the wall. He steps back and she slides down unceremoniously into a heap on the ground. Corey climaxes with a groan, and Michael's head whips to the window. Michael slowly zips his jumpsuit and stands there breathing.

Michael looks down at her and tilts his head. She's wearing a button-up shirt, which is open. Threads stick out where buttons are missing. The bottom of her skirt is up at her belly button. Her underwear is in tatters. Her chest is heaving. She doesn't try to escape.

Michael leaves her alive and slams the door on his way out. Corey catches his breath and zips up his suit in a daze. It's unclear if Michael is a rapist or if she is a conspirator, but the scene gives Corey an idea. He'll bring Michael his prey.

If you like it, drop me a comment or kudos (you don't have to log in) on AO3 - the dopamine makes me write more lol. You can also subscribe to get alerted about new chapters.

#halloween ends #michael myers fanfic #michael myers x reader #michael myers smut #corey cunningham smut #corey cunningham x michael myers #corey cunningham x reader #slasher fucker #micheal myers #ao3 works #ao3 fanfic #rock bottom fic #rock bottom ch 2 #toxicanonymity oc #toxicanonymity ☠️#love2cuck #tw rape #tw noncon #rock bottom fic ☠️

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gvtted-ratz · 1 month

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read all our tags/ratings. they are important and give you all u need to decide if you wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

FEM ALIGNING/IDENTIFYING PPL (unless mutuals/friends) DNI WITH OUR MLM WORKS. fem ppl can still request tho. respect our wishes or get blocked. yes we do read/check everything. we tag appropriately/use tags that go with our posts.

want 2 request? find the rules: here!

want 2 see all the fics? find em: here!

Come On, Now

Brahms Heelshire x Masc!Reader

Last Edited: 27/03/2024

TW: none

Anon: Brahms with (male or masc) reader making him leave the house? Can be either fic or Drabble idc

Word Count: 589

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes from @gvtted-ratz (writer/creator): We can do that, yes. We decided on a drabble (few hundred words) since we do believe, no matter what, Brahms probably would never leave his home (as is shown in the movie since he does not chase after Greta when she escapes before coming back). Hence, not it being a fic. Hope you enjoy. Another title is “Brahms touches grass for the first time in 20 years.”

Notes from @rppik (editor/co-writer): in which we make the lad touch grass.

Convincing the man to leave his own home is more trouble than you’d like to admit. It’s like a game of tug of war with a large mutt. Upon first suggesting he get some air, he'd reply with a pitiful, “Tomorrow?” in his practised child voice. Any attempt at insisting upon it gets shut down with him responding curtly, in his regular voice, “Not now.” And, well, arguing with him when he switches into his natural, gruff tone of voice is like trying to move a particularly fussy mountain. Until today, that is– not even Brahms is immune to persistent, well-meaning urges from his dear “nanny.”

“Are you sure I have to do this?” It’s a whining voice, one a child usually resorts to using when they can’t get their way. The man's uncanny ability to mimic a child's voice surely adds to that effect, also.

“Yes, Mr. Heelshire. It's for the best you step outside after so long. Not only have you never helped me with the rat traps, but you’ve never even been in the garden,” you finish with a sigh, already tired from this entire interaction. You’ve read that being cooped up in a place for too long can impact one’s health. That's why you’re trying to get Brahms to at least step outside his home for only a few minutes.

“Well, I don’t want to.” His bratty tone doesn’t match his large, tense frame.

“Come On, Now. Surely I’m not that bad of company,” you retort, not allowing him to try and back out.

“You are when you’re trying to be awful,” is his answer, tone cracking halfway through his sentence.

“Awful or not, your parents entrusted me in your care. This is part of the job. Now you’ll listen, or you won’t get a goodnight kiss. I’ll take it off the list for the day.” This seems to work, as Brahms has no more fighting words to give you. You grab ahold of his hand and start to tug him along to the back door. He follows with no protest, the warmth of his hand making yours sweat slightly.

Opening the door, you lead Brahms onwards, the sound of his heaving breathing and your footfalls echoing about as you both descend the steps. You don’t take him to the garden, instead leading him to one of the rat traps, sticking close to the house. You know he would freak out if you took him too far from his safe space and prison.

“See, Mr. Heelshire? This isn’t terrible now, is it?” He doesn’t respond, instead looking up at one of the many windows of the home. The one that has caught his eye has black smudges around it, evidence of a past fire from many years ago; it was before your time here at the house.

“No. It’s not bad. Thank you, Mr. [Redacted],” is his answer. At the prefix, you huff in amusement.

“Being polite won’t get you flattery, Mr. Heelshire. After all, you never use ‘Mr.’ when referring to me. Ever since the beginning of our time together.” After inhaling and holding it for a moment, you release the breath before turning towards the man. “We can go now. I only wanted you to experience outside without being trapped in that dusty house all the time. I’ve heard it helps with your health.”

With those words, you and Brahms head back inside. You can only hope he’ll allow you to make this a daily thing. You just want what’s best for him.

#my fics #x male reader #x reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire x male reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x male reader #requested #slasher drabble

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skylarsblue · 11 months

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Stuck On A Childhood Crush; Michael. (W/ my self indulgent Y/N OC, Cordelia) She’s not canon obviously, she just serves as a filler in my brain. Sometimes I imagine completely different designs to make sure the wording doesn’t exclude things.

Close ups…

And extra bonus

#slasher community #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher fucker #michael myers #slasher #rz halloween #2007 halloween #halloween #soaf&k #soacc #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #character art #fanart #rz michael myers x reader #michael myers x reader

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hunterssm00n · 1 month

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Find You

One month after the events of SOTL but before Hannibal (2001): Clarice Starling is an FBI agent on the hunt for one Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and she reflects on their strange connection. | Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling |

also on my ao3: here

*cw mild language*

౨ৎ

I look for you in the center of the sun / I took a pill but it didn't help me numb / I see your face even when my eyes are shut / But I never really know just where to find you...

"You're dancing circles around me You're fucking crazy Oh oh, you're crazy for me Oh oh, you're crazy for me..." ~ 'Cruel World' - Lana Del Rey

X.x

"Starling. Starling. Starling. A bird with strong wings and feet, capable of flying great distances. Often bears a dark complexion with a vague, metallic sheen coating it's feathers... as if it were dipped in oil. Wouldn't you agree, Clarice?"

"Well, of that I'm not sure, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one; none that I would be able to identify, at least."

"An interesting creature - most phylum cordata usually are. Are you at all interested in the study of species?"

"Sure, I guess, but not of the animal variety, Doctor Lecter."

"Ahh, because there are different species of human, right you are. Is that why you chose to become a figure of law enforcement, Clarice? To study the sea of moral defecation around you, and to try to cleanse the world of it?"

"Mm, when you say it like that, it sounds more like you're describing a scientist, to me. Or maybe a doctor."

"But we are all scientists to our own right, aren't we, Clarice? And doctors are really just glorified scientists, schooled to understand the inner workings of something and to try to find medically accurate compensation where there is a lack. Officers of the law do this as well, but not in the biological sense - more so in the social sense. They weed out those cancerous forms that attempt to spread evil unto the world; cut them out with the steel scalpel of To protect and serve. This requires some science, Clarice. You have done your own studying of the world."

"I have. We all have, sir."

"Sir. Doctor Lecter. So polite. Society lacks manners, nowadays. It's only gonna get worse from here."

"Not a very positive outlook for the future."

"I have hopes, but not high ones for society. Can you really blame me, Clarice? What with people like Buffalo Bill wreaking havoc in different parts of this cruel world?"

"With all do respect, Doctor, one could look at your actions and say the same."

"Mmm, clever girl. Too clever. You don't agree to fight violence with violence? Survival of the fittest? You'd likely lay your body down to form a bridge for those less fortunate, Clarice, and they would end up collapsing you to climb their 'lil selves on up that laddah."

"But you can't fight fire with fire, either, sir. There has to be some sort of balance."

"And if they're not willing to compromise, Clarice? If they are not as sympathetic as you, then what?"

"I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Starling. Birds are quite impressive creatures, aren't they? The starling itself isn't widely known, but it is a clever little creature indeed. Strong little wings, sturdy feet with which to stand. It also has the ability to mimic the sounds of other animals that it hears - sometimes even the vocal sounds of humans."

"This is very interesting, Doctor Lecter, but I'd really like to get back on topic."

"Does it sound like I'm describing you, Clarice? Do you repeat the things you hear from higher-ups in the department? Has Jack Crawford made you his puppet?"

"What do you think, Doctor? You've studied me at every meeting. Do my words sound like they've been scripted? Do they sound like they would ever come out of Jack Crawford's mouth?"

"No, Agent Starling, they do not. You are indeed a creature all your own."

"So if I am a Starling, sir, what are you?"

"That depends on you, Clarice. I am either the cage keeper, or the one who opens the door and sets you free. The choice is yours."

X.x

"Clarice?"

Her face hurt; felt like it was being mushed against a hard surface. The voice broke through the darkness she had fallen into, and now she was slowly coming back to the world of consciousness, very slowly.

"Clarice,"

She groaned with the effort of opening her eyes; her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball on her thin neck as she tried to raise it. When her eyes fluttered and focused, she noticed the light brown of the smooth top of her desk to the right of her vision. Lifting her head more, she realized it had been resting on the black and white mug shot of Hannibal Lecter in an old newspaper. She'd actually fallen asleep while working. All throughout school she hadn't even done that.

"Jesus," Came a female voice from behind her - probably Ardelia wondering where the hell her partner had been.

Clarice lifted her head all the way up off the desk, wisps from her ponytail sticking to the side of her face that had been covering the newspaper. She absently wiped a hand across her cheek, wondering if it would come away with gray smudges from the newspaper that were probably printed onto her face. Being so close to Doctor Lecter's mugshot on the paper, she noticed that the two dimensionality of the black and white photo did nothing to diminish his stare. It was as if he was staring into the soul of whomever was holding the paper - like he was staring into her soul once again.

Clarice turned around in her chair to face the woman whom she roomed with, Ardelia. Ardelia had graduated the academy shortly after Clarice had, and until they could each afford their own stable homes, they decided to share an apartment to help build their individual savings. They knew each other well - they'd survived the academy as roommates and knew they could live with one another (and only wanted to kill each other on rare occasions). They were now best friends, and knew almost everything about each other, so Ardelia was probably not surprised that even on their day off, Clarice was still working.

The other woman would have only been surprised if it was any other case she was working on.

"Girl, you look rough," Ardelia commented, not unkindly. Rather than suggest food or rest (or a therapist), she knew Clarice well enough to know that those questions would not phase her. Instead she asked: "Any leads?" Clarice appreciated her for everything she said - she knew the other woman was only looking out for her.

"Um," Clarice looked down at the small drool stain slowly seeping into the paper right next to Doctor Lecter's mug shot. "Not yet, today." She rose from the chair and stretched, groaning as her neck cracked from being at the odd angle when her face rested against the desk. How long had she been like that? "Any idea what time it is?" Apparently she'd removed her watch at some point too. God, she was never this disoriented.

"A little after twelve," Ardelia had checked her own watch, peering around Clarice at the desktop. She, herself, was all dressed up - dressy casual in nice black pants and a sweeping flowery top. Clarice had known she had a date this morning - brunch at a little diner in town with another agent that had graduated from the academy.

"How'd it go this morning?" She'd been out with this guy a few times, and Clarice could sense a brewing romance.

"Great," Ardelia replied, picking up the newspaper that lay flat on the desktop, "We're gonna catch a movie later tonight too." She moved the paper closer to her eyes, then brought it back down almost as soon. "He's one hell of a creep, huh?"

Clarice nodded, remembering back to the first time she had met him; the way he calmly stood in the middle of the cell, staring through the glass like he'd been expecting someone. The way his eyes lit up when they settled on hers - like he'd been expecting her.

Ardelia gave an exaggerated shudder and set the paper back down on the desk. "How do you not have nightmares?"

Clarice glanced at the photo, shrugging non-committedly, "I guess I'm just used to it now."

The truth was, she did have nightmares - she just didn't believe that he was the source. Most of the time it was the death of her father; the lambs screaming in terror as they were lead to the slaughter. It didn't happen every night, but enough that she had become used to waking up in the middle of the night, the blankets drenched with her sweat and tears rolling down her cheeks.

The only one she'd ever told about that was Hannibal Lecter. He was the only person in her life who'd ever thought to ask such dark questions.

What she also hadn't told Ardelia was that she did dream of him. Every single night. Not all of them were nightmares, though he somehow wound up in those as well. Sometimes it was simply her walking down the long stretch of concrete in the basement of the asylum; past the jeering, howling inmates in their cells. Some of the cells had lambs in them - some of the inmates were holding little lambs, and that was why they were screaming. Clarice knew he was at the end of the hallway; she just had to walk past this chaos to get to him. Finally, as always, he was waiting there, much like he had been the very first time she'd seen him, except he was much closer to the glass this time. He was awaiting her arrival, and she was anticipating the sight of him. He would smile salaciously at her, and raise a hand to the glass, pressing his palm against it. Stepping closer to the glass, she would raise her own hand and mirror his movement, placing it over his as though there was no glass between them. They would stay like that for three seconds, looking each other right in the eye. He would smile, and she would feel her lips begin to do the same. And then she would wake up.

At the moment, that dream was the most recurring in her mind. She couldn't remember what she had just dreamt about when she'd been asleep a few moments ago, but she would bet her life he had been in it.

She had to find him.

She had to find out why he occupied her every waking thought.

"Christ, I'd never sleep again if I had to be the one to talk to him. You've got nerves of steel." Ardelia commented, kicking off her shoes. "I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick. Do you wanna come to the movie later on too? We could grab one of the other guys to come, keep you company." The woman winked at her, and Clarice rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No thanks, I'm actually gonna go out myself; run some errands, exercise a bit."

"Oh great!" Ardelia looked relieved that her friend was actually leaving the apartment for a reason other than work. Clarice felt bad that she worried her so, but she couldn't stop what she was doing. It had become a mania. She had to catch this man.

Clarice padded into her bedroom to get dressed - she wanted to put her most comfortable workout clothes on. She didn't tell Ardelia that she was still hoping to find something to point her in the right direction. She had searched high and low, found a few things along the way but nothing very significant. She couldn't let him disappear anymore than he already had.

She stripped off her clothing - just an FBI t-shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants she used for pajamas. She was pulling a long sleeved shirt over her head when she saw it - something out of the ordinary. It lay on the top of her comforter, a folded up piece of paper. It wasn't white printer paper, but a cream colored thick paper, like something artists used. Clarice swallowed hard, moving across the carpeted floor to her bed. There is no way... Or was there? There was only one person that she knew of that would leave a note for her with that kind of paper. Artists parchment.

"You sonofabitch," she whispered, reaching out and gently grasping the paper as though she feared it would crumble between her fingers. Her hand trembled slightly as she brought it up off the comforter, but not out of fear. She would never admit the emotions that stirred within her - not in a thousand years. Not even to herself. Slowly she opened the two flaps so that the page was expanded to its fullest extent. It was only folded in half once, and when she opened it she could see why. There was a graphite drawing of a woman holding a baby lamb. The amount of shading and detail that was on the page, which wasn't bigger than 8x5 inches, was incredibly impressive. Not that she was surprised. The artist once told her that his memory had been all he had during his imprisonment. She knew he had an incredible eye for memorization and detail.

What did startle her a little was that the woman in the picture was her. The likeness couldn't have been more accurate - it was like she was looking into a mirror. It momentarily stunned her as she stared into her own eyes, her own arms cradling the tiny lamb to her chest. In the drawing she had what looked to be a cloak wrapped around both of them, leaving her shoulders bare but modestly covering every other part of her.

The second clear thought was that the person who had so carefully placed the note on her bed had to have snuck in sometime within the past two hours, because that was about how long she'd been asleep for. The person who had snuck in had to have meticulously calculated when she would be alone in the apartment - was he trying to time it so that she would be asleep? Had he thought he could catch her while she'd been awake? A million different questions ran through her mind, all at once, leaving her breathless.

The third thing she noticed, the most telling feature of all, was the short inscription on the bottom left side of the page, written in thin black ink.

"Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs."

~H.L.

౨ৎ

AN: I do not own the SOTL/Hannibal franchise or any of its characters. I also do not own the song ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, or the song ‘Find You’ by Nick Jonas. The above photos are from Pinterest, and attached are the links to the original images.

#sotl #silence of the lambs #hannibal lecter #clarice starling #hannibal 2001 #my drabbles #my work #mine**#my writing #drabble #hannibal x clarice #fanfiction #fanfic #slasher community #slasher fandom #clannibal #ao3 #hunterssm00n

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